Baby Simon's early bedtime. How one little chap fell into the clutches of two intimidating women and became their ickle babykins.

A semi-clad Simon ran toward the door and jumped up in a vain attempt to reach the door handle.
“Just where do you think you are going? You’ve just earned your first spanking you naughty little boy. Come here and let’s finish getting you undressed.” Simon, unable to answer thanks to the baby's dummy strapped into his mouth, was helpless as an immense pair of female hands grasped his shoulders and led him back to where the Miss Barnstable sat. The diminutive Simon was lifted back onto her lap where she held him more tightly than ever as Miss Earnshaw pulled his t-shirt off over his head and removed his underpants, leaving him sitting naked on the larger females lap.

Less than a half an hour earlier he had happily rang the doorbell of the four-storey house set slightly back from the rest of the row.

“You must be little baby Simon, we were expecting you earlier.”

Simon was taken aback to be addressed as baby Simon and at the size of the two women who greeted him. His aunt never mentioned that her friends were so tall.  As he was only four foot six, being confronted by these two, grey haired women who were both over six foot tall was quite intimidating.

“Your aunt advised us you would be here at 4pm, it’s almost 4.15 now. Where have you been?”

"I, er.... just the train was...."

His aunt had allowed him to travel independently for the first time in his life and the train journey down had excited him immensely despite twice being asked by concerned looking women if he had lost his parents. On both occasions he had indignantly showed them his passport to prove he was seventeen.

"Don't mumble boy, come with me, we need to get you ready." 

These two intimidating women who he was to stay with during the summer made Simon feel as if he was being admonished for something as he was ushered into the front room and the door firmly closed behind him. His first impression was how everything was scaled to the height of the two women, even the door handles had been raised higher, way out of his reach, and he wondered how he would manoeuvre his way around the house.

"Get ready for what," he enquired nervously as he was led through


One of his aunt’s friends sat upright on a hard backed chair. The slightly taller one, wearing the pink floral blouse stood beside her and it was she who spoke to him.

“I am Miss Earnshaw, and this is Miss Barnstable,” she said indicating toward her seated companion.

“During your stay here, you will learn to behave in a manner that we see fit for a boy of your stature. You will be punished with regular over the knee spankings and since we have determined you little boy age to be that of a five year old you will be ready for bed wearing your little boy pyjamas by 3pm every day.”

Simon thought that this was all some kind of joke and laughed nervously.

Miss Barnstable tapped her lap. “Something funny little boy? We are already late, time to get you ready for beddy-byes, come here.”

Miss Earnshaw reached for his arm and before he could react he found himself propelled forward and lifted onto Miss Barnstable’s lap. Her arms enveloped him, pinning him to her as Miss Earnshaw’s left hand grabbed his jaw and squeezed, forcing his mouth into an ‘o’ shape.

Simon felt the large bulbous rubber teat engulf his mouth before he actually saw the blue dummy in her hand. The mouth guard rammed up against his upper and lower lips and he felt the rubber engulf his mouth as the Velcro straps were secured behind his head.

“Mmmmmphhh….” He tried to cry out but his tongue was unable to move and a nonsensical, infantile utterance was all he could muster.

Miss Earnshaw’s busy hands had already removed his shoes, socks and trousers before Miss Barnstaple’s grip slackened slightly to allow access to the hem of his t-shirt. He wriggled free and made his bid for freedom.

Back in the clutches of Miss Barnstable, the naked Simon was turned across her knee and his bare bottom was soundly spanked.

"Naughty, naughty little boy." She spoke as she spanked, ignoring his frantically kicking legs and his muffled cries of protest. "It's a good job you can't reach the door handles. Imagine what could happen to our babykins if you went outside all by yourself. We won't let that happen though will we? Our little Simon will always have one of us to look after him."

“Mmmmmphhh….” was all he could manage as the stinging spanks mercifully came to an end.

He was carried into the kitchen sobbing. Through his tear misted eyes he became more horrified as he found himself being lowered into a plastic bath. The tepid water engulfed him momentarily as his head was submerged, panicking he struggled until Miss Barnstable's strong hands lifted him up. The two women proceeded to wash him intimately, their strong arms ensuring he stayed firmly under their control. Finally he was lifted out and enveloped in a fluffy towel that Miss Earnshaw used to quite roughly dry him. He was totally disorientated by now and as Miss Earnshaw laid him down onto a fresh clean towel it took him a few moments before he realised what was happening to him. She grabbed his ankles, lifting up his legs she slipped a soft, thick white nappy under him. Miss Barnstable continued to keep him firmly under her control as Miss Earnshaw lowered his legs; Simon felt the caress of the soft fluffy material drawn up between his legs as he was expertly pinned into the nappy.

“Baby Simon will be spending a lot of time tucked up in beddy-byes so he needs to wear nappy-wappy's to keep his jimmy-jams all nice and dry.” Cooed Miss Earnshaw, using syrupy baby talk. The horrified seventeen-year-old then suffered the indignity of having a pair of blue plastic baby pants fitted over his nappy. Miss Barnstable hugged the nappy clad teenager into her bosom and kissed his cheek, “what a sweet babykins you are,” she cooed, again using her annoying baby voice.
Simon was totally bewildered and wondered what other humiliations he would have to endure. Then he saw Miss Earnshaw approach him again. In her hands was a yellow winceyette pyjama jacket emblazoned with a bunny rabbit motif, she held it in front of her like a matadors cape.
Simon shook his head as she approached, “Mmmmmphhh…!” 
Miss Barnstable straightened his arm out enabling Miss Earnshaw to easily manoeuvre the pyjama jacket sleeve onto it. Simon was helpless as he felt the soft-brushed cotton surround his bare torso. Miss Earnshaw buttoned up the jacket.
“Some bunnies for Bunnykins,” she said and laughed at her joke.
“Mmmmmphhh…!” Simon once more tried to speak as Miss Barnstable manoeuvred Simon so that Miss Earnshaw could ease his legs into the bunny pyjama bottoms.
Poor Simon tried to wriggle and squirm free as he saw the pyjama bottoms but he was held more firmly than ever. As the pyjama bottoms were moved up his legs he noticed that the inseams of the pyjamas were sewn together. His legs were effectively becoming bound together.
Miss Barnstaple stood him down but still held him tight as Miss Earnshaw positioned the pyjama bottoms over the hem of his pyjama jacket. Buttonholes, sewn into in the waistband of the pyjama bottoms, enabled her to button the bottoms to the top.
Simon’s left hand was then tied into a pale yellow lambs wool mitten that had a length of cord attached to it. Miss Earnshaw threaded the cord through loops on the waist of the pyjama bottoms and attached it to a matching mitten that was promptly tied onto Simon’s right hand.
Simon was lifted back onto Miss Barnstable’s lap and she turned to face a long mirror. He stared; horrified at the reflection of his helpless, infantile, pyjama clad self.
“Mmmmmphhh…!” He tried to raise his mittened hands in protest but with the ribbon circling his waist he could only lift them a few inches.
Instead Miss Barnstable grasped the ring of the dummy and waggled it up and down.
“Aren’t you a sweet little boy dwessed in his jimmy-jams all ready for beddy-byes?” She asked mockingly, and laughed as Simons nodding head appeared to agree with her statement.

She cuddled Simon into her chest, rocking him back and forth, his cheek pressed against the pink floral material of her blouse as she similarly gently caressed his brushed cotton encased arm of his newly acquired pyjamas.
“There-there, we’ll soon have you tucked up in beddy-byes. It’s after your bedtime Simon, we had intended your bedtime to be 5pm but until you learn to behave your pyjama time will be 3 o’clock and your bedtime 4 o’clock.”
Simon could barely take in her words before Miss Earnshaw loomed in his vision carrying a blue towelling baby’s bib with the words Bunnykins embroidered across it and a baby bottle full of milk.
“Look what I’ve got for babykins,” she now cooed, tying the bib around his neck.
The ripping sound of the Velcro signalled momentarily freedom, for his tongue as is mouth was freed from the presence of the large bulbous rubber teat.
“Please stop treating me like a baby I don’t want to wear these pyja….”
Unluckily for Simon the teat of the baby’s bottle replaced the dummy before he could utter any more.
Miss Barnstable tipped Simon backwards as easily as if he was a babe in arms. With incapacitated arms and legs Simon was totally helpless, ending up cradled in Miss Barnstable’s arms as warm, sickly sweet milk hit the back of his throat.
“That’s a good boy, drink up all your milky-wilky so you can go sleepy-byes,” she urged, tipping the bottle ever more steeply.
Much to his relief Simon finished the bottle. He burped and a trickle of milk dribbled down his chin. Miss Barnstable laughed as she quickly re-inserted his dummy, “ Does baby need his windy-woos up den?” She teased, starting to rub his pyjama clad back in a circular motion. Simon could do nothing but sit on her lap and suffer the indignations being perpetrated upon him.
As he sat on her lap Simon began to feel his eyes flutter and he began to struggle to keep them open, he would have yawned if he had been able.
Miss Barnstable waggled his dummy again as she asked, “ Is Simon tired? Does Simon want to go to beddy-byes now?” Again she laughed as she made him nod his head in agreement.
Miss Barnstable stood up and Simon was automatically lifted up into her arms. He involuntarily rested his head, heavy now with sleep, on her shoulder and he was vaguely aware of stairs being climbed.

“Aaahh, here you are. Time for beddies “Simon lifted his head slightly. Miss Earnshaw stood beside a blue painted cot, the rail on one side was lowered and Miss Barnstable stood him down onto a thick pile carpet.
He was about six foot away from the cot, his two tormentors, stood beside it and called to him, “come along now Bunnykins, hippity-hop into beddy byes.
Teetering unsteadily Simon was urged by the two women to hop toward the cot. For some reason his head was heavier than it had ever been and he was desperate to lay it down onto the pillow. So he hopped. The two women clapped him as he hopped toward them, “clever Bunnykins” they chorused.
They helped him into the cot and Simon was practically asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, Miss Earnshaw and Miss Barnstable looked down at their sleepy; seventeen year old guest who was wearing a nappy, plastic baby pants and yellow bunny pyjamas and sucking on a baby’s dummy. They both smiled, day one had gone to plan.