Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Peter's aunty takes him on a trip where he is forced into baby clothes, spanked and humiliated in front of the guide troop!

Recently, on one of her visits my aunt announced she thought I looked decidedly peaky and needed some fresh country air. She informed me that I would accompany her on her forthcoming weekend away with the ladies of the select club she had founded called, Sensible Pyjamas And Nighties Knaughty Males Enjoy.

Aunty came to supervise my packing; she selected plenty of pyjamas and folded them neatly into one case. I had no intention of wearing any of those items on this trip and had already packed a case of sensible clothes for myself. Aunty looked at what I was wearing and shook her head.
"No nephew of mine is going out dressed like that she decreed.
 Aunty stripped me down to my underwear and pulled a pale yellow t-shirt over my head then, at her insistence she dresses me in a pair of babyish yellow shortalls
“You must join in with the spirit of things Peterkins,” she scolded. Grumbling, I did as I was told, despite my hatred of her calling me Peterkins,  I had no wish to upset aunty so early in the trip. The shortalls were the kind that have straps over the shoulders and fasten at the back. In addition she dressed me in white ankle socks and a pair of red plastic play sandals.
A horn beeped outside. The club bus had arrived.
I dived outside and hurried on board, anxious that none of my nosy neighbours would see me attired as the child aunty seemed to think I was.

 The five lady members of my aunt’s club greeted me.  Miss Gladys Spankalot, her of the buxom chest, was at the wheel,
“It’s young Master Peter. My goodness it’s been a long time since I had that pleasure” she laughed. I was puzzled by her comment until I noticed the lettering on the back of my t-shirt reflected in the bus window. Even spelt backwards I could read the words SPANK ME emblazoned upon it.
Blushing furiously, I recalled that Miss Frobisher used to take a keen interest in putting me across her knee. In fact all the ladies present had at one time, administered a spanking to me, usually at bedtime when I was wearing my pyjamas.

I noticed no one else was wearing the club t-shirt and huffily looked around for my seat. Aunty had followed me on board and was sitting up front behind the driver's. She motioned me to the seat on the opposite aisle.

She was indicating to the the child's safety seat.

“I can’t sit there,” I protested,  “do you know how old I am?”  Miss Faversham-Fulbright peered over her pince-nez, eyed me up and down and said. “About six I would estimate.”
That woman had always taken great pleasure in humiliating me. She was over six foot tall and was always dressed in high-neck blouses and a grey two-piece. She stayed rather aloof, owing my Aunt said, to the fact she claimed to be related to the Faversham-Fulbright family who owned most of Hampshire.
“Don’t be such a baby, Aunty reprimanded. “This is a six seater bus, five grown-ups and you.”

Furiously I sat down, I was a grown up for goodness sake, nineteen years old, I admit, due to a hormone deficiency I was only four foot eleven tall but I was still an adult for goodness sake, aunty was far too protective.

Sadly, to my disappointment, I found that the child’s seat fitted quite comfortably. Perhaps being so diminutive had something to do with it but I was still annoyed and I was even more so when Miss Harkness leaned across from behind and fastened the safety harness straps that held me firmly in place.
“I don’t need to be strapped in,” I said sharply and attempted to undo the catch. Miss Harkness grinned, “Childproof I am afraid Peter.”
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we shall take good care of you on this trip you can be sure of that,” she said, before resuming her knitting.
Miss Harkness appeared to suffer from colour blindness. I still shudder at the pink and lemon coloured woolly hat and scarf she had knitted me for my Christmas gift.

Aunty had made me wear them when she took me to the park to feed the ducks. Fortunately I had managed to hide them away at the bottom of a drawer, the hat and scarf. Not the ducks, which would be silly. Miss Harkness herself wore one of her own creations oblivious to the fact that her cardigan threatened peoples retinas.  

Miss Frobisher crunched the gear stick into first and we lurched off.
Immediately I regretted not visiting the toilet before we had left. We had only gone about ten miles when aunty Hyacinth, my aunt's oldest and longest companion, passed me a fizzy drink. Aunty Hyacinth used to baby-sit me and I remember she had occasion to do so on my sixteenth birthday. I misbehaved and she put me to bed at six o'clock clutching Mr Bunny, my bedtime comforter and since then, everytime we meet she has always reminded of that occasion, even though I cringe when aunty lets her know that at nineteen years of age, I still sleep with my toy rabbit.

“Hyacinth!” Aunty exclaimed as she saw the drink being passed to me.
"He will only spill it, you know how careless Peter is.”

For some reason, just as I put the drink to my lips, Miss Spankalot chose that precise moment to brake quite violently. Why I have no idea, later she claimed to have been avoiding a hedgehog. Of course I spilt lemonade on my t-shirt and shortalls and dribbled lemonade down my chin.

“What did I tell you? Aunty always has to clean up after Peterkins.”
Aunty took the drink from me. Before I knew it she had tied a towelling bib around my neck, the one with the bunny rabbit on. I hated that bib. I much prefer the one with the little lambs on.
“Stop it Aunty, I don’t need a bib, you are treating me like a baby and I won’t have it!
Aunty slapped the inside thigh of my bare leg. “ Be quiet, you will do as you are told. Do you want a smacked botty?”

Immediately I regretted my outburst. “N.. no Aunty, Peterkins is sowwy."
I was furious with myself for reverting to the baby talk I used to placate aunty but I had no choice. The last thing I wanted was to be put across my aunt's lap for a spanking in front of all the ladies.

Aunty gave me one of her stern looks. “That’s better, here use this.”

She thrust my sippy cup into my hands and I was forced to complete my drink using my Peter Rabbit sippy cup and wearing a baby's bib.

After half an hour of crossing and uncrossing my legs and frequent requests to stop, Miss Frobisher finally pulled over at a deserted picnic spot
Miss Harkness undid my straps and I rushed toward a bush some distance away to gain some much longed for relief.

It was then that I discovered my shorts were fastened in such a way that I was unable to lower them unaided. I could not reach the fastenings at the back of my shorts to undo them.

Too late! I could not help myself; the wait had proven to be too long and I produced an involuntary torrential stream. My shorts, socks and sandals were all soaked. What would my aunt say?

Behind me I could see aunty and the others forming a gossipy circle and unfolding chairs and opening flasks and packs of sandwiches. To the left was the parked bus.

With luck, I might just be able to reach it unseen, if I could retrieve my suitcase I would be able to sneak back into the bushes and change into my big boy clothes.

Furtively, I opened the luggage storage area and cast my eyes over the many suitcases. Where was mine?

A pair of hand grasped my shoulders. “Had a little accident have we young man?"
I was forcibly turned round. Facing me was a woman in her mid-fifties wearing a senior Guide uniform. Behind her was a gaggle of twelve-year-old uniformed girls, staring at my soaked appearance.

Standing there, with my yellow shorts, white socks and sandals all soaked I made a fateful decision to play act my way out of my embarrassing situation.

“My auntie’s over there,” I mumbled in a pathetic, little boy voice.
The Guides leader took my hand led me over to where aunty was sitting. The girls of her troop followed curiously behind.

“Is he yours?” She enquired of aunty. “I am afraid the poor little fellow has had an accident. I found him rummaging through your luggage, must have been trying to change himself, wasn’t that sweet of the little boy?"

Aunty looked at the Guide leader, without batting an eyelid , she replied.
“Oh yes, he's mine. How very kind of you to return him to me.”

Aunty beckoned me into the centre of the circle and I stood, soaked and shamefaced in front of Aunty.

“Look at you, soaking wet, just like a toddler. Well, aunty knows just how to deal with naughty little boys like you.”

My voice trembled as I struggled to hold back my tears. “I'm so sorry aunty but I couldn’t undo the buttons on my shortalls to have a wee-wee.” I sobbed, my lower lip trembling.

“Well you could have asked for help to go tinkle but you didn’t and now you must suffer the consequences.”

Aunty began to undress me in front of everyone.
The Guide leader and her girls were only yards away erecting their camp for the night.

“I am afraid there wasn’t room for your suitcase on the bus Peterkins,” Aunty said, with a slight smirk, just the one I packed for you."

"It's not fair," I protested, stamping my foot with a wet squelch.

“Now then, I won't tolerate your tantrums Peterkins, only naughty little boys wet themselves at your age and as always, you will be treated accordingly."

I stood in the middle of my aunts friends and sobbed uncontrollably as aunty proceeded to strip me naked.

Encircled by her friends, I stood obediently as aunty grabbed a handful of wet wipes and  lifted me onto her lap. She proceeded to clean my little boy ares in full view of everyone as I continued to sob.

She opened the case and selected an item of clothing,

“Luckily I anticipated you having accidents Peterkins, come along, get these on.”
She held up a pair of Drynites pyjama pants, boys age 13-15.

I struggled to hold back more tears as aunty, in front of several pairs of eager female eyes, stepped me into what was basically a nappy and settled them around my groin.

“Yes, well you obviously need them my little pee-pee pants,” she said, patting the padded front and smiling at my discomfort.

She stroked my cheek as she spoke to me softly and I felt that familiar feeling of obedience and submitting to her will as she caressed me.

“Now then, let's stop pretending you are a big boy Peterkins," she cooed, delving into the suitcase, "come along, let aunty get her little nineteen year old boy ready for beddy-byes and into his jimmy-jams.”

In her hands she held a pair of my most extremely infantile winceyette pyjamas.

Aunty ignored my protestations and slipped the pyjama top around my shoulders.

The soft material encased me and I was engulfed in the warm embrace of yellow, bunny rabbit motif pyjamas. "There's a good boy," she said softly as she buttoned up the jacket and eased my legs into the pyjama bottoms. She pulled them slowly up, settling them over my Drynites and tucking the hem of the jacket into the bottoms.

Surrounded by the members of the SPANKME  club I had been humiliating dressed in a nappy and my babyish, little boy pyjamas.

Aunty turned me around, patted my nappied and pyjama clad bottom
and ushered me toward Miss Spankalot. “Now off you go for a cuddle while I prepare your sleepy time milk.”

Miss Gladys Spankalot's strong arms wedged themselves beneath my armpits and lifted me onto her lap.

“There-there Peterkins,” she cooed. Pressing my face into her bosom.
She clasped me to her chest that I found it difficult to breathe, she rocked me gently in her arms, caressing my pyjama clad back as she did so.

"Peterkins you are so vulnerable, I think it is best that you remain aunties little boy forever and not try to be a big boy, don't you agree?"

My face was buried into her blouse and I my protests only came out as a muffled, mmmph!

Aunty handed her my milk. I had expected it to be in my sippy cup, but no, aunty had prepared a baby bottle.

I would have complained but Miss Spankalot cradled me as easily as if I was an infant in her arms and proceeded to ease the teat of the baby bottle between my lips, with my head encased in her firm grip, I had no choice but to drink auntie’s concoction.
I knew from experience that whenever aunty prepared her special sleepy time milk for me that within ten minutes, I would be very sleepy indeed.
I comforted myself with the thought that at least I was hidden from the prying eyes of the gaggle of girl guides. I could hear their laughter only a matter of yards away.

“We’ve come to see how the little boy is?”They enquired, "we were worried about the poor little boy.

I struggled to keep open my already drowsy eyes. Several of the Guides were leaning across Miss Gotobeds shoulder and staring down at me as I lay cradled in her arms wearing my nappy and baby pyjamas.

Miss Gotobed continued feeding me. “That’s very sweet of you girls, as you can see he is much happier now he is all nappied and ready for beddy-byes.
After his milky he will drift off to sleepy-byes.”

Miss Gotobed removed the bottle. “Say thank you to the girls for their thoughtfulness Peter.”

I turned crimson red lying cradled in Miss Gotobeds arms wearing my bunny rabbit pyjamas, but drowsily managed to mutter words of thanks.

“Isn’t it a bit early for him to be in pyjamas ready for bed?” One of the girls ventured to ask.”

Aunty hove into view. “Because Peterkins has been such a very naughty little boy he must be punished with an early bedtime, now run along girls.”

Everyone was packed up ready to leave and I was aware of Miss Gotobed hoisting me onto her hip, toddler like, I automatically wrapped  my arms around her neck as she carried me to the bus. She strapped me back into my seat as aunty fumbled in her bag.
“Here we are Peterkins this will help you go sleepy-byes, there is quite a drive left and we have had enough of your babyish antics for one day and into my mouth she thrust a babies dummy, sometimes when I was especially naughty, aunty would make me use my dummy but this was the first time in many years she had made me use my dummy in public view.

The sound of tyres on gravel stirred me from my induced sleep and I was aware of Miss Harkness lurking nearby and unfastening my childs seat straps.

I drowsily clasped her outstretched hand as she helped me out of the bus. As I looked downward gingerly trying to control my ambience I was horrified to discover, whilst I was asleep, my feet had been adorned with a pair of I had been Miss Harkness' creations, yellow knitted bunny slippers.

“Dat are dese? Et em off me...” I realised that my dummy had been tied in place and that my words of protest were meaningless babble. so, while being led by the hand, wearing my baby winceyette bunny pyjamas and bunny slippers we entered the hotel.
Aunty was standing talking to the proprietor; a plump woman in her forties with a ruddy complexion, derived no doubt from the local weather, which even in summer is never the warmest.
Miss Harkness positioned me beside aunty and the hotel owner.

“No need to feel embarrassed, Mrs McFlannel knows all about our requirements for you. That’s why we are staying here. You will get plenty of rest and fresh air during our visit.”
I was about to protest, what requirements?  I decided that, dummied and dressed as I was, discretion was probably the best course of action.

Mrs McFlannel bent down toward me. “Hello there little one, your aunt has told me all about you, don’t worry about not wanting to talk if you don’t want to, Bonnie and I quite understand.”

Bonnie?I wondered who Bonnie? As if reading my mind Mrs McFlannel enlightened me.

“Bonnie is my fourteen year old daughter, she’s looking forward to your stay with us.”
Mrs McFlannel called out. “Bonnie the guests have arrived, come and help with their bags.”
Bonnie appeared, fresh faced with shoulder length dark curly hair. She was tall for a fourteen year old, well, taller than me; she wore the uniform of a chambermaid, a white blouse and a black skirt with a white frilled apron tied around her waist.

“This is Peterkins, the one we have to take extra special care of.”
I disliked the sound of that. Bonnie looked at me, smiled and said, “I love your slippers and pyjamas Peterkins, you look so sweet, come with me and I will show you to your room. I helped Mum get it ready for you.”

I traipsed sleepily upstairs as aunty held my hand, Bonnie went ahead carrying the case aunty had packed for me. We went into a normal looking bedroom with a double and a single bed. Oh no, not sharing with aunty I thought.
“Your room is through here Peter.” Ah bit of privacy, I could cope with that I thought.

Bonnie opened an adjoining door. It was a nursery.
The main feature was canopied cot with matching baby blue rails and layers of soft, yellow flannelette bedding. From atop the canopy a revolving mobile stretched out above the deep pillows.
“I will just go and fetch the rest of your luggage.” Bonnie said, leaving aunty and me alone in the nursery. 
Aunty could see I was annoyed and untied my dummy that swung on its ribbon pinned to my pyjama jacket.

“What the hell is going on?” I exploded. “Why have I got a babies cot to sleep in?" I stomped my slippered feet childishly and demandingly insisted, "I want some proper clothes right now."

Aunty didn’t reply; instead, she grasped my shoulders to face the mirrored wardrobe door.

“May I remind you that you are wearing little boy bunny rabbit winceyette pyjamas, bunny slippers, a nappy and have a dummy pinned to your pyjama top? You have been dressed in your babyish pyjamas in front of a group of girl guides and you have just been led into your nursery by a fourteen year old girl.”
“Well it just happened that way, I….”
My voice tailed away as I struggled to explain myself.
Aunty continued. “Yes, exactly Master Peterkins. It just happened because you are a naughty little boy who has grown too big for his tiny little bootees.”
I wiggled my bunny slippered feet uncomfortably. A lecture from aunty was coming.

“I think it is time we reverted back to the days when you behaved properly and were respectful to aunty. On this trip you will do as you are told, wear what you are told and generally behave like the polite little boy I know you can be." She turned me away from the mirror and knelt down to face me.

"Mrs McFlannel and Bonnie don’t expect to hear anything but the odd babyish gurgle from you. So unless you want to complain to Bonnie about your treatment and tell her how old you really are, I suggest you put your dummy in immediately before she returns. Do I make myself clear?”
I stared down at my slippers. “Yes aunty.” I mumbled, deeply ashamed of how easily I capitulated to a telling off by aunty.

“Good, and don’t think you have avoided punishment for your foul mouthed outburst. I will discipline you in due course.”

Bonnie returned carrying auntie’s suitcase. Realising I had little option other than to go along with aunty I quickly popped the dummy into my mouth.
“Bonnie my dear, Peterkins requires a little nap, whilst I get him ready do you think you could warm his sleepy-time milk up for me? Perhaps you would like to feed him with it too?”
“Yes madam, I would love to, he is so cute.” She turned to me and said, “Bonnie will be back in a few minutes with your bottle sweetums.”
Aunty waited until she had gone.  “ Such a well-mannered girl, I predict she will be a great help to us during our stay. Now come along, I have the perfect pyjamas for your nap.”

Aunty removed my bunny pyjamas and took off my Drynites pyjama pants. “Can I trust you not to do wee-wees at nap time? She asked mockingly as she approached me holding a pair of pale blue, teddy-bear motif footed pyjamas.
“No, not those I will look like a four year old.” I protested. Aunty ignored my pleadings and as she buttoned up the pyjamas jacket commented, "there now, all ready for your nap-nap, just a couple of refinements I think.”

Aunty placed my baby’s dummy on a ribbon around my neck and popped it into my mouth. “Take it out at your peril,” she warned. 
“Ah, here comes Bonnie with your milky-wilky.”

Bonnie had knocked and entered immediately. She had put on a pristine clean white pinafore apron; triumphantly she held my baby bottle.
“Oh Peterkins what sweet pyjamas you’re wearing.”
I stood there feeling very embarrassed sucking loudly on my dummy and cast my eyes to the floor.
Aunty smiled at my obvious discomfort, and addressing me with baby talk said. “Be a good babykins for aunty and dwink up all your lovely milky-wilky for Bonnie while I go and change,”

 Turning to Bonnie she instructed, “make sure he drinks it all up then we can put him down for his nap. I am glad to see you have followed my instructions and hung thick curtains, Peterkins needs complete darkness for his sleepy-times.”
As soon as we were alone Bonnie’s attitude suddenly changed. “Right babykins,” she said, posing with one arm on her hip, “I want no nonsense from you or I will have to put you over my knee for a smacked botty. Come along it’s milky time, let me put your bib on then we can get you into your cot for sleepy-byes.”                 

Aunty had changed into her favourite tweed suit. “Has he drank all his sleepy-time milk up?” she asked, “I want Peterkins settled before the ladies and I go for our walk.
Bonnie nodded, “yes madam he’s been a very good babykins.”

Little did Aunty know that I had little choice?  Bonnie had insisted on tipping up the baby bottle until my bib was wet with the dribbles.
She showed Aunty the empty bottle.
“My Peterkins you must have been thirsty, I will have to make up a bigger formula for you next time.”
I glared at Aunty and was just about to give her a piece of my mind when she put her finger to her mouth.
Luckily, Bonnie hadn’t noticed my attempt to speak; she was busily folding back the flannelette cot sheets.
Aunty led me over to the cot and settled me down.
After putting on the night-light Bonnie went to draw the heavy curtain. I whispered to Aunty, “how long will you be? This stupid girl is a menace, I don’t want to be left alone with her.”
Aunty smiled. Instead of reassuring me she popped the dummy back into my mouth.
“Bonnie, do you think you could put Peter’s mittens on for me? The one’s Miss Harkness knitted for him. He has a tendency to be a naughty boy when he is in beddy-byes, oh and can you tie his dum-dum in for him? He gets terribly cranky if he wakes up without it.”
“Of course madam.”
My eyes popped at auntie’s comments. I watched as she silently laughed, blew me a kiss and left leaving me alone with Bonnie.
Bonnie fussed with the yellow flannelette sheets, tucking me tightly in but leaving my arms exposed. Miss Harness’s mittens had taken me by surprise but Bonnie seemed to relish putting them on me.
“ Let’s get your handy-pandies into your mittens now Peterkins. I know what little boys get up to. There now,” she said as she fastened them. “Peterkins is all cosy-wosy. Now straight to sleep, I don’t want to hear a sound out of you or there will be trouble.”
Bonnie tied my dummy in place, turned out the light and left me stranded in the darkness.



Sunday, 13 October 2013

Ready for an early bedtime after being spanked by aunty in the garden

I remember this day very well. It was a Friday afternoon and I had just finished quite a strenuous week at college. Aunty was seated in the garden with her our neighbour Miss Norbury and her friend Mrs Milner whose daughter Emily was playing with my football by throwing it up in the air and catching it. "Ah there you are my pet lamb, I was wondering where you were, and it’s rather late."
" It's only three thirty aunty,” I said, exasperated at being called, "my pet lamb" in front of everyone.
Aunty gave me one of her looks, "nevertheless, I was worried about you. You seem irritable." Aunty turned to the two ladies, "he always becomes irritable when he's tired, don't you my pet lamb?" She said deliberately. I bit my lip. Mrs Milner and Miss Norbury smiled at me as aunty took my hand and pulled me towards her. "I think you need to be in your pyjamas nice and early, there's a clean pair on the ironing board, go and put them on please my pet lamb."  The two women laughed at aunty's words. "I straightened indignantly to my full height which was more than a foot shorter than aunty's. "Now look here aunty I am seventeen, not some...."
Before I could even finish my sentence I found myself being pulled across aunty's lap. Tugging at my trousers she exposed my bare bottom and gave me two sharp spanks across each buttock. I yelled, more in surprise and embarrassment than pain. Aunty paused, leaving me dangling over her lap, the blood rushing to my head.
"Emily darling, would you be a sweetie and fetch me this naughty boys pyjamas? They are on the ironing board, just inside the door there." Mrs Milner's daughter looked at her mother who nodded and she eagerly dashed to complete her chore. "Aunty then continued my spanking. "Are you going to do as you are told and not answer back?" She asked, pausing once again. This time the spanks had been slower and harder, six in total. My backside was already stinging and I knew from experience that aunty still had more to give. I raised my head and found myself looking into Emily's face. She was standing holding my blue winceyette pyjamas. I groaned as I realised Emily could be no more than thirteen. "No answer? Very well I will continue.." I had forgotten to answer aunty. "Aunty please I'm sorry ..." I began. "Too late," she said as she started to really inflict some damage upon my bottom. I squirmed and yelled for aunty to stop, eventually she asked me, "Are you sorry for being a naughty little boy and are going to do as aunty says and put your jimmy-jams on?" This time I was quick to reply, “Yes aunty, I will put my pyjamas on, I'm sorry for being a naughty little boy." Aunty tugged my pants back up and I stood shamefaced, as Emily smirked at me, my pyjamas nestling in her hands. “Now thank Emily for fetching your pyjamas and go inside and put them on, I want to see you back here in pyjamas and slippers in two minutes, off you go."  I dashed off and returned, still buttoning up my pyjama jacket. "Come here", aunty ordered, " you forgot to thank Emily, do it now."
"Thank you for ff.. fetching my pp.. pyjamas for me Emily, it was... it was very kind of you." I stammered.
She laughed, and said cheekily, " You are very welcome pet lamb, now come and play catch with me."
I, a seventeen year old, was forced to endure ten minutes of playing catch with a thirteen year old until aunty called me over. "Say night-night to everyone my pet lamb, I’ve decided you can go straight to bed for your naughtiness." I was completely taken aback by his outrage and was about to respond when I though about my still tingling backside. I stood in front of the two ladies, "night-night Mrs Milner, night-night Miss Norbury," I intoned shamefaced. "Tsk-tsk, here, let me button up your pyjama jacket properly, I don't know." Mrs Milner buttoned my pyjamas up and swatted my backside as I turned away. Peals of laughter ensued from them both. Red faced, I said night-night to Emily and aunty and made my way forlornly into the house and up to bed.

Friday, 4 October 2013

Peter is subjected to enforced early bedtimes and kept in babyish pyjamas and eventually in nappies all orchestrated by his younger sister.

Peters Pyjama Punishment
Peter was unhappy that his sister Julie had had her friends around for tea.
‘Mum it’s not fair; how come she is allowed to invite her friends for tea outside on the patio and I m not even allowed to have my kangaroo visit? After all, I am eighteen years old and she is just a little kid of fourteen.’
Peter was grumpy for another reason. He had just finished his first day’s work at his Aunts ladies wear shop. His mother had insisted he get a job during the summer and he had spent the day unpacking boxes of ladies underwear and nightclothes. Now at nearly 5 pm he was exhausted and wanted to relax. His mother looked at him and said with a note of annoyance,
 ‘Oh stop complaining; they have gone now haven’t they? I knew you would come home tired and grumpy after your first day at work so your sister and I have devised a plan to help take away that grumpiness and give us some of peace and quiet we all desire,’
Peter’s eyes widened, “A plan, what plan he asked suspiciously. I know all about your pl…
Julie eagerly joined in, interrupting her brother and looking at her wristwatch. ‘Yes my wittle baby brother, it is now your beddy-byes time, all through the summer you will be put to bed at 5.30 prompt.”
 “Peter looked at his mother in disbelief; for it had been quite some time since he had been punished with early bedtimes.
‘Mum no, it’s not fair, why should I go to bed early when I have worked so hard?’ Peter’s voice began to whine and take on a petulant, immature nature.
“For that very reason, since you were a young boy you have always needed your sleep and now you are experiencing the world of work for the first time your babyish tantrums, as we are witnessing now, will return.
It is beneficial that you get your rest after a hard day at work and we get our peace and quiet. You do understand it is for the best don’t you poppet?’
Before Peter could respond, Julie giggled and said, “Best for us too.”
His mother placed her index finger under her son’s chin, lifted it upwards so that she was looking directly into his eyes and said, ‘Julie, please bring me Peter’s pyjamas, you know, the one’s we picked out for him to wear to beddy-byes while I get him undressed.’
Julie leapt up. “Of course mummy one pair of jim-jams coming up with pleasure.’
Peter’s eyes brimmed ‘No mum I don’t want to put my pyjamas on and go to bed, I am not nearly as tired as I thought.’ He stupidly said.
His mother ignored his pleas and pushed him onto the patio chair. She then pulled his feet onto her lap, untied his shoes and removed them along with his socks, and then she ordered his arms up and pulled his tee shirt up over his shoulders. His arms were free but the tee shirt was still around his neck and pulled over his face.

Julie returned jubilantly.  ‘Here you are mummy,’ and then talking to her apprehensive brother gloated. ‘Soon my little brother will be all ready for beddy-byes and then he will be tucked up for the night to sleep soundly. Isn’t that wonderful?’
Peter was putty in his mum’s hands, as she grabbed his arm and helped him into the pyjama jacket. The pyjamas felt warm and cosy against his skin as his mum buttoned him up amidst the derisive and cheeky scolding of young girls mocking his humiliation.
‘Hand me his pyjama bottoms please’
The t-shirt around his head muffled his disapproval as his trousers were unfastened and yanked down along with his underpants. Luckily for his modesty the pyjama jacket extended far enough down to preserve it. Nonetheless he was happy to follow mummy’s instructions to step quickly into the pyjama bottoms. He stood obediently as she pulled them up and proceeded to tuck the jacket inside. This brought on much giggling and squealing, as the girls were pleased with his obvious shame. She then placed the slippers onto his feet and finally removed his tee shirt. At first Peter was puzzled by the laughter he heard from his mother and sister and then he looked down at the jacket and saw that they were made from soft white winceyette and adorned with images of the infants TV character Thomas the Tank. On his feet nestled baby blue, furry slippers with a white bunny rabbit appliqué. He looked ridiculous at best.
‘Look at the big baby wearing his little choo-choo train pyjamas and bunny slippers, ha-ha-ha-ha. He really should go straight to bed right now!’
‘Mum make her stop, it’s not fair, I shouldn’t have to go to bed early, and where did you get these babyish pyjamas and slippers?’
Peter’s mother reached behind him and slapped his pyjama-clad bottom, “ Do not use that tone of voice with me babykins, and another thing, since you are behaving so badly I want you to call me mummy from now on. I can quite easily take you across my knee for a nursery style spanking so don’t forget!”
Peter was taken aback by being threatened with a spanking by his mother and could only stutter, “Yeeeesss mum... I mean mummy.” 
 “That’s better, and don’t forget your sister although younger in years than you is far more mature and you must do you are told by her.”
Julia beamed with joy at hearing her mother bestow authority over her brother she had only dreamt about.
She faced her brother; “mummy and I have decided that this will be your bedtime every night during the week and you will be dressed in your baby pyjamas and slippers as soon as you come home from work. Isn’t that right mother?’
‘Quite right Julie dear and since we decided on a baby bedtime, we thought it only fitting that you should wear baby pyjamas and slippers for beddy-byes. Miss Holtsby from the village sewed them for you’.
“Now enough of this prattle baby brother. It’s time you were tucked into bed and fast asleep so you can be fresh for work tomorrow.”
‘But mummy I haven’t had anything to eat yet. I am very hungry after work as aunty would not allow me a lunch break.’
Julie giggled and laughed at Peter’s whining.
‘We may bring you something later but come along, it’s beddy-bye time.’
Unluckily for Peter, Julies friend Karen had forgotten her jacket and she and her sister Fiona waltzed through the open patio doors just as he was about to go upstairs to bed.
“Sorry, did I leave my…. What on earth?”
The two girls were confronted by a disgruntled pyjama clad Peter who was obviously upset to see the two girls witness his pyjama punishment.

“I like your pyjamas Peter, my brother has some just like them. Mind you he is only three years old!”

The girls collapsed into a fit of laughter, even his mother struggled to disguise a smile.
“Now girls behave, Peter, say night-night to everyone and we will get you tucked into bed.”
Deeply embarrassed at the girls seeing him wearing his Thomas the Tank pyjamas, Peter reluctantly said goodnight and trudged upstairs to the sound of giggling girls resonating behind him.
‘Julia. You may say goodbye to your friends and join me in preparing your brother for bed.
Peter groaned.
‘My pyjamas are too large mummy,’ he moaned as he struggled to prevent his pyjama bottoms from cascading down.

’Never mind, perhaps you will grow into them one day babykins,’ his mother said in an amused voice.
 Once in the bedroom, she folded back the bedclothes.
‘See I have new bedding for you as well, pink and made from warm flannelette, we wouldn’t want you catching a chill and do we? I thought the pink sheets would be soothing for you. Now in you go.’
She opened up the bedclothes as Peter reluctantly climbed into bed and was quickly tucked in up to his neck and was kissed on the cheek.
‘Sleep tight and sweet dreams, my eighteen-year-old babykins’.
‘Night night baby brother, enjoy your evening now’ Julia said mockingly. “ My friends are coming back shortly, we will be outside enjoying the lovely evening, I will just open the window so that you will hear us laughing and enjoying ourselves while you are tucked up in bed in your lovely new pyjamas.”
Julia lowered the blinds and closed the curtains until the room was almost completely dark, as promised leaving his bedroom window slightly ajar.  

‘Oh, is my baby brother still sleepy? Julie whispered so sweetly. ‘Now sit up for me babykins’
‘What time is it?’ He asked, rubbing his eyes, as Julie held his tray. ‘It’s 8:00p.m. Supper time.’
Peter looked nervously over his sister’s shoulder.
‘Don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘My friends have gone home, now let’s get you comfy.’
Julie plumped up his pillows and placed the tray in front of him.
‘What’s this? I can’t eat this. This is not proper food, take it away.’
His mummy entered the bedroom. ‘You will eat what I give you Peter, now be quiet while Julie feeds you so that you can quickly go back to sleep and give us some peace.’
‘But I don’t…
“Quiet now baby brother you will soon be fast asleep again.’ Julie added laughingly.
Peter was spoon-fed mashed carrot and turnips, carefully prepared by his sister and without any added spice; his mummy had tied a pale blue bib around his neck which was just as well because he gagged so much from the awful taste, often dribbling it down onto his baby bib. Julie didn’t let up with his force-feeding and wouldn’t let him off either, scooping up the spillage and forcing it deep into his mouth.
‘Do you see why you have to wear a bib?’ She scolded, ‘You would have made a mess on your lovely clean pyjamas.’
Mummy gave him some warm milk served baby style in a sippy cup.
‘I don’t want to have to wash your pyjamas tonight, so silly babykins, sip quietly and carefully.’ Mummy folded her arms
Peter gurgled down the last of the milk. ‘All done babykins? Then it’s straight back to sleepy- byes or you now, night-night.’
Peter felt so humiliated as Julie smirked condescendingly as she helped her mother tuck him in. Despite his look of disbelief at his predicament she lowered the blinds and closed the curtains and said teasingly, ‘we wouldn’t want babykins to be bothered by that nasty old daylight, would we poppet? So I had better close your curtains extra tightly then’.
Mummy added, “See how your sweet little sister is so kind to you. You just don’t appreciate her at all.’ Mummy added scornfully. ‘Now of to sleepy-byes straight away or mummy will spank’.
Mummy headed for the door, followed by Julie who looked back at Peter with a look of satisfaction and contempt for her older brother as she whispered, ‘Have a nice time in bed Peter.’ Then she closed the door, looking back on him and the room became silent and dark. Peter was left alone in his darkened room. Imagine an 18 year old put to bed early wearing his Thomas the Tank winceyette pyjamas. He heard the footsteps diminish and Julie’s giggles as he lay in silence.
Peter awoke. His mother entered his bedroom and said,
‘Get up and come downstairs for breakfast in your pyjamas Peter, you can shower afterwards.’
Peter was taken by surprise to see is aunt sitting sipping a coffee. She had arrived to take him to work and looked at him with a snigger.
‘I do like your pyjamas Peter, are you wearing them to work hahahaha?’
Peter and looked shamefaced at being caught wearing his Thomas the Tank pyjamas by his aunty. First his sister’s friend’s and now his aunt had seen him dressed in his embarrassing pyjamas. 
Julie laughed and said, ‘He isn’t allowed to wear big boy pyjamas any more because we have decided he needs to be put to bed very early like a baby this summer so he can have plenty of rest and we can have peace and quiet.’
‘Is that right,’ smirked aunty, ‘and what time does my nephew have to go to beddy-byes then?’ 
‘Tell aunty your new bedtime Peter’, said his mother tying his bib around his neck as he sat down.
‘I have to go to bed at 5.30 aunty,’ he mumbled.
Aunty shrieked with laughter. ‘Well now that explains the babyish pyjamas that have to go with a baby bedtime, and I suppose that darling baby bib is for the same reason too.’
‘Quite right aunty,’ said Julie, ‘Peter is such a messy eater we thought it would save washing his pyjamas if he were to wear a bib at mealtimes.’ she stated in a sweet, mockingly tone.
‘Well,’ said aunty, ‘If he is going to have early bedtimes all summer, then he will need more babyish pyjamas. I will certainly keep a look out for some suitable stock.’
‘That would be excellent if you could find something soft and cosy for him to wear for beddy-byes such as flannelette or winceyette material to keep him warm and snugly in beddy byes safely tucked away out of harm’s way’.
Peter sat miserably eating his breakfast of eggie soldiers as the three females discussed his bedtime and his nightwear.
‘Come along, get showered and dressed you have a busy work day ahead, and don’t forget to make up your bed and neatly fold up your pyjamas or you will be going over my knee for a pyjama spanking when you get home!’ 
Peter yawned as he waited at the bus stop. He was so tired after his day’s work to walk home and he took little notice of the people who joined the queue.
‘Well well, it’s Mr Sleepyhead. Heading home to jimmy-jams and beddy-byes are you?’ It was Julie’s friends Karen and her sister Fiona.
‘I wanted to go to bed early I was tired.’ Peter said defensively.
‘Oh and I suppose you wanted to wear those sweet toddlers pyjamas your mummy made you wear too, huh? Ha- ha.’
‘They were just for fun, I normally wear nothing to bed,” he said again in a defensive tone.
Peter hadn’t noticed but Penny who Peter knew from college was standing just behind the girls.
‘Tell me more about yesterday she said while looking at Peter.
What time is his bedtime?”
Fiona and Karen were only too eager to impart their information. ‘Peter’s beddy-byes is 5.30. Oh and he wears such sweet baby pyjamas too!
Karen grinned. ‘Oh is little Petery tired then, poor diddums. Here comes your bus, now go straight into your jim-jams and off to beddy-byes when you get home poppet.’
Peter quickly got onto the bus and looked away as the girls waved to him as the bus passed.  He sank lower into his seat as some of the passengers who had got on with him grinned after hearing the girl’s comments.
‘Can’t you tell the time baby brother? Why are you so late?’  Julie chastised him while looking at her watch with displeasure as she sat outside on the patio.
‘It’s not my fault. I was too tired to walk home and the bus was late. Where’s mum?’
‘Stand up! How dare you sit when I am talking to you, and it’s mummy as far as you are concerned. Too tired are you? Well we know the remedy to that problem don’t we?’ Julie said as she stood up placing her hands on her hips.
‘It’s almost 5,40, way past your bedtime! You have five minutes to get washed, clean your teeth, put on your pyjamas and slippers and return here, now move!’
‘You cannot tell me what to do. You are only fourteen.’
‘It seems babykins, that as mother said, I am far more mature than you, so I shall recommend to mum a suitable punishment for your disrespectful behaviour if you do not do as you are told. She was furious that you were not home on time for your bedtime and since she had an appointment she left me to ensure you went to bed immediately once you arrived home. It would be wise to do as I tell you.’
Peter knew he had to obey his young sister no matter how much it upset him. He raced upstairs, quickly dashing down again wearing his Thomas the Tank pyjamas and bunny slippers.
Julie shook her head, ‘Hmm, you are fifteen seconds too slow, so get over my knee for a spanking now!’ Julie patted her lap. Peter knew mummy had given Julie complete control over him and he had to obey or be punished severely. Reluctantly, he draped himself across her lap. She was very tall for her age and Peter, though five years older, was short and lightweight for his age. Julie easily accommodated him across her lap.
It was not long before that he voiced his protest, despite his vulnerable position.
‘It’s not fair,’ he began to whine, ‘why should you be allowed to spank me? I am eighteen, this is all so unfair.’
Julie, lowered his pyjama bottoms and exposed his bottom, running her hand across his pale flesh, ‘Because my dear brother….’


‘I am a well behaved and more mature….’
‘Young lady….’
‘While you are a….’
‘Misbehaving older boy and spoilt babykins….’
‘Behaving like a two year old?
‘And deserves to be kept in pyjamas and be put to bed early.’
After his spanking, he was allowed up and ordered to sit on the stool facing his sister.
He sat silently in abject shame, as Julie tied his bib around him.
‘Drink your milk and eat your biscuit then it’s straight to bed. Perhaps that will remind you that your bedtime is 5.30!’
She took his hand and led him upstairs patting the bedclothes for him to get into bed. She made sure the bedclothes were tightly tucked in before she bade him night-night. Peter was so ashamed to be put to bed in the afternoon by his fourteen-year-old sister.
‘Sleep tight baby brother! I really enjoy seeing you tucked up in beddy-byes so early in the afternoon wearing your baby pyjamas. Now off you go straight to sleepy-byes.”
By Friday Peter was sick of his constant humiliation with early bedtimes and having to wear babyish pyjamas and just wanted his working week to end. So he was pleasantly surprised when his aunt announced that the shop would be closing early. She handed him a package that she said was for his mother and told him to head straight home. Of course Peter being Peter instead went to the shopping centre where he wandered about window-shopping without any regard for the time until he came across his favourite fast food shop. Delighted he ordered and sitting himself down took a huge bite from the double burger and slurped from his double sized soft drink depositing most of it on his shirt.
‘What on earth!’ Peter looked up and saw his mother looming over him. 
‘Mummy what are you doing here… no?  His protest was in vain as his mother hauled him across her lap right there and then. She was really angry and spanked him across his trousers. A small crowd gathered, at first, people were about to protest until they realised the spankee was not a child. Then the mood turned to amusement and encouragement.
‘You naughty boy! When I get you home you will be put into your pyjamas and I will give you another spanking then you will have a very early bedtime. Look at your clean shirt, now you see why I make you wear a bib at mealtimes.’
Laughter now emanated from the watching throng as they listened to his mother admonishing him.
Finally she let him up and people drifted off.
Peter rubbed his bottom ruefully. Trying to placate his mother, Peter said, “aunty told me to give you this,” he held out the package. ‘
‘Well give it to me then,’ she took the package and opened it on the table. She peered inside and began to laugh.
‘Just what we need, these will be perfect for you to wear when I get you home.’ Mummy withdrew from the bag a bright yellow winceyette pyjama jacket; it was adorned with images of nursery rhyme characters. Mummy held it up to his chest. ‘Yes the pyjama top will fit you perfectly; in fact it may be a little too large. Stand up Peter.’ Already beetroot red with embarrassment Peter stood complacently, whilst his mother held the yellow pyjama bottoms up against him. A number of people stared at him and a group of girls dissolved into fits of laughter as they passed by. The waitress smirked at him as he paid the bill. ‘My you will look sweet in those pyjamas when your mummy puts you to bed,’ she laughed, then added, ‘Your mummy is right you do need to wear a bib when you eat, ha-ha.’
Peter was relieved to escape the unwanted attention he had attracted as his mother grabbed his hand and marched him home as if he were a recalcitrant toddler. All the way home Peter’s mother lectured him about his infantile behaviour and how he was to be pyjama and bed punished.
Peter’s misery was compounded as they arrived home to find Julie was sitting outside with Karen and Fiona.
‘Well girls I don’t think Peter will be gracing us with his company for too long,’ his mother said as she showed them his new pyjamas.
‘Oh what lovely new pyjamas? Let me see those.’ Julia took the pyjamas and laughed as she saw the bright yellow pyjamas with the nursery rhyme characters adorned upon them. Fiona and Karen joined her in admiring Peter’s new pyjamas.
‘Tell the girls where you are going Peter’, ordered his mother.
Peter stared at the ground. ‘I have to go to bed for being naughty and lying to mummy.’
‘Bed? But it’s only ten to two giggled the girls.
Karen laughed, oh that is just too precious!’
Mummy handed Peter his new pyjamas. ‘Put your pyjamas and slippers on, and then you can say night-night to the young ladies’
Peter looked dumfounded at his mother, “ what undress here, in front of everyone? No I….I can’t, I… won’t.”
‘You naughty little babykins,” said his mother, you just put your lovely new pyjamas on right now or I will spank you if you are not quick about it.’
Peter just about stopped the tears from flowing as he endured the awful teasing as he undressed in front of his mother, his sister and her two friends. He was in a daze as he stepped into the pyjama bottoms but heard his mother say, ‘so you see girls childish pyjamas and early bedtimes are the only solution I am afraid.’
As Peter slipped his arms into his yellow winceyette pyjama jacket he looked up to see his aunty had now joined the company. “Here let aunty do that for you babykins,” she said as she proceeded to button him into his jim-jams.
‘You are a stupid boy Peter. Did you not realise that I sent you home early deliberately? We knew you would fail to come straight home, instead wasting your money at the shopping centre, so now you must face the consequences of your own behaviour that means you being put to bed early wearing your very childish pyjamas, which, by the way do make you look very much like an ickle babykins.’
Laugher erupted at his aunts comments as Peter, surrounded by his aunty, mummy, his sister and friends Karen and Fiona, stood staring at the ground, as everyone enjoyed his infantile appearance.
‘Ha-ha look at the lickle baby boy ready for beddy-byes,’ mocked Karen.
‘Come here and sit on mummy’s lap while you drink your milky-wilky up.’
Peter reluctantly sat on his mummy’s lap in full view of everyone; his bunny slippered feet dangled as she tied his bib around his neck before giving him his bedtime drink in a babyish sippy cup.
‘Ha ha, what a cute little baby brother I have,’ gloated Julie, ‘all ready for beddy-byes so early in the afternoon. I think you need a teddy bear to keep you company when you are tucked up.’
‘Julie, that is so thoughtful. He can have a friend to be with so he is not alone’, remarked aunty.
His sister quickly brought him a battered one- eyed bear and he reluctantly held the teddy bear.
“Well, I thinks it’s time to put this baby boy to beddy-byes, don’t you girls?” His mother said as she cuddled the eighteen-year-old. Peter then threw a tantrum.
‘No, no, no please don’t put me to bed so early, I won’t go I won’t go!”
 Peter struggled to get off his mummy’s lap.
‘Quiet you silly little boy, over you go for a pyjama spanking!’
Peter was taken over his mummy’s knee once again and given a severe spanking.
‘Ha ha, he certainly deserves to be spanked wearing his sweet pyjamas and now please can we put him straight to bed?” Julie asked.
“Are you going to do as you are told now Peter and go to bed without a tantrum?” asked his mother.
“Yes mu…mummy,” he sobbed.
 “Now say night-night Peter and let’s get you to bed.
The laughter filled the air as he was forced to say night-night to everyone before mummy led him up to bed. She tucked him in, kissed his forehead and warned; “now don’t you dare get out of bed, I expect you to go straight to sleepy-byes, night-night.”
At about 3:00pm, Peter appeared fleetingly at the window. His mother looked up quite cross. Julia and Karen shook their heads, amazed at his stupidity.
‘What are you doing out of bed? Do you want another spanking?’ His mother shouted up to the window.
‘Please mummy I’m sorry for getting out of bed but I need to use the bathroom,” he whined.
“You may run to the bathroom if you must but don’t dare remove your pyjamas and then straight back into bed with you.’
Peter moved away from the window and went to the loo as ordered. He could not hear the sounds of footsteps with the door closed and shortly after, went back into his bedroom and began to unbutton his pyjama top. This was a mistake. Julia and her friends stood peering in the bedroom doorway and they waited until his pyjama jacket was removed before announcing their presence.
 ‘What do you think you are doing Peter?’ Julia asked dryly.
He turned around, shocked at being caught disobeying his mummy. “Uh, well it’s hot and I thought….’
‘You thought wrong babykins. You will be punished for that. Perhaps mummy would like to know too’, Julia stated enthusiastically.
‘No, please no, don’t tell her, oh please!’, pleaded Peter.
‘Get that pyjama jacket back on, button it up and get back into bed, let’s go.’  Julia tucked him up to his neck and kissed him on the forehead smiling.
Peter emerged onto the patio drinking tea and munching on a sandwich. Karen and Fiona were there with his mother and Julie. He just overheard the tale end of a conversation about him that rapidly changed to a whisper as he presented himself.
‘Perhaps we should lock his door from now on too? Julie in a whisper ‘Then he wouldn’t be able to wander around or go to the bathroom whenever he wishes.’Mummy nodded her head in agreement. “Maybe, I have another idea.Peter sat down alongside them, taking a bite of his sandwich he managed to deposit most of the mayonnaise onto his t-shirt.  As he attempted to wipe it off he knocked his tea over his pants. He yelled, fell backwards and ended up sitting in the flowerbed. His mother looked at him with pity in her eyes.
“Peter”, she said, ‘you may be eighteen but you certainly behave more like a toddler. Because of your misbehaviour you can go upstairs and run a bath. I will be up to see to you shortly. Now march!’
Peter hated baths and detested being told off in front of everyone. Noting his annoyance, Julia couldn’t help but tease him. ‘Oh yes, baby brother, I don’t think that your weekend is going to be one you will enjoy.’ 
Upstairs he started to fill the tub with water when his mother walked in. She added a large amount of bubble bath oil and ordered him to get in. The suds rapidly filled the tub almost engulfing him as he struggled to see through all the bubbles.
Peter protested in vain as his mummy proceeded to lather his entire head in shampoo. As he tried to speak, she covered his face in lather and scrubbed him ever so thoroughly.
‘But mummy I am too old to need any help bathing…’
She ignored him; soaping the wash flannel as she continued to bathe him as one would a small child. Neck, ears and all the other important parts were washed, rinsed and re-washed until she was thoroughly satisfied.
‘Well we can’t have you go to bed dirty babykins. I have fresh pyjamas for you too and your sister and girlfriend are remaking your bed with fresh linens. Don’t forget to thank them’.
Finally she re-soaped the flannel. ‘Now, as punishment for your backtalk this morning, I am going to wash your mouth out to teach you that naughty little boy’s should treat ladies with the utmost respect and admiration my poppet! Open wide.’
 Peter sat amongst the soapsuds as the flannel was forced into his mouth. ‘Stop crying, you will only prolong the punishment!’ The soap bubbles stung his eyes, filled his spluttering mouth and nasal passage until at last she finally withdrew the cloth. Then she shoved a big blue mushy bar of soap into his mouth and forced it back and forth adding to his misery and forcing soap down his throat as she continued covering him in shampoo and bubbles. The process seemed to last forever as he heard giggling from the doorway and knew the girls were looking in on him.  Peter was less than cooperative as expected and when the soaping stopped, he spat out lots of soap bubbles. Peter clambered blindly out of the bath and he felt himself being wrapped in a fluffy soft towel. 

Peter was led back into his bedroom. He was startled to find the three girls, now all dressed waiting. Julie stood grinning mischievously. Draped neatly over her arm hung a pair of frilly pink floral winceyette pyjamas, the type of pyjamas that only very young females would wear. Peter looked worryingly at his mother.
‘Well poppet, those are the only clean pair of pyjamas we have left that are suitable for you to wear, now be a good boy and co-operate and perhaps we can get you tucked into beddy-byes without having to resort to a smacked botty.’
Julie held the floral pyjama jacket and gave it a small shake.
‘Come on baby brother into your cosy jim-jams, see how pretty they are, there we are, that isn’t so bad is it?’
Julie deliberately took her time buttoning up his pyjama jacket. Her eyes focussed amusingly on his crestfallen face as she fastened the top button and smoothed down the lace frilled Peter Pan collar.
‘How sweet you look,’ she gloated. Fiona and Karen stifled giggles, they were eager to participate in Peter’s bedtime humiliation and did not want to upset his mother.
The hem of the pyjama jacket hung very low covering the towel that concealed his modesty and the cuffs of the sleeves covered his hands.
‘Now. Peter, lie back on the bed a moment I have a little surprise for you.’
His mother pushed Peter; caught unawares, he toppled backwards, bouncing onto the bed. He stared up at his mother.
‘Do you know what these are Peter?’ He watched dumfounded as she waved a package past his eyes.
‘Yes, clever boy,’ she teased as the recognition showed in his frightened eyes. ‘Dry-Nites Pyjama Pants, age 15 years,’ she read. ‘Lets see if they fit, shall we?’
Holding up the garment she stretched the elasticised waist to its full extent.
‘Why of course they will fit our little babykins, shall we put them on him hmmm?’
Peter lay shamefully as his mother eased the nappy, for in reality that’s what it was, over his feet and shuffled them upwards until they nestled snugly in place.
‘There now, all comfy,’ she teased.
‘Mummy please stop,’ he pleaded.
‘ I don’t need to wear nappy’s.’
‘You will learn,’ began his mother, ‘that when I put you to beddy-byes I expect you to stay there. Not waltzing along to the bathroom every five minutes. If your bladder is so weak you obviously need nappy’s and a pair of these!’ 
Mummy crinkled the plastic baby pants in her hands; ‘Julie picked these out for you aren’t they sweet?’
They were pale yellow and made a constant rustling sound as mummy settled them neatly over his nappy.
‘Stand up babykins,’ she ordered, it wont be long until you are snug as a bug in beddy-byes where you will stay until I say otherwise. Now it’s time for you to be dressed in your pyjama bottoms.’
She held up the pink floral pyjama bottoms by the waistband and waved the voluminous nightwear as if she was signalling a cry for help. Peter felt humiliated as he was made to step into the pyjama bottoms; mummy pulled them up high and tucked his pyjama jacket toddler style, inside the elasticised waist.
‘Nearly all done poppet.’
Three soft pillows, each covered with a pure white, frilled flannelette pillowcase were plumped up and eager female hands manoeuvred Peter into bed.
‘Lets see those handies,’ mummy said, holding a pair of pink lamb wool mittens. ‘ I heard all about your attempt to take of your pyjamas, these mittens will ensure mischievous little fingers won’t be undoing any pyjama buttons or straying where they shouldn’t.’
Peter’s hands were enveloped in a pair of pink lambs wool mittens. Mummy pulled the sleeves of his pink floral pyjamas right down and tucked them into the mittens. Deftly, she tied the ribbon into a pert, flounced bow ensuring his pyjama cuffs were secured firmly under the mittens.  Curiously there remained, on each mitten a long length of ribbon.
Peter was too angry to puzzle over this for the moment.
His mother said. ‘Peter, you know very well mummy does not allow you to remove your pyjamas without permission. You behave like a child most of the time and your pyjama and early bedtime punishments are thoroughly deserved, your place from now on is tucked up in bed or cuddled up on mummy’s lap wearing your cosy jim-jams. Fiona and Karen are welcome to help your sister administer your punishment and you can expect nappies and pyjamas and early bedtimes to be your future. Now, let’s get you tucked into bed.’
Peter was crestfallen but had no time to try and change his mothers. 
‘Karen would you prepare the medicated dummy please?’
No! I won’t use that awful instrument,’ he cried, ‘I just won’t, mm…!
Peters protest was too little too late; helpless against four pairs of female hands the dummy was secured in his mouth, immediately the sickly taste of castor oil dripped insidiously into his mouth.
‘Ha-ha,’ laughed Julie, I thought you might like a little drink to pass the time while you are tucked up in beddy-byes so I suggested the feeding dummy to mum,’ she gloated.  Peter tried to speak but only succeeded in ingesting a bigger dose of castor oil.
‘Lets get you settled into beddy-byes now.’ Peter’s mummy guided his shoulders toward his bed. As she did so he glanced sideways at the wardrobe mirror.
‘Ha ha,’ laughed Julie, noticing his glance. ‘See how sweet you look dressed for bed in your frilly pink jim-jams, nappy and mittens and sucking on your dummykins. Well you had better get used to being dressed this way baby brother, it is going to be your life from now on.”
Peter was propped up in bed against three white flannelette covered pillows. The girls busied themselves tucking fleecy blankets over the lower half of the bed then piling a huge, heavy pink duvet on top of him and settled it just below the waistband of his pyjamas.
Mummy took the ends of the ribbons that hung from his mittens and threaded them through two small holes in the duvet. Then, reaching underneath the duvet she tied the ribbons tightly around his lower thighs.
Peter felt his hands been drawn toward his legs with the thick duvet sandwiched between.
Julie danced around excitedly.
‘Oh yes! It is even better than we hoped. Just one more thing.’ Julie giggled as she approached her bedfast brother Delicately, she ran her fingers around the down turned Peter Pan collar of his pyjamas and inverted it upwards. The lacy frill of the collar was now uppermost and gently caressed Peter’s neck and chin.
Immediately he started to bob his head in a futile attempt to avoid the constant irritation. 
Julie clapped her hands with delight as she enjoyed his discomfort.
Peter lay in bed, propped on his pillows; his upper body uncovered, revealing his pink floral nightwear. Similarly, his pyjama clad arms and mittened hands looked naturally restful on top of the duvet.
No one could have guessed the lengths of pink ribbon held him there securely.
If Peter leant forward slightly he could stop the constant drip of castor oil into his mouth. However, the strain on his neck muscles made this impossible to sustain for more than a few seconds and he was forced to flop his head back onto the pillows and restart the horrible taste.
‘Photo time girls.’ Fiona, Julie and Karen draped themselves around poor Peter at the top of the bed; Julie draping a sisterly arm around his pyjama clad shoulder.
‘Smile my little poppet,’ teased mummy as she pressed the shutter several times.
Peter tired vainly to spit out his dummy but just succeeded in vocalising a muffled, clearly plaintiff whimper.
‘Now it’s time for the final stage of operation beddy-byes. Mummy plugged in the teddy bear shaped item.
‘Your baby monitor poppet,’ she explained to an incredulous Peter.
‘If you make any attempt to get out of bed one of us will hear and you will be punished severely, understand my babykins?’
Peter nodded his head and gave himself an extra dose of castor oil.
His mummy laughed and kissed his cheek. ‘Night night poppet.’
The curtains were tightly drawn and the room was devoid of natural light save for the slightly ajar bedroom door. The girls filed out blowing night- night kisses at him and laughing. As the door closed behind them the room became enclosed in darkness.
He heard the click as the key was turned.
Peter lay tucked up in bed wearing a nappy, frilly pink floral pyjamas, mittens and sucking on his castor oil filled dummy. The frilly, pyjama collar irritated his chin. It was 1.30 in the afternoon.

By Wincy and Janice