Wednesday, 7 January 2015

Nanny Susan.. continued

Susan was already untying the cord that restricted his arm movement and it dangled from his blue mitten as she slid his pyjama bottoms down to his ankles.

Roberts need was so urgent that he had no choice other than to rapidly sit himself down onto the plastic monstrosity.

‘My mittens, what about my mittens?’ He cried, pathetically, holding his hands up for her to unfasten the bindings.

‘Oh, I think you can manage.’ She laughed as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Robert tried to direct his flow, but the mittens made this task somewhat difficult and, when he was finished, one mittened hand was sodden and a damp patch on the front of his pyjamas proved his aim had been poor.

‘I’m wet and it’s all your fault Nanny,’ he shouted petulantly, sounding more and more like a frustrated toddler. So annoyed was he, that his unbroken voice cracked into an even higher octave, and tears of pent up frustration trickled down and mingled with the still encrusted food on his reddened face. 'Aunty……..' he bawled.

Aunt Harriet was standing in the hallway.

‘What’s all this noise about?’ She demanded.

She was confronted with an image of her seventeen-year-old nephew squatting on a baby’s potty, with his yellow, nursery rhyme motif pyjama bottoms entangled at his feet, a baby’s bib tied around his neck and his woollen mittened hands, stretched outwards toward her.

Without a word, she removed his bib, used it to wipe his face, and removed his mittens, taking care to place the sodden one on top of the one remaining dry mitten as she laid them down. She stood him up and indicated for him to step out of his wet pyjama bottoms. Gingerly, she folded them to encompass the wetness and placed them alongside the mittens. Only then did she speak.

‘Well, it seems to me that Nanny is right; your behaviour becomes more infantile every day.

“But Aunty...’ he began to whine, ‘it’s not my fault Susan made me......’

‘Silence!’ Aunty held up her hand. ‘I will listen to no more of your pathetic excuses and downright lies. It's fairly obvious now that I need to begin to accommodate your needs. Nanny, take this naughty little baby upstairs and prepare a bath for him  please, I will sort this mess out and join you shortly.’

Susan had barely lifted him into the bath when Aunty joined them.

‘It’s  been a while since I have had to bathe you Robert, but obviously that is what your behaviour warrants.’

Robert was about to protest but the look on his Aunt's face made him hold his tongue.
For the next five minutes Robert howled his displeasure at being washed and scrubbed by Aunty and Nanny Susan. The rough wash flannel explored every nook and cranny his body contained and he moaned childishly throughout.

As Susan rinsed shampoo from his hair Aunty commanded, ‘open wide you deceitful little boy.’ Startled, Robert’s mouth was suddenly full of wet soapy cloth.

‘Let’s see if having your mouth washed out with soap teaches you to not to tell fibs about Nanny Susan.’

Robert fought to remove the invasive cloth , but Susan held him tightly while Aunty worked the flannel around his mouth.

Feeling nauseous and with his eyes stinging from shampoo he was exhausted and helpless as the bath water gurgled away. He was lifted out of the bath by Susan and enveloped in a soft embracing towel.

Roberts head bobbed back and forth as his hair was rubbed dry, blinded by the towel over his head he felt himself being lowered onto his bed.

‘Now then Baby Bobbykins, Nanny Susan is going to put your night-night nap-naps on making him all snuggly-wuggly for beddy-byes, yes we are.’

It was then that he realised he had been positioned onto a square of white towelling he recognised as a nappy. “Nooo……. Nanny no. Please stop… don't”

Robert tried struggling and resisting, but he was helpless as Susan’s hands gently prepared his body for his nappy. He felt her rubbing cream in between his legs and up around his bottom. He moaned at her touch.

 “Now for some lovely talc-um powder on those little dumplings and your tiny little pee-pee,” she said, as her fingers caressed him.

He moaned even louder and instinct took over and he was almost about to bring matters to a conclusion when……….

Aunty’s angry face loomed over Robert. He could see that over her arm were draped his blue, Teddy Bear pyjamas, the ones he had hidden at the back of his pyjama drawer and there was something else in her hand.....

Aunt Harriet looked down at Robert. He had never seen her look so angry with him before.
‘I see my Baby Bobbykins is  all excited about being put back into nappies, don’t worry, Nanny Susan will soon have everything tucked away inside your nappy out of harms way, and dressed in your jim-jams ready for bed, but first you need this.”

A click of a tiny padlock closing and Robert, diminutive, seventeen year old Robert, was completely and utterly chastised.

Susan Phillips faced the mirror. She was pleased with what she saw. She was little more than a girl, but she saw herself as an authoritative, dominant woman and this was the image she had created. Her hair was already pinned up as she slipped her arms into her prim white blouse with the brown stripes. The cuffs were long, double buttoned ones that embraced her wrists. She had fastened the top button of the blouse and the rounded collar was set off by a vintage cameo brooch that had been her grandmothers. She ran her hands down the front of her blouse to smooth a small, barely noticeable crease.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she pulled on her sixty denier black tights, before she stepped into her size eighteen black skirt, pulling it up over her faux silk slip and fastening the button at the side. She ran her hands inside the waistline of the skirt, adjusting the position and once again running her hands against the skirts slightly rough material.

She selected her size ten black brogues and bent to tie them. Standing upright she stared straight into the mirror. This was Nanny Susan.

It was only seven o'clock when she entered his room. Robert was fast asleep. It had taken the two of them to calm him but it had not been too difficult. The chastity device was a masterstroke, and once he had been pinned into his nappy the majority of the fight had gone out of him. He had been totally compliant as she had buttoned him into his blue, Teddy Bear motif pyjamas and he had sat quietly on her lap as she gave him the baby bottle. Of course, once he had drank all his “sleepy time” milk up, it was easy to put Baby Bobbykins to bed even though it was only six o’clock.

Susan wanted to introduce Robert to the quieter, another tool in her regression technique. She had spent most of the previous evening, once he had been put to bed, planning the day ahead and this was uppermost in her mind as she shook him awake.
When Aunt Harriet came down for breakfast Robert was perched in a high chair. He was naked apart from a pair of dry-nites pyjama pants and his now laundered woollen mittens. Robert was looking very sorry for himself as he struggled to avoid a spoonful of semolina pudding that Nanny Susan was insisting he eat.

"Now come along Baby Bobbykins, " coaxed Nanny Susan, "you must eat up your lovely milky pudding, how else will you grow up to be a big strong boy?"

Upon seeing Aunt Harriet she put the spoon in the bowl and left Robert to his own devices, with his ankles secured to the legs of the high chair and the feeding tray firmly locked into place, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Aunty please,…. I'm sorry if I have been naughty but please help me.."

The elongated, shiny plastic teat of the dummy penetrated and filled his mouth. The guard snapped against his lips and chin as Nanny Susan secured the strong rubber fasteners. Robert began to panic as, in trying to eject the dummy from his mouth he forgot to breathe.

"Hush now Baby Bobbykins, don't fight it, breathe through your nose and suck your dummy rhythmically. That's it, don't worry about the dribbles, that's what this is for." Susan flapped out the towelling bib and held it triumphantly in front of him. Snowy white in colour, across it was printed in red lettering, 'Nanny's New Babykins'. Once again he shook his head and tried to voice his protest. Susan laughed, and crooking her finger under his chin wiped away a sliver of dribble that oozed from the corner of his mouth.

Aunt Harriet poured herself a cup of tea. "The high chair and the quieter, so soon?"

Susan removed the plastic apron she had fastened on herself when she began to feed Robert. She glanced across at him as she answered. "Yes he's making fine progress, I thought we could take him to school dressed this morning?"

Aunt Harriet nodded, and drained her cup. Is the milk in the pudding the…" she hesitated. Susan interjected, "yes of course."

Robert's eyes followed Aunty Harriet's movement , imploring her to help him. He was confused as to what he had done for her to place him in the hands of this monstrous girl.

Aunt Harriet wiggled the dummy embedded in Roberts mouth. "Just be a good boy for Aunty and Nanny Susan and everything will be fine you will see." She patted his head condescendingly. "Very well, get him ready and we will set off."

Nanny Susan stared hard at Robert as she re-fastened the plastic apron and picked up the spoon. She slapped the inside of his thigh with the back of the metal spoon, Robert squealed as much as he could with a large plastic teat in his mouth as a bright red mark appeared on the inside of his leg along with a smear of semolina.
"Just a reminder to behave Baby Bobbykins. I am going to release you from the quieter and I want you to eat up all your pudding without a word, understand?"

Robert readily agreed, nodding his head in compliance. The relief he felt when the unerring pressure of the rubber restraints, forcing the plastic deep into his mouth was ended, was worth the disgusting mouthfuls of milky semolina he had to endure.

Half an hour later Robert was stood in front of the mirror as Nanny Susan crouched behind him, her hands firmly planted on his shoulders. He felt strange, he knew he was dressed strangely for a seventeen year old but somehow it didn't bother him one bit.

"See Baby Bobbykins, Aunty has bought you some lovely new clothes, now you can be a proper little boy can't you?"

Anthony was wearing a pair of primrose yellow shorts. They were shorts that barely covered three inches of leg. Tucked into the waistband of the shorts was a similar coloured, short sleeved shirt, a little patch pocket on the left breast had a picture of an old fashioned racing car  and underneath, in red lettering, the word, "vrooooom…".

He wore white ankle socks and on his feet were fastened a pair of red leather, Clarks sandals. In his mouth was a proper, rubber teated, blue plastic, babies dummy. He was sucking on this voluntarily. Nanny Susan had calmly informed him that if he refused to suck placidly on his dummy then the quieter would  again be utilised. She had shown him the knitted, yellow peaked cap with chin strap that would be used to conceal the rubber restraints of the quieter and he was advised that it could well be utilised at bedtime. Robert had only experienced the horrible device for a short time but had no wish to encounter it again so he readily acquiesced to voluntarily sucking on the dummy.

The seventeen year old stared at himself in the mirror and saw a toddler, all dressed up for a day out. Nanny Susan kissed him on the cheek, giggled and ushered him into the hallway where Aunty was waiting. 

Robert was apprehensive, he felt that he should have been not quite so co-operative yet at the same time he was worried about not upsetting Nanny Susan or Aunty. It was for that reason, when Aunty slipped his arms into the baby reins, that he stood and allowed Aunt Harriet to buckle the reins on him.

As Nanny Susan flicked the reins, Robert became aware of two things happening, first he heard the little bells, sewn to the leather straps jingling merrily, second he felt the sting of the leather strap against his calf.

"Off we go Baby Bobbykins, walk at a gentle pace and no pulling."  
Nanny Susan sang out as Aunty closed the door behind them.

Friday, 2 January 2015


As Peter has demonstrated recently, and Lance and Luc amongst others previously. I am completely amenable to posting other peoples contributions be they stories, pictures or whatever. As long as they comply with the spirit of the blog, and you should know what that is by now, I will post your offerings. Of course I reserve the right to edit or not post as I see fit.

This blog gets around 14,000 views a month, not huge, but a lot when you consider the specific nature of the blog. Mostly by people based in the UK and the US, most visitors then can write English, so why don't I get more comments? Today we have also had visitors from Poland and Columbia!

Happy New Year to all who visit and PLEASE leave comments, it makes such a difference.

Thursday, 1 January 2015

A Gentle Slip into Submission. This is the continuation of the story by Peter Amas that was posted here in September. I am sure you will agree with me that it is an excellent addition. Please leave a comment when you read this story as it encourages people to continue writing and contribute. Thanks. Oh,and you could leave comments on my stuff too you know!

 Slowly and in stages John awoke. As his senses returned he had a strange feeling that something was wrong. His eyes were open but the room was so dark it was hard to tell. He knew he wasn't in his own bed; he felt hot, groggy and out of place. ‘Where the hell am I?'
He recalled a bizarre dream in which a gentle old lady had dressed him in beautifully soft pyjamas before bringing him down to meet other similarly clad men. He was aroused just thinking of it.. ‘What was going on’? As his head began to clear he became aware of other sensations beside the heat. Lying on the flat of his back he felt constricted and struggled to move. His arms seemed pinned by his side and something felt tight around his neck, waist and legs.
Thinking again of the dream he realised it had happened. The constriction he was feelings was the buttoned up pyjama jacket and the pyjama cord tied high up around his waist. He began to recognise the sensation of soft, cosy flannel against his skin but still had no idea as to why he couldn't turn, move or sit up. ‘How the hell had he got to bed; who had put him there and where was he?'
He also had a strange sensation in his loins. Feeling the softness of the pyjamas and thinking of how subtlety he had been led into wearing them he was developing an erection but it became more uncomfortable as his manhood grew. His state of arousal combined with the thick flannel and bed clothes made him perspire profusely.
Hearing voices outside the room he called out ‘Hello, can you help me’; the door creaked then opened. A light went on and the room lit up temporarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted he recognised the old lady that had so deftly dressed him in pyjamas. 'Are we awake John? I'm sure you've had the sleep of angels in those beautiful jim-jams. We have a visitor here to see you.' John was struggling to take it all in. He caught a glimpse of his pyjama clad arms fastened by his sides with thick black webbing straps that protruded through the candlewick bedspread. 'What was happening? Why was he here? What did this old lady want with him’? John's eyes  bore into Elizabeth. 'Please let me go! You can't do this to me! Who do you think you are?' He shouted.
As he writhed in the bed fighting the restraints a soft cooling hand caressed his brow. 'John please calm down this is best for us both’; his gaze shifted to the source of the voice. He was both relieved and shocked to see his wife Jenny sitting by his side. Mortified that his wife should see him like this tears welled up in his eyes, Had he taken ill? Had something happened? Was he in hospital? He had no idea what was going on.
'How are you today darling? I know Elizabeth is taking great care of you. It's in both our interest that you spend a little time here and learn how to behave. She assures me that when you are ready to leave you will be a new man, a new husband and our relationship will be back on track’.
John was confused and bewildered he couldn’t understand what Jenny was saying. He was just delighted to see her. ‘What are you saying, what's happening, why am I here?' Sitting on the end of the bed Elizabeth spoke. ‘Now John, Jenny and you both know that you were drifting apart, she was desperate to win you back and found out about our little establishment through the wife of a good friend of yours. You’ll be with us for a number of weeks; subject to you making good progress of course. Jenny has cleared your diary and made time. She will visit weekly to assess your progress and learn the finer arts of pyjama discipline.
Now Jenny it is time for you to leave and join the other ladies while we prepare John for the day’s activities. And John darling, just to reassure you all is above board and legal, we are a private psychiatric institution and when you signed the register last night you committed yourself to a course of behavioural therapy and subsequently relinquished all authority to Jenny. We can hold you indefinitely if needs be so the sooner you adopt the required behaviours the sooner you will be back in the bosom of Jenny.'
John could feel a sense of panic welling up inside; he was sweating due to fear and the layers of blankets, flannel sheets and thick pyjamas but more importantly he knew the truth behind what Elizabeth had said. They had been drifting apart and John didn’t know how to rescue their relationship which he so desperately wanted to do. ‘Please Jenny don’t do this; let me come home now’.
As Jenny turned to go John could see tears in her eyes. Elizabeth assured her that all would be well as she escorted her out of the room.
Some minutes later Elizabeth re-entered the room with a large woman dressed in nursing whites pushing the old fashioned wheelchair he had sat in at dinner last night.
They began to undo the straps holding his arms to the bed and slowly they pulled back the blankets. John could see why he couldn’t move. Similar straps across his chest and legs kept him securely anchored to the mattress. He thought about making a bolt for the door but as he tried to move he collapsed, as weak as a kitten.
Having loosened the straps Elizabeth struggled somewhat to untie the cord on his pyjama bottoms; his vulnerability made him feel aroused and his loins began to throb again. Slowly she pulled the pyjama bottoms down to reveal that he was wearing a nappy. John was totally mortified; the last vestige of his dignity gone. Elizabeth undid the nappy and removed it. ‘Now darling that was quite heavy, it looks like you have quickly regressed. You know there are some that say there is nothing like the freedom a night time nappy gives a man to help him properly relax.’. Elizabeth gently pulled his pyjama bottoms back up over John’s manhood but did not fasten the cord. John was grateful for this minor gesture; restoring some of his dignity. With the help of the nurse he was lifted into the wheelchair. ‘Now John, we have run a lovely bath for you and once you've had a good soak we will get you dressed and bring you down for your first session’.
John was lost for words. As he was pushed out of the room he felt broken and alone yet somehow soothed as his power was taken from him ‘would he find answers here’? He still loved Jenny so very much. In less than 24 hours he had been stripped of his dignity and was now dependent on this woman who seemed to have power over himself and his wife. His feelings were a mix of fear and a deep sensual arousal at the thoughts of being bathed by this elegant, motherly old lady.
Upon entering the bathroom Elizabeth and the nurse slowly and methodically removed his pyjamas. 'please don't remove my pyjamas' he pleaded, 'let me go and no one will hear of this, I promise’. "My Pyjamas", he thought. Up until yesterday he had not worn pyjamas since his childhood but now he felt an affinity to them and did not want them removed. They threw the pyjamas casually into the laundry basket. It looked like others had endured similar stripping humiliation, judging by the variety of pyjamas visible in the basket. Lifting him deftly into the bath, both Elizabeth and the nurse began to scrub his body vigorously with lavender scented sponges. He could feel his skin tingling and lifting with the cleaning.
Twenty minutes later they helped him out of the bath and into the chair into which a huge towel had been placed. They dried him thoroughly and started to comb his hair. ‘Now John,' Elizabeth said. 'I promised you last night we would have your clothes freshly aired and ironed. Nurse Hopkins will help you get dressed and prepared for this afternoon's activities. I will see you downstairs for afternoon tea shortly. I promise you a most interesting afternoon.'
Afternoon! John thought. Had he lost all track of time?  
As Elizabeth left the room Nurse Hopkins sprinkled talc on his bottom and began to dress him. He was delighted to be reunited with his own clothes and despite his weakness worked with her to get dressed. Finally, having donned his suit he collapsed further into the chair exhausted. As he was pushed out of the bathroom his knuckles grew white as he gripped the arms of the wheelchair in both fear and anticipation. God only knew what lay ahead.   
As they exited a small wrought iron lift, John could hear noise coming from somewhere ahead; it sounded like women giggling. Heavy with the scent of rose water, the air clung to his clothes as Nurse Hopkins pushed him toward the noise; they entered a large, brightly lit day room.
John noticed Jenny, Elizabeth, and five other women. They were  all dressed like Elizabeth in cashmere twin sets and skirts, they looked like a snapshot from a sixties clothing catalogue, dated and not Jenny's usual style at all. In the middle of the room were the five other men he had dined with the previous night, except now they were all fully clothed and sitting in a circle facing out toward the women. Like him they all sat in wheelchairs. As John was pushed into the circle, Elizabeth handed him a parcel wrapped with brown paper and string. 'Now John our first session will shortly begin'. 'Ladies and gentlemen today we are going to play pass the parcel. Whoever is left holding the parcel when the music stops will be the lucky winner of that round. Let us begin'.
Nurse Hopkins pressed play on an old cassette tape machine. The hissing sounds of Pop Goes the Weasel wafted the air. John found the whole situation surreal. Elizabeth gently prodded John and asked him to ‘pass the parcel’. Wishing to please her he passed it to the young man to his right. quickly the parcel was passed from man to man as it went around the circle. The men seemed to want to offload the parcel as quick as possible and in no time it was back in John's hands. He passed it on again and it got halfway around the circle when the music stopped. A small, balding rotund man was holding the parcel.
'Well done Derek’ Elizabeth said, ‘Mary, would you like to help Derek open his parcel’? Mary gave out a little squeal of excitement and Derek began to go red and didn’t appear at all happy to have won the prize. As Mary began to untie the parcel, John could see it contained a really old fashioned pair of blue, white and grey striped flannel pyjamas, a blue wool dressing gown and tartan patterned carpet slippers. John was surprised that Derek looked somewhat relieved at his 'prize'.
'Now ladies who would like to help Mary in getting Derek ready for bed?’ Elizabeth asked. 'Jenny, as a newcomer to our circle why don't you help?’
Jenny clapped her hands and giggled as Mary took her by the hand and together they pushed Derek out from the circle. Within seconds they had him standing up and began to remove his clothes. He looked pathetic as he begged and pleaded with them not to humiliate him in front of the other men and women. 'Don't be a silly boy' Mary said 'I'm sure all your little friends won't mind watching you being put into your lovely striped jimmy-jams so you will be the first ready for beddy-byes. After all, it won't be long before the rest of your chums will be cosily attired in their bedtime pyjamas.'
Moments later, Derek stood naked, his trousers around his ankles as he desperately tried to hide his manhood. Mary knocked his hands away and undid the top button on the pyjama jacket. Brusquely, she ordered him to raise his arms aloft. He did so obediently and she slipped the pyjama jacket over his upraised arms and head and pulled it down past his midriff until it descended low enough to conceal his modesty.  Having buttoned up the much hated top button, she flattened and smoothed down the pyjama collar. Now she helped him step forward out of his trousers, handing Jenny the pyjama bottoms. ‘Now Derek, be a good boy and step into your jimmy-jam bottoms for Jenny’ instructed Mary. As he obeyed, Jenny slowly and methodically pulled the pyjama bottoms up. Elizabeth’s voice interjected ‘Jenny, men are always likely to play with themselves, particularly when pyjama discipline is first being enforced so it is important that the pyjama jacket is always long enough to be tucked neatly into the bottoms. Be sure also, to always buy or sew over sized jim-jams. 
Our pyjamaed males should always look slightly foolish in their bedtime garb. Now, hoist the pyjama bottoms as high as possible and tie a number of granny knots well above the belly button’.

Elizabeth watched closely as Jenny followed her instructions. 'Well done Jenny. Did you notice how obedient Derek has been throughout his pyjamaring? In time you can expect the same results from John.’ Jenny then slipped the dressing gown over his shoulders and tied the corded belt. She placed the slippers on his feet before gently easing him back into the chair.
John was both aroused and mortified by the whole affair. How could a fully grown man allow himself to be humiliated in this way. He couldn't get his head around it.
Elizabeth then produced a second parcel and the game began again. This time John was as keen as the other men to offload the parcel. It went around twice before landing in the arms of the young man to his right. Just as the music stopped the young man slipped the parcel into John's lap. He tried to throw it back but Elizabeth was watching keenly. 'Now John, no cheating, I'm very disappointed with you. As a punishment, I think aunties Jane and Sarah will help you get ready for bed’.
The two aforementioned ladies jumped with joy and eagerly took the parcel from John  as they wheeled him out of the circle. Upon opening the package they giggled like school girls. John struggled to see what they were laughing at, imagining the worst. One of the women swung around holding up a pale blue winceyette pyjama top with a small red rose pattern and large floppy ,frilly Peter Pan collar. The other lady swung around modelling a pale blue quilted house coat.
It was evident that the other men were relieved to see they had not, 'won', those particular pyjamas. 'You can't make me wear those'. John whinged. 'Now John, in no time at all you will be dressed ready for bed and comforted by the softness of these beautifully made, female jim-jams. Ladies, show Jenny and John and indeed everyone, how it should be done’. The two ladies danced mockingly towards John, Sarah held the pyjama bottoms by the waistband as she moved toward him and Jane held the jacket by the shoulders. They teased him by caressing his face with the garments allowing him to feel the softness of the fabric.
Sarah and Jane quickly had him standing up and were deftly removing his clothes. Despite his vocal protests, he didn't have the energy to resist and couldn't prevent their probing hands from removing his day clothes. In no time he was as Derek had been before him, standing naked, pathetically attempting to cover his manhood. Sarah pulled his hands away and quickly slipped the pyjama jacket up over his arms. Only then did John realise the jacket was designed to be back buttoned. 'What are you doing'? Get this off.' He tried to remove the jacket but his hands had become enveloped in fabric. Sewn into the sleeves were soft winceyette padded mittens. To his mortification, Sarah buttoned up the back and he effectively became encased in a winceyette pyjama jacket. Jane fussed with the lace bodice and the floppy collar before she gently eased him back into the chair.
Sarah began to slip the soft pyjama bottoms up over his legs. The bottoms had padded winceyette feet, and as much as he was hating this humiliating experience, John was also highly aroused by both the softness of the fabric against his skin and strangely, his public humiliation. His enlarged member confirmed to the women that despite his protestations, he was enjoying being cast into the role of a subservient male .
Sarah began to sprinkle talc on his privates as she slowly pulled the jim-jams up, over his legs. She stopped as the pyjamas nestled against his knees. To his horror, both ladies then lifted his legs and gently placed a nappy under him. As Sarah closed the nappy she painfully folded his throbbing member forward and sealed it behind the nappy using the Velcro tabs. Sarah then continued gently pulling the pyjama bottoms up to his navel and tucked the top into the bottoms.
The pyjamas were obviously too large, but John was overwhelmed by how incredibly soft they felt. Both Sarah and Jane then began to attach the pyjama bottoms to the pyjama top by buttons. It seemed they were designed to fasten together. ‘What sort of outfit was he being forced to wear and where had they got it from’. He had been completely pyjamaed by the two women,  just as if he were a young child. Sarah began to slip the house coat around his shoulders. He was totally embarrassed. This seemed to please the ladies, including Jenny. ‘Please don't leave me dressed like this he pleaded'.
The watching men also seemed to enjoy his humiliation but of course, none of them knew what their particular pyjama ensemble would be.
'Now John don't you look sweet and helpless all ready for bye-byes? We'll have to take some photos of you for our web site. In no time we will have you tucked into beddy-byes. Those cleverly buttoned jim-jams and the nappy will ensure you can't play with yourself or remove your lovely nightclothes’.
'Jenny', Elizabeth said. 'Sarah has been kind enough to specially make these jim-jams for John, over the next few weeks we'll help you make some more suitable pyjamas for when he is ready to go home. You'll be amazed at how quickly he'll adapt to his new life and how comforted and content he will become by having a regular bedtime and pyjama time routine.  As long as you put him to bed at the same time every night, he will soon learn to enjoy his pyjama discipline.
John was wheeled alongside Derek and they watched in a mixture of shame and excitement, as one by one, they were joined by the other men who were also stripped and forced to wear old fashioned pyjamas. Some where made to don paisley patterned pyjamas, others striped one of various colours and one poor man, the youngest, who had hurriedly passed the parcel to John, had fared as badly by having to suffer the indignity of being buttoned into a pair of oversized, Bob the Builder winceyette pyjamas and matching slippers. He sat forlornly in his wheelchair looking like a little boy who has been made to get ready for bed even though his aunt and cousins were paying a visit. 
But when the game was finally over, John was the only man who had been totally humiliated by being forcibly dressed in the soft, feminine winceyette pyjamas. He began to believe it had been planned this way.
‘Now ladies, the only task remaining before bedtime is to put our newer guests into their night time nappies. May I suggest that you work in pairs until you are familiar with the method?’ John’s humiliation was somewhat eased in seeing that some of the other men were to endure the same treatment as himself. Soon they were all ready for bed and wheeled back to their rooms.
John was exhausted and as Jenny and Nurse Hopkins helped him up, helpless as he was confined in his pyjamas, and tucked him into bed, he was both annoyed and frustrated, yet also comforted and relieved to be in bed.
As she said good night, Jenny kissed his brow, and whispered to him.
‘John, I had a wonderful afternoon. You are becoming obedient and you look so sweet and vulnerable in those jim-jams. I  know I have made the right decision and I want this for you more than ever now. Elizabeth assures me that in no time you will be a docile, obedient and subservient little man and wonderful husband who enjoys his bedtime pyjama routine. Look at the progress we've made in one day. Now go to sleep darling, you have another big day ahead of you tomorrow