A Pyjama Punishment letter from PPM

Ever since we were married eight years ago I have always treated my husband as if he were an infant. It gives me great satisfaction that I have successfully regressed him to an almost baby like state and that, although he resents and despises his status, he can do nothing about it and endures his constant daily humiliations as he knows that without me he would end up in the gutter or worse.

Nevertheless, looking after my Babykins hubby is quite tiring and three or four times a year my sister Hettie invites us to visit.

During our stay Hettie takes it upon herself to take over Henry's regime completely and she treats him exactly like one would treat a naughty infant. 

She has a small, but serviceable baby's cot made up in her bedroom and it is here that, Babykins, as she  has comically named him, is put to bed each evening at six pm. She is most insistent that I relax and that she would, as she put it, “carry the burden for a while.” 

The bed is made up with infantile bedding, she has acquired a flannelette Thomas the Tank Engine duvet cover and pillowcase, after his bath, that she always supervises, she wraps him in a large bath towel, places his dummy in his mouth and lay two pairs of his most babyish pyjamas neatly on his bed.

“Now then Babykins, tell aunty which pair of jim-jams her big baby wants to wear to beddy-byes tonight.”


Poor Henry is usually forced to choose between a floral pair and a pair of his babyish pyjamas. She would cajole him into choosing a pair by pointing at the pyjamas, “will it be the pretty pink pair,” she would say, “or the sweet teddy bear pair?”

“Oh what a pretty choice,” she would exclaim whichever pair he reluctantly pointed at.
Sometimes, if he chooses a pair she does not really want him to wear she will say

"Do you know? Baby Babykins has chosen very well but I think we will save those for another night and pop you into the pink pyjamas with the pretty flowers on don't you agree?

Henry will  slowly nod his head, knowing that in reality he has no choice at all,

“Come along now let’s get you all ready for sleepy-byes time.” She urges enthusiastically, taking his hand and leading him to the changing table.

Hettie takes her time nappying Henry. She would put on thin latex gloves and use her hands to apply plenty of oil, cream and talcum powder. 

"We don't want our little Babykins to get a nappy rash do we?" She would ask him until he would be forced to slowly shake his head. 

She particularly enjoys milking Henry before he is nappied. His legs are elevated  and she will  begin to explore the area around his rosebud by circling it with her finger as she lathers it with oil and cream before penetrating it. 
She will probe gently and tentatively first before deepening her thrust until his prostate is located and massaged. Simultaneously Henry will become stiff with excitement and she expertly manoeuvres his tiny shaft until he sheds his supply of semen.

I am sure as a mature lady she finds this more amusing than anything sexual and I know for certain Henry feels nothing but sheer frustration and embarrassment. Once his milking is completed Hettie will envelop him in a thick towelling nappy and plastic pants purely for the humiliation and embarrassment factor. 

"Then now, little Babykins is all nappied weddy for beddy-byes isn't he?" She loved eliciting responses from him no matter how reluctant his reply was and she would persist until he answered.

 "Yeth Auntie," will come the almost whispered response before she laughs and tickles his tummy.

Henry would be pyjama clad with the same deliberate question and answer style. 

"What a lovely colour pink your pyjamas are aren't they?"

"Won't you be a cosy-wosy Babykins wearing these lovely warm jim-jams?"

"You love being buttoned up into your jimmy-jams don't you Babykins?"

"Babykins does love sucking on his dummy before beddy-byes doesn't she."

Each time Hettie waits until she receives a satisfactory response from the hapless  Henry before she continues. 

Eventually, when he is successfully nappied, pyjamaed and slippered she guides him by hand back to wherever I am sitting, whether that was indoors or, more often outside in the garden with friends of both mine and Hettie.

“Say night-night nicely now Babykins” Hettie will urge making Henry remove his dummy, as he goes around the group of ladies kissing each in turn goodnight and  enduring many cuddles and vocal admiration of his chosen pyjamas. Also much to his chagrin and embarrassment, Hettie makes him pause, turn and wave babyishly just before they disappear from view inside the door.

Once tucked into his cot she sits with him and reads a delightfully babyish bedtime story called “The Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton. I can thoroughly recommend it, it's about animals on a boat that have to go below deck at bedtime to brush their teeth and put their pyjamas on. I sometimes stand in the doorway and listen as Hettie repeats this story every bedtime to Henry. It must irritate him immensely to hear the same story night after night  especially as she tells it with such enthusiasm and relish each time.



Eventually she closes the book and leans over the cot to kiss his forehead.

“Now promise aunty you will go straight to sleep like a good tired little Babykins,” 
Henry has to nod his head, as he sucks on his dummy.

“And there will be no more undoing the buttons of our jimjams will there or auntie will have to fetch the punishment mittens won’t she? ” 

His head shakes from side to side, Hettie became annoyed that his pyjamas were always unbuttoned each morning when she woke him, so she made him some special mittens that stopped him undoing the buttons. Henry hated the mitten so much that he soon learnt to keep his pyjama buttoned up.

“Goodnight then Babykins, of to sleepy-byes with you.” Hettie theatrically tiptoes away leaving the door slightly ajar in case “baby wakes up and needs a cuddle.” 

I will tell more about Hettie’s time with Henry if anyone is interested soon.

Ms Isabella Hackworth