A Nanny Smackbottom letter from the extremely rare very first edition of PPM. (Images were provided by the management)

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

Please accept my thanks for your help in turning my husband Peter into a delightful little babykins, these days he is completely unrecognisable from the unruly spoilt brat he once was.

I have followed your advice to the letter. At 5 pm exactly I run his bath and lay out his pyjamas. Last night he wore the yellow bunny rabbit pyjamas that you thoughtfully recommended for him. After his bath I soon had him dressed ready for bed. Once he is wearing his jim-jams he must, as you recommend, be addressed by and answer only to his baby name.

It was great fun, each of us devising a name and as you advised, we ended up putting them into a hat and making him "choose" his own baby name. Peter Pee-pee pants, Lindy Lollipops and Susie Sugar Plum were all excellent but my mother's suggestion, Peterkins Pyjamakins was the one that came out of the hat. (His baby bonnet actually).

At first, he was quite reluctant to answer to his baby name but luckily my mother spent twenty minutes with him draped over her lap while she persuaded him otherwise. Mother only has to take off one of her pink furry slippers and he rushes into my arms, fearful of yet another nursery style spanking squirming helplessly on “nanny’s” lap.

"Is Peterkins Pyjamakins fwightened of Mrs Slipper den?" She will tease, laughing as he clings babyishly to me while she brandishes her slipper mischievously.

My sister never misses a chance to tease him either. She called at 5.30 last night when of course he was already dressed for beddy-byes.

"Oh look at the ickle baby in his pwetty jim-jams, whoever could it be? Tell Aunty Susan what your name is sweetheart?" She asked.

He shuffled his bunny-slippered feet and turned beetroot red and just stared at the floor but Susan was prepared to persevere to get the response she wanted.

She placed her finger under his chin and made him look at her.

“Come along now, be a good little boy for Aunty Susan, tell me what your name is and I shall give you lots of hugs and kisses as a reward.”

My husband ‘s voice was barely audible as he whispered. "My name is Peterkins Pyjamakins Aunty Susan."

"Oh dear, Aunty Susan knows you can do better than that, I could hardly hear you and Nanny certainly couldn’t. Let's try again shall we?"

His eyes flickered from me to my mother. "Mummy and Nanny can't help you, now, what is your name?"

Finally, even though his voice was breaking with emotion, he blurted out quite clearly.

"Please, Aunty Susan my name is Peterkins Pyjamakins."

The three of us howled with laughter while my husband stood with his head bowed and looking very foolish and babyish wearing his bunny rabbit pyjamas and slippers.

After he had kissed and waved night-night to Aunty Susan and Nanny and they have fussed over him, adjusting his pyjama bottoms and smoothing down his pyjama jacket collar, I take him up to bed at 6 pm. As you so rightly suggested, Peterkins has benefited greatly from a regular bedtime.

He now sleeps in the spare bedroom. Nursery rhyme paper decorates the walls and apart from a soft pink carpet, there is only a baby cot that he easily fits into and a chair that I sit on to read bedtime stories. I make sure the curtains are tightly closed so that no chink of daylight can intrude. Of course, at first he was upset at having to go to bed at 6 pm every night but I was able to cure him of that.

One evening despite having already received a spanking for being a naughty boy at bedtime, Peterkins was still having a tantrum about having to go to beddy-byes so early.

“So be it,” I told him, “if you want to stay up you can come along.”

I took his hand and marched him outside into the garden and tethered him to the washing line by putting baby reins over his n jim-jams and left him there, unable to hide his infantile appearance.

Peterkins had nowhere to hide. Miss McPherson our neighbour spotted him over the garden fence and decided to have a little chat about his unusual choice of night attire and to admire his bunny slippers. I  calmly returned and explained that Peter was being punished with early bedtimes as his behaviour was that of a little boy.

Since then, there has rarely been a murmur of objection from him about his pyjama time and early bedtimes. If there ever is, I just have to threaten him with his baby reins and a trip out into the garden and he complies meekly“

Before bedtime, I pin him into his nighttimes nappies. Since you recommend two baby bottles of milk at bedtime it has become essential that he is securely encased in his nappies and protected with plastic pants.

Once he is safely tucked into bed I pin the ribbon attached to his dummy to his pyjamas and pop the dummy into his mouth. These day's he accepts it quite readily and there is no need to tie it in place. I tuck his Teddy Bear Mr Flopsy, in beside him and spend ten minutes reading from his book of bedtime stories that my mother thoughtfully bought for his birthday until his eyes begin to flutter drowsily.

Then, it's light out and off to sleepy-byes for Peterkins Pyjamakins.
As you suggested, at the weekend he is punished for any misbehaviour with over the knee spankings, dressed in his pyjamas and put to bed immediately regardless of the time of day.

Often on a Sunday when I return from my afternoon round of golf, I am met by my mother dealing with a spanked, tearful, and pyjama clad Peterkins begging not to be put to bed at such before tea-time. Of course, his pleadings are ignored and on these occasions, I always follow your advice not to overrule any decision made by my mother or sister or indeed any female who has reason to discipline Peterkins Pyjamakins.

Mrs Harcourt


Dear Mrs Harcourt

Congratulations, your letter is the first to be published in Pyjama Punishment Monthly, our new publication that aims to educate and inform women of all ages about the benefits of Pyjama and Early Bedtime Discipline. 

The meeting we had over tea and your delicious homemade cakes where we determined your strategy was most enjoyable. Perhaps you could now teach Peterkins Pyjamakins to bake fairy cakes for us? 

I am very pleased you took my advice on how to proceed with the transformation of your husband into a contrite and obedient little boy and I must congratulate you on your choice of name for him, although all the suggestions were excellent, Peterkins Pyjamakins is definitely the most appropriate. Including your mother and sister in his initial training is another excellent idea as the more dominant women in his life to maintain and enforce his new way of life the better. 

Don't forget to be consistent in your approach by maintaining discipline and not giving into his pleading to be dealt with in a less infantile manner. Remember, all men remain babies and little boys at heart, so you must be firm continuing with regular spankings, infantile pyjamas and early bedtimes and you will soon be rewarded with a docile and compliant Peterkins.

Please write again soon with an update on his progress.

Nanny Smackbottom

Punished Wearing Blue Striped Winceyette Pyjamas

It's now 4 pm on Sunday and I have been ready for bed dressed in my blue striped winceyette pyjamas since 1 pm. I am being put to bed at 5 pm tonight because I embarrassed my aunt this morning when we went shopping. We met Mrs Lister and her daughter and since it was so wet this morning it was decided to take refuge in a nearby cafe. Aunty, Mrs Lister and Catherine who is 14 years old all ordered warming coffee, when I tried to order the same my aunt said, "no, you can have some warm milk instead, coffee makes you too excitable." I was annoyed and told aunty I would have coffee if I wanted to. Aunty said I was a very naughty boy for answering back and I deserved an over the knee spanking. Catherine sniggered and I told her to shut up. "Right young man you will be putting your pyjamas on as soon as we get home and it's bed for you at 5pm all this week." I had to sit quietly while Catherine teased me, "eighteen years old and you have to wear pyjamas when you get home and go to bed at 5pm. What a baby, I think I will come and visit you at 4.30 to see you go to bed." Aunty nodded and said that was a very good idea and she would make sure I was wearing the stripy pyjamas Mrs Lister had given me at Christmas. Aunty says she is going to spank me in front of Catherine and her mum as she should really have spanked me in the cafe. So here I am sitting in my pyjamas just waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Some very naughty boys under strict discipline

‘Yes well, you only have yourself to blame Robert. Perhaps this will teach you not to tease young girls. Janice and her friends will be taking you down to the park in your pushchair to feed the ducks. When they bring you home they will bathe you, dress you in your baby footed pyjamas and put you straight to bed in your cot at four o'clock!’

Robert regretted objecting when Aunty began discussing his pyjama time and bedtime with his girlfriend Lisa. The discussion centred on whether he should wear his cosy,  blue Teddy Bear motif winceyette pyjamas that chilly night, or his yellow, Winnie the Pooh footed pyjamas. Lisa voted for Winnie the Pooh and his Aunty agreed, this angered Robert but when Lisa suggested his bedtime be brought forward to 6 pm and his pyjama time to 5 pm he objected most vehemently. Aunty had little option other than to bare his bottom and spank some manners into him. Of course, he only had himself to blame as Lisa and Aunty ensured he was tucked into bed at 6 pm wearing his footed Winnie the Pooh pyjamas.

“Oh no, you don’t. Where on earth do you think you are going babykins. When I say four o'clock is your bedtime I mean four o’clock! Now say night-night to the nice ladies then we will get you into your
jimmy-jams and tucked into beddy-byes.”

“Stop that sulking at once. Just because you are eighteen I see no reason why you shouldn't wear your pretty baby clothes for many a year yet. Now I want to see that dummy being sucked for the duration of my friends visit or you will be spanked and put to beddy-byes very early!"

"What have I told you about being ready for bed when I get home at 4 pm? Yet I find you not wearing your pyjamas at 4.30! Well, this spanking should help remind you, and just in case you forget again I have arranged for Melanie from next door to come and supervise your pyjama time. Yes, I am quite aware she is younger than you but she is much more mature than you will ever be."

Stephen's Pyjamaring Journey by Pete Amas

(This is a re-post of Pete's story as there were formatting problems with the original)

Stephen’s wife had gone to visit her sister in Kingsley; he would be alone for two possibly three days. She had left strict instructions that no parties or any other such frivolities should be held in her absence and she had also asked Miss Letherbridge, the elderly spinster next door, to keep an eye on him. After three years of marriage, he was getting weary of being henpecked but he had made a vow and he felt morally bound to live by it. Asking Miss. Letherbridge to keep an eye on him was further proof of the increasingly subservient path his life was taking.

Miss Letherbridge was a tall and elegant lady, in her early sixties, who seemed to have cast a spell over his wife shortly after they moved in. In his wife’s eyes, Miss Letherbridge was a pillar of the community and her advice was always taken.

Stephen found her strangely attractive for a woman of her vintage. She was always immaculately dressed although her style was somewhat dated, crisp white blouses fully buttoned to the neck, cuffs neatly buttoned too and knee length black pleated skirts. She wore nylon stockings that did not completely conceal her still excellently shaped legs and on her feet, she wore her trademark sensible black brogue shoes. With her greying, but still, mainly auburn hair, tied up and pulled back in a bun that exposed her surprisingly unwrinkled face to scrutiny, for Stephen she epitomised his fantasy of a strict disciplinarian nanny figure.

Conversely, he had witnessed her private, beyond public view appearance. From their bedroom window, he could see her hanging washing out on the line in her nightclothes and was surprised at how aroused this made him feel too. Her pyjama clad legs that were exposed below her dressing gown made him feel strangely attracted to her old fashioned nightwear and he secretly fantasised about wearing her pyjamas. He often looked longingly from their bedroom window at the back of the house over the privet hedge at Miss Lethbridge’s numerous winceyette pyjamas and nightgowns billowing seductively in the wind. He would amuse himself while enjoying the view and frequently fantasised about what it would feel like to put on a pair of her pyjamas.


The thought occurred to him that with his wife away an opportunity might just arise for him to borrow a pair from her line. As it transpired, Miss Letherbridge was hanging out washing in her back garden including a pair of winceyette pyjamas with pink and blue flowers and a lace trimmed Peter Pan collar and what looked like a quilted floral house coat. As she pegged out the nightwear she frequently glanced up at the bedroom window as if she could sense he was there. Thankfully he was hidden behind the net curtains and could not be seen, however, he felt strangely uncomfortable, it was almost as if she was watching him.

Boldly, he decided that after dark he would sneak through the hedge and take a pair of her pyjamas, sleep in them and have them returned before dawn. His decision excited him and he was highly aroused. The evening wore on and the time of Stephen’s escapade drew near. In preparation, he placed fresh sheets on the bed and cleaned the bedroom. He also sprinkled rose-water on his sheets; a smell he always associated with Miss Letherbridge.

Just after dark Stephen took a stroll out the back garden to check on Miss Lethbridge’s house. it looked like all the curtains were pulled and the lights were out. Moving back toward the house he found a gap in the privet hedge, it was not easy, but with some effort, he squeezed through. With great stealth and some trepidation, he crept toward the line.

He reached for the floral winceyette pyjamas and gasped at their softness as he took them from the line. With his prize in hand and great excitement, he crept back toward the house and the gap in the hedge. Just as he was about to make his escape the entire garden lit up. Standing there, three feet in front of him, and blocking his escape route was Miss Letherbridge, dressed in her trademark blouse and skirt.

“Hello Stephen, may I ask what you are up to?” Startled and feeling completely exposed Stephen sputtered something about thinking it was going to rain and how he had come down to take in her washing.

Smiling at his discomfort Miss Letherbridge thanked him for his concern and asked him to leave the washing in the kitchen while she fetched the rest from the line. Hesitantly he entered the kitchen and left his prize on the table; his hand lingering a little too long as he surrendered the prized winceyette pyjamas. As he turned to leave, Miss Letherbridge entered the kitchen and locked the door behind her.

“Now Stephen, let’s get to the truth of this matter shall we?” She picked up the winceyette pyjama jacket from the table and moved toward him.

“I..I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.

“Come, come now darling, I've seen you watching my clothesline from your bedroom window for quite some time. I know you fantasise about wearing my winceyette pyjamas, isn't that correct?”

By now she had backed him up against the kitchen wall and stood inches away from him. She stared down at him and he felt intoxicated by her rosewater fragrance. Staggered at her directness and the fact that his secret was out his voice quivered as he blurted out, “please don’t tell my wife I..I never meant any harm.“

As the words came out Stephen realised he had confirmed her suspicions; he was shaking with nerves and anxiety. Miss Letherbridge stroked his face with the pyjama jacket, "there-there little one. Don't be afraid, Nanny is going to take care of her sissy babykins and make everything right."

He struggled for breath, knowing she had him under her control but deeply and visibly, excited too. She took him by the arm and led him toward the stairs.

“Let’s get you undressed and into a warm scented bath shall we? Then we can talk this through when you have, err, calmed down. Despite his anxious state, he was visibly aroused by her suggestion and the dominant manner In which she took control of the situation. He acquiesced and meekly let himself be led upstairs.

Filling the bath, Miss Letherbridge poured copious amounts of rose scented bath salts as the room began to fill with steam.

“Let’s get those nasty big boy clothes off shall we?”

She began to strip him, starting with his jeans and underpants. As he stood there semi-naked, he cupped his hands over his manhood to protect his modesty. Miss Letherbridge gently pulled his tee shirt off over his head forcing his hands apart.

“Don’t be embarrassed my darling, “I've seen many a naked male in my time,” she whispered. Sitting him on the edge of the bath she slid him into the piping hot water. The water felt luxurious, like silk, against his skin. As he sank lower into the bath Miss Letherbridge grabbed a soapy sponge and plunged it deep into the water. Gently she began to wash his body.

“Now darling, let’s talk about your secret desires shall we? Let’s talk about your love of my winceyette pyjamas and your need to be mothered and treated like the helpless child you are.”

Stephen was already relaxed with the heat of the water and her words made him become deeply aroused. His manhood grew as she spoke and softly cleansed his body; bringing him to a state of excitement and arousal he had never experienced before. He was just about to reach orgasm when she withdrew the sponge.

“Please Miss Letherbridge……” He moaned in frustration.

“Now darling, you relax while I go and get something soft and exciting for you to wear; but don’t touch yourself or I shall be very annoyed and you won’t like me when I'm annoyed.”

Stephen was frustrated, he desperately wanted to relieve himself but was fearful of Miss Lethbridge’s reaction should he do so. He sat there with his enlarged member teasing him as it poked its head through the bath foam. Two minutes later Miss Letherbridge returned carrying a beautiful pair of white winceyette pyjamas with a large red rose pattern and a pink cotton velour bathrobe. Holding up the robe she invited him to step out of the bath. She wrapped the bathrobe around him and vigorously began to dry him. Stephen could not take his eyes off the pyjamas he so desperately wanted to touch them.

She followed his gaze. “Don’t worry darling it won’t be long now before you feel their soft embrace,” she promised.

Having completely dried him she began to sprinkle talc on his private parts and bottom. Finally removing the bathrobe she took the pyjama top and offered it up to his left arm. “Now let’s see how these fit shall we?” As she slid the winceyette pyjama sleeve up over his arm his body tingled with excitement and his member became further engorged. Slipping his arm into the other sleeve she began to close the tiny satin covered buttons working from the bottom up. Fastening the top button she told him how sweet he looked and how she had kept these extra large pyjamas, especially for his first pyjamaring. She finished by flattening down the lacy Peter Pan collar and adjusting the pyjama jacket’s sleeves.

Then she reached for the bottoms. Creating a little puddle of winceyette on the floor she took his right foot and placed it into the bottoms. Slowly she slid the bottoms up his leg holding them open at his knee. Resting his weight on her shoulder, he willingly put his left leg into the pyjamas. As she pulled the pyjama bottoms up, Stephen could not believe the height of his arousal as the winceyette caressed his penis before she finally rested the waistband high above his belly button. She looked deep into his eyes as she tucked his pyjama top into the bottoms; he was now completely encased in the soft, feminine pyjamas. Grasping his now enlarged member through the winceyette, Stephen finally ejaculated with a cry of ecstasy. He was spent and elated and wanted no more than to spend the rest of his days embraced by soft, cosy winceyette, snuggled in the bosom of Miss Letherbridge. She, however, looked with disdain at the growing wet patch on his pyjama bottoms.

“Stephen darling what are we going to do with you? I had just washed and ironed those pyjamas especially for your pyjamaring and you have already ruined them. There is nothing to be done but to get you a clean pair; come with me.”

Taking him by the hand she led him into a box room, now lie on the bed while I select you another pair of pyjamas. Opening a chest of drawers she took out two pairs of pyjamas, one pink floral pair with a ruffle neck and one lemon yellow with little brown teddies. “Now my angel, which pair of pyjamas would you like to wear?” She asked. Stephen’s hand reached out tentatively to touch the pink floral pair.

“Oh what a wonderful choice darling, you will look so pretty wearing the jim-jams. Now, let’s get those soiled pyjamas off and get you ready for beddy-byes. However this time I think we should put you in a pair of nighttime pyjama pants to capture any nocturnal secretions; don’t you agree?”

Stephen was beyond caring at this stage, he was totally under her spell as his deepest desires were being met. He lay on the bed and accepted his fate as she once again stripped him and put him into the oversized winceyette pyjamas, this time safely ensconced in an adult nappy. Could his world get any better he thought?

“Now my little pyjama clad hero, let me tuck you into bed and get you to sleepy-byes. In the morning we can discuss how our relationship will proceed, but first, you need a good night’s sleep.” She said, lifting his legs up and positioning him on the bed.

“After all, now that your little secret is out we shall have to ensure pyjamaring becomes an integral part of your daily routine shan't we?” As he lay back in the bed she straightened out his pyjamas ensuring his legs and torso were fully covered. She then pulled the blankets high up to his chin and tucked him tightly in.

“Night night little one,” she whispered turning off the light as she left the room. Stephen lay in total darkness knowing he was completely under her control but dressed in the pinkest, softest winceyette pyjamas and in exquisite comfort.

Stephen awoke. He lay in bed squirming against the softness of the winceyette while admiring his floral patterned, pyjama clad arms as he lay beneath the candlewick bedspread. However, despite his obvious physical pleasure, he had an uncomfortable sense of guilt; as if he had done something wrong or did something that could not be undone. He realised he was ashamed that he had allowed himself to be pyjamaed by Miss Letherbridge and felt he had betrayed his wife Jennifer.

He heard Miss Letherbridge turn the door handle, she entered, Immaculately dressed, as usual, carrying a quilted housecoat and a pair of pink slippers.

“Good morning darling, did you have a lovely winceyette pyjama clad night’s sleep? I bet you did but now it’s time to get you out of beddy-byes and ready for breakfast.“ She pulled back the bedclothes to reveal his pink floral, pyjama clad body. “That’s a good boy Stephen, I can tell that you weren't naughty during the night.”

Following her instructions like a subservient child, he stepped out of the bed and she gently placed the slippers on his feet and draped the housecoat over his shoulders slipping his arms into the sleeves. “Do I have to wear this?” he protested.

Looking sternly into his eyes she proceeded to tightly close the top two buttons around his neck. “Those kind of decisions are no longer yours to make, little man,” she replied.

Taking him by the arm like a little child, she led him down the landing. At the top of the stairs, they paused as Miss Letherbridge placed her hands upon his shoulders. She turned him toward a full-length mirror and for the first time, he saw the transformation he had undergone. In front of him stood a meek, emasculated man dressed in women's pink floral winceyette pyjamas a floral housecoat and pink, feminine slippers.

He realised for the first time how large the pyjamas were and how the bottoms
gathered around his feet covering the slippers. In the cold light of day, he
felt that he looked ridiculous and was ashamed. The excitement and arousals of the previous evening were evaporating.

Sensing his mood Miss Letherbridge patted his manhood through the winceyette pyjama bottoms and nappy whispering, “we are not so virile now, are we darling?” Feeling a sense of panic well up in his stomach he asked if he could have his clothes back.He wanted to go home.

“Don’t be silly darling, male clothes will be a rarity for you from now on, soft feminine winceyette pyjamas will be the only clothing you are permitted to wear.”

She led him down the stairs and into the kitchen. There sitting at the table was his wife Jennifer. Stephen was ashen faced and he feebly attempted to blurt some the pathetic excuse about ruining his clothes.

She stood and put her finger to his lips. “Now darling not a word, I just want to enjoy how helpless and exquisite you look in your jim-jams. Miss Letherbridge rang last night to tell
me of her success in completing your first pyjamaring. We have planned this moment so long and I'm just sorry I was not here for your very first time. But now that it has occurred there is no going back. I will have the pleasure, with the advice and guidance of Miss Letherbridge of course, of conducting your pyjamaring education.”

Jennifer unbuttoned his housecoat and removed it before placing her hands on his pink pyjama clad shoulders. She ran her hands down his arms, caressing the winceyette material as she did so, before continuing to his thighs then across his groin where she paused, pressing her palms against his pyjama bottoms and nappy through to his by now
growing excitement.

“You were a good boy for Miss Letherbridge weren't you?” she asked, increasing the pressure. He gasped then she quickly took her hand away. “Now, now Stephen, the whole point of pyjamaring is to make you subservient, we will use pyjamas to control you and make you obey without dissent. Miss Letherbridge, how shall his pyjamaring education proceed?”

Miss Letherbridge smiled, Jennifer would make an excellent student and would soon be an expert at pyjamaring her husband.

“Well the first thing,” she began, “is to set out Stephen's daily routine and chores. In my experience early to bed and early to rise are central to a strict disciplinary regime. He should rise every day at 6.30 am, bringing you your breakfast in bed by 7, followed by four hours of chores. All while wearing the winceyette pyjamas you have chosen for him of course. I suggest a visit to Mrs Bagshott’s ladies wear shop on the high street, she will be able to show you a variety of pyjamas and Stephen will be ably supplied with his own female winceyette pyjamas. Of course, he can keep the pair he's wearing as a
reminder of his first pyjamaring.”

Miss Letherbridge delivered a sharp slap to Stephen’s face.”Stand up straight, I have no time for slovenliness.” Stephen cried out but received no sympathy as Miss Letherbridge continued.

“At 12.00 he should make you lunch followed by more chores such as washing, drying and ironing. 4.00 will be his bath time which you can either supervise or not. Regardless, you will then take charge of his afternoon pyjamaring when he will have his jim-jams changed and put into his nappy. His bedtime is your decision but I would recommend a bedtime no later than 6 pm. You may also want to administer a smacked botty at this time. I have found sending pyjamaed males to bed with a pyjama spanking is an excellent reminder of their subservient, menial position. You will  then want him tucked up and off to sleepy-byes as quickly as you can, I recommend heavy blackout curtains as it can be difficult to get them off to sleep during the summer.”

She paused to slap Stephen’s hand away from fiddling with the buttons on his pyjama jacket.

“Stop that, hands on head!” Jennifer noted how quickly her husband had obeyed Miss Letherbridge as he stood blushing in his pink floral winceyette pyjamas and with his hands on his head like a naughty child. Miss Letherbridge shot him a disapproving look and continued.

“Eventually, you will want him to serve afternoon tea to your female friends and then they can have the pleasure of seeing him dressed in his pretty feminine winceyette pyjamas and perhaps you may want one or two of them to dress him and put him to bed, thus introducing the idea of pyjamaring for other women to adopt our methods.”

As Stephen listened to the two women discuss his new life, all the pleasure he had experienced in willingly stepping into Miss Letherbridge winceyette pyjamas dissolved as he realised he had trapped himself into a life of winceyette servitude. “Please Jennifer, let me go home and get dressed in my normal clothes,” he begged.

“Don’t be silly darling, “ she said stroking his reddened face, “you’re already wearing your normal clothes. Now, we shall walk hand in hand out into the street and home to begin your new life.”

Jennifer and Miss Letherbridge took him by the hand and moved him to the front door. Realising his situation was about to become public he tried to resist and dug his slipper-clad feet into the carpet.

Miss Letherbridge twisted his ear, “you see Jennifer, never hesitate to impose discipline,” he yelled in pain as he was marched out of the front door.  Across the road, Mrs Daniels watched the scene as a winceyette pyjama clad Stephen was paraded for all to see. Other neighbours watched as Stephen tried to hide behind the two women. However a smack to his pyjama clad bottom from Miss Letherbridge seemed to cure his reticence.

“Don't worry Stephen, she announced,“I've had the pleasure of pyjamaring all the gentlemen on this road and they now know how to behave in the presence of females, just as you will learn in the coming years.

Soon you will be so conditioned and comfortable with your pyjamaring that you will be content to be permanently dressed in your pretty winceyette jim-jams, you won't want to wear big boy clothes anymore, and you will join the ranks of subservient males in our little neighbourhood. What heavenly fun we will have then shan't we?”

Weeks passed since Stephen's first pyjamaring at the hands of Miss Letherbridge. In all that time not once had he been allowed to wear day clothes. Indeed one of the first things his wife Jennifer did after his embarrassing parade through the street was to donate all his clothes to the local charity shop.

Everything was gone, he also had to endure the daily embarrassment of being stripped and bathed, treated as if he was a little boy constantly dressed and re-dressed in his ridiculously feminine jimjams, indeed he could not recall the last time he had been allowed to make a decision; his life had changed radically.

What was perhaps more worrying, was that all forms of intimacy with Jennifer had ceased, it was apparent that she no longer saw him as an equal partner but as a helpless man-child that needed protecting from the world.  Initially following his first pyjamaring, Miss Letherbridge had provided a steady supply of soft, feminine winceyette pyjamas. However one morning, Jennifer announced he would be accompanying them into town to visit Miss Bagshot's drapery shop to purchase a new supply of feminine winceyette pyjamas.

The shame he felt travelling on public transport wearing oversized white winceyette pyjamas with little pink flowers, pink slippers and a cerise quilted dressing gown, was the most humiliating experience of his life, particularly as his two chaperones kept fussing with his attire and commenting on how sweet he looked.

The shop itself was an anachronism; like something from the 1950’s. He was marched up to the counter that was festooned with glass and oak, rows of drawers displayed their intimate contents. Behind the counter stood Miss Bagshot, a woman who could well have been Ms Letherbridge's sister such was the resemblance.

 “What a delightful sight ladies. It gladdens my heart to see yet another male introduced to strict pyjama discipline, I do hope you brought him here by public transport?”

Jennifer confirmed that indeed Stephen had endured the bus journey dressed in his ‘going out’ pyjamas and Stephen realised this large, intimidating female was fully supportive of his their pyjama discipline regime.

“I assume ladies that you are seeking suitable jimjams for this ridiculous little man, am I correct?” Miss Letherbridge answered. “Of course Gwyneth, please show us your prettiest, most feminine winceyette male subjugating jimjams.”

Gwyneth Bagshot perched her spectacles on the edge of her nose before looking Stephen up and down.

“Hmm,” she began, “Looking at his modest build, I'd say size an eighteen long would be most appropriate wouldn't you agree?”

Without waiting for a reply she busily began opening drawers in the units behind the counter and began to place a range of women's winceyette pyjamas on the counter top.

Stephen was aghast at what he was witnessing. He had been forced to wear
Miss Letherbridge's nightwear since his pyjamaring began but the thought of Jennifer having access to a plentiful supply of frilly, feminine winceyette pyjamas to continue his enforced emasculation made him feel utterly despondent and he realised his independence would be gone forever.

After just three weeks of being subjected to pyjama discipline, he was aware that his confidence and ability to make simple decisions was rapidly disappearing, what, he wondered, would he be like in a year's time?

Looking at the sea of winceyette being unfolded in front of him he realised his yearning for the soft caress of feminine pyjamas was now greatly diminished, what lay spread out in front of him was a future of domestic institutionalisation.

Gwyneth's voice pulled him back to his present bizarre situation.

“May I suggest we remove his lovely going out pyjamas so we can proceed?”

Stephen stood there helplessly as the ladies removed his quilted dressing gown and begin to unbutton his pyjama top. He immediately began to shiver, he realised the shop was cold and he desperately tried to cling onto his pyjama jacket, but as he did so Gwyneth pulled down his bottoms revealing his manhood. He could not resist three pairs of female hands and within seconds he was standing naked, a pool of winceyette gathered at his feet.

“Stop this,” he pleaded. “You have no right to treat me this way.”

Jennifer laughed. “Darling what do you mean? We have every right to treat you this way, you wanted this remember? You longed to be swathed in soft feminine winceyette, this is your dream, so stop making such a fuss or do you want to go over my knee for a smacked bottom?”

Miss Bagshot had completely ignored his outburst and held up a pale blue and white floral pyjama top with a high ruffled collar and elasticated frilly cuffs.

“Let’s try these on for size shall we?” She began to undo the buttons while commenting on the softness of the pyjamas and how sweet they would look on Stephen.

As Gwyneth slipped the pyjama top up his arms and around his shoulders, Jennifer and Miss Letherbridge noted that despite the obvious sensual nature of the act and circumstances it was having no effect on his manhood. They smiled at each other.

Gwyneth also noticed and commentated that Stephen was, “such a well behaved little boy. You ladies have done a wonderful job on Stephen, you should be very proud. Few of the wayward males who experience a pyjamaring here are so passively accepting of their new, pyjama clad life.”

Then, looking directly at Stephen as she began to button up the pyjama jacket. “There now, doesn’t that feel nice and cosy?” Stephen welcomed the warmth of the winceyette and as Gwyneth finished closing the top button she ran her hands along the sleeves pulling them down Stephen's arms. The top flared outward and the bottom of the hem nestled on his manhood, softly caressing it but Stephen felt nothing but anxiety.

He held out his arms and looked aghast at the outfit he found himself wearing. The sleeves were obviously too long and extended way past the tips of his fingers and the lace on the collar scratched at his neck.

However, Miss Bagshot enthused. “Oh ladies, that looks perfect, doesn’t he look sweet? Now, shall we try the jimjam bottoms?”

Gwyneth began to unfold the bottoms which seemed inordinately long. Kneeling before him she held them open at his feet. Meekly he stepped from one puddle of winceyette to the other. Slowly Gwyneth pulled the bottoms up past his calves, his thighs, his manhood and his navel. Eventually resting the elastic just below his chest as the bottoms tightened under his crotch. She then proceeded to tuck the top into the bottoms. He looked down the length of his body and despite the elastic of the bottoms almost touching his nipples there were inches of excess winceyette pooling around his ankles.

Smoothing down the winceyette Gwyneth ran her hands down the outside of his legs and up the inside to his groin. He was drawn out of his anxiety as he felt the warmth of her hands through the soft winceyette.

“Well, I do believe there are some stirrings down below ladies. He's not fully emasculated yet I perceive. But doesn't he look divine? I would say they are a perfect fit don't you think? We have worked very closely with the manufacturers and local women to ensure we have the best range of jimjams suitable for our pyjamaed men. There is no other town in the country that has such success in this department.”

Jennifer was delighted with the result. There stood her husband, publicly stripped of his masculinity. She would ensure he was permanently pyjamaed and dependent on her for the rest of his days.

“How many pairs of pyjamas  would you suggest we purchase?” she asked

“Well, we usually recommend two sets of jimjams per day so 14 in total but can I suggest you also take some of our pre-loved range? We frequently take donations from other ladies whose husbands have outgrown their jim-jams and require larger sizes. Unfortunately, this can be a downside of pyjama discipline, particularly if you don't enforce a strict diet and ensure plenty of domestic chores. Some poor unfortunate chaps pile on the weight after pyjamaring and years of domestic servitude.”

She had led them through to the back of the shop. “Here we have our preloved range, you will find they are the softest winceyette jimjams we can offer and after numerous cycles of washing, tumble drying and ironing they are quite exquisite. Shall we say seven new and seven preloved? I will order you a taxi to take you and your purchases home, I have an account with a young woman who just loves driving pink winceyette pyjama clad males home.”

“Thank you, Miss Bagshot that would be wonderful.” Jennifer turned to her husband.

“Well Stephen you look positively ridiculous wearing your oversized female winceyette pyjamas but that is how you will be permanently dressed from now on. You will spend your days doing household chores for Miss Letherbridge and myself until 5 pm when you will be bathed, dressed in clean pyjamas and put to bed. Yes, you will be tucked up in bed by 6 pm every night. No more nights out with the boys, no more football matches just lots of housework and early bedtimes. Welcome to your permanent life of pyjama and early bedtime discipline!”