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 known as the S.P.A.N.K M.E club full name,
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
short-alls
“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 short-alls were the kind that has straps over the shoulders and fastens 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 Gotobed, 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 seat and she motioned me to the seat on the opposite aisle.
She was indicating to 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 babysit 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, every time 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 Gotobed, 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 short-alls 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?”
“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 sterns 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. 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 short-alls 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 aunt's club members 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 areas in full view of everyone as I continued to sob.
She opened the suitcase and from behind the lid, selected some items.
“Luckily I anticipated you having accidents Peterkins, come along, get these on.”
She held up a pair of Dry-nites pyjama pants, boys age 13-15.
I struggled to hold back more tears as aunty, in front of several pairs of eager female eyes, put 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 submissiveness 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 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 Dry-nites and tucking the hem of the jacket into the bottoms.
Surrounded by the members of the SPANK ME 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 Gotobed. “Now off you go for a cuddle while I prepare your sleepy time milk.”
I felt Miss Gladys Spankalot's strong arms wedge 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 your aunts little boy forever and not try to be a big boy, don't you agree?"
My face was buried in her blouse and 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 Gotobed 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 Gotobed's 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 Gotobed's 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 child's 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 is 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, dummy in mouth 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, a 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 a big boys bed."
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 trailed 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 booties.”
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 from my aunty.
“Good, and don’t think you have avoided punishment for your foul-mouthed outburst. I will punish 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 Dry-nites 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-milky.”
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 milk 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.
