Sunday, 23 June 2019
Pete Amas has sent in another story that continues Peterkins adventures with Celia and Winifred.
Almost a year had passed since Peter had come under the spell of Winifred and Celia.
Not once during that time had he experienced getting up and dressing in normal day clothes.
His life was transformed into a simple routine of being awoken and divested of his pyjamas by Celia as Winifred ran a piping hot bath. Once he had been thoroughly washed and bathed he was dressed in an exquisite pair of soft winceyette pyjamas and taken down for breakfast.
Over the year, and due in part to Peter's complete lack of activity, he had put on a considerable amount of weight which Winifred and Celia dealt with by putting him into ridiculous oversized pyjamas. In addition, Peter had noticed some unusual changes in his body shape. He now had a rather feminine, pear-shaped bottom and was developing large breasts which sagged painfully beneath his pyjama top. It was also almost a year since his last erection, despite the deliriously sensual nature of his day time pyjamarings.
Winifred and Celia commented on his changing shape and the loss of his virility. They often teased that he was becoming a pretty woman.
The thought had occurred to Peter that both women were working toward just such an outcome but what could he do? He was completely in their power and no-one had noticed his disappearance.
The morning had started just like any other with Peter being bathed by the two sisters. However, when it came to getting dressed, Peter noticed an unusual pair of pyjamas draped over the radiator. They were pale pink with little lavender and green flowers.
Winifred helped him step out the bath as Celia wrapped a voluminous soft cerise bathrobe around him. The two women dried him vigorously and sprinkled rose perfumed talc beneath the folds of skin on his breasts and between his legs.
“Now Peterkins, we have an exquisite pair of women pyjamas for you to wear today. We have had them made especially and the time has come for you to begin your transformation.”
As Celia spoke, Winifred gathered the pyjamas from the radiator where they had warmed. Slowly, she shook out the pyjama jacket and approached Peterkins, holding the top by the shoulders. Celia offered his arms toward the jacket, as both his arms went into the sleeves together as Winifred pulled the top toward his back. Peterkins realised that the pyjama top buttoned up from behind and had a very sissy, pleated front. He blushed, deeply embarrassed but did not object at being forced to wear such pretty, feminine jim-jams.
As Winifred fastened the top button he noted his hands were incapacitated. The sleeves were fitted with padded mittens, forcing his hands into helpless curled up balls. What on earth was he being made to wear?
Celia approached him clutching the pyjama bottoms and created a puddle of flannel on the floor but instead of being put into them, Winifred stepped him instead into an adult incontinence nappy.
It had been a while since he had wet the bed that first night and he had not felt the exquisite caress of a nappy between his legs since. Closing up the nappy with a sprinkle of talc, Winifred patted his manhood and instructed Celia to complete his pyjamaring.
Celia guided his right foot as she began to pull up the pyjama bottoms. He could feel the softness of the flannel as it caressed his legs. He leaned on Celia's shoulders as she placed his left foot into the bottoms. He had a problem as he could not get his foot to the bottom of the leg. It was then he realised the ankles were elasticised and the bottoms footed. Celia helped ease the elastic over his ankles and swiftly pulled the bottoms fully up. She finished his pyjamaring by tucking and buttoning the top to the bottoms.
Turning Peterkins sideways to look in the full length mirror. He realised that with his hands immobilised, there was no way he could remove his pyjamas by himself. The only part of his body not encased in the softest flannel was his head. He was disturbed at how feminine he looked but he liked what he saw and felt strangely aroused.
Over the year, his hair had grown quite long, almost to his shoulders and with his pear-shaped bottom and visible bosom he looked like a pretty, though slightly plump woman.
Viewing his entire pyjama outfit for the first time in detail, he saw how exquisite the tiny lilac and green flower pattern on the pale pink background was and the faux Peter Pan collar with pleats falling from his bosom. Not his usual bedtime attire at all.
He could not resist caressing his body through mitten clad hands but was somehow disconnected from reality. He felt incredibly sensuous and aroused but could feel nothing stirring below. His manhood now totally neutered.
Winifred's voice pulled him from his musings. “Now Peterkins, don’t you look sweet in your pretty feminine pyjamas? We are well on the path to your enforced feminisation and women's pyjamas will now be your normal attire. Indeed, soon you will have no wish to wear anything other than female winceyette pyjamas.”
This was the first time Peterkins had heard the term forced feminisation and was a little alarmed at what the future might entail. Both Winifred and Celia took Peterkins by the arms and gently guided him back toward his bedroom. As they did they spoke in the softest way, as if addressing a distraught child.
“Now Peterkins, don't be alarmed. Both Winifred and I also went through the change many, many years ago and it all worked out fine. Indeed most of the women of Privit Drive came through our hands and now lead quiet lives with sweet adoring husbands who pander to their every need.”
Celia paused, and Winifred continued. “Over the next few months your transition to the fairer sex will be complete and in no time you will be with a doting husband who has succumbed to the world of pyjama discipline and awaits your every command. Once you have made the psychological switch and accepted your new status, we will arrange to have the last vestiges of your manhood removed and replaced with the beautiful feminine form. But don't fret Peterkins, or should we say Patricia, by that time you will feel like a woman in every respect.”
Peterkins sat on the bed trembling both in fear and arousal. He regretted ever entering this house and allowing the lure of vintage pyjamas to lead him into a life of pyjama servitude. He wanted to run but to where, to whom? He had no clothes but the pyjamas on his back, no money and no friends. He was totally dependant on Winifred and Celia.
The two women gently caressed his pyjama clad back and helped to calm him. Celia pulled back the bedclothes and Winifred helped him into bed.
“Now Patricia, you have taken in a lot today. Have a nap and we can talk of this later,now you need sleep and begin to process the wonderful future that awaits you.”
As Winifred and Celia left the room they pulled the curtains and he was left in darkness.
Exhausted from nervous energy yet comforted by the embrace of the winceyette pyjamas and the weight of the blankets he drifted off, thinking how beautiful he was in his floral pyjamas and how much better he looked as a woman.
Perhaps the ladies knew him better than he knew himself?
Saturday, 22 June 2019
Bedtimes and Pyjama Times are causing trouble for Gertrude
Does anyone have a solution to Gertrude's dilemma? A dose of Castor oil will be awarded for the best answer.
My seventeen-year-old son Robert has an earlier bedtime than his sisters despite the fact they are both younger than him. They are just aged fourteen and twelve and because they are female, are far more mature than he is. My son’s bedtime was 6:00 pm with his pyjama time preparation beginning at 5:15 pm. I expected him to be in his nightclothes by 5:30 pm. These consist of traditional cosy winceyette pyjamas. These are especially sewn by a friend in the style a very young boy might wear, as I do not consider him mature enough for, “big boys pyjamas”.
At weekends his routine varies. On Saturday his sisters invariably stay with friends and since I am softhearted I allow him to stay up until 6.30 pm, just in time to say night-night to Nana and Auntie Beatrice, my mother and sister who visit at that time. On Sunday, since it is school the next day he is bathed and ready for bed by 4:00 pm and safely tucked up no more than a half an hour later. Weekday’s, since I usually have not returned from work by 5:15 pm it befalls upon his sisters to ensure he adheres to his pyjama discipline. They oversee his supper, making sure he washes his own dirty dishes. They then supervise his nightly bath, a bone of contention as he considers it embarrassing for a seventeen-year-old to be bathed by his sisters. It took several smacked botties for him to finally realise I was not going to give way upon this matter and he now acquiesces without making a fuss.
The girls then assist with the choice of and the donning of his little boy pyjamas. I am always home in time to take him up to bed as I think that is very important for a boy of his age to have mummy there to tuck him in and kiss him night-night. Now that he is about to turn eighteen he requested that his bedtime should be moved to seven o’clock. Upon consideration I agreed to a trial period to begin immediately. Unfortunately that is where my trouble began.
My son was under the impression that a later bedtime also meant his pyjama time being put back an hour until 6:15 pm. This was not the agreement. When I arrived home I found my daughters had spanked him and gave him corner time when he refused to get ready for bed at his usual time. They had also dressed him in his special, “naughty boy pyjamas,” his footed teddy bear patterned pyjamas with a Peter Pan collar that he absolutely hates wearing. Amidst his tear-stained face and his sisters accusations and recriminations, the best I could do was pack him off to bed there and then.
I now find that my daughters were unhappy about spoiling our evenings together, they feel the best place for my son is to be tucked up in bed at his usual time and to continue letting them get him ready for bed, choosing his jim-jams etc. I have, for the moment reverted back to a 6 pm bedtime for my son which is something he is obviously not happy with but I do not wish to undermine my daughter’s authority over their brother.
Your advice on the matter would be most appreciated.
Gertrude Kirchgarten.
Carry on as usual. Letting allowing a later bedtime shows him you are willing to compromise and lose control. You must not slacken your disciplinary measures. I know my brother deserves to be treated like a naughty little boy.
Kelly-Anne
Dear Gertrude;
Congratulations on your treatment of your errant son. How dare he act up in the presence of young ladies and girls? You were right to put him to bed immediately without dinner. After school, he should be bathed and dressed in pyjamas before his supper. Ideally you should let his sisters put him to bed too, with blinds and curtains tightly closed. Bedtimes should never be altered.
Janice Oryan
Dear Aunt Gertrude;
I am delightful to hear that your seventeen-year-old son is treated as the naughty boy he undoubtedly is. There is no harm in making him wear pyjamas that a child much younger than he is would wear as it will teach him that "when you behave like a child, you get treated like one".
Certainly his defiance must be dealt with. His sisters are obviously more mature than he and as such it is only natural that they help in getting him ready for bed. I wish you well with your efforts and do please let us know what decisions you come to.
Sincerely
Hettie Wainwright
Well I must say my son appears to have taken leave of his senses. On Saturday his Nana and Aunt Beatrice arrived unexpectedly early. With them was eleven-year-old Alice who was being looked after by my sister. Alice immediately shouted out a cry of recognition. It appeared she was in the first year of my son’s school. My son of course had no knowledge of such a junior pupil. Since though they were fellow pupils, I suggested a game of ‘Ring a Rosie’s’ for the pair of them, and indeed, Alice was soon laughing and enjoying herself. My seventeen-year-old son for some reason appeared to be less than enthusiastic and I had to remind him to fall down on more than one occasion.
At 5:15 pm I went upstairs to select a pair of pyjamas for my son to wear, I was going to put him into his yellow Teddy-Bear pyjamas as he looks so cute in them but instead I selected his blue, Cowboy and Indian jim-jams as a reward for being a good boy.
As I approached the pair I told my son it was time for him to be put into his jimmy-jams and informed Alice that they could play a less boisterous game before his bed-time once he was all pyjamaed. Imagine my surprise when he flatly refused to have his clothes removed, spouting nonsense such as he was to old to go to bed so early and that he was a big boy and wanted big boy pyjamas. You can imagine the shock I felt at being shown up in such a manner in front of my sister and mother.
I was so angry it took me no time to remove his shorts and pull down his underwear putting him across my lap for a spanking. He was not at all pleased to be spanked in front of everyone but I ignored his tears and sent Alice off to his room to retrieve his Teddy-Bear pyjamas. When she returned my son was in full-blown tantrum mode and I had to elicit help from his Nana and Aunt to remove the remainder of his clothing as he tearfully wriggled and squirmed to avoid our grasp.
’How do you like these pyjamas then you naughty little boy?’ I asked, as Beatrice and I held his legs while his Nana manoeuvred his legs into his pyjama bottoms. There were more frantic efforts to escape as he realised he was being put into his most babyish brushed cotton pyjamas emblazoned with Teddy-Bears. We held him as my mother buttoned him into the pyjama top, fastening the top button to enhance the effect of the pretty Peter Pan collar. How he sobbed as I made him kiss everyone night-night, including Alice before asking her to help me tuck him into bed even though it was only 4:30pm.
Do you think I have been too harsh on him or perhaps too lenient?
Your opinions are always welcome
Gertrude Kirchgarten.
My seventeen-year-old son Robert has an earlier bedtime than his sisters despite the fact they are both younger than him. They are just aged fourteen and twelve and because they are female, are far more mature than he is. My son’s bedtime was 6:00 pm with his pyjama time preparation beginning at 5:15 pm. I expected him to be in his nightclothes by 5:30 pm. These consist of traditional cosy winceyette pyjamas. These are especially sewn by a friend in the style a very young boy might wear, as I do not consider him mature enough for, “big boys pyjamas”.
At weekends his routine varies. On Saturday his sisters invariably stay with friends and since I am softhearted I allow him to stay up until 6.30 pm, just in time to say night-night to Nana and Auntie Beatrice, my mother and sister who visit at that time. On Sunday, since it is school the next day he is bathed and ready for bed by 4:00 pm and safely tucked up no more than a half an hour later. Weekday’s, since I usually have not returned from work by 5:15 pm it befalls upon his sisters to ensure he adheres to his pyjama discipline. They oversee his supper, making sure he washes his own dirty dishes. They then supervise his nightly bath, a bone of contention as he considers it embarrassing for a seventeen-year-old to be bathed by his sisters. It took several smacked botties for him to finally realise I was not going to give way upon this matter and he now acquiesces without making a fuss.
The girls then assist with the choice of and the donning of his little boy pyjamas. I am always home in time to take him up to bed as I think that is very important for a boy of his age to have mummy there to tuck him in and kiss him night-night. Now that he is about to turn eighteen he requested that his bedtime should be moved to seven o’clock. Upon consideration I agreed to a trial period to begin immediately. Unfortunately that is where my trouble began.
My son was under the impression that a later bedtime also meant his pyjama time being put back an hour until 6:15 pm. This was not the agreement. When I arrived home I found my daughters had spanked him and gave him corner time when he refused to get ready for bed at his usual time. They had also dressed him in his special, “naughty boy pyjamas,” his footed teddy bear patterned pyjamas with a Peter Pan collar that he absolutely hates wearing. Amidst his tear-stained face and his sisters accusations and recriminations, the best I could do was pack him off to bed there and then.
I now find that my daughters were unhappy about spoiling our evenings together, they feel the best place for my son is to be tucked up in bed at his usual time and to continue letting them get him ready for bed, choosing his jim-jams etc. I have, for the moment reverted back to a 6 pm bedtime for my son which is something he is obviously not happy with but I do not wish to undermine my daughter’s authority over their brother.
Your advice on the matter would be most appreciated.
Gertrude Kirchgarten.
Carry on as usual. Letting allowing a later bedtime shows him you are willing to compromise and lose control. You must not slacken your disciplinary measures. I know my brother deserves to be treated like a naughty little boy.
Kelly-Anne
Dear Gertrude;
Congratulations on your treatment of your errant son. How dare he act up in the presence of young ladies and girls? You were right to put him to bed immediately without dinner. After school, he should be bathed and dressed in pyjamas before his supper. Ideally you should let his sisters put him to bed too, with blinds and curtains tightly closed. Bedtimes should never be altered.
Janice Oryan
Dear Aunt Gertrude;
I am delightful to hear that your seventeen-year-old son is treated as the naughty boy he undoubtedly is. There is no harm in making him wear pyjamas that a child much younger than he is would wear as it will teach him that "when you behave like a child, you get treated like one".
Certainly his defiance must be dealt with. His sisters are obviously more mature than he and as such it is only natural that they help in getting him ready for bed. I wish you well with your efforts and do please let us know what decisions you come to.
Sincerely
Hettie Wainwright
Well I must say my son appears to have taken leave of his senses. On Saturday his Nana and Aunt Beatrice arrived unexpectedly early. With them was eleven-year-old Alice who was being looked after by my sister. Alice immediately shouted out a cry of recognition. It appeared she was in the first year of my son’s school. My son of course had no knowledge of such a junior pupil. Since though they were fellow pupils, I suggested a game of ‘Ring a Rosie’s’ for the pair of them, and indeed, Alice was soon laughing and enjoying herself. My seventeen-year-old son for some reason appeared to be less than enthusiastic and I had to remind him to fall down on more than one occasion.
At 5:15 pm I went upstairs to select a pair of pyjamas for my son to wear, I was going to put him into his yellow Teddy-Bear pyjamas as he looks so cute in them but instead I selected his blue, Cowboy and Indian jim-jams as a reward for being a good boy.
As I approached the pair I told my son it was time for him to be put into his jimmy-jams and informed Alice that they could play a less boisterous game before his bed-time once he was all pyjamaed. Imagine my surprise when he flatly refused to have his clothes removed, spouting nonsense such as he was to old to go to bed so early and that he was a big boy and wanted big boy pyjamas. You can imagine the shock I felt at being shown up in such a manner in front of my sister and mother.
I was so angry it took me no time to remove his shorts and pull down his underwear putting him across my lap for a spanking. He was not at all pleased to be spanked in front of everyone but I ignored his tears and sent Alice off to his room to retrieve his Teddy-Bear pyjamas. When she returned my son was in full-blown tantrum mode and I had to elicit help from his Nana and Aunt to remove the remainder of his clothing as he tearfully wriggled and squirmed to avoid our grasp.
’How do you like these pyjamas then you naughty little boy?’ I asked, as Beatrice and I held his legs while his Nana manoeuvred his legs into his pyjama bottoms. There were more frantic efforts to escape as he realised he was being put into his most babyish brushed cotton pyjamas emblazoned with Teddy-Bears. We held him as my mother buttoned him into the pyjama top, fastening the top button to enhance the effect of the pretty Peter Pan collar. How he sobbed as I made him kiss everyone night-night, including Alice before asking her to help me tuck him into bed even though it was only 4:30pm.
Do you think I have been too harsh on him or perhaps too lenient?
Your opinions are always welcome
Gertrude Kirchgarten.
Monday, 17 June 2019
Miss Jacobson enjoyed parading me around wearing a selection of nighties and pyjamas she chose on Sunday. Again you can choose and rate your particular favourites.
"I thinks it's time I chose my favourite beddy-byes outfits for you."
(Miss Jacobson decides)
Saturday, 15 June 2019
A weekend of pyjamarings begins with the purpose of aunty deciding which sets of pyjamas she is going to pack for our trip to visit her sister, my aunty Geraldine, next week. She is going to mark each pair out of ten to help her decide. Anyone can join her and mark them accordingly. Later on, I am going to have to model Miss Jacobson's selections.
Sunday, 2 June 2019
My Surprise Birthday Pyjamaring
Miss Jacobson decided to celebrate my birthday by holding a pyjama party. She thought it would be amusing if I attended as a naughty girl ready for bed. My aunt eagerly agreed with her and I was taken upstairs and suitably attired in floral pyjamas, pink slippers and a pigtail wig. Miss Jacobson sent me to stand in the corner of the bedroom until the other guests arrived before I was taken downstairs. It was then that I realised I was the only one in pyjamas.
When I protested rather vociferously how unfair it was that I should pyjamaed when no-one else was, it was decided I was behaving like a naughty little girl and as such should be seen and not heard.
Aunty placed a strip of tape across my mouth and I endured a full hour of humiliating taunts and teases from my Miss Jacobson friends. When the mantelpiece clock chimed six o'clock, Miss Jacobson announced that it was time naughty little girls were tucked up in bed. Aunty insisted I kiss everyone night-night and wave goodbye as aunty led me upstairs.
I was tucked into bed still dressed in my floral winceyette pyjamas and warned not to remove the tape across my mouth unless I wanted a bedtime spanking.
What a birthday.
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