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?