Peter Amas has sent another excellent story about being pyjamaed.

It was my last day in Bilbao. I had been on assignment with work for the last three weeks and living in a small pension in the heart of the city. By chance, a store on the ground floor of the building which housed the pension sold ladies and gentlemen's pyjamas. Such stores were pretty common across the city and I had spent some time window shopping in the evenings. I have a predilection for winceyette pyjamas, moreover, it was a fondness for women's winceyette pyjamas.

Perhaps it was the pink floral winceyette pair on the dummy in the shop window, but passing them every day I couldn't help but fantasise about how it would feel to have that soft winceyette against my skin.

Having successfully completed my assignment early, I had the afternoon free but, as I approached the shop I was surprised at how nervous I felt. I decided to watch from across the street for a few minutes and wait for a lull in activity to make an anonymous entrance. As I crossed the threshold a bell rang to alert the assistant that a customer had arrived. 

'Ola' she called, smiling from behind the glass and oak counter. I smiled back and in my English accent replied, “buenas tardes.”

At first, I pretended to peruse the men’s winceyette pyjamas hanging on a rail and I browsed through them for a few minutes before slipping along to the ladies section. I was afraid that my nervousness would show as I drew closer to the beautiful pair of pink winceyette pyjamas I wanted to buy and I smiled as I felt myself become excited at the thought of a lady customs officer opening my case and finding the pyjamas which I would take care to pack last.

They were exquisite. Made from the lightest and softest winceyette I had ever felt, they had a Peter Pan collar with fine white lace trim going up the front placket and around the collar. Thankfully, I was still the only customer in the shop. The shop assistant caught my eye as if detecting my nervousness and wishing to offer me discretion she first closed and locked the shop door before turning her attention to me.

“Ola” she said once more. She smiled and for the first time I noticed her appearance. She  was an attractive, middle-aged woman. Despite her modern, almost short black and grey hair style and red rimmed glasses, she was dressed like a housewife from the 1950s with a royal blue matching twin set and navy knee-length pencil skirt. 

“Would you perhaps have these in an extra large?” I asked shyly. 

“Son para ti?” she asked. I was not quite sure what she had said so merely responded, “Si”. 

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled as she turned slightly to reach out and select a box from a shelf above. Opening the box, she gently and almost reverentially placed the pyjama jacket and bottoms on the glass counter. They were beautifully folded and as she carefully unfolded the pyjama top she held it up to my chest to judge the size. I was mortified and immediately glanced at the window, terrified someone would see me. The assistant took the pyjamas and drew me toward the back of the shop. 

"You try", she said in a beautiful Spanish accent. Drawing back the curtains to a changing room she left the pyjamas on a chair and ushered me in. I was both shocked and excited, as I drew the curtain she remained in the room behind me. All of my fantasies were coming true.

“Venga, Venga” she said as she undid the buttons on the pyjama jacket. I was seriously aroused and began to slip off my polo shirt as I watched her reflection in the mirror. With my top off she slid the pyjama sleeve up my right arm and draped the jacket over my shoulders. Reaching back I slid my left arm into the sleeve and caught my breath as the softness of the winceyette caressed the hairs on my body which were erect with excitement. Slowly and with great ceremony she closed the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons up to my neck. 

Sensing I had succumbed to the sensation of the soft material she now undid my belt and indicated I should fully undress. No doubt I looked pretty ridiculous standing in the changing room of a shop wearing nothing but a floral pink ladies winceyette pyjama top but I felt wonderful as she handled the pink pyjama bottoms and caressed my face with the winceyette garment as if to remind me of what awaited. 

“Ahora, ponte los pantalones de pijama.” She said before leaving the changing room.

Looking at myself in the full length mirror I knew I was at a crossroads. If I continued, and put on the pyjamas bottoms there was no going back. I didn't know where this would end but I could not resist the lure of the pyjama bottoms. I decided to leave my underwear on to retain some dignity and just in case I had an accident. Then, I stepped into the bottoms and slowly pulled them on. I reached the height of my arousal as the soft winceyette pressed past my erection but thankfully I refrained from making a mess in my underpants. Like the top, the pyjama bottoms were quite long and the waist reached up past my stomach. Obviously they had been made for women much taller than me.

I was momentarily lost in my own world of sensual pleasure when the curtain was quickly drawn back. As the  assistant entered she tugged on the pyjama bottoms and saw that I was still wearing underwear. 

“No, no, no, quítatelas de inmediato”. I didn't understand what had been said but it was evident that she was none too pleased that I still had my underwear on. Quickly she lowered my  pyjama bottoms and underpants in one swift movement and had me step out of both. She slowly drew the pyjama bottoms back up my legs and past my knees. Her hand brushed my excitement as she drew the pyjama bottoms up then tucked the pyjama jacket into the bottoms and pulled them up hard against my testicles.

Offering me a soft pink bed jacket she indicated for me to put it on. Once on, she buttoned it at the front and placed a pair of pink sheepskin slippers on my feet. 

Placing her hands on my shoulders she turned me around to face the mirror.

 "No te ves dulce.” She said admiring my transformation. 

“Te quedan bien.”  Smiling she took out her phone and before I realised had taken a number of photos. I was upset and terrified that the pictures would somehow become public and begged her to delete the photos. 

She smiled and caressed me as if I was a child. “Oh pobre de ti.” She cooed as she left the changing room and pulled the curtain. 

As she did so I heard a door lock. In a panic I pulled back the curtain to find myself locked in the changing room. What was going on? Very quickly the pyjamas had lost their allure and all I wanted was to retrieve my clothes and leave. I turned to the chair where I had put them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly the room was flooded with an intense light. My eyes hurt with the glare but I could see the curtains were pulled back. It took a moment for me to get my bearings but I quickly realised I was in a glass room and on full show to a group of middle-aged ladies. Mortified, I tried to hide myself. A few minutes ago wearing ladies winceyette pyjamas seemed to be a wonderful experience, now I was just acutely embarrassed and ashamed by the pyjamas. 

The ladies in the audience were laughing and applauding. The shop assistant now stood at a podium wielding an auctioneers hammer. Many of the ladies in the audience were holding up cards with numbers on as if at an auction. 

At that moment, I realised they were bidding for me.

Bienvenido al club de viudas.