A sixteen year old boy suffers early bedtimes at the hands of taunting females A continuation of the story that was contributed anonymously and posted 21 September 2016

Reflections
Part Two -  Monday

Later on, perhaps even hours later, I awoke, still very, very groggy and thought I heard muffled gossiping and laughter from out on the patio below my window, but I am intentionally isolated from the real world; by earplugs that Bea had inserted, and to reflect on my behaviour, so I can’t discern their amusement; nor am I allowed to see beyond this horrid sleep mask. What angered me more than anything, was that once my bedroom door was closed and locked, mom and my sisters would not have to be concerned about me anymore, for they knew that once in bed, I would brood, have a baby tantrum, pout, or  whine for a while, but I would sleep; and due to the effectiveness of the “wireless baby-sitter”; the baby monitor, they could eavesdrop on me in my room of punishment, forcing me to be either implicitly obedient or a miscreant of my own choice. The warning was clear however, make any deliberate sound, such as complain aloud, cry, etc. and I would risk being punished thanks to this baby monitor. I was strongly opposed when mom agreed to let Beatrice carry the receiver unit on her so that she could “baby-sit” me from afar without even being in the room, listening for any excuse to tell mom and thus extend my bed punishment; that’s how overbearing those dreaded pestilent and overbearing snobs were! It was effective and advantageous for them, especially if company was over, so they could enjoy themselves, without my presence, thus provoking me...

As I lay in bed brooding, I made a wish that I never end up this way again; I am so bored and annoyed to be in bed; what’s worse is after that, no one is concerned about me! That’s is what makes it the most effective means to put an end to any type of misbehaviour and gain peace, even if wrongly and unjust. Somehow, I am afraid that it will continue; as my evil pestilent sisters will conjure up ways, and that, I will end up with a regular schedule like Luc and Alain...But before I fall asleep, I toss and turn; trying not to emit any sound, talk, cry or whimper, but the joyful sounds from just outside my window, remind me I am very much forgotten; and that everyone else is having a great time…

They all had a pleasant dinner about 7:00 pm, and after enjoyed desert later, played some bridge, as the children, and especially my sisters enjoyed my electronic games, gossiping and making fun of me. And finally; the party ended well past 1:00 am in the early morning, about 16 hours after I was put to bed….



Monday: The first day of punishment:

It was nearly 7:00 am, when my bedroom door was opened by my boisterous and pestilent sisters, insensitive to my apparent and intentional slumber, and obvious making every attempt to provoke me. Beatrice leaned over and gently whispered in my ear, as she removed the earplugs and the sleep mask; and I as opened my sleepy eyes, Beatrice was leering and gloating at me, then drew back my bed-covers neatly and in a meticulous way.  At that moment, Tina was opening the heavy curtains, and then raised the shades. The flood-gate of sunlight was blinding to me, for I was in the darkness since 9:00 am yesterday morning. My first reaction was one of anger, annoyance and frustration…

-“…it’s uppies time now baby brother!” Beatrice cooed sweetly.

-“huh?...er…uh…wha…hel…oh…”

-“…oh still sleepy?” she cooed,

-“Go away…UGH, all that light….I’m blind, you tart!”

-“How cheeky, tsk, tsk!” Bea scoffs, shaking her head.

-“tart is it?...” Tina sneered, “bad grouchy baby, bad, bad!”

As I rubbed my eyes away of sleep, stretched and tried to awaken, I saw mom standing in the doorway, glaring at me with her arms folded.

-“Looks like someone woke up cranky!” mom jeered, “We’ll soon fix that”.

-“I’m sorry mom…..”

-“For that outburst, I am now going to allow Tina and Beatrice to bathe you” mom stated firmly, “…and bring you down for breakfast”.

-“Oh no…not that..uh…er…please no mom??”

-“…and if you repeat this performance tomorrow morning, you will spend yet another day in bed…” she stated fervently, adding cynically, “I’m sure the girls wouldn’t mind!”

-“Not at all!” Tina retorts.

-“…and if that happens, the only breakfast he should get is a sedative suppository” Beatrice giggles in agreement.

-“…your bath is ready Francois; so your sisters will scrub you clean now, while I remake your bed with fresh sheets…” she commands, “…and then I expect you downstairs shortly”.

-“Yes mom….” I resign myself bitterly.

-“…and be good for your sisters, Francois or else!” mom warned, “…don’t forget to empty and wash your chamber-pot…”.

-Oh yes mom, don’t worry, he will!” Tina merrily replies, turning towards Francois with derision, “Arms up Francois, hurry up now!” she commands.

-“There’s a good baby now” as she pulls up the nightie, removing it completely and placing it in the laundry basket, “march to the bathroom….”

I stood before my pompous young sister, totally nude, amidst her snigger and malevolent grin, as I tried my best to cover up. She grabbed my hand and led me to the bathroom, glancing at me and laughing; and gloating at her take charge attitude and dominance of me, her older brother. Bea awaited us, her eyes bulged, her hand over her mouth, as she burst out in belittling laughter. I was so humiliated and quickly entered the bath, almost disappearing in the massive amount of suds, bubbles and
foam. Mom meanwhile, took the soiled bedclothes off to the laundry room downstairs.

-“Sit down Francois…!” Tina ordered, “it’s time to get you all nice and clean for your day” she chided sweetly, “…in bed of course!.”

-“…oh thought we forgot?....” she sneered.

Tina opened a bottle of baby shampoo and emptied it over my head as Bea started scrubbing my face, neck and hair with a wet flannel giggling and laughing, creating  bubbles and foam, as I struggled to breathe, spewing soapy suds all over; and despite my apparent annoyance; Bea kept scrubbing and washing, as Tina sang mockingly;

-“Scrub-a-dub-dub…Scrub-a-dub-dub
Big Baby Francois forced into the tub…
All covered up with suds to get him clean
Well that’s what you get baby…
For being so mean….

You teased your sweet sisters one last time…
Now we will make you pay for your crime…
We’ll wash and scrub you with gobs of soap and bubbles…
So you learn to behave and stay out of trouble…”

-“Oh do make sure you get behind those ears, Bea. They look dirty to me!” Tina sniggered.

-“They sure do! Stop fussing Francois; my fussy wickle baby you are!”

-“Dirty baby, dirty, dirty, dirty….tsk,tsk,tsk!...”

They scrubbed and scrubbed, paying intimate attention to every detail of my body which was most humiliating, and especially when I had to stand as Tina washed my privates ever so gently, despite being totally covered in shampoo, soap and suds. Beatrice seemed pleased to treat me with contempt, remembering every time I teased, provoked, or antagonised her, although most of the time, she instigated the trouble. I hated every minute of this belittling bath treatment, and finally after much soapy bubbles, rinsing, scrubbing, slapping and condescension, I was rinsed thoroughly and helped out of the tub; grabbing the large soft, fluffy pink towels, the girls gingerly fried me off thoroughly, singing the phrases of Tina’s poem over and over, and leaving a towel wrapped about my waist.

-“Time to get dressed Francois” Tina said as I was led back to my bedroom.

-“All nice and clean Francois?” mom laughed, I said nothing.

-“The girls will get you dressed and you may come downstairs for breakfast” mom casually stated.

I looked towards the bed and there was a fresh nightie, even shorter than the black one I had worn and I grumbled and whined, then sobbed…

-“Bu…u…t…er…uh…mom? …not again…not that??”
-“I already told you Francois!”

-“Can I get dressed please?” I murmured.

-“…but in regular clothes,  please??” I pleaded callously.

-“…this will look so pretty on you Francois!” she sweetly bellows, “…now let your sisters dress you”.

-“This nightie is just perfect for a big baby like you Francois, don’t you think…” Tina proudly affirms, “…oh how delicately sweet…hahaha”.

-“I’ll see you downstairs!” mom said, “and behave for your sisters Francois”.

-“but why?..why??”  I whine.

-“...to make you behave!” Bea scoffs, “…and because we want you too…”

-“…besides you’re going back to bed after breakfast…” Tina scoffs.

-“..did you forget Francois? She jeers, “…well we didn’t…”

-“…arms up; now big brother!” Tina shouted with glee.

Tina lowered the nightie onto my shoulders. This one was also made of nylon, with puffy sleeves, lace frills, pink and blue ribbons and was pale yellow in color. She fussed with the garment, smoothing it all around, giggling and deriding me, to the point of annoyance. Bea stood back glaring at me with her evil grin, nodding her head, heckling me, enjoying my dislike of their ridicule and mockery; with intense interest, obviously enjoying my shame.

-“Do you like your new night-gown Francois?” Tina inquires ironically.

-“It’s too girlish….” I snap back, “I hate it….”

-“…well I think it’s sweet and babyish”… she purrs.

-“…and too short! I proclaim with hostility.

-“Of course it is snookums!” Tina purrs, “…now sit down, so I can help you with the matching panties. We can’t have you walking around with your thingie showing now, can we??” she jeers, as she stretches the delicate garment in front of me.

Once she draws them up to my knees, she makes me stand and pulls them up over my behind, as I stand there looking upward, to avoid their ridicule and malicious grins, as Bea holds up the garment, so Tina can adjust the waistband properly.

-“Haha, Look Tina, you can see right through it!....hahahaha”  Bea shouts as she bursts into a fit of annoying laughter, “…and his little thingy is sticking out too, how very naughty” she ridicules him.

-“Yes it is teeny, isn’t it now?” Tina jeered, “…but he is a baby Bea!”.

-“…oh yes, a big baby…” Bea guffaws.

-“…well his night-gown is properly babyish, don’t you think??” Tina coos.

-“…and, oh so delightful…” she jeers.

As I stood before both little sniggering debutantes, they admired the fit, deriving immense pleasure at the sight of their older brother wearing a babyish nightie against his will, looking ridiculous, and opposed in abject humiliation and shame. Tina stepped forward and pushed me back on the bed, “you need some slippers Francois!”

-“Will these do Tina?” Bea asks, holding up a pair of yellow fuzzy slippers; as Tina nods gleefully.

-“There now, baby is all dressed!” Tina sighs.

-“I would prefer my regular clothes, please??” I banter; at the risk of being chastised and reported to mom, but both girls simply dismiss my retort.

-“…downstairs Francois” Tina sneers, “…besides this is what mom wants…”

-“…and so do we!” shouts Beatrice in agreement.

I proceed downstairs, annoyed, ashamed, and very opposed, by a cross look on my face, in a babyish and girly baby-doll nightie to the delight of Beatrice and Tina dressed in their regular street clothes. I was sulking bitterly, despite my shame; in retrospect, my sisters faces were aglow, basking in delight. Once downstairs, we head towards the kitchen, where a surprise awaited me…

I stop suddenly, amidst a flurry of shrill laughter, mockery and ridicule, inclined to quickly turn around and leave, and as I did so, Tina blocked my path.

-“The kitchen is behind you Francois” She smirked.

-“Please, oh no, don’t them, uh…er…see me oh please!” I sobbed.

-“Of course they will see you” Tina scoffs.

-“…and just like you are, you big baby” Bea scolds.

-“…so turn around and march!” Tina ordered derisively.

I wailed in protest, and begged for my modesty, which only led to more ridicule, as Bea pulled me by the hand, dragging me into the kitchen, and in front of mom and her “special guests”. At the table sat Janessa, our next door neighbour with her daughters, Megan (8) and Abbey (9), who had their mouths covered with their hand, giggling, whispering and sniggering aloud. Tina was behind me, holding my arms at my sides, to disallow me any false modesty as Bea, still holding my hand, introduced me as their brash and insolent baby brother, my face as red as a tomato…

-“…may I introduce baby Francois, ladies” she guffawed.

-“Well hello Francois; oh how very sweet….”Janessa cooed sweetly and with derision, “…oh such a pretty frock!”

-“…he’s being punished…” Bea adds ironically.

-“Oh look mom, the grumpy meanie is wearing a short nightie! Hahahaha” Megan scoffs at me with derision, “Is he a girl??”.

-“…not so tough are you?...” Abby laughs derisively, “…you big bully!”

-“…but a bully wearing a very pretty nightie!” Megan adds sarcastically.

As I stood before my tormentors with shame, I also felt anger for being exposed like this, in front of little girls, who at all times accused me for taunting and provoking them; while in retrospect, they were the instigators. I of course, was held responsible since I am the eldest and should know better; and now, these pestilent deceitful gamines, sit before me with taunts, ridicule and malice without retribution from their mom. I stomp my foot in protest, sporting a cross face at their derision of me…

-“…tee-hee. Looks someone woke up cranky….”Abbey scoffs.

-“..oh, it’s just a baby tantrum Abbey, pay no attention…” Megan coos.

-“Sit down Francois, I’ll get your breakfast!” mom ordered sternly. Tina and Beatrice at that point sat down at their respective places. I looked around, and there was not any place for me, except…

“Yes Francois, you will sit in this chair, so you won’t disturb our guests” mom demanded.

It was a booster seat for an older child that was placed on a regular chair and right next to Megan, but back from the table. Mom then pushed my chair up to the table, and I was now the focal point, as I sat higher than everyone else, drawing everyone’s attention…

-“I hope you like our old booster chair Francois…” Megan scoffed, “I used it until I was 3….”

With all eyes upon me, I just stared down onto the tray, squirming in shame.

-“So Francois, why are you wearing such a pretty nightie?” Janessa inquired.

-“uh…er…mom made me….” I mumble.

-“I see, well it looks sweet on you regardless….’ Janessa cooed sweetly, despite the ironic giggles of her daughters, and mom’s interjection.

-“…to make him behave” mom interjects, “…now sit and eat”.

No more was said for the moment, except for giggles, gestures and jeers from four young girls as mom placed my breakfast before me, a look of dismay on my part, let everyone know I was unhappy with it. Both moms and Tina had coffee, my favourite and other girls had either hot cocoa or milk, with apple juice, bacon and eggs, potatoes, pastries, fresh fruit and yogurt.  In retrospect, I had a bowl of steaming baby oatmeal and devoid of fruit, and a spoon on my tray. The acrid scent reached my nose, and I turned away in disgust and disapproval, to the amusement of our guests and my sisters. Sensing my displeasure, Bea blurted out:

-“Oh my, Francois doesn’t like his breakfast then?” Bea mocked.

-“Perhaps you would like some coffee? Janessa cooed, “…only babies don’t have coffee, do they girls?”

-“Oh no mom….” Megan and Abby giggled.

-“Really now Francois!... mom scolded ironically, “…baby oatmeal is just right for my big growing baby” mom jeered, “…but no sugar or fruit…”

-“UGH!...I’m glad I don’t have to eat that” Bea dissents with a sneer.

-“…oh, but he does” Tina jeers, “….and all of it too!”

-”Perhaps Megan would like to feed you eh Francois??....” Bea coos mockingly and in a matronly manner. (all laugh)

-“Er…uh…I can feed myself, thank you….”

-“Oh how cheeky!” I think that is a great idea, don’t you, Megan?”

-“Oh yesss!...I would love to….” Megan hissed excitedly, “…does baby have a bib?”

-“Please mom, I can’t eat this…and no sugar?? (groan)…”

-“Don’t be surly Francois! mom scolds, “...besides sugar would only make you too energetic and would delay your baby nap Francois…”

Ignoring my useless pleas and childish wailing, mom passed the baby’s bib to Megan, who stood up and secured it around my neck; the same one that Isa and Chris made for me, decorated in colourful letters, “I’M A BIG BABY”, which of course made everyone comment, laugh and make fun of…

-“You should be ashamed Francois, really; for acting like a big baby in front of all these little girls” Janessa coos ironically, “I know I would be!”

-“He’s a big cheeky baby…” Beatrice admonishes, “…and one that needs a good and long nap shortly!...”

-“There now, now let’s get you fed, before you have another baby tantrum…” Megan bellowed.

She picked up the large spoon and standing before me, tried to shove in the first heaping spoonful, as I turn away, and now I understood why they made me sit in the booster seat, for young Abbey was just the right height to feed me and stare straight at me; that was extremely humiliating..

-“You had better cooperate, Francois!” Mom warns, “I will not put up with any tantrums at the table!”

-“Tickle his throat dear!” Janessa states softly with a grin.

I cringe at the thought of being force-fed by a young gamine, half my age, and unjustly, but Megan is quick and smart…

-“Open wide now, Francois!” Megan sweetly whispers, as she tickles my throat, and shoves in the first heaping spoonful of baby cereal. I choke a bit, as she holds her hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. It is very pasty and tasteless.

-“Very good Megan! Bravo!!....” yells Beatrice. “…isn’t this fun??” noticing my cross expression, “…well it is for us Francois!” (all laugh)

-“You are doing so well Megan” mom proudly states, turning to everyone at the table,“…she feeds our 4 year old nephew every time he comes over”.

Despite the mockeries and ridicule of the overjoyed and exuberant moms and little girls, Megan keeps shoving in the horrid baby-food, spoonful after disgusting spoonful. If I hesitate or don’t swallow right away, then Megan tickles my throat and down it goes. She is unrelenting, demanding and strict …

I feel so humiliated, but I have no choice, but to be force-fed this revolting and disgusting baby food by Megan, while at the same time I am  being denied this delicious breakfast. Everyone is satisfied with little Megan, who belittles me in every way possible, especially talking baby-talk in sweet syrupy tones that annoy me the most.

-“…just a wittle bit more Francois, open wide now, wider baby, hahaha” Megan coos.

Finally, the baby cereal was finished, and I felt full, nauseous and displeased, for I craved a cup of hot coffee the most. I started to reach for a cup that was nearby, and Megan slapped my wrist.

-“No, no baby Francois! She scolded, “…no coffee for baby!” (all laugh)

Mom meanwhile prepared a drink for me and brought it over, placing it on the tray. It is presented in a toddler style sippy cup to prevent any spills; and mom sprinkles some of the liquid onto her wrist, nodding her head and commenting: “ah, just right!” and handing it off to Megan, who forced it into my mouth.

-“Finish your baba now Francois” she coos, “…all of it…”.

-“Baby formula is so good for you!” Tina scoffs.

-“Oh it is, even if for a big older baby!” Beatrice adds patronisingly.

-“So what is everyone doing today?” mom asked.

-“We are going to the amusement park today”, shouted Abbey, “…and we will go swimming after lunch, then mom is taking us to dinner tonight”.

-“Sounds exciting Abbey” turning to Janessa, mom asks, “I take it; you will be out very late then??”

-“Probably well after midnight” Janessa replied, “…and right after breakfast, we need to get ready for a long, long day of fun!”

My surliness gains mom’s attention, as I empty the cup grimacing in an opposing manner.

-“It seems you are asking in your own baby tantrum way for some more formula Francois!” mom scolds, as I shake my head. She gets up and prepares another, while the conversation continues…

-“We are going swimming too, only this morning!” Beatrice bellowed enthusiastically, “…and then we will return for lunch and get ready for mom’s bridge club, a delicious dinner and an evening of fun with friends!”

In front of everyone, mom unscrewed the top of the cup and added several blue pills, before closing it and handing it to Megan.

-“What’s that?” Megan asks curiously.

-“oh, just some sleep sedative, to help baby nap, since he is so cranky….” Mom scoffs.

-“Are you sure that is enough mom? Bea jeers, “…we can’t have him waking up for quite awhile, or otherwise he will have another baby tantrum…”

-“Don’t worry Bea, this will do the trick…” mom purrs. (all laugh)

-“And what will you be doing today Francois??” Janessa inquired curiously. I tried to respond but Megan held the bottle tightly in my mouth; taking the queue from her, Beatrice stood up and stood behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders, and looking at me from the side condescendingly.

-“He’s going to bed” she happily retorted, “…and right after breakfast too, isn’t that right Francois??” I tried to protest, but Bea tickled my throat, as I swallowed every punishing drop of the insipid formula, “…that’s his long, long day of fun….”

-“Goodness, what has he done?” Janessa exclaims in wonderment, winking at Beatrice.

-“Well yesterday, mom put him to bed before we left for lunch at Isabelle’s cottage, and when we returned, he was STILL awake….” Beatrice grins, with a deliberate and devious disposition.

-“Oh I see” Janessa replies, but curious, “…so why was he put to bed?”

-“I put him to bed to prevent him from hanging out with his mischievous friends and acting cranky at lunch with the girls” mom explains thoroughly, “ …besides Janine and Sonia told me at lunch Sunday of the benefits they receive from implementing this same regimen on Alain and Luc”.

-“So he wasn’t punished then??....”

-“No, only after we returned” mom replied, “Bea can tell you what happened…”

-“Well, because he was awake and not asleep, he quarrelled and provoked us, so we told mom…” Bea softly cooed, with shrewdness, “…if he was asleep, he might have been allowed up….” She added, whispering in her brother’s ear, “and we didn’t want you to either!”

-“Oh, I see now Beatrice.” Janessa replies, nodding in agreement, “…so if he obeyed…., but he didn’t, so what did your mom do?”

-“He had to go straight to sleep after a snack!” she replied with satisfaction.

-“…a wise choice, good for him then….” Janessa concurs.

-“It was 2:00 pm, and when he was told…, he got cranky…” she stated cheerfully; then sighing with immense pleasure, she smirked at me, “…then cried and wailed like a baby because he wanted to get up instead…”!”

-“I see, well for having a tantrum, he certainly deserved it then!” Janessa affirmed.

-“Oh yes he did!” Bea continues mockingly, “that’s what bad babies get when they misbehave…” she said, looking at me with a mischievous smirk.

-“…a good long time in bed…” adds Tina with a snigger.

-“So why will Francois be going to bed after breakfast today then?” Janessa asks curiously.

- “My bridge club will be arriving at around 2:00 pm today , well  before tea, and I decided to put him to bed to prevent any crankiness with the girls and my guests”. Mom replies, “…better to avoid a problem, than to correct…”

-“But it is early morning yet!”

-“Well, he was still very cranky when he awoke this morning” mom explains, “…and in bed, he won’t be able to torment the girls anymore today”.

-“Oh I see, in that case, I suggest you put him to bed very, very soon then”, she shook her head disgustingly, and looking cross at me, “…and not for just a nap either I hope!”

-“Oh no, of course not…!” mom scoffed, ”…all day in bed!”

-“So he is punished?”

-“Yes he most certainly is!” mom explains. “I cannot risk having him be troublesome and disruptive to both Beatrice and Tina, so he will be put to bed to lessen the chance and allow the girls to have peace…”

-“I won’t oppose that!”  Bea shouts amused.

-“What about tea?...dinner?”

-“A sippy cup of sweet dreams herbal tea and some mashed potatoes and apples perhaps…” mom replies.

-“Is that the new tea that contains chamomile tea and hibiscus flowers??”

-“Yes, I heard it is very effective to help one fall asleep fast and stay asleep peacefully….” Mom replies, as both girls carry on.

-“…like Luc and Alain, he should go to bed whenever he misbehaves mom” states Tina with a sneer.

-“Then it would be very quiet around here” Bea retorts with laughter, ”…since he would be in bed most of the time…”

-“…that sounds heavenly...” Tina confirmed.

-“…it seems Francois has been a big bully lately, doing foolish things and teasing young girls…” she stated sternly, “…perhaps this will teach him a lesson!”

-“I doubt it; older boys are stupid and foolish mom!” Tina added,…”he’ll never learn, will you poppet??...”

-“…so then he should be in bed by day for a good and long time yet …”  Bea sneers.

-“I hope so….” Tina leers, “then we can have peace at last!...”

-“…serves him right, the big bully!...” sneered Megan.

-“…besides, it is beneficial for him” mom adds happily.

-“…and for us too!” shouts Beatrice.

-“Aw, It seems Francois doesn’t think so…” Tina jeers.

- “…but we all do!” shout Beatrice, Megan and Abbey in unison.

-“What Francois thinks doesn’t matter” mom interjects sternly, “From now on in my house, he will go straight to bed whenever I say, whatever time, and no matter what”. Mom scoffs, “and that’s that…”.

As I finish the sippy cup of insipid warm baby formula, the taste left in my mouth was so horrid, that I look very cross at the four very devious young debutantes with scorn; after all, they are the holy terrors that instigated the quarrels, in which I was always held responsible, and now I will be punished to bed from this point on. I was devastated to think that mom would act on this most effective form of punishment; I was hoping it would never happen again. Unjustly so, they looked back at me with a united stand of confirmed authority, and purring sweet smiles of pure delight, for at least my sisters already knew that mom’s opinion was final and could not be changed. Beatrice, my 8 year old sister, benefited the most, since she consistently, without malice, and very cunningly provoked me into a quarrel, resulting in my demise. Now my sisters, along with the neighbours, so convinced mom that with a regular regimen of bed punishment, behind a locked bedroom door, in gloomy pitch-black darkness, I could be relinquished to sleep, without any concern or sympathy, so they could enjoy quiet mealtimes, friends, visitors and relatives, go out or converse in subdued silence for as long as I was bed confined….

The girls sneered, giggled and whispered amongst themselves; without any remorse or concern at all for me, completely detached from the fact that they were the guilty culprits, not me. The prim and youthful debutante seemed to sigh with an immense pleasure, faces aglow with fawning radiance, and yet exuding their haughtiness as mom spoke the words that they so longed to hear:

-“…aside from that…” mom decrees sedately. “…it’s bedtime for you Francois…” mom states calmly, “It is best for you to get some rest; and best for us, since you will be upstairs in bed and unable to cause any trouble!” mom adds, standing up. “Besides, Janessa and I have dishes to do before she goes”.

-“…oh noon, no, no, no, please, don’t…no, no, no…” I scream in defiance.

-“…yes, yes, yes…beddy-byes for my older brother…!” Tina sneers.

-“Oh my, what a baby tantrum” an astonished Janessa declares.

-“Mom, can I put him to bed please??...” Beatrice pleads ever so eagerly, “…since he is always so cheeky to me…”

-“Of course”, she replies. “…let’s see how this big bully likes to have a girl half his age put him to bed like a big baby”.

-“Oh goody! Bea shouts delightedly, “it’s bye-byes time for you Francois!”

-“My, he seems quite upset by all of this” Janessa exclaims.

-“Ah, who would have thought that putting him to bed early, was the most effective but simplest means to gain peace and quiet for everyone?” mom sighs in awe.

-“…and I hope it’s not the last time either mom!”…” Tina sneers, looking at me contemptuously, fluttering her eyelashes like a stuck-up debutante.

-“Don’t worry about that dear, I’m sure it won’t….” mom adds smiling.

Megan withdraws the empty sippy cup, as Beatrice removes the tray, making me stand up and she turns me to face everyone. I then start to turn around, but then…

-“No Francois, not yet!” Beatrice scolds, “You didn’t excuse yourself properly and wish night-night to everyone!” she ridicules.

-“Good night everyone!” I replied sedately, and yawning a lot.

-“Oh-oh look who is over-tired and yawning then…” Tina observes.

-“…tsk. tsk, now can everyone see why you have to go to bed” Bea sighs disgustedly, “…that was like so, so cheeky Francois!” Beatrice scolds,”…now march!”

-“Do as your sister tells….mom commands, “…you are wasting time…”

-“Can we help Beatrice??”….Abbey asks enthusiastically.

-“Oh yes, he won’t like that one bit!...” she scoffs, “…he dislikes us girls, you know, so all the better!”.

-“Oh boy, this will be fun” Megan screams.

-“March upstairs” Bea ordered.

I left the room, with my head hung low with shame; amidst the cynical laughter, joyous applause and ridicule, taken by the hand of my 8 year old overbearing stuck-up snob of a little sister. The noise in the kitchen simmered down, as we went upstairs, followed eagerly by Megan and Abbey who were only too willing to seek out retribution against me.

-“Please call me when he’s in bed Bea” mom shouts from the kitchen, “I’ll come upstairs to wish him night-nigh, and don’t forget his chamber-pot!”

-“Gladly mom!” she replied with a snicker.

-“The sooner, the better…” Tina sneered, as she left the table to get ready to go outside, “…he is just so whiny”.

-“I don’t deserve this, I don’t want to….” I wail in disagreement.

-“You do, and you will!” was all bossy Bea said chuckling.

As we reach the top of the stairs, to my impending doom, the mockeries of the young girls from next door still echo through my ears.

-“Hurry up Francois. We need to get ready to go swimming, you know!” Abbey explains, “only you can’t go, know why??...” she pauses waiting for a response, then, “…it’s bedtime for cranky older boys like you!”

-“Don’t dilly-dally Francois!...You heard…” Megan chides sarcastically,“…it’s beddies for you now…”

-“That means no more picking on us young girls!” Abbey adds derisively.

-“…that’s right” Megan sneers, “it's sleep-time, not provoke little girls time”.

MEANWHILE

Tina helped mom and Janessa clean up the breakfast dishes and prepare for her day; one in which she will be with her friends and return home by dinnertime. Her pesky older brother does not concern her anymore, if at all. She is too busy thinking about her life and it doesn’t include her older brother being a nuisance to her; and thankful therefore that he will be in bed all day as she discusses it with mom…

-“Mom, Isabelle and Christelle are much more in peace, now that Alain and Luc have a bedtime schedule. Perhaps Francois would benefit as well…” Tina suggests.

-“It certainly does work very effectively for them, doesn’t it? They certainly made that very clear at lunch yesterday” Mom replies in agreement, “Perhaps we should discuss this some more…” (Tina nods) “…and since Francois has been such a bully to both of you, and your friends….(she pauses), “…perhaps then it is right for us to decide together…”

-“Oh I am not opposed either” Janessa muses, “…he is always provoking my girls; so he should spend more time in bed to keep him behaved and out of the way” she accedes.

-“…such a novel idea!” mom nods as she sips her coffee.

-“We could start tomorrow!” Tina laughs enthusiastically, “…I’m not opposed to that mom!” (all laugh)

I can still hear the ironic and shrill laughter emanating from the kitchen as I enter my room of punishment; for it is my bedtime now, as decreed by mom and my sisters. Bea wastes no time to put me down, so she can be free to do as she pleases. Mom had previously changed the sheets, made the bed and fluffed the pillows, and I was already dressed for bed…

-“Sit Francois…” Bea ordered, removing my slippers, “…and into bed now, no talking or I’ll tell mom!” she sneers, “…and your chamber-pot is under your night-stand, don’t forget…”.

Both Abby and Megan are deeply amused to see the neighborhood bully belittled and bossed around by an 8 year old domineering debutante, without fear of reprisal, and taking immense pleasure in his comeuppance.

-“There you are all snug in your beddies; I’ll just tuck you in now!” Bea whispers sweetly, kissing me on the forehead, and in a snide comment: “…it’s beddy byes for you now, go to sleep”

Bea then turns away, lowering the shades and drawing the curtains tightly, blocking out the beautiful sunlight, as I sob, snivel and fuss over my humiliating punishment, displaying a babyish tantrum, much to her delight…

-“Isn’t it ironic that you must go to bed now, while I will get ready for a good and long day of fun, pleasure and friends?...Bea jeered.

Megan and Abbey join her in ridiculing him.

-“must” is a for sure” Megan scoffs, “like in “a necessity in order to have peace”….”

-“if it works, I’m for it” shouts Abbey gleefully, “…so we can have fun…”

-“I don’t deserve to be in bed, and you know it…let me up, mom will understand, please??….”

-“I don’t think so crabby-kins” she retorts, “…it’s much better with you in bed as opposed to being cranky to us downstairs…”

-“Night-night…”  Abbey scoffs. “…even if it is only 9:00 am?”

-“…it’s just 8:30 am Abbey…” Bea replies, “…and fortunately for us, it’s going to be a long, long day yet”.

-“…and a very short one for Francois, Hahaha!” Abbey scoffs.

-“…have nice dreams Francois!” Megan affirms with a sneer, “…too bad you can’t stay up, but that’s your fault…”

-“I won’t have to be at all concerned about you now Francois…” Bea sighs with an upturned nose and acting like a snob, “…now be very quiet; mom will be up shortly to say goodnight!” Bea affirms and turns away for the last time with an ironic…”bye, bye”.

Abby and Megan leave first, laughing at me, in a scornful manner, as a delighted Beatrice closes, then locks the door; I can hear the footsteps of all three very happy little girls as they go back downstairs, making me the object of their ridicule and now the laughingstock of my sisters and her haughty friends, as they prepare for their long adventurous day. I can still hear their silly laughter downstairs; and then another set of footsteps are heard on the stairs approaching, and the door opens, with mom and Janessa entering my darkened room of punishment. Mom gingerly places a kiss on my forehead telling me;

-“Have a restful sleep Francois. I will be back by 11:15 am, with your lunch. The monitor is on now, so be very quiet” mom orders, “…we will be leaving for the swimming pool shortly”.

-“Sleep well Francois; it’s reassuring to know that you will be well secured in your beddy byes, so others can enjoy their day in peace”. Janessa scolds me, mockingly.

-“…and remember…” mom adds, “…if you disobey, you will spend more time in bed, so…”

Both ladies leave me in my pitch-black, gloomy room of confinement, devoid of a night-light,  reading materials, clothes and electronic games, by closing and locking the door, before heading back downstairs, to begin their day of fun with their daughters; those plagues, pestilent little brats and bossy domineering wretches….UGH I hate little girls!.

There is a great deal of activity emanating from downstairs now, as mom and Beatrice prepare to leave for the swimming pool, and Tina; who has already left to be with friends. Through the open window, I hear Megan and Abbey laughing loudly, as they leave with their mom for the day. The laughter, footsteps and voices from downstairs, cease with the closing of the outside door, letting me know, I am all alone now for awhile…

Outside, other are getting ready as well, to enjoy their day, either at home, leaving for the pool or visiting a friends perhaps; without concern about an older boy put to bed as punishment. I toss and turn, as it is so unfair to be lying down when you are restless, and active; although the sleep sedative is causing me to yawn, and grow weary, despite my best efforts to fight it. It is so unfair and annoying to be put to bed in the early morning, well before 9:00 am, while others, especially my young sisters are dressed, doing whatever they want, staying up as late as they want, while I must sleep…

Somehow I eventually doze off, but every now and then, I hear the activities outside, and catch a glimpse of sunshine breaking through the curtains; making me feel very angry, ashamed and bored; very, very bored!...

LATER…
I was startled as the door opened and in walked Beatrice, and a friend of hers, Aurelie. This 8 year old minx was another of Beatrice’s accomplices that so often provoked me. I was so ashamed to see her enter the room, but said nothing for fear they would tell mom I was disobedient to them, and kept staring at the wall. Bea turned on the nightstand lamp, but left the curtains tightly closed. I turned at that point, with a look of discontent, as she added:

-“Aw is baby disappointed?” she jeered.

-“Can I get up….” I mumbled.

-“Mom said no, so I won’t open your curtains” she retorted, “…besides it’s beddies shortly, well for you anyway”.

-“Lunch-time Francois now; sit-up…” she sneered.

-“See how nice Bea is to you Francois?” Aurelie teased me laughingly, “…and yet, you are so nasty to her…tsk, tsk, tsk…!”

-“Well, if you were as nice to us, as we are to you; then you would be up and about, dressed in regular clothes too, instead of being in bed, in a nightie as punishment!” Bea scoffed.

-“…but I like him much better this way, Bea…” Aurelie sneers.

-“I do too, but….” Bea replies, “…even more if he was asleep already…”

Bea placed a bib around my neck as Aurelie checked the temperature of the baby bottle containing formula; looking down at me, grinning contentedly. I did not want that horrid stuff again, and despite my best efforts, Bea pinched my nose and Aurelie gladly shoved the bottle in…

-“Finish it all quickly now Francois or I’ll tell mom; we have a very busy day after lunch, and I don’t want to spend any more time than I have to “baby-sitting” the likes of you, bully boy!” Bea scoffs.

-“…tee hee…” baby Francois is cross with us Bea!”

-“…too bad for him then, he is not allowed to be up anymore for today!”

-“Can you guess what our lunch is Francois??” Bea teases, “…mom bought subs for us, with salad, ice tea and some chocolate cake for dessert, doesn’t that sound scrumptious??”

-“Too bad you can’t have any…”Aurelie ridicules, “…too, too bad!”

-“…that’s because bad babies must go to sleep; right, Aurelie??” Bea scoffs.

-“oh, of course…” she shouts with joy.

Bea stood by laughing and looking at her watch, and once the bottle emptied;

-“Our lunch awaits us now Aurelie, let’s go now, baby needs his rest!...”

-“With pleasure!” she replies.

-“It’s bye-byes for you now Francois!” Bea whispers.

-“But don’t leave me here, I don…..”

-“ …oh, I almost forgot!” Bea sighed, “…we’ll be playing table tennis after lunch, so we hope we won’t keep you awake….”

-“Let me up…”

-“…better be quiet now…” she whispers holding her finger to her lips, “…the monitor is on…”

-“Sweet dreams” Aurelie scolds, “…you can envision of us playing and enjoying the day without the displeasure of having you around, pestering us!”

-“see you later for a snack…” Bea retorts, ”stay quiet or else…”

Beatrice turns off the lamp, joining Aurelie in a barrage of mockeries at me. Both stuck-up, ecstatic young snobs after lowering their dignity to bid me nighty-night, blow me a kiss, relinquishing me to the darkness and solitude of my bedroom, as they head out the door. I try and turn slightly, to reconcile with them, and hopefully be released from this unjust bed punishment, but it was already too, too late!...they had already closed the door, and all I could hear was their muffled giggling and jubilant laughter, along with the sound of the key being turned in the lock.

My intentional and unreasonable bedtime began at 11:33 am; marking the end of my day; while in retrospect, the day is just beginning for everyone else!...

Outside of my room, both carefree gamines hurry back downstairs, aloof, and unsympathetic now that I am in bed, for the night; in fact they will tell everyone in the neighborhood about it too. In this way, they are more at ease to do, act and say what they want, without having me around to annoy, tease, provoke or just be in their presence. Still somehow, I can’t believe how these pernicious young governess’s have unfurled such power over me, always in mom’s favor and never having to worry about being punished themselves…

I slam my head back down into my pillow, crying, whining and pounding my pillow again, in anger, all in vain…for they were already downstairs, totally detached from my situation. My anger turned to shame and annoyance towards them for treating me so patronisingly, and then I became somewhat excited that these pestilent little gamines had attained so much authority over me, unsympathetic towards my feelings, as they tease, ridicule me, and share in my discipline, while I do nothing to stop them. Boredom set in next, as I realised I was deprived of all meals, of the freedom to do as I please, go outside, meet friends, watch TV or listen to music. My repetition was to lay in bed and sleep; the clear intent of my domineering captors.

I could hear the sounds of laughter, conversation and physical activity taking place in the kitchen as Beatrice and Aurelie were helping mom prepare for lunch. I could almost taste the food, salivating, only to be disappointed; for there was no lunch for me. A sudden knock at the door, interrupted their gaiety, and then I recognise a familiar voice; it’s my girlfriend joining them for lunch. She is probably asking about me, as that would account for the burst of laughter now. I am so outraged that I have to stay in bed, while my girlfriend is enjoying lunch downstairs, apparently insensitive and showing no concern for me tucked up in bed…

The voices became more subdued, as mom, Bea, Aurelie and my girlfriend settle down at the table; the sound of forks and plates clattering, teasing my thoughts, knowing that there is no place setting for me; and the delicious meal I was intentionally missing, having only filled up on nauseating baby formula.

I tried to doze, but every now and then, the sounds from outside of other children rushing home for lunch, cars driving by or shrill laughter keep me awake. The next thing I knew, I had slept through lunch, and Bea was playing table tennis with Aurelie on the patio below, while my girlfriend was talking with mom, numb with sympathy, enjoying herself immensely, while her attention is diverted to pleasant conversation. They discuss the bridge club meeting, and Paulette declined an invite. I felt a deep sense of emptiness, when she said that she was going to the movies and she even had a date; mom was happy for her. I never even heard the sound of the ping pong ball stopped. I stewed in anger and complained aloud forgetting about the monitor, when suddenly mom entered the room, followed by Bea. I was in for it now I thought!

-“What are you doing up Francois?” mom demanded.

-“…er…uh…I….”

-“You’re supposed to be asleep” she chided me,”…why are you awake??”

-“He’s probably mad, his girlfriend came over for lunch, mom!” Bea retorts.

-“uh…er, I wasn’t really…Paulette, will she see me??”

-“Yes she is here, and heard your baby tantrum over the monitor” mom declares solemnly.

-“I want to be with her….” I cry out in protest.

-“…and she will leave soon to prepare for her date…” mom added with a sneer.

-“Oh no, no…..”

-“Oh yes, yes” Bea teases, “...besides she has a life, unlike you….”

-“Anyway, that should not concern you François” mom states sternly,” …you’re a big baby punished to bed and you need your rest…”

-“uh…er…why?”

-“…your being punished, that’s why….” Mom diligently snaps back.

-“…and it seems you will not fall asleep as you have been told…” mom adds, “…so I will give you something to make you sleep…”.

-“…turn over right now” mom ordered, as she pulled back my bedcovers, lowering my panties, and asking Bea for baby’s medicine.

-“Bea dear, hand me the suppositories” mom requests sweetly.

-“Of course mother dear” Bea replies demurely,”…but shouldn’t he have at least two of them, other wise he’ll wake up again soon…”

-“…well we’ll try one for now…” mom laughs.

-“…very soon; it’s sleepy byes for Francois, and peace and quiet for us!” Bea sang joyfully.

-“That’s right Bea”, mom snickers, “he needs to learn that when I tell him to sleep, that is what he shall do, and this medication will help…”

Mom inserted the suppository and smacked my bottom a dozen times to remind me what happens when I stay up, instead of going to sleep as I have been told…I was annoyed at Bea, for her little song and her continuing mockery was taking a toll on my nerves…Then Bea walked over and inserted the earplugs.

-“Francois is naughty
  And he won’t go to sleep
             So mom gave him some medicine
             After we’d better not hear a peep
             So from now on do as you’re told
             Or you’ll get a smack-smack on your bot-bot
             And more time in bed for being bold…”

-“Just a little something, so you can’t hear us play outside, and so you will fall asleep undisturbed” Bea scoffs.

-“night night then baby” she jeers.

-“Now the little girls can play peacefully downstairs…” mom scolded me,”…with you upstairs asleep in bed…”

-“but please, let me up…I will be good, I promise….”

-“..yes you will” Bea retorts, “…after you fall asleep….”

-“…any more noise, and you will forfeit your snack…” mom warns.

-“…night night” mom said, sleep well…”

I could barely make out what was being said, despite the echoing and ringing in my ears now. They left the room, closing and locking the door; heading back downstairs. Shortly after, Bea resumed her table tennis game with her friends, but I was not able to hear, despite the continuous pinging of the ball against the table, their intense laughter and yelling. I managed to doze off shortly after, much to the satisfaction of the neighbourhood guests and Bea, who had the receiver with her. Now they could play undisturbed…

Despite the suppository, I awoke quite cranky some time later, and tried my best to hear what was going on outside as well as downstairs It must have been tea-time or close to, or so I thought, and forgot that the monitor was on. In actuality, it was about 2:15 pm. The laughter was very loud from the cacophony of female laughter and voices on the patio below. I imagined that somehow my girlfriend was still there, along with several of mom’s friends and their daughters too; then I thought I heard mom’s voice. She reminded everyone that dinner would be served at
7:00 pm. My thoughts turned to anger as I was not allowed up, I couldn’t hear well, except for the continuous ringing in my ears, I wasn’t allowed to see my girlfriend; and forgetting my earplugs for an instant, I began to complain loudly, whine and cry. Suddenly the door opened, and I was startled and caught…

-“You were told to sleep Francois!” an annoyed Tina bellowed, with hands on her hips and scolding me, “I knew you would fight sleep, but enough is enough”.

-“oh he’s probably upset that Paulette is downstairs…” Bea retorts.

-“Oh, can I see her?...I must see her….I must…” I wail in abject protest of my situation.

-“…but she would not want to disturb your sleep..” Tina scoffs back.

-“…so we will make sure you go to sleep straight away” Tina jeers as she pinches my nose and gave me several sleeping pills and then a sippee cup containing a medicated herbal tea…

-“...and this is all you get now, for raising such a fuss….”Tina scolds.

-“…and throwing such a baby tantrum….” Bea adds sarcastically.

Upon emptying the cup shortly after, Tina grins condescendingly at me…

-“…bu…bu…but Paulette?...” I grumble.

-“She isn’t staying anyway, she has other plans this evening…” Tina jeers, “…besides, you already knew that…”

-“Bea, it’s time to make Francois quiet, don’t you think?”

-“…of course! Bea gloats, “this will end anymore baby chatter…” as she forces a baby pacifier in my mouth and secures it behind my head.

-“Now you will sleep sound, or else….” Tina scolds again.

-“…and mom says no dinner now” Tina scoffs, “…so sleep, sleep, sleep….”

-“…and no more noise…” Bea adds mockingly, “we will have dinner in
several hours, and mom won’t tolerate you staying awake..”.

-“beddy byes for you” Tina adds before closing and locking the door once again. They both giggle and laugh as they head back downstairs, satisfied in their total condescension of me…

Hours later, Near Tea-Time…
The bedroom door suddenly opened, and I awoke with a startle, my hazy eyes unable to focus in the dreary atmosphere of my dark bedroom, as I lay facing the wall. The lamp on the bedside stand was turned on and I recognise the voice of Patricia, Luc’s girlfriend.

-“I can’t believe it! Patricia shouts in amusement, “It’s true then”.

-“Yes, it’s true!” my mom replied.

-“How??, why?...” Patricia exclaimed.

-“Well yesterday I put him to bed before we left for Janine’s for lunch, then he spent the rest of the day in bed for lying to me, and provoking his little sisters upon our return”. Mom replied adding, “Today I put him to bed as a preventive measure to ensure he wasn’t downstairs acting cranky with his sisters and my guests at our bridge club meeting”.

-“Well it certainly is much better this way; everyone having fun and enjoying themselves, without a cranky older boy around” she joyously proclaims, “I would have never believed it, if I didn’t see it…”

-“What Patricia?” mom inquired.

-“That the biggest bully in the neighbourhood is in bed as punishment. He always bragged that it could never happen to him and that Alain and Luc were “weak” to let it happen to them. I guess he deserves it!” Patricia scoffs.

-“Well, it’s 3:07 pm and time for some tea and dessert” mom whispers, “it’s better not to wake him, we need peace…”

-“No tea or dinner for Francois?” Patricia inquisitively asks.

-“…no, he is sound asleep now …” mom scoffs, “...he’s punished so his dinner was forfeited already anyway…”

-“Well done!” Patricia scoffs.

Both of them proceed to leave, with mom closing and locking the door behind them, as they scurry back downstairs and outside to the patio to join her guests, their daughters and her friends for tea, followed by bridge and then a late evening dinner. Paulette had already left with her “date”, while I was sound asleep. As the footsteps and laughter diminished from my “visits”, I face the wall, partially awake, with a baby’s pacifier to silence me and earplugs to prevent me from listening to those in the real world having fun, dismayed that Luc and Alain would find out about me from Patricia; but sleep took over shortly after, and I slept sound through their bridge game, and dinner. It must have been near midnight, before the game ended, as it was dark out now, although I could still hear girlish laughter outside my window, but as for me, my day ended this morning, and I fell asleep peacefully until the next morning.

Two sisters ensure their brother is kept under control by his strict Nanny

Charlotte and Jane sat beside the glowing log fire adding the finishing touches to the presents around the Christmas tree. ‘Do you think he will appreciate it?’ asked Jane. ‘I doubt it,’ giggled Charlotte, ‘but I am looking forward to seeing his reaction.’ The sisters paused from their task to chink glasses. What a year it had been…

This time last year the family firm was heading for disaster under the mismanagement of their younger brother, Leslie. Goodness knows what their late father had been thinking leaving the business in his hands. He was far too young and immature to bear such a responsibility. In a short space of time the ‘Little Dictator’ as he was known, had upset the entire workforce. In fact they had come to the conclusion that it was his lack of stature, he was only just over five-foot tall, which had contributed to his unreasonable behaviour. The company was on the brink of bankruptcy; something definitely had to be done.

Being somewhat older than Leslie they had seen his peculiar behaviour as a child and had Nanny’s confirmation of their suspicions. They knew about his little predilection.

His treatment of Nanny had been the final straw.  Perhaps it was because of what she knew that Leslie had ordered her out of the grace-and-favour rooms Father had allocated her, in gratitude for years of loyal service, first as housekeeper, then as Leslie’s Nanny.

It had not been too difficult getting Nanny to let them utilise the photographs she had in her possession. Leslie was ‘persuaded’ to re-consider his position at the firm. Charlotte and Jane refilled their glasses and raised them once again.

Upstairs, Nanny was busy. ‘Come along pet lamb, it’s time for your bath, I want you to be in beddy-byes before Santa comes’ She lifted up Leslie’s arms and removed the velvet, short-sleeved lemon dress. It was one of Nanny’s favourites; trimmed with white eyelet trim, it had a neat, high neck ruffled collar, and ties in the back. Next she removed the soft chiffon ruffled slip, took the lemon ribbon hair bow out of Leslie’s hair, and slipped off the white eyelet-trimmed socks.

‘Didn’t you look pretty today, Nanny's little baby lamb?’ she cooed as she gently helped Leslie into the bath. Leslie stared back at her with rather empty, emotionless eyes but nevertheless replied in the manner Nanny required: ‘Yes, I was ever so pwetty Nanny.’

Nanny took her time bathing Leslie, not least because she knew how much her little charge hated the humiliation of being bathed by her. She smothered Leslie in the scented suds, and ensured that his smooth hairless body was scrubbed thoroughly clean.

In the nursery, Nanny's rule was absolute; woe betides Leslie if there was the slightest sign of misbehaviour or disobedience. Nanny began to towel Leslie dry.

‘Ouch you're hurting.’ Leslie flashed a worried glance at Nanny. The words had just slipped out. Nanny paused for a second. ‘Now - time for Baby Leslie to put a cosy nightie on,’ she said, wagging her finger at him.

Leslie looked even more flustered; being called 'Baby Leslie' by Nanny was worrying, what could she mean? Nanny slipped the nightdress over Leslie’s head. Leslie quite liked the sensation of the soft winceyette material next to his freshly bathed skin, but the little pink rosebud flowers that adorned the nightie were a different matter.

Leslie used to enjoy dressing up in pretty dresses for a few hours a week, but he had never wanted his ‘hobby’ to become permanent. He hated having to wear girlish nighties and pyjamas and being put to bed ridiculously early, as if he were a real little girl.

Nanny buttoned up the nightie, and smoothed down the Peter Pan collar. ‘Pretty as a picture my pet lamb. Lets get your hair brushed now.’ Leslie enjoyed the feeling of Nanny’s hand following each stroke of the brush, and wished it would never end, but Nanny stopped abruptly, and turned Leslie to face her.

‘Did you think I had forgotten your little outburst? Nanny’s got just the punishment for little babies like you.’ Leslie’s face flushed as Nanny lifted the nightdress and smacked the back of Leslie’s legs.

‘Come along now little lamb, it's nappy time for you, Babykins.’ Leslie was horrified as Nanny pinned on thick, white fluffy nappies and pulled on pink plastic baby pants that rustled noisily as Nanny positioned them snugly on top of Leslie’s nappies. Nanny stood a tearful Leslie up, and the nightie cascaded to the floor in a cloud of winceyette.

‘Nanny hasn’t finished yet Babykins, now open wide.’ Nanny popped the pink dummy into the mouth of the astonished Leslie. ‘If that comes out without my permission it’s a spanking for you Babykins,’ she warned. ‘And this is the finishing touch.’ Nanny deftly placed a flounced, be-ribboned mop-sleeping cap on Leslie’s head; being made from the same floral winceyette, it matched Leslie’s nightie perfectly.

Nanny stood Leslie in front of the mirror. ‘See what you’ve become Leslie, a little baby in nappies and a nightie, sucking on its dum-dum, and wearing a bedtime nightcap. Nanny is the one in charge now, so you had better learn to behave and do as Nanny says, understand Babykins?’ Tears rolled down an already tear-stained cheek as Leslie slowly realised what Nanny was telling him.

‘Yes that’s right Leslie, my Christmas gift to you is a return to your babyhood. From now on I will treat you as Nanny’s baby girl, you will wear nappies and baby pants at all times, suck on your dummy and be put to bed at five o’clock each evening. From tomorrow you will wear short baby dresses. This is the one you will wear for Christmas lunch tomorrow.’

Nanny held up the red velvet, long-sleeved baby dress made especially for Leslie. Generously trimmed on the hem and cuffs with white lace, the large white collar was embroidered with the words, 'Merry Christmas Babykins'. When Nanny showed him the matching pantaloons, holding them up by the elasticised waist, she pronounced that Leslie would be, ‘Nanny’s Babykins princess tomorrow,’ and she gave him a little kiss on his furiously blushing cheek. Leslie sucked hard on his dummy, distraught at the thought of wearing such a babyish outfit.

Downstairs Charlotte and Jane talked, as the weak afternoon sun gave way to the early dusk of winter. It had been a simple matter to legally take over the firm thanks to Nanny; the two new cars parked on the drive bore witness to their immediate success in restoring the company’s competitiveness. But how would they deal with Leslie? He was too much of a loose cannon to be left to his own devices, and any role in the company could be ruled out.

It had been Nanny who suggested she should return to, ‘look after their brother’ and, to use her own words, ‘make sure he doesn’t cause any more mischief.’ Confronted with Nanny’s photographs and the threat of a tabloid exposure, Leslie had meekly acquiesced in relinquishing control of the firm. As far as the world was concerned Leslie had crumbled under the pressure of work and had sought refuge in warmer climes; Australia it was rumoured. Just another victim of work related stress.

Nanny held Leslie’s hand as they descended the wide, richly carpeted staircase. The sisters ended their conversation and watched as the two figures approached. One figure immaculately turned out in full nanny's uniform, the pristine, starched white apron in stark contrast to the black austere dress that juxtaposed so neatly behind it. The other, a picture of bewilderment, clutching reluctantly at Nanny’s hand, in the other arm hugging a fluffy white teddy bear, and sucking very self-consciously on a pink baby’s dummy.

‘Leslie, how adorable you look, and all ready for beddy-byes too, I see. What a very pretty nightie you’re wearing, I bet that keeps you lovely and warm - and such a sweet little nightcap!’ Charlotte took her brother onto her lap and heard the telltale rustle of baby pants.  Lifting up Leslie’s nightie, she exposed his nappies and plastic pants.

‘I see you have begun to put into practice what we discussed Nanny; we are so looking forward to seeing him in his pretty baby outfits. Will he be dressed accordingly for Christmas lunch tomorrow?’

‘Indeed Miss Charlotte,’ Nanny replied, ‘Baby Leslie is very excited about his new clothes aren’t you my sweet?’

Nanny gave the humiliated Leslie a stern look of warning as his hand ventured momentarily toward his dummy, his hope of rescue from his baby plight by his sisters dashed. His sisters knew Nanny had planned his return to babyhood. He slumped back in despair into the comforting bosom of his eldest sister.

‘Nanny, we are not keeping Leslie up too late are we?’ asked Jane, who was watching Leslie’s eyes start to droop as Charlotte nursed him. He had grown accustomed to being put to bed early, and infuriatingly for him he struggled to stay awake at times.

 ‘I really should take the little sleepyhead up to his beddy-byes shortly,’ Nanny mused.

‘We will give him his present, then you can take him up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire,’ Jane said, taking the drowsy Leslie by the hand and leading him toward the Christmas tree.

‘Now Baby Leslie, I know you have seen our new shiny cars and how much you used to like having one of your own, so we have decided to let you have this special present early.’

Leslie’s eyes were suddenly wide-awake as he thought for a moment his nightmare was ending. Then he saw it. In front of him was a toy pedal car. Moulded out of pink plastic it was the ultimate humiliation.

‘Look,’ gloated Jane, ‘it even has a personalised number plate.’ Leslie just had time to see the inscription, ‘BABY LESLEY 1’ before he was pushed into the toy. ‘Let us see you drive your new car, baby brother,’ urged his sister, as he reluctantly began to pedal the demeaning gift.

‘Well done Babykins!’ she clapped her hands with delight at the sight of her brother pedalling the babyish toy.

 Much to Charlotte’s dismay Nanny spoke: ‘Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one little babykins, time for bye-byes, sugar plum.’ Charlotte enjoyed seeing Leslie so firmly under Nanny’s control, and she was delighted that her brother was confined in nappies and nighties.

Nanny removed Leslie’s dummy. ‘Say goodnight to your sisters Baby Leslie, and say thank you for your lovely present.’ she prompted. Leslie pinched the seams of his nightie and gave a neat little curtsey as Nanny had taught, ‘Night-night, and thank you for my lovely prethent,’ he lisped and gave each sister a kiss on their proffered cheeks.

Charlotte and Jane could only admire Nanny’s disciplinary methods, and they watched, half in disbelief, as their brother toddled unsteadily up to bed clutching Nanny’s hand.

Nanny ushered Leslie into the nursery. He was looking forward to climbing into his lovely bed, made up with frilled pink pillowcases and matching sheets.

What a shock he got. His bed was gone and in its place was a baby’s cot. Pink painted rails and bunny rabbit motifs decorated the infantile sleeping place. Nanny lay Leslie down onto the pink flannelette sheet that covered the mattress. ‘Babies don’t have pillows and this fleecy baby blanket should be enough for you, with that cosy nightie on,’ Nanny said sternly as Leslie squirmed in the unfamiliar surroundings. ‘Baby will soon get used to his new cot, after all you will be spending a lot of time here what with your naps and early bed times.’

Nanny drew on a cord sewn into the hem of Leslie’s nightie and he found himself encased in a snuggle bag of thick winceyette. ‘Baby can’t climb out of its cot now, can she? She mocked with a wink, as Leslie kicked his legs helplessly in a futile attempt to escape his winceyette prison, ‘and if Baby tries, she is going to get a smacked bottom.’ Leslie was totally bewildered by this change in his circumstance and started to cry.

Nanny was unsympathetic. She pulled up the cot rail.

‘You treated me most unfairly and unkindly when you evicted me from my home, Leslie.  Now I can have you as my own sweet Babykins – what do you think of that, my little lamb?  You sisters approve of my action so you can forget about ever returning to your former life. You will become my baby girl, using a potty and gurgling like a real baby. The fact that you hate wearing nappies and baby clothes matters not at all to me, you are mine to dress and treat as I like.’

Nanny tweaked Leslie’s ear to make sure he was listening to her. She wanted him to be very certain of what his life would be like from now on.

‘Oo Nanny that hurt.’

‘That’s just the start pet lamb,’

Nanny continued, ‘you will follow a strict routine.  Naptime in the morning will be at ten until ten-thirty; in the afternoon I will change you into your soft baby nightie and put you down for the night at four o’clock at the latest seven days a week. If you misbehave in any way you will be spanked and put to bed immediately. When I take you out visiting you will always be dressed ready for beddy-byes encased in your pretty nightie’s and sucking your dummy so my friends can enjoy your humiliation. You will only be able to crawl around our feet gurgling sweetly like the baby you are.’

Leslie stared up at Nanny from his cot in fear and disbelief.

‘Nanny please don’t do this I beg….’

Nanny didn’t even wait to hear his pathetic pleadings; she thrust his dummy into his mouth.

‘That’s the last time I expect to hear grown up talk from you babykins,’ she scolded, ‘it’s lisping baby girl talk from now or nothing. I can quite easily tie that dummy in place all day if need be. If you disobey you will find yourself over my knee.’

Nanny had finally gotten it off her chest, the anger and sense of injustice she had felt had disappeared, now she could concentrate on ensuring Leslie became a doting, dependent baby who would need to have his big fleecy nappies changed, and be cared for by Nanny, for a long, long time to come.

My new Christmas pyjamas from Aunty and Miss Jacobson

Cheeky to mummy so it is an early bedtime for this naughty boy

How dare you answer me back? Nineteen is far too young to have a pair of big boys pyjamas. You will continue to wear your cosy winceyette pyjamas. What does it matter that they are frilly pink girls pyjamas? Into the corner and put your hands on your head. That’s right. You will learn to do as mummy says without any backchat.

Now then, bend over for your richly deserved spanking. After I have spanked you it will be straight to beddy-byes for you. Yes I know it only 2pm but a naughty little boy like you will get put to bed early every time he disobeys mummy!

Helen Goods previous letter regarding short trousers for older boys.

Obviously I owe a duty of care to past employers and the young boys I have tutored, but I will endeavour to answer your queries as best I can. Over the course of more years than I care to think about I have been witness to more than one instance where a boy, having been home tutored, has worn short trousers beyond seventeen. The mention of the school in Scotland reminded me that one of those instances occurred there but I shall not reveal the exact location even though this was many years ago. This particular boy's mother found it difficult to come to terms with the changing, modern world of the 1970's and sought to protect her son from, as she perceived it, it's immoral ways. Simon was dressed in traditional school uniform when I first encountered him, which included grey school trousers. I admit my first impression was that of a younger boy. Simon was sixteen at the time but, wearing  shirt and tie, cap and blazer,  originally I assumed he was a younger brother.

It was partly due my subtle recommendations of the benefits of short trousers that Simon was re-introduced to them. His mother was very encouraging in the matter if not a little annoyed that she had not thought of this herself, but nevertheless she and Governess invited me to accompany them when they took Simon to the boys outfitters shop in town.

As we sat on the bus that Saturday morning, Simon repeatedly enquired as to why we were heading into town, however we remained silent until we entered the shop. Simon was most perturbed to discover we were purchasing schoolboy short trousers and grey knee socks for him to wear during lessons and in addition some play shorts for him to wear outside of the classroom.

Indeed Governess had to tan his backside to cure his tantrum and it was a very tearful and subdued Simon who sat on the bus heading home and his mother sent him straight to bed upon our return.

It was part of my duties to report to his mother or Governess if Simon failed to present himself for lessons correctly attired and that first week he twice tried to attend lessons wearing longs. Although I always felt guilty as he would invariably be punished after I informed on him, I felt I had no choice and finally Governess confiscated his two pairs of long trousers.

Simon frequently attended Church, or the Kirk as it was known, on Sunday mornings, wearing his new style school uniform and not once did I hear adverse comment from any of the congregation or the minister, who was, I believe one of the earliest female ministers of the church, about Simon's appearance sudden adherence to short trousers.

When Simon was not wearing school uniform he wore his play shorts but these were quite a bit shorter than his school ones. Made from cotton and usually in beige or brown, they had elasticised waists and he seemed quite happy enough to wear them when outside at the weekends. Although to be fair he was never outside a great deal or for very long.

After tuition was finished for the day at 5 pm, Saturdays at noon, (we began at 7.30), his governess took him away. When I next saw him at supper at 6.30 Simon was already dressed in his pyjamas ready for bed. Indeed, his mother insisted on a 7.30 bedtime for Simon throughout my time with them and I cannot deny that Simon was subject to various punishments including receiving the strap or to be accurate the tawse, on his hands and on his buttocks too. He also was subjected to the childish punishments of spending time in the corner with hands on head and early bedtimes.

Undoubtedly his mother's ability to mostly isolate him from the outside world contributed to her success in delaying his, "entry to hell's inferno," as she so dramatically described the world outside. However I did learn that Simon went on to attend university but after graduating, returned to the maternal home and once more became subject to his mother's discipline.

Helen Good

Step-son Babified. A letter from Caroline to Etta

A STRICT STEPMOTHER'S EXPERIENCE

Dear Etta, 

Thank you for your message. I am delighted to hear from you after reading your most interesting account of dealing with your son Jonathan when he was 16. I believe older teenage boys – and even those in their 20s - can often be very immature and need strict discipline and control which should include regular corporal punishment and being kept dressed in suitably childish clothes such as short trousers, sailor suits, and babyish play rompers and pyjamas. Girls are far more grown up and can be most effective in exercising authority over a boy older than themselves such as Melissa with Jonathan.

I married Edward’s widowed father, Malcolm, in 1978 when I was a young 24. I have always been attracted to older men and Malcolm was then 59 while his son was 12.  Edward was attending a boys prep school and still in short trousers which he wore at all times. He looked very sweet in his school uniform and was an obedient and respectful child. After passing his common entrance he moved to the upper school at 13 where I had hoped he would continue in short trousers but this was not allowed by the school and nor could I persuade his father to keep him in shorts outside of school. Nor did my husband believe in the use of corporal punishment aside from my occasionally slapping Edward’s legs before his early bedtimes. 

Sadly my husband passed away three years after our marriage and I was left to look after Edward on my own. Fortunately, I had been left a sizeable amount of money so my first action was to remove 15 year old Edward from school, put him back into short trousers, and have him educated at home. I employed a Governess who provided some of the tuition as well as a young lady of 19 - who taught at the house in an especially prepared traditional style schoolroom. As well as short trousers he now wore a full Prep School uniform with a maroon blazer, cap, and long turnover knee socks with brightly polished black lace-up shoes or Tee-strap sandals in brown or red. He looked such a sweet little boy in his new clothes and could easily pass for 11 or 12 although of course he felt ashamed and embarrassed when out in public. I also imposed an earlier bedtime of seven o'clock with no exceptions.

I was also able to introduce a strict regime of corporal punishment which included smacking his bare bottom over my lap and slapping the backs of his bare legs. 

I also gave permission for his Governess and tutor to spank and chastise him if necessary. His Governess was a keen advocate of spanking then imposing bare bottom corner time. I often came across Edward  tearfully standing facing a wall with his hands on his head and his red, sore botty on display. 

The lady tutor imposed discipline too, Edward always cried when being smacked but he knew it was for his own good. The other sanctions  – applied by both, were punishment essays or writing lines in detention. 

I imposed vigorous mouth soapings for when he told a fib and enjoyed making him wear particularly childish attire around the house. These outfits were especially made-to-measure by my friend, a lady dressmaker and included sailor suits, velvet shortalls with a bib and cross straps to the rear, and baby-style rompers plus various nightwear outfits.

Footwear consisted of girls’ white knee socks or white ankle socks with either patent leather single strap Mary Jane shoes or girls' Startrite sandals that I managed to acquire by ordering by post directly from the manufacturers. Furthermore I ensured all his white ankle socks had a pretty lace frill on the turndown above the ankle to give a distinctly “little girl” appearance. 

For the first year of my new regimen he adapted reasonably well and seemed to accept that despite his age he was now Mummy’s very special little boy. He was far too frightened to resist and found it easier to meekly comply with his sissy dress code. Anyway, for his private lessons he only wore his short trousers and school uniform and not his childish costumes which were confined to the weekends and then only around the house. Aside from myself only his Governess saw him in these clothes so he did not complain even though she often addressed him as “Babykins” or “Baby Teddy”. She taught him needlework including embroidery and had him sew lace frills on the legs of his velvet shortalls and rompers as well as on his white ankle socks. He soon became highly proficient and was able to make his first pretty white and then pink pinafore with ruffled borders and ruffled over the shoulder straps. 

Nevertheless, despite his initial submissive attitude I began to notice a slightly rebellious streak creeping in some months after his sixteenth birthday as though he felt his increasing age allowed him to be more assertive. I was determined this should be promptly nipped in the bud with a dose of suitable baby treatment. 

Treating him as a baby would soon get rid of his silly delusions of being grown up. I first replaced his little boy pyjamas with a very short extravagantly frilly, baby doll nightdress with a nappy covered by plastic ruffled knickers that could be easily seen below the hem of the dress. I replaced his bed with a cot and from then on he was put in a fresh nappy every evening before his revised even earlier bedtime of 6.30. 

Inevitably he was wet due to the lengthe of time he was in his cot so always required changing the next morning. 

My challenge was now most firmly aimed at his humiliation which meant dressing him in the most girlish and babyish outfits I could think of and ensuring he would be seen like this and teased by selected visitors and friends. He would soon realise he would only be allowed to grow up when his Mummy decided and not before.

I will write more as to how I met this challenge over the following years.

To be continued. 

Caroline

Peters Pink Pyjamas I am afraid I re-posted a draft version of this story. This is the final version, not much difference really but it might as well be viewed as intended.

It was six thirty pm. Sixteen year old Peter lay tightly tucked up in his cot staring upwards at the slow turning mobile that hung inches above him, it’s twirling, infantile figures appearing to mock and exult in his humiliation.

Previously, what was between his legs had been a source of pleasure to him when in bed; but he wasn’t in bed, he was in beddy-byes, and between his legs now were several layers of thick, towelling nappies that were, much to his shame, already wet.

He had an itch, managing to free one hand from underneath the blanket, he moved it toward his nose but the padding of his mitten prevented any relief. He twitched and contorted his nose but this only wiggled the dummy that was tied in his mouth and a line of saliva dribbled onto his chin. He tried to sit up, but the baby reins and those clips and D rings kept him firmly prostrate and confined to his cot.

He turned his head so that the frill of his baby bonnet couldn't prevent the glow from his night light providing enough illumination for him to examine the lambs that gambolled across his pyjama clad arm. They had become his bedtime friends and in the dim glow, he silently greeted them.

The floorboard on the landing creaked, stupidly, he looked at the baby monitor, no, he hadn’t made a sound, had he? 

Hastily he concealed his arm underneath the blanket and closed his eyes; he had to at least pretend to be asleep, Miss Kettering had put him to beddy-byes half an hour ago and he might just escape a spanking when she found out he was wet if she thought he had been a good lambikins and had went straight to sleep.

Days Earlier

Peter barely looked up as Miss Kettering entered the room. He was in his favourite position, lounging length ways on the sofa, his dirty trainer’s leaving muddy foot marks on the fabric while the gel on his hair stained the sofa arm. 

He turned lazily and gave the woman a disdainful stare. To Peter’s young eyes Miss Kettering was an old woman, yet she was only in her early fifties. What did surprise him was her height. Peter was sensitive about his height, being somewhat diminutive for a sixteen year old.

This woman was tall, over six foot, her figure could be described as matronly. She stared at the lounging Peter from behind her old-fashioned spectacles; her grey hair was  tied severely back into a bun, clearly exposing the lines upon her face.

She wore a frilled white blouse fastened at the neck and draped unbuttoned over her shoulders was a grey cardigan. The fluffy woollen cardigan had two enormous pockets in which Peter imagined she kept out of date packets of mints that she would present to unsuspecting young children. 

Gazing down at her feet he was not too surprised to see her wearing a pair of pink, furry slippers that were perhaps, a little too well worn. He turned his gaze away and resumed his previous posture.

His mother had no right to impose this woman on him while she visited his grandmother. Although it was perhaps because she had remembered the mess of the house and the complaints from the neighbours the last time she had only been away; it had only been for one night but it had been a mistake to assume responsibility would make Peter act like the sixteen year old he was instead of a spoilt child.

In any regard, that particular experiment would not be repeated for a long time.

‘I don’t know how long I will be away for,’ his mother had said, ‘your Grandmother is not at all well and I expect you to do as you are told. In fact,’ she said knowingly, ‘I am confident you will obey Miss Kettering’s every word.’

His mother commented rather strangely as she kissed him goodbye.
‘Yeah right,’ he had sneered. As far as he was concerned Miss Kettering was there only to provide him with food and to keep his irritating kid sister out of his way.

Peter was not well disposed toward his sister. His mother was always saying, ‘why can’t you be well behaved like your sister,’ and ‘your sister doesn’t get low marks at school.’

His sister also had an annoying habit of looking down at him with a certain disdain that made him feel uncomfortable. That was another reason he liked to keep her at a distance, at thirteen, Susie was already four inches taller than him and she enjoyed teasing him about his lack of inches during break time at school and introducing him to her friends as her, “little brother”, much to his annoyance.

Still, he thought glancing at his watch, six o’clock on a Friday evening, time to go and meet up with his friends.

As he got up to leave Miss Kettering stood in front of him. ‘excuse me but I think you are in my way,’ he sneered flippantly. 
Miss Kettering smiled down at him before putting one hand on his shoulder.

"Phew, I know of one little boy who needs a good scrubbing. I think it’s high time you were bathed Peter, why don’t you go upstairs, get undressed, and Miss Kettering will run you a lovely hot bath.’ She beamed at him as she spoke.

Peter stared up at her, barely believing what he had heard. He almost blushed and then made to brush past her, choosing to ignore her inane comment. 

As he tried to sidestep this formidable woman, Miss Kettering slid her hand down his arm, grasped his wrist and sat herself down on the sofa. Pulling Peter off balance, he tottered sideways and he fell conveniently, finding himself draped across her lap. Peter was wearing a pair of his usual combat trousers, but they easily lost the battle with Miss Kettering as she lowered them with an expertise that displayed a talent for exposing naughty little boy's bare bottoms.

Peter struggled to remove himself from his embarrassing across her lap, but his arm was pinioned behind his back.‘Let me go. I will tell mum on you!’
Peter’s childish retort made Miss Kettering smile.

‘Don’t you know it’s rude to tell tales,’ she said as she gave his bottom a swat with her hand.
‘Ow! Stop it that hurts!’
‘If that tiny slap hurt I’m afraid you are in for a shock lambikins’

She swatted his backside six more times with her hand. By the third swat Peter begun begging her to stop, writhing and squirming on her lap.
Miss Kettering did stop spanking, but kept Peter firmly  positioned across her knee, she could hear him breathing heavily and quietly sobbing.
‘Are you regretting being rude Peter?’ She asked as she gently ran her hand across his bright pink bottom.
‘Yes I’m regretting it. Not!’ 

Even though his bottom was stinging, he had recovered some of his misplaced bravado because she had paused his spanking,

Miss Kettering removed one of her slippers and smiled at Susie who watched excitedly from the kitchen doorway. 
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. ‘I did not want to have to do this.’
Peter’s body lurched upwards the first time the rubber sole made contact with his bottom, so much so that it took all of Miss Kettering’s skill and expertise to keep him pinioned across her lap.

By the time the tenth spank had been delivered, Peter was a crying, sobbing, quivering little boy.
‘I …I...hate you both,’ he sobbed in shame and embarrassment as he hastily pulled up his underwear and trousers before running out of the room.
Susie giggled. ….

‘Did you manage alright dear?’ Asked Miss Kettering.
‘Oh yes Miss Kettering perfect, I’ve put all the numbers on. Do you want to see?’ 

Susie held up Miss Kettering’s mobile phone.
‘No dear, I prefer to leave all that technology wizardly to you young people, I can’t fathom all those buttons and the interweb thingummy jig thing. I prefer to concentrate on the buttons that ensure naughty boys are dressed correctly when I put them to bed. Now off you go and do as we agreed. We’ll soon have that brother of yours under our complete control, don’t you worry.’ 

Peter, known as Pete to his associates, was sitting on a wall at the corner of the street; he was talking to a boy known as Jona, Susie remembered back to last summer when he was known as Jonathon but whoever he was known as, she was sensible enough to know Peter was choosing his friends badly.

‘What do you want? Peter asked sourly as Susie approached, concealing an illicit cigarette behind his back.

‘Miss Kettering wants you to come home at once,’ she told him. 

‘Or what happens?’ He smirked at Jona, as he spoke.

‘Well, you can’t say I didn’t pass the message on.’ 

As Susie turned away toward home, she pressed the send button on the mobile in her pocket.

Peter’s phone beeped, he looked at the message. It read. Peter, come home for your bath at once or your friend will see this.Then followed a five-second clip of Peter’s spanking that Susie had of course recorded in full.

Peter had turned pale as he viewed the part where Miss Kettering began to spank him with her slipper.

‘What’s happening Pete?’ Asked Jona; trying to peer at Peter's phone.

Peter was panicked. ‘Oh it’s nothing, I will….’

Jona interrupted him, ‘I’ve got a message now,’ he said fumbling in his pocket as his phone signalled a new message.

Peter closed his eyes, dreading what his friends phone was displaying.’

‘Don’t know who this is, do you?’ He asked. ‘Someone called Miss Kettering asking if I was alone yet. Weird.’

Peter jumped down from the wall. ‘Just remembered something, got to dash.’

Miss Kettering turned off the taps as the soapy bubbles threatened to spill over the edge of the bath. She watched patiently as Peter slowly and reluctantly undressed.

‘Come along everything, you can’t take a bath with your underpants on can you lambikins?’ 

Peter slid down his grubby undergarment, annoyed at being called a little boy and wondering why she called him lambikins.,

‘Just test the water with your tootsies first, that’s right, now in you get and Miss Kettering will make sure you’re all nice and clean ready for beddy-byes.’ 
Somewhat in a daze, Peter climbed into the bath, trying desperately to cover what he deemed to be his manhood.

‘That’s a good boy, don’t worry, Miss Kettering has seen plenty of naked little boys before’
‘I’m not a little boy, I’m sixteen you stupid woman!’ He exclaimed, fighting back tears.

Miss Kettering smiled. ‘Naughty-naughty, lambikins mustn’t splash Miss Kettering,’ she said as she approached him holding a large wash cloth.

‘I know how excited little boys can get at bath time. First things first, time for a mouth soaping to clean that potty mouth out I think lambikins.’
‘I’m not Lambi…….mmppph!’

Before Peter had a chance to continue, the soapy cloth was thrust into his open mouth, gagging him as Miss Kettering began a vigorous mouth soaping.
For the next ten minutes, Miss Kettering explored and cleaned regions that had not seen soap for a very long while.

What he had previously considered to be his private parts received particular attention from her, she pulled and probed at bits and bobs and he yelled and yowled as she did so. 

Eventually she turned her attention to his hair, which was divested of all the gel and glutinous substances he had inflicted upon it until finally she pulled out the bath plug, the filthy water quickly gurgled away as she ushered him out of the bathtub, wrapping a large towel around him.

‘There, all shiny and pink, just like little boys are supposed to be.’

Downstairs, Susie examined the newly delivered high-chair with eager anticipation of seeing her wretched brother securely seated in it. 

*******************************************

Miss Kettering ushered a naked Peter downstairs.

‘Now sit up here,” she said patting the high chair, ‘there’s a good Lambikins.’ 

Miss Kettering spoke as though it was commonplace for a sixteen year old naked boy to be encouraged to sit in a baby’s high chair. 

‘No way am I sitting…’ She slapped the back of his legs to encourage him as he hesitated before before he reluctantly began climbing up.
                                                                             
Susie delightedly started to record the unfolding scene as she carefully concealed the item Miss Kettering had given her earlier.

Miss Kettering swung the feeding tray closed and locked it into position, with his arms pinioned to his side, the hapless boy was immobilised in the infantile item.

‘Now, Lambikins, your sister tells me your mummy has told you several times to get your hair cut  but you have constantly disobeyed her, I am about to remedy that.’

Peter squirmed in the chair however his bare bottom created a lot of friction with the wooden surface he was sat upon and he had learned to sit still even before Miss Kettering tied a cape around his neck. The cape was pink, and covered in nursery rhyme characters, this dismayed Peter even further but he was not prepared for the horror of seeing his straggly locks begin to tumble to the floor.

‘No please, not all of it I…..’ 

‘Miss Kettering says little boys should be seen and not heard,’ Susie smugly said as she produced the baby’s dummy Miss Kettering had given her beforehand. Quickly, before he could react, his younger sister popped the dummy into his mouth and stretched the elastic behind his head.

‘Mmmmpphh,’ Peter shook his head in a futile attempt to remove the dummy but soon gave up as Miss Kettering delivered two sharp slaps to the inside of his bare legs that resounded with loud smacking noises.

Lambikins squealed, well he would have done were it not for the dummy, instead it was another muffled response of ‘mmmmpphh’. 
                                                 
Peter was not completely stupid and, aware of the consequences of disobedience, sat compliantly as she wielded a pair of scissors, seconds later Peter was the not so proud owner of the kind of haircut that many a five your old would have been disappointed to have.

No sooner had the cape been removed and the remnants of his late lamented hairstyle cleared up, Susie set down in front of Peter a large bowl of milk pudding.
Now, if there was one item of food that Peter could not abide it was milk pudding, especially stone cold milk pudding.

He stared down at the creamy mass, his dummy moving in and out in rhythm with his breathing.
It was Susie who slid the elastic up and over his head to free him of the babyish accoutrements.

Peter had decided to drop his “tough guy” approach and take a more conciliatory tone.
‘Look here,’ he began. ‘It’s been a good laugh, I can take a joke so why don’t we all just leave it at that and I promise not to tell mum so you two won’t get into any trouble?’

Upon hearing his words, Miss Kettering raised a querulous eyebrow but smiled to herself as, approaching him from behind, she tied a plain white towelling bib around his neck.

'Din-din time Lambikins,’ she said smoothing down the bib with the palm of her hand.
His attitude changed again immediately.
‘What the…. take this off me at once..no..no stop that.’  

Susie stopped recording but not because of his pleading, rather it was so she could push the plastic spoon into the glutinous mass and remove a huge creamy spoonful.

‘Open wide Lambikins, here come the choo-choo train,’ Susie intoned in time honoured fashion.

Peter attempted to clamp his mouth tightly shut but confined the way he was, it was simplicity itself for 
Susie to pinch his nose and push the dripping spoonful into his mouth, lifting the handle of the spoon she withdrew it while using two fingers to lift up his chin so that the spoon emerged emptied of it’s content, continuing to lift and close his mouth he was forced to swallow the hateful milk pudding.

Susie continued in this fashion for a couple of more mouthfuls before Peter again decided resistance was futile. ‘There’s a clever Lambikins,’ Susie praised, ‘Open wide, good boy!’
Miss Kettering had emphasised to Susie that good behaviour was to be praised and naughty behaviour was to be punished, in that way naughty boys could be taught to be good little boys, whatever their age.
Susie quickened her pace, ‘open, open, open,’ she commanded as poor Peter was forced to swallow spoonful after spoonful of the cold, stodgy milk pudding. Inevitably pudding had dribbled onto his bib and was smeared around his face in crusted recognition of his meal. The last spoonful was a spoonful too far, unable to keep it down, the milky substance oozed back out of his mouth as he choked it back up. 
Susie, paused for a moment to sympathise with her older brother.
‘Oh dear Lambikins, oh dear, never mind almost done just this last bit…’
Miss Kettering knew, as she watched young Susie, that the girl was enjoying herself immensely as she proceeded to scoop up the remnants of the pudding from his chin, bib and even the feeding tray itself, and feed those last morsels into her older brothers mouth.
‘There, all gone. You've been a very good Lambikins haven't you? Yes you have.’  
The sixteen year old, confined in the high chair and naked apart from a baby’s bib tied around his neck, actually managed a pathetic smile in response to the praise.
Miss Kettering roughly wiped his face clean with a face cloth, pushed his dummy into his mouth and secured it. She pinched his cheek playfully
‘Well, time's getting on, Lambikins, you have been bathed, had a lovely smart haircut and had a delicious supper, now I thinks it’s about time we got you ready for sleepy-byes and tucked into bed don’t you?’
Susie was already scurrying off to fulfill her next part in humiliating her older brother.
The naked Peter, shivering slightly as an evening chill set in, shook his head vehemently once more, although, ‘mmmmpphh!’ was all the response he could manage.
Susie returned with an armful of items. 
Miss Kettering placed Peter's new mittens on the feeding tray of the high-chair.
‘As you can see Lambikins, once I have tied the mittens onto your hands they will be quite useless for even the most simplest of tasks. Holding up one of the mittens, Peter could see that the term mitten was tenuous to say the least. A laced leather cuff of about four inches formed the first part of the mitten, attached to the cuff was an orb of white shiny plastic. Miss Kettering tapped the vinyl orb against the plastic feeding tray, as Peter's eyes opened wide in disbelief.
‘Mmmmmpphh!’
She patted his cheek, ‘there, there Lambikins, you're overtired that’s all. You'll soon be tucked up in beddies where you belong.’
Miss Kettering had no problem in putting on his new mittens, trapped as they were beneath the high-chair. As she pushed them onto his hands his fingers were forced to close into a fist to accommodate the small space available and, rather like a boxer, she laced him up and released him from the high chair.
Peter waved his arms around frantically aiming a few slaps at Susie and shouting out a series of muffled complaints.
‘Mmmmphh, mmmpphh!’
Susie giggle at her sixteen year old brothers babyish antics waving his arms around whilst trying to complain with his dummy secured in his mouth.
Miss Kettering was not so amused. ‘Naughty Lambikins, hitting your little sister, shame on you, it’s a smacked botty time for you Lambikins.’ 
Miss Kettering took the still protesting boy across her lap and gave his bare bottom three sharp smacks with the palm of her hand, Peter abruptly stopped writhing around and as she stood him down Susie could detect tears welling in the corners of his eyes, still he looked comical, protecting or soothing his bottom with his mittened hands.
‘Don’t you look adorable with your pink botty, now, let’s get you into your jimmy-jams and ready for beddy-byes.’ Miss Kettering cooed in a syrupy style babykins kind of talk adults usually reserve for very young children not a sixteen year old.
Susie was holding a pair of her flannelette pyjamas she had grown out of, they were bright pink and had frilly cuffs and a frilly neckline. 
‘I bet you're thinking those are Susie’s pyjamas not mine aren’t you Lambikins?’
Susie observed gleefully, ‘but take a look at this.’ She held up the pyjama top, embroidered in red were the words, Peter’s Pyjamas.
‘I took the pyjama top to school and asked Miss Langley to help me do this, just so everyone will know that they’re your pyjama little brother.’ She gloated handing the garments to Miss Kettering.
Peter’s head swam; Miss Langley was his form teacher and all the boys had a crush on her.
Miss Kettering took the pyjamas. ‘I see you have ironed them nicely too Susie, just as I asked. You are a great help to me.’ Susie flushed with pride. Looking at Peter she said, ‘anything to help my little brother.’
Miss Kettering unbuttoned the pyjama jacket; she held it up and away from her by the shoulders and gave it a small shake.
‘Into your pyjamas now Lambikins, It’s almost your bedtime.’
Responding almost automatically to Miss Kettering’s movement, Peter slipped his arms into the pyjama jacket and stood compliantly uncomplaining as Miss Kettering buttoned him up in them. 
Peter felt the softness of the material as he was enveloped in pink flannelette as Miss Kettering took her time doing up the small Mother of Pearl buttons ensuring the top button was securely fastened before picking up the pyjama bottoms.
‘Step!’ 

Peter once again responded to Miss Kettering’s commanding voice and placed his feet inside the proffered openings. Miss Kettering drew the pyjama bottoms up his legs and positioned the elasticised waistband lightly around his midriff. The pyjama bottoms were warm and comforting  and he failed to disguise his unintentional enjoyment the sensation the flannelette material gave him as it caressed his groin.
‘I think our little Lambikins is telling us he approves of his new pyjamas Susie.’ 
Susie giggled, ‘I think he does too Miss Kettering, although it is only a small approval.’
Miss Kettering laughed at her remark, ‘quite so.’
 Susie then said, quite deliberately,  Is it time to show all Lambikins’ friends what he wears to beddy-byes yet Miss Kettering?’
‘Well, let’s get his slippers on first before we decide shall we? We can’t have our pet lamb having cold tootsies.’
Peter was struggling to keep up with events, he was aghast and ashamed that the ridiculously girly pyjamas had made him react as he had done so and even more so as Miss Kettering made him shuffle his feet into the bunny rabbit slippers that had also belonged to Susie. 
Before he could react Susie had pointed her mobile at him. ‘Oh, that’s a lovely shot, look how cute you looks in your pink jammies.’
Peter blushed furiously.


Miss Kettering took Peter onto her lap and cuddled him tightly. She gently rubbed the sleeve of his pyjamas and kissed the top of his head.
‘You see Susie, once an unruly boy is snugly dressed in a pair of girls pink pyjamas they calm down at once and become Miss Kettering’s little pet lamb. Aren’t you my sweet?’
She lifted Peter's chin with the crook of her finger as she addressed him.
‘Isn’t that right Lambikins?.’
Poor Peter was so bewildered he wasn’t sure what to do. Instead he just nodded his head, and then, as he saw Susie looking at him with glee at his predicament he buried his face childishly into Miss Kettering’s fluffy cardigan. 
‘Oh. Is my pet lamb tired then? It is way past your beddy-byes time. Susie wants you to get plenty of sleepy-byes time from now on. That will mean bedtime for you will be at six o’clock every school night, at the weekend I will let you stay up until seven o’clock but you will be put into your pyjamas at five o’clock so we can pop you into bed when I think you are overtired..’
Peter started to wave his mittened hands around in protest, tears welling in his eyes. 
Miss Kettering removed his dummy, ‘did Lambikins want to say something?’

‘Oh please Miss Kettering, please don't make me wear Susie’s pyjamas and go to bed early, I promise to change and be well behaved.’ 

Miss Kettering sighed, ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for promises Lambikins, you see your mummy will be away for longer than you think,early bedtimes and pink pyjamas are your future. Your life will now be very simply well structured when you come in from school there will be five steps to bedtime.’

Miss Kettering counted off on her fingers.

‘One, pyjama time, that’s straight into freshly ironed, little girls pyjamas for the older boy as soon as you arrive home from school which will be very quick as I will be collecting you from the school gate each evening.

Two, homework time, you sit wearing your pink pyjamas completing all your homework. 

Three, suppertime, when you will be fed a healthy meal with plenty of vegetables, there will be no more fast-food nonsense. 

Four, quiet time before you go to bed, this will usually be spent sitting on my lap just like now with plenty of hugs and cuddles.

Five, nappy time then sleepy-byes time, that means tucked up in beddy-byes by six at the very latest.’ 

Peter struggled to leave Miss Kettering’s lap, ‘no I won’t, I wont do it.’ He shouted and squirmed on Miss Kettering’s lap. Miss Kettering merely chuckled and drew Peter closer to her, tightening her grip and kissing his cheek.
Susie was beside herself with joy. She had always wanted to see her brother spanked and put to bed early and now her wish had come true. Peter’s bedtime schedule would give her plenty of opportunities to humiliate him, she thought as she watched him squirm uncomfortably as he tried to escape from Miss Kettering’s lap. 

She cleared her throat, ‘shall I send it now?’ Susie asked innocently.

‘Let me see it first,’ Miss Kettering suggested. 

Susie pressed play and handed the phone to Miss Kettering who positioned it so she and the softly sobbing Peter could see the display. There captured by the wonders of modern technology were all Peter's humiliations, well not all as some were still to come.

There was Lambikins being bathed, sitting in his high-chair, being fed his milky pudding, being spanked, being dressed in his pretty pink pyjamas, all the days events neatly condensed.

“Which button do I press to send it to all his friends Susie dear?’ Asked Miss Kettering innocently.

Peter’s sobs grew louder, ‘no please not that….’ 

‘You know Susie, I think we should give our little Lambikins a chance to avoid all his so called friends finding out about his new life. Would you like that Lambikins?’

Peter nodded tearfully, he would do anything to avoid his reputation amongst his friends being ruined.

Susie joined in. ‘I know, how about a forfeit, would you consider a little forfeit in return for not sending this footage Lambikins?’  

Still snuggled on Miss Kettering’s lap, Peter nodded eagerly and the trap was sprung.

He stood on the small wooden stool, Susie and Miss Kettering sat directly in front of him on the sofa, on Susie’s lap was her old toy record player with the yellow plastic discs. She placed a disc onto the turntable. 

‘Ready Lambikins, don’t forget we want to see all the actions. And begin.’

Susie let the disc revolve, the sound was quality was poor but after all it was only meant for babies. Peter hesitated and missed his cue. 

‘If you don’t join in this time you know the consequences,’ Susie threatened.

As she repeated her actions Peter’s thin, barely audible voice joined in with the tune.

‘Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are…’

Miss Kettering suppressed her smile but Susie giggled joyfully. 

‘Louder Lambikins, we can’t hear you and look up to the sky, good Lambikins.’

Poor Peter stumbled and stuttered his way through the nursery song until the merciful end.

‘Not too bad but we expect better with your second effort. You’ll need this.’ 

Susie handed him his old Teddy Bear, the one he had not given up sleeping with until he was eight.

Right, off you go again, and plenty of actions this time.’ Susie had taken to the role of directing her brother as well as she had taken to humiliating him.

Peter really did give his best effort as he cradled Teddy and sang as instructed…

‘Rock-a-bye Teddy in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come Teddy cradle and all’
His voice tailed away, all his anger spent, instead all that was left was a pink pyjama clad humbled sixteen year old who was ready for his beddy-byes.

Susie followed as Miss Kettering led Peter, shuffling alongside her  holding her hand, in his pink bunny slippers and pink frilly, girls flannel pyjamas, upstairs to bed. Susie was busy reviewing his vocal performance, that of course she had recorded, when Peter's mobile jingled into life with his absurd ring tone.
Susie recognised  the name on the display screen, a malicious smile spread across her face; she was going to enjoy this. 
‘Peter? Oh no. He won’t be coming over tonight. Why? Because he is being put to bed that’s why. Yes, that’s right, meaning he is already wearing his pyjamas and slippers and at this very moment is going upstairs to be tucked in.’ 
Susie resisted the temptation to describe the pyjamas Peter was wearing. 
‘No you can’t speak to him. Actually it is now past  his usual bedtime, of course he has a bedtime didn’t you know? Peter has to be in his jimmy-jams and tucked up in beddy-byes very early or he gets terribly cranky. Yes I will tell him to give you a call in the morning, bye.’ 
Susie shook with excitement. Jenny Phillips had sounded very puzzled by their conversation. Peter had fancied her for ages and he had tried to worm his way into her affections by offering to study with her.
Susie imagined it would be very amusing to listen to Peter’s explanation next time they met.
By the time Susie caught up with Miss Kettering an amazing sight met her. Peter’s TV, DVD and computer had all been removed to the sanctuary of Miss Kettering’s room, meanwhile Miss Kettering had stripped his bed and was busy re-making it while Peter stood facing the bedroom wall with his hands on his head.



‘Susie, help me with his bedding will you? Your brother had another little tantrum when I told him about the new cot I have ordered so he has had a smacked botty and is being punished in a suitably childish way.’
Together they made up Peter’s bed with a pale pink, Hello Kitty motif duvet set, Susie was quite envious as she felt how soft and fluffy the pillowcases were as she slipped them onto the pillows.
‘Come along Lambikins, into beddy-byes with you.’ 
Peter obediently climbed into bed, altogether a different boy from a few hours ago.
‘That’s right snuggle down.’ Peter’s head sank into the softness of the brushed cotton pillowcase. Miss Kettering tucked everything in tightly until she was satisfied Peter was securely tucked in.
‘Don’t you feel all snuggly-wugly and cosy-cosy pet lamb?’ Miss Kettering asked Peter, speaking to him in a humiliating  baby talk voice.
 ‘You have a lovely long sleepy-byes now and don’t worry if you wake up and feel frightened by the dark. Miss Kettering will be straight along to soothe her little boy with a cuddle and a hug thanks to this baby monitor I have set up. Just one little sound and I shall be in to see you. Of course if I find you out of beddy-byes without permission it will be smacked botty time again, do you understand?’ 
Peter managed a little nod of his head. Susie enjoyed herself by gently tucking the pink, brushed cotton sheet under his chin and giving his cheek a peck on the cheek. 
‘Nighty-night little brother,’ she teased, ‘it’s seven’ clock now. You should have been fast asleep an hour ago, no wonder you are so cranky.’ 
She couldn’t resist one final remark. ‘Oh, by the way Jenny Phillips rang while you were being spanked; I told her you were in your pyjamas and being put to bed and that you would give her a call tomorrow, is that alright?’
Peter’s eyes opened wide with fright and his mouth struggled to speak. 
Miss Kettering fumbled in the pocket of her fluffy cardigan.
‘Miss Kettering has a little treat for her bunnykins,’ she said and popped a new pink baby’s dummy into his surprised mouth as he was just about to protest.
Gently she lifted his head from the pillow and secured the dummy with the elastic.
Miss Kettering ignored Peter’s muffled whimpers as she blotted out the daylight by closing the bedroom curtains.
As the door closed, Peter blinked away tears and stared into the darkness, little did he know that this day had begun his descent into a future of nappies, dummies, cot’s and early bedtimes and that, with his mum’s approval, Miss Kettering and his young sister would dominate his life for a long time to come.






    

   

Here is a selection of some great images of strict females spanking naughty males. The artist is Franco and he has kindly given permission for his work to be posted here.