You decide! Choosing punishment pyjamas.

It is rather hot today but aunty and Mrs Jacobson disagreed on which pair of pyjamas I should wear to do the ironing They decided to hold a sort of catwalk that involved me walking up and down, then posing in the three pairs of pyjamas they has narrowed it down to. To make matters worse Mrs Jacobson  invited Melanie, her fourteen year old niece to be the judge. Which pair do you think were

finally chosen?

This letter from the PPM archive about short trouser and pyjama discipline did not elicit the required response from Matron I assume.

Dear Matron

My name is David, I am fourteen and I live with my mother and my brother Christopher. Last year I won a scholarship to a boys only private school across town .  I was very pleased with myself and was totally unaware that they had a strict traditional school uniform policy.  I had graduated to long trousers from the age of eleven and would wear longs even on the hottest summer's day. By the time of my final year, I had owned no pairs of school or play shorts, having passed them down to my brother, along with the accompanying long socks. 

On a damp August day towards the beginning of the new term, I went along with my mother to the school outfitters to be kitted out for my new school, my mother made me wear my old school uniform at the time.

I did not really like going shopping, especially for clothes, and I was not really paying attention in the school outfitters when the salesman was going through the uniform list with my mother, explaining what was needed, and measuring a me up. Having tried on blazers until one was found "with room to grow into" the salesman produced a pair of short trousers for me to try on. I told him that I had been wearing a longs for the last couple of years, and that I had at least two pairs that fitted me well and which I could continue wearing.

He told me that the uniform rules of the grammar school were quite clear, and that shorts had to be worn until the end of the boy's sixth form tenure. I was shocked with disbelief; he pulled out the school's uniform rules to show me.  Face with the prospect of wearing short trousers for the next two years I suddenly no longer wanted to go to the new posh school, but I realised that I could not possibly suggest this to my mother, at least part of me realised that this was an absurd reaction to a school uniform rule. 

I was in something of a daze as I tried on the grey, white-lined short trousers, and the long socks in the grammar school's colours. I was made to walk around the shop, with the salesman and my mother admiring me in my new uniform, commenting on how much smarter I looked compared to the long trousers that I had worn on arrival. I tried to make it clear that I did not share their opinion but to my horror the salesman suggested to my mother  that it would be a good idea if I started wearing my new short trousers immediately so as to get used to them before September. He then produced the regulation long socks in the school's colours and persuaded my mother to insist I put one of the four pairs she bought on.  At this point the outfitters shop was on the point of closing and my mother decided we would return home with me dressed as I was. My protests about being seen wearing such a ridiculous ensemble  were ignored, as my mother pointed out, that is what I would be wearing permanently from the next day. 

I was in a complete state of shock, I had left the outfitters wearing a pair of short trousers and long socks, knowing that I was destined to wear these items for at least the next couple of years. 

When I got home I was teased mercilessly by my young brother who was looking forward to moving on to long trousers next term. My mother took all my long trousers and put them in his cupboard.

I hated going to school,  I was teased by pupils from my old school, a major problem as I commuted to my new one on the same transport. Mother was adamant that I looked so smart in short trousers, and regretted that I had been allowed to move on to longs at all, indeed, when I was out with her she encouraged her friends to admire how neat and tidy I looked, which just added to my humiliation.

Of course, throughout this time, my young brother was able to wear long trousers to school. He had persuaded my mother that, as I had been allowed to wear long trousers from the age of eleven so should he. And that just like I had been, he was allowed to wear longs at weekends, during holidays and such like. In contrast, my mother continued to insist that as long as I wore shorts as my school uniform there was no question of my wearing long trousers outside school. I do not even own a pair of jeans.

I feel humiliated on a daily basis having to wear shorts while my younger brother wears longs. He had a growth spurt recently and was soon considerably taller than me. I had always enjoyed the role of older brother, especially when I wore long trousers and he was still in shorts. But now the situation has reversed, he in longs with me back in shorts. With being taller than me now our relationship has changed. He behaves towards me as if he was older, swanking around in his longs and and teasing me. This also affects the way my mother treats us. This is why I am writing to you. He used to go to bed an hour and a half before me before my mother changed that to allow him to go to bed at the same time as me, which meant that I have lost that privilege I had as the oldest child. Eventually with my exams looming large, my mother insists that I go to bed at seven thirty every night. Indeed she insists I put my pyjamas on as soon as I return home from school so I am ready to go to bed immediately after I have finished studying. My brother has just started bringing a girl home after school and I find it embarrassing to be seen in pyjamas by a twelve year old girl, especially as my mother insists I now wear the pyjamas that he has grown out of. Please advise me on how to persuade my mother to allow me back into longs at the weekend and recommend that my early bedtime be rescinded long with having to wear my brothers pyjama hand me downs.

Yours respectfully 

Dear David

What an ungrateful boy you are. Your mother has no doubt scrimped and saved to pay for your uniform yet you moan and bleat about how unfair everything is. There is no reason for her to waste money buying you long trousers just for the weekend is there? 

As for your early bedtime, your mother is ensuring you get plenty of sleep to help you pass your exams, and why complain about wearing your younger brothers hand me down pyjamas, you are wearing long trouser then are you not?

Knuckle down and stop complaining is my advice young man.

Naughty boy in striped pyjamas humiliated before an early bedtime.

Philip Treadwell stood with his hands on his head alongside the clothes airer, thereon draped with his striped, winceyette pyjamas. His bottom bore the bright red glow of his over the knee slippering administered not five minutes earlier by Mrs Alexander. "Keep those hands on your head unless you want to go back across my knee." Mrs Alexander threatened as he went to soothe his sore bottom. Philip stood uncomfortably for another ten minutes as the three women chatted and drank their tea. "Right, come here and let's get you into your pyjamas and off to beddy-byes, it's already after six o'clock and past your bedtime," Mrs Treadwell urged. Philip stood facing the three women, shamefully parading his nakedness as Mrs Treadwell slipped his arms into the red striped pyjama top and, starting from the bottom, slowly buttoned him into the jacket.
Miss Alexander stared at him, "you really are a naughty little boy," she giggled, emphasising the "little, no wonder you are being put to bed early." Mrs Treadwell knelt on the floor and held the bottoms open for him to step into. He put his left foot in first and rested his hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he put his right foot into the pyjama bottoms. Mrs Treadwell pulled the bottoms up and tightly tied the pyjama cord trapping the hem of his pyjama jacket inside the bottoms. "There, all ready for beddy-byes, slippers on." She placed his bunny slippers beside him and watched as he shuffled his feet into the fuzzy, pale blue slippers. "Say night-night," she urged taking his hand. Philip blushed but did as he was told. "Night -night Nana, night- night Aunty," he whispered pathetically, standing in front of them in his striped winceyette pyjamas and blue fuzzy slippers. "Off we go, up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire." She led him to the foot of the stairs and paused. "Wave night-night Philip." She lifted his arm and waved it for him. The two women sitting on the sofa waved back, mimicking his arm movements, then laughed out loud. His mother-in-law and sister-in-law always enjoyed watching Philip's wife put him to bed.

Maaike needs some advice on how to continue her boyfriends journey to permanent early bedtime and pyjama discipline

I am trying to enforce some rules on my boyfriend Maarten, slowly but surely. He is 35 years old and I have been slowly training him into going to bed early. Currently, his bedtime is 8 PM during the week and 9 PM on Fridays and Saturdays. He sleeps in the spare room which is only equipped with a bed, a drawer and nothing else. 

He always sleeps in a nappy and winceyette footed pyjamas. After dinner he has to go up to shower, brush his teeth, and wait in the corner of the guest room. Then after some time I come up, pin him into his nappy, dress him in his footed pyjamas and put him in his bed.

Now recently he has been complaining since it is summer time that his pyjamas are too warm for him and that he wants to enjoy the evenings together with me. I however think a strict regime is the way to keep him in line. After all, the reason I started this was that he was wasting way too much time late in the evening browsing on the internet, ignoring his hygiene and being really tired as the week progresses. 

I am wondering, could you pass this letter forward to Nanny Smackbottom? I would like to get her advice on this matter, if possible. Am I right in staying strict or is it better to give in a bit too make sure he continues on this path?

With regards,

Maaike 

A great story from Pete Amas as a naughty husband experiences a pyjamaring at the hands of his strict, nanny like neighbour.

Stephen’s wife had gone to visit her sister in Kingsley; he would be alone for two possibly three days. She had left strict instructions that no parties or any other such frivolities should be held in her absence and she had also asked Miss Letherbridge, the elderly spinster next door, to keep an eye on him. After three years of marriage he was getting weary of being henpecked but he had made a vow and he felt morally bound to live by it. Asking Miss. Letherbridge to keep an eye on him was further proof of the increasingly subservient path his life was taking.
Miss Letherbridge  was a tall and elegant lady, in her early sixties, who seemed to have cast a spell over his wife shortly after they moved in. In his wife’s eyes Miss Letherbridge was a pillar of the community and her advice was always taken.
Stephen found her strangely attractive for a woman of her vintage. She was always immaculately dressed although her style was somewhat dated, crisp white blouses fully buttoned to the neck, cuffs neatly buttoned too and knee length black pleated skirts. She wore nylon stockings that did not completely conceal her still excellently shaped legs and on her feet she wore her trademark sensible black brogue shoes. With her greying, but still mainly auburn hair, tied up and pulled back in a bun that exposed her surprisingly unwrinkled face to scrutiny, for Stephen she epitomised his fantasy of a strict disciplinarian nanny figure.
Conversely, he had witnessed her private, beyond public view appearance. From their bedroom window he could see her hanging washing out on the line in her nightclothes and was surprised at how aroused this made him feel too. Her pyjama clad legs that were exposed below her dressing gown made him feel strangely attracted to her old fashioned nightwear and he secretly fantasised about wearing her pyjamas. He often looked longingly from their bedroom window at the back of the house over the privet hedge at Miss Lethbridge’s numerous winceyette pyjamas and nightgowns billowing seductively in the wind. He would amuse himself while enjoying the view and frequently fantasised about what it would feel like to put on a pair of her pyjamas.
The thought occurred to him that with his wife away an opportunity might just arise for him to borrow a pair from her line. As it transpired Miss Letherbridge was hanging out washing in her back garden including a pair of winceyette pyjamas with pink and blue flowers and a lace trimmed Peter Pan collar and what looked like a quilted floral house coat. As she pegged out the nightwear she frequently glanced up at the bedroom window as if she could sense he was there. Thankfully he was hidden behind the net curtains and could not be seen, however he felt strangely uncomfortable, it was almost as if she was watching him.
Boldly, he decided that after dark he would sneak through the hedge and take a pair of her pyjamas, sleep in them and have them returned before dawn. His decision excited him and he was highly aroused.
The evening wore on and the time of Stephen’s escapade drew near. In preparation he placed fresh sheets on the bed and cleaned the bedroom. He also sprinkled rose water on his sheets; a smell he always associated with Miss Letherbridge.
Just after dark Stephen took a stroll out the back garden to check on Miss Lethbridge’s house. it looked like all the curtains were pulled and the lights were out. Moving back toward the house he found a gap in the privet hedge, it was not easy, but with some effort he squeezed through. With great stealth and some trepidation he crept toward the line. He reached for the floral winceyette pyjamas and gasped at their softness as he took them from the line. With his prize in hand and great excitement he crept back toward the house and the gap in the hedge.
Just as he was about to make his escape the entire garden lit up. Standing there, three feet in front of him, and blocking his escape route was Miss Letherbridge, dressed in her trademark blouse and skirt.
“Hello Stephen, may I ask what you are up to?” Startled and feeling completely exposed Stephen sputtered something about thinking it was going to rain and how he had come down to take in her washing.
Smiling at his discomfort Miss Letherbridge thanked him for his concern and asked him to leave the washing in the kitchen while she fetched the rest from the line. Hesitantly he entered the kitchen and left his prize on the table; his hand lingering a little too long as he surrendered the prized winceyette pyjamas.
As he turned to leave, Miss Letherbridge entered the kitchen and locked the door behind her.
“Now Stephen, let’s get to the truth of this matter shall we?” She picked up the winceyette pyjama jacket from the table and moved toward him.
“I..I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.
“Come, come now darling, I've seen you watching my clothes line from your bedroom window for quite some time. I know you fantasise about wearing my winceyette pyjamas, isn't that correct?”
By now she had backed him up against the kitchen wall and stood inches away from him. She stared down at him and he felt intoxicated by her rosewater fragrance.  
Staggered at her directness and the fact that his secret was out his voice quivered as he blurted out,
“please don’t tell my wife I..I never meant any harm. “
As the words came out Stephen realised he had confirmed her suspicions; he was shaking with nerves and anxiety.
Miss Letherbridge stroked his face with the pyjama jacket, "there, there little one. Don't be afraid, Nanny is going to take care of her sissy babykins and make everything right."
He struggled for breath, knowing she had him under her control but deeply and visibly, excited too. She took him by the arm and led him toward the stairs.
“Let’s get you undressed and into a warm scented bath shall we? Then we can talk this through when you have, err, calmed down.”
Despite his anxious state he was aroused by her suggestion and the dominant manner In which she took control of the situation. He acquiesced and meekly let himself be led upstairs.
Filling the bath Miss Letherbridge poured copious amounts of rose scented bath salts as the room began to fill with steam.
“Let’s get those nasty big boy clothes off shall we?”
She began to strip him, starting with his jeans and underpants. As he stood there semi-naked, he cupped his hands over his manhood to protect his modesty. Miss Letherbridge gently pulled his tee shirt off over his head forcing his hands apart.
“Don’t be embarrassed my darling, “I've seen many a naked male in my time,” she whispered. Sitting him on the edge of the bath she slid him into the piping hot water. The water felt luxurious, like silk, against his skin.
As he sank lower into the bath Miss Letherbridge grabbed a soapy sponge and plunged it deep into the water. Gently she began to wash his body.
“Now darling, let’s talk about your secret desires shall we? Let’s talk about your love of my winceyette pyjamas and your need to be mothered and treated like the helpless child you are.”
Stephen was already relaxed with the heat of the water and her words made him become deeply aroused. His manhood grew as she spoke and softly cleansed his body; bringing him to a state of excitement and arousal he had never experienced before. He was just about to reach orgasm when she withdrew the sponge.
“Please Miss Letherbridge……”He moaned in frustration”
“Now darling relax while I go and get something soft and exciting for you to wear; but don’t touch yourself or I shall be very annoyed and you won’t like me when I'm annoyed.”
Stephen was frustrated, he desperately wanted to relieve himself but was fearful of Miss Lethbridge’s reaction should he do so. He sat there with his enlarged member teasing him as it poked its head above the bath foam. Two minutes later Miss Letherbridge returned carrying a beautiful pair of white winceyette pyjamas with a large red rose pattern and a pink cotton velour bathrobe. Holding up the robe she invited him to step out of the bath. She wrapped the bathrobe around him and vigorously began to dry him. Stephen could not take his eyes off the pyjamas he so desperately wanted to touch them.
She followed his gaze. “Don’t worry darling it won’t be long now before you feel their soft embrace,” she promised.
Having completely dried him she began to sprinkle talc on his private parts and bottom. Finally removing the bathrobe she took the pyjama top and offered it up to his left arm.
“Now let’s see how these fit shall we?” As she slid the winceyette pyjama sleeve up over his arm his body tingled with excitement and his member became further engorged. Slipping his arm into the other sleeve she began to close the tiny satin covered buttons working from the bottom up. Fastening the top button she told him how sweet he looked and how she had kept these extra large pyjamas especially for his first pyjamaring. She finished by flattening down the lacy Peter Pan collar and adjusting the pyjama jacket’s sleeves.
Then she reached for the bottoms. Creating a little puddle of winceyette on the floor she took his right foot and placed it into the bottoms. Slowly she slid the bottoms up his leg holding them open at his knee. Resting his weight on her shoulder, he willingly put his left leg into the pyjamas. As she pulled the pyjama bottoms up past his groin, Stephen could not believe the height of his arousal as the winceyette caressed his penis before she finally rested the waistband high above his belly button. She looked deep into his eyes as she tucked his pyjama top into the bottoms; he was now completely encased in the soft, feminine pyjamas. Grasping his now enlarged member through the winceyette, Stephen finally ejaculated with a cry of ecstasy. He was spent and elated and wanted no more than to spend the rest of his days embraced by soft, cosy winceyette, snuggled in the bosom of Miss Letherbridge.
She however looked with disdain at the growing wet patch on his pyjama bottoms.
“Stephen darling what are we going to do with you? I had just washed and ironed those pyjamas especially for your pyjamaring and you have already ruined them. There is nothing to be done but to get you a clean pair; come with me.”
Taking him by the hand she led him into a box room, now lie on the bed while I select you another pair of pyjamas. Opening a chest of drawers she took out two pairs of pyjamas, one pink floral pair with a ruffle neck and one lemon yellow with little brown teddies.
“Now my angel, which pair of pyjamas would you like to wear?” She asked?
Stephen’s hand reached out to touch the pink floral pair.
“Delightful choice darling. Now let’s get those soiled pyjamas off and get you ready for beddy-byes. However this time I think we should put you into a pair of night time pyjama pants to capture any nocturnal secretions; don’t you agree?”
Stephen was beyond caring at this stage, he was totally under her spell as his deepest desires were being met. He lay on the bed and accepted his fate as she once again stripped him and put him into the oversized winceyette pyjamas, this time safely ensconced in an adult nappy. Could his world get any better he thought.
“Now my little pyjama clad hero, let me tuck you into bed, in the morning we can discuss how our relationship will proceed, but first you need a good night’s sleep.” She said, lifting his legs up and positioning him on the bed.
“After all, now that your little secret is out we shall have to ensure pyjamaring becomes an integral part of your daily routine shan't we?”
As he lay back in the bed she straightened out his pyjamas ensuring his legs and torso were fully covered. She then pulled the blankets high up to his chin and placed his arms on top of the bed spread.
“We don’t want you playing with yourself at night now do we?”
As she left the room she turned off the light and locked the door behind her. Stephen lay in total darkness knowing he was completely under her control but dressed in the softest winceyette and in exquisite comfort.
He would be hers forever and he felt warm and complete inside.

Mrs Sykes-Patterson has sent another excellent installment about Lionels and Mr Watts pyjamaring. I am pleased to see that I am not the only one to suffer the,"oversized striped pyjamas" punishment.

Dear Wincy,

I hope you and your readers will be interested to find out what happened to Lionel and Mr Watts following their pyjamaring by Miss Jones, so I have prepared the following account of the ensuing evening.

I have also enclosed a photograph of Lionel in his special pyjamas as dressed by Miss Jones for your information. I am sure that you will agree that they are not well-designed, but do have the desired effect of humiliating the insolent male.

P.S I think your red striped oversized punishment pyjamas are particularly fetching in the way that the trousers puddle around your feet and the sleeves have  disappearing arms but do have some way to go before they match Lionel's!

Regards,  

Mrs. Sykes-Patterson

Poor Lionel was escorted into the spare room and was shocked to see his friend Malcolm dressed in a pair of tasteless blue striped pyjamas that appeared also to have been designed ineptly by the willing Miss Jones. Being a man who prided himself on his fashion awareness, this was obviously a complete humiliation in itself, but in addition, the sad man was facing the cast iron fireplace, hands on head and with his pyjama trousers in a heap around his knees. Malcolm's glowing red bottom with handprint marks imprinted, was fully on display.

'Now Lionel' began Mrs SP, 'Malcolm attempted to resist his pyjamaring by removing them and putting his day clothes back on. Of course we easily restrained him and forcibly re-dressed him in jim-jams. Yes, he screamed and resisted as we removed his clothing and buttoned him back into his lovely jimmy-jams but as you can see you can bear witness to the folly of his misbehaviour. Mrs Dempsey had to remove her expensive silk Hermes scarf and gag him tightly in order to stem the tide of appalling language. The silly man only finally calmed down after he was soundly spanked once attired in his baggy nightwear. Now look at him - a model of obedience smartly dressed in his delightful new striped pyjamas with his punished behind on display. I doubt very much that we'll have  any more trouble from you tonight, will we Malcolm?' 

'Mmmmphhh, Mmmph ' mo mupphis Phys Faferfun'  was all that could be heard from his gagged mouth.

Mrs Sykes-Patterson commanded him. 'Pull up your pyjama bottoms and tie them correctly ready for inspection, your gag will remain tied firmly in place until I decide otherwise.'

Mrs SP walked around a very nervous Malcolm who was fumbling with the tie-cord on his pyjamas.

'It is now 3.30pm and you two will shortly be put to bed in your new jim-jams. Mrs Watts has made up the single bed with crisply starched sheets and a woollen blanket, but prior to that there is one more matter to address. We have agreed that in order to ensure there are no further embarrassing episodes involving male arousal that we recently were forced to endure, drastic measures are needed to make you both realise that we ladies are to be obeyed instantly without hesitation on your part, otherwise the consequences for the two of you will be very severe. The pair of you are worthless specimens, our pyjamaed , flannelled fools who will submit to our every command. Have I made myself clear?

The two pyjama clad males nodded dutifully as Mrs SP fixed them with one of her intimidating stares forcing the pair to lower their eyes to the floor.

"Now gentlemen, Mrs Harbury has discovered a most wonderful device that will extend your pyjama humiliation and further emphasise your inferior  status as. I believe it is effective by tightly containing your pyjama pee-pees' and 'pyjama plums', in a plastic, lockable cage that prevents any display of masculinity. Mrs Watts has advised me that it properly called a 'chastity cage' but I'm afraid that I wouldn't know about these things'.

The quivering men were ordered to the centre of the small spare room where they shuffled in a mass of striped winceyette.  

'Now, stand next to each other with your legs wide apart and place your hands on your head. Do not speak or move a muscle until the procedure is complete - you will then receive instruction as to the next phase of your pyjamaring.'

'Mrs Watts, would you care to assist?  Please undo their pyjama trousers.'

Mrs Watts hands threaded their way up inside the front of the men's pyjama jackets, located the cord under their armpits and after a brief tug, first Malcolm's and then Lionel's baggy trousers folded in a striped mass and fell around their ankles.

'Oh goodness, this simply won't do - their jackets are still reaching down almost to their knees - Lionel and Malcolm, take your hands off your head, grasp the front hem of your jackets and hold it high above your heads.'

Following much squirming, whimpering and whining the two men's masculinity was forced and squeezed so tightly into the lockable devices that tears flowed, much to the delight of the ladies present. With a final click of a small padlock, the procedure was complete. The ladies stood back to admire the effect.

'Marvellous!  Let's get these two dressed smartly back into their jim-jams and show our handiwork to the assembled circle downstairs'.

Mrs Watts proceeded to pull up the blue striped trousers of her husband and fasten them tightly high on his chest before instructing him to release his grip on the front of his jacket whereupon it cascaded down to his knees.

Downstairs, Mrs SP barked out her instructions from the sofa.

'Lionel and Malcolm, please enter the room and stand with your backs against the wall.'

The two men, in their flapping pyjama bottoms, shuffled and stumbled in their respective red and blue oversized nightwear and stood as instructed.

'Now ladies, are we ready? Lionel, you will please stand behind Malcolm, reach inside his pyjamas and unfasten his trousers.  Malcolm was appalled and humiliated as he felt his friend's hands rummaging around inside his nightwear, but soon he felt his trousers falling, billowing to the floor. Now Lionel, please reach round and hold up Malcolm's jacket so that the ladies can see' 

The sight of the firmly caged pyjama plums and pee-pees compressed so effectively brought nods and sighs of approval.

'Now, as it is nearly 4.00pm we shall tuck these two naughty pyjamaed boys into bed for an early bedtime and a night of chastity- the single bed will be somewhat of a squeeze for them but they will manage!'

After being frogmarched back upstairs, the humiliated couple were stood in opposing corners of the spare room facing the wall whilst Mrs. Dempsey prepared the small bed for the pyjamaed miscreants.

'Lionel you first, come here and lie completely straight on one side of the bed - arms by your sides, clever boy. Now you Malcolm.'

The poor men barely fitted on the starched sheet with it's single pillow and had to endure the attention of the ladies who insisted on 'smartening up' their pyjamas. Miss Jones assisted by pulling the overlong trousers down over their feet and smoothed down their pyjama jacket collars. Unfortunately for Lionel he was also gagged, ' to prevent any communication between the pair.'

'Well now, don't they look like a pair of ludicrous naughty little boys wearing their oversized pyjamas that unfortunately for them they will never grow into!' She gloated.

Before adding, 'Ladies, you may come and take any photographs of Malcolm and Lionel that you wish.' 

By 4.10 pm both were lying side by side tightly tucked into the confining single bed with just  their pyjamaed arms and smartly buttoned pyjama jacket collars on display above the sheets.

'Mrs SP addressed the tow men as they lay in bed.

'I do not want to see any creases in those new sheets or the bedclothes disturbed in any way. I expect you both to endure the night's discomfort without complaint and do not want to see evidence that you have been attempting to interfere with your chastity devices..'

 This is the start of your new pyjamaring regime that Mrs Watts and I will impose and enforce with vigour and determination. You can expect to spend all of your non working time dressed permanently in pyjamas!'

With that threat ringing in their ears, the two men were left to contemplate their pyjamaed future during the long hours ahead.

Wincy's pyjama troubles. A difficult start to the weekend. A 2pm pyjama time then a 4pm bedtime.

 

My weekend started badly. Mrs Jacobson and aunty were enjoying the afternoon sun in the garden when I arrived, I had bought aunty's birthday card and flowers with me instead of sending them,

immediately aunty ordered me across her knee saying I was a day late and that I obviously didn't care about her. She was quite huffy about it and she made me remove my trousers and underpants ready to receive my first spanking of the weekend. 

Aunty must have been practising because she smacked my bare bottom so hard I was soon squirming around on her lap trying to avoid the blows. I was still sobbing as I was sent to stand under the apple tree with my hands on my head. Mrs Jacobson poured her and aunty another cup of tea and chatted whilst I stood thirsty and sore. Eventually I heard aunty say, "we may as well put this naughty boy straight into his pyjamas ready for night-night seeing as he is almost undressed already." 

Mrs Jacobson needed no prompting. "I'll fetch his pyjamas whist you get his shirt and things off." 

She returned quickly carrying my oversized. red striped punishment pyjamas.

"Come along, into your pyjamas quickly now, I want you ready for bed before the girls arrive." Aunty demanded.

I was about to protest that 2 pm on a Friday afternoon was too early for pyjama time but my brain thought otherwise. "G..g..g..girls, what girls?" I stuttered. Mrs Jacobson gleefully informed me that her goddaughters Brownie Six needed to practice first aid for their badge and I had been volunteered to be their "patient".

"But why must I be in pyjamas?" I wailed. I was told it was to add authenticity to the exercise and when I complained that people who had accidents weren't usually wearing their pyjamas I had my face smacked for being cheeky.

The six girls arrived shortly afterwards and were delighted to see me waiting for them looking embarrassed in my striped pyjamas.

After twenty minutes four of the girls had put my injured arm into a sling and splinted my broken leg as well as bandaging my head.

We stopped when aunty provided orange juice and cake for the girls, Mrs Jacobson's goddaughter Elizabeth, pointed out mischievously, that it would be too dangerous for the patient to eat or drink as I could have internal injuries and besides my pyjamas were grass stained with lying on the lawn.

 Mrs Jacobson absurdly agreed and I was forbidden to eat or drink and then. 

"I know," exclaimed Mrs Jacobson, why don't we put wincy into clean pyjamas and pretend he is a different patient?" The girls cheered and Mrs Jacobson dashed off to fetch more pyjamas.

 She came back carrying an armful of my pyjamas and I spent the next hour being bandaged, changed into clean pyjamas, bandaged and changed again. Mrs Jacobson also made sure she captured my discomfort wearing my various pyjama outfits on her phone camera.

After a while, Elizabeth complained to her godmother. "It's  a shame we haven't a girl to practise on too," looking hopefully at my aunt and Mrs Jacobson.

"Well," ventured aunty, "what if wincy wore girls pyjamas, couldn't you pretend he was a girl then?"

The girls nodded, grinning knowingly at my embarrassment. Mrs Jacobson quickly produced two pairs of frilly floral pyjamas and I was subject to another half hour of being the patient until aunty intervened. "You know girls wincy is very tired and since he is ready for beddy-byes I think it best that I put him to bed straight away don't you? Say thank you and night-night."

The girls all chorused goodnight even though it was just turned 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

"Wincy, where are you manners," aunty prompted, giving my pink pyjama clad bottom a smack.

I swallowed nervously before whispering. "Night-night girls, thank you for coming,"

Aunty took my hand and led me off to bed wearing my pink floral winceyette pyjamas.

Peter Amas has sent another part of his story. Since I have not yet worked out how to set up an index, I have posted all three parts here. If you enjoy Peter's story please leave a comment as this encourages people to contribute further. If anyone has a story in them please send it to me and I will post it.

A New Life Begins John had been on the road since 6.30 that morning. His back was hurting and he was ravenous having skipped lunch. As he pulled into the hotel car park he was looking forward to a hot shower, dinner, a couple of whiskeys and a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. He noted the hotel was unusually busy as he entered the lobby. A frequent visitor he had not made a booking as it was normally pretty quite this far north at this time of the year. Approaching the desk he spotted Sally, the manager, whom he’d dealt with on numerous occasions. ‘What’s going on Sal, you look a little busy?’ Sally smiled at seeing him; ‘yes we have a Women’s Institute conference in town’. Are you looking to book in?’ ‘I was hoping too... I've been on the road since early and have had an exhaustive day. Am I in trouble?’ A little frown crept into her smile; John knew he was in trouble. ‘I'm afraid we don’t have anything left and I'm pretty sure almost every bed in the town has been booked out for weeks. Let me ring around and see if anything’s left’. Why don’t you go into the bar and I'll swing by in half an hour and let you know if I have sorted something for you?’ John knew he was in good hands and headed to the bar with his holdall. He ordered a scotch on ice and took a seat at the bar. Three drinks later Sally came striding into the Bar. ‘I'm really sorry John it took a while but I've managed to get you the last bed within 20 miles. St. Cambusnethan House it’s a beautiful old Gothic manor further up the valley. Elizabeth Quince is the owner and a good friend of mine. It’s a bit of a drive I'm afraid but you'll be in good hands. How about I get the hotel bus to drop you up and collect you in the morning? That way you won’t have to worry about finding the place in the dark’. John was not in a position to argue and appreciated Sally’s efforts, he accepted her offer of a lift and left his keys with her at the reception desk as he left in the hotel minibus. He was glad he had decided to take the lift as there was no way he would have found his way through the forest roads, tired and with one too many to drink. After 20 minutes driving the minibus halted at an imposing set of gates. As they slowly opened John wondered how anyone would ever find this place particularly at night. It took another five minutes to reach the manor but it was just as Sally had said; a rather imposing Gothic manor silhouetted against the moonlit sky. The minibus driver took John’s holdall and carried it to the door. He knocked on an old cast iron door knocker. Shortly after John could hear a number of bolts being undone behind the door. He thought the security a little unusual for a guest house. As the large heavy door drew open he was a little taken back by the diminutive old lady that stood behind it. ‘Good evening dear, you must be John? I'm Elizabeth, Sally told me you’re in a bit of a pickle. Please come in and rest your weary bones’. John took the holdall from the driver and entered the manor. As the driver turned to leave John asked what time he would be picked up at in the morning? ‘You just phone Sally when you're ready to leave and I’ll be up in a flash’. With that he drove off leaving John and Elizabeth. ‘Follow me dear and I'll just get you to sign the register’. John followed Elizabeth into a beautiful old hallway with oak panelling all around; a large oak desk served as a reception. It sat under the stairs which wound their way up and around the hallway. The hallway itself was dimly lit but warm and a beautiful smell of roast beef was filling the air. Like the building Elizabeth was old and of a different era. She wore a grey knee length tweed skirt, pale blue cashmere twin set and horn-rimmed spectacles. She smelt of rose water and had an imposing manner about her despite her size. John thought she may have been a schoolmistress in a previous life. ‘I’m afraid I only have one room left dear. It is in the attic and you will have to share a bathroom’. John expressed his gratitude and indicated how tired he was. ‘Would it be possible to have a shower and get something to eat’? ‘I'm afraid a shower is out of the question but I could run a bath for you after which you could join us for dinner. Would that suit?’ The thought of a good soak was appealing. John smiled and nodded. ‘Good dear, you follow me to the room and while you unpack I'll run the bath for you’. Dinner will be ready in 50 minutes which should give you just enough time to unwind. John followed Elizabeth up the stairs, off down a landing and up another smaller set of stairs to another smaller landing. There were three rooms on the landing one at each end and one in the middle. Elizabeth pointed at the middle door which was half stippled glass.‘This is the bathroom dear. You will be able to tell when it is occupied as you will see the light through the glass’. She then led him to the room on the right. As they entered the room John noted it was old but clean. It looked like something from an old Miss Marple murder mystery. A wine candlewick bedspread was turned down on the single bed revealing candy stripped flannel sheets and two pillows. The room was warm but a little musty and had one window which was high out of reach in the sloped ceiling. ‘Now dear you unpack and I'll run your bath’. John sat on the bed and sighed. It had a deep hollow in the middle from years of use and was a far cry from the firm bed he was looking forward to. Before removing his shaving kit from his holdall he tried to check his e-mail on his mobile only to discover that there was no service. He also wanted to phone Jenny his wife and catch up with the day’s news. He would ask Elizabeth if he could use the manor phone at dinner.   After years on the road John had a habit of travelling light. His holdall contained a couple of clean shirts, underwear, socks and shaving kit. Five minutes later Elizabeth knocked on the door. ‘Your bath is ready dear; I've left some additional towels for you by the bath’. John took off his suit jacket, shoes and tie and took a clean shirt, underwear and his shaving kit to the bathroom. The room was full of steam; a large cast iron bath was waiting filled to the brim and smelling of lavender. John stripped and left his clothes on a wooden towel stand. He slipped into the piping hot water and after a few minutes could feel the tiredness seeping out of his body. Within minutes he was dozing off; the effects of the journey, tiredness and alcohol taking effect.   John awoke with a start, he could feel the water temperature had dropped and realised he may have been sleeping for some time. Mindful of his hunger and not wanting to keep other guests waiting he got out of the bath and went to dry himself. It was then that he noticed that his clothes were gone from the towel rail. Taking one of the towels he began to dry himself off. Whatever Elizabeth had put into the water his skin was incredibly soft and sensitive and the towel felt luxurious. He wrapped a towel around his waist but it was too small and he had to hold both ends together on his left side. Mindful of his predicament and curious as to where his clothes had disappeared he checked that the hallway was clear before creeping back to his room hoping not to meet anyone. As he entered the room he was startled to see Elizabeth sitting on the end of the bed. ‘I took the liberty of taking your clothes down for an airing. We will have them cleaned and freshly ironed for you first thing in the morning’. Somewhat embarrassed John thanked her but explained that he had no other clothes. ‘Not to worry dear I have taken care of that’. As Elizabeth stood up John could see that she had left a pair of old fashioned purple and grey candy striped flannel pyjamas neatly folded on the bed with an old woollen dressing gown and carpet slippers. ‘I've left these out for you, now put them on quickly while the heat from the radiator is still in them’. Not knowing what to do John stressed that he did not wear pyjamas and didn't want to put her to any more trouble. ‘No trouble dear; I don’t accept this modern habit of men sleeping naked. It leads to all forms of inappropriate behaviour. Quickly now let's put these on. Once you feel the warmth of the flannel you will be happy to wear them’. Elizabeth took the jacket from the bed and shook it out. She undid the buttons and approached John with the jacket outstretched. John was feeling a little aroused by the whole affair. He didn't want to wear the pyjamas but part of him wished to surrender to this motherly figure ordering him about like a child. He offered her his right arm and slowly she slipped the jacket sleeve up over his shoulder and back. The warmth and softness of the flannel excited him as it caressed his skin and he began to feel movement in his loins. As she took his left arm the towel fell from his waist revealing his growing manhood. Elizabeth was not phased and slowly began to close the buttons from the neck down. Left standing in a half closed pyjama jacket naked from the waist down John was pink with embarrassment and the heat from the bath. ‘Now dear, don't be embarrassed, after 30 years nursing men I've seen all sorts’. Having finished buttoning him into the Jacket she grabbed the pyjama bottoms. Like the jacket they were a little too large. She offered a pyjama leg to John and he willing stepped into them like a helpless old man. At this point he was hot and weak from the bath and excitement. Elizabeth pulled the bottoms right up over John’s belly button and began to tie the waist. She tied a series of granny knots to ensure the bottoms did not fall down. John could see himself in a full length mirror with a large bulge protruding out under the pyjama bottoms. He looked like an imbecile but was further aroused by the image and softness and warmth of the flannel. He was looking in the mirror when Elizabeth hit the top of his penis with something hard; it immediately shrank away. Elizabeth was holding a wooden spoon; ‘something I learnt from my days in nursing, it always works my dear’. John was somewhat taken aback but Elizabeth assured him it was in his best interest. Elizabeth slipped the dressing gown over his shoulders and tied the belt. Finally she placed the carpet slippers on his feet which had disappeared under a curtain of flannel. ‘Now dear don't you look delightful; you'd swear you were born for them’. The whole episode could not have taken more than five minutes but John was now encased in warm, flannel and completely at the mercy of a diminutive old woman. He was not sure how this had happened or why but he was also aware that he had enjoyed it and was in part responsible as he had willed it to happen. Elizabeth then invited John to join her and the other guests for dinner. John protested that he did not wish to be seen by others dressed like this. ‘Nonsense’ Elizabeth said as she led him by the hand leading him out onto the landing and down to the dining room. Not used to wearing pyjamas John felt a little restricted but found pleasure in how the fabric caressed his skin and loins as he walked. He felt a degree of comfort and peace he had not felt since his childhood. As they entered the dining room John was take aback to see five other men sitting around the dining table; all dressed in pyjamas and dressing gowns. Some wearing traditional pyjamas like John’s; some paisley flannel pyjamas and one poor sod seemed to be wearing floral women's pyjamas and a quilted house coat. What the hell had he got himself into? Elizabeth stood behind a vacant chair and invited him to sit down. As she pulled the chair back from the table he could see that it was an old fashioned wicker wheelchair. Something told him that if the sat in the chair his life would never be the same again. He looked to the faces of the other men for answers but they looked lost and bewildered like little children waiting to be told what to do. Standing there dressed in pyjamas, vulnerable and with no visible means of escape, John became resigned to his fate. Elizabeth took his hand and gently led him to the chair. As he sat down a feeling of total nervous exhaustion swept over him; he felt powerless, drained and completely alone. ‘Gentlemen’ Elizabeth announced. I would like to introduce our latest guest. John will be joining our little clan for a few weeks to learn the finer arts of pyjama discipline. Please be gentle with him as he learns to adapt to his new life. A Gentle Slip Into Submission.

Slowly and in stages John awoke. As his senses returned he had a strange feeling that something was wrong. His eyes were open but the room was so dark it was hard to tell. He knew he wasn't in his own bed; he felt hot, groggy and out of place. ‘Where the hell am I?'

He recalled a bizarre dream in which a gentle old lady had dressed him in beautifully soft pyjamas before bringing him down to meet other similarly clad men. He was aroused just thinking of it..‘What was going on’? As his head began to clear he became aware of other sensations beside the heat. Lying on the flat of his back he felt constricted and struggled to move. His arms seemed pinned by his side and something felt tight around his neck, waist and legs.

Thinking again of the dream he realised it had happened. The constriction he was feelings was the buttoned up pyjama jacket and the cord tied high up around his waist. He began to recognise the sensation of thick flannel against his skin but still had no idea as to why he couldn't turn, move or sit up. ‘How the hell had he got to bed; who had put him there and where was he?'

He also had a strange sensation in his loins. Feeling the softness of the pyjamas and thinking of how subtlety he had been led into wearing them he was developing an erection but it became more uncomfortable as his manhood grew. His state of arousal combined with the thick flannel and bed clothes made him perspire profusely.

Hearing voices outside the room he called out‘Hello, can you help me’; the door creaked then opened. A light went on and the room lit up temporarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted he recognised the old lady that had so deftly clothed him in flannel. 'Are we awake John? I'm sure you've had the sleep of angels in those beautiful Jim-jams. We have a visitor here to see you.' John was struggling to take it all in. He caught a glimpse of his pyjama clad arms fastened by his sides with thick black webbing straps that protruded through the candlewick bedspread. 'What was happening? Why was he here? What did this old lady want with him’?John's eyes  bore into Elizabeth. 'Please let me go! You can't do this to me! Who do you think you are?' He shouted.

As he writhed in the bed fighting the restraints a soft cooling hand caressed his brow. 'John please calm down this is best for us both’; his gaze shifted to the source of the voice. He was both relieved and shocked to see his wife Jenny sitting by his side. Mortified that his wife should see him like this tears welled up in his eyes, Had he taken ill? Had something happened? Was he in hospital? He had no idea what was going on.

'How are you today darling? I know Elizabeth is taking great care of you. It's in both our interest that you spend a little time here and learn how to behave. She assures me that when you are ready to leave you will be a new man, a new husband and our relationship will be back on track’.

John was confused and bewildered he couldn’t understand what Jenny was saying. He was just delighted to see her. ‘What are you saying, what's happening, why am I here?' Sitting on the end of the bed Elizabeth spoke. ‘Now John, Jenny and you both know that you were drifting apart, she was desperate to win you back and found out about our little establishment through the wife of a good friend of yours. You’ll be with us for a number of weeks; subject to you making good progress of course. Jenny has cleared your diary and made time. She will visit weekly to assess your progress and learn the finer arts of pyjama discipline.

Now Jenny it is time for you to leave and join the other ladies while we prepare John for the day’s activities. And John darling, just to reassure you all is above board and legal, we are a private psychiatric institution and when you signed the register last night you committed yourself to a course of behavioural therapy and subsequently relinquished all authority to Jenny. We can hold you indefinitely if needs be so the sooner you adopt the required behaviours the sooner you will be back in the bosom of Jenny.'

John could feel a sense of panic welling up inside; he was sweating due to fear and the layers of blankets, flannel sheets and thick pyjamas but more importantly he knew the truth behind what Elizabeth had said. They had been drifting apart and John didn’t know how to rescue their relationship which he so desperately wanted to do. ‘Please Jenny don’t do this; let me come home now’.

As Jenny turned to go John could see tears in her eyes. Elizabeth assured her that all would be well as she escorted her out of the room.

Some minutes later Elizabeth re-entered the room with a large woman dressed in nursing whites pushing the old fashioned wheelchair he had sat in at dinner last night.

They began to undo the straps holding his arms to the bed and slowly they pulled back the blankets. John could see why he couldn’t move. Similar straps across his chest and legs kept him securely anchored to the mattress. He thought about making a bolt for the door but as he tried to move he collapsed, as weak as a kitten.

Having loosened the straps Elizabeth struggled somewhat to untie the cord on his pyjama bottoms; his vulnerability made him feel aroused and his loins began to throb again. Slowly she pulled the pyjama bottoms down to reveal an adult nappy. John was totally mortified; the last vestige of his dignity gone. Elizabeth undid the nappy and removed it. ‘Now darling that was quite heavy, it looks like you have quickly regressed. You know there are some that say there is nothing like the freedom of a nappy at night time’. Elizabeth gently pulled the bottoms back up over John’s manhood but did not retie them. John was grateful for this minor gesture; restoring some of his dignity. With the help of the nurse he was lifted into the wheelchair. ‘Now John, we have run a lovely bath for you and once you've had a good soak we will get you dressed and bring you down for your first session’.

John was lost for words. As he was pushed out of the room he felt broken and alone yet somehow soothed as his power was taken from him ‘would he find answers here’? He still loved Jenny so very very much. In less than 24 hours he had been stripped of his dignity and was now dependent on this woman who seemed to have power over himself and his wife. His feelings were a mix of fear and a deep sensual arousal at the thoughts of being bathed by this elegant, motherly old lady.

Upon entering the bathroom Elizabeth and the nurse slowly and methodically removed his pyjamas. 'please don't remove my pyjamas' he pleaded, 'let me go and no one will hear of this, I promise’. My pyjamas he thought. Up to yesterday he had not worn pyjamas since his childhood but now he felt attached to them and did not want them removed. They threw the pyjamas into a laundry basket. It looked like others had endured similar humiliation judging by the variety of pyjamas visible in the basket. Lifting him deftly into the bath both Elizabeth and the nurse began to scrub his body vigorously with lavender scented sponges. He could feel his skin tingling and lifting with the cleaning.

20 minutes later they helped him out of the bath and into the chair in which a huge towel had been placed. They dried him thoroughly and started to comb his hair. ‘Now John, Elizabeth said. I promised you last night we would have your clothes freshly aired and ironed. Nurse Hopkins will help you get dressed and prepared for this afternoon's activities. I will see you downstairs for afternoon tea shortly. I promise you a most interesting afternoon.' Afternoon! John thought. Had he lost all track of time?  

As Elizabeth left the room Nurse Hopkins sprinkled talc on his bottom and began to dress him. He was delighted to be reunited with his own clothes and despite his weakness worked with her to get dressed. Finally having donned his suit he collapsed further into the chair exhausted. As he was pushed out of the bathroom his knuckles grew white as he gripped the arms of the wheelchair in both fear and anticipation. God only knew what lay ahead.   

A Loving Emasculation

By Pete Amas

As they exited a small wrought iron lift John could hear noise coming from somewhere ahead; it sounded like women giggling. Heavy with the scent of rose water the air clung to his clothes as Nurse Hopkins pushed him toward the noise; they entered a large brightly lit day room.

John noticed Jenny, Elizabeth  and five other women. They were  all dressed like Elizabeth in cashmere twinsets and skirts. This was a dated look and not Jenny's usual style. In the middle of the room were the five other men he had dined with the previous night except they were all now fully clothed; sitting in a circle facing out toward the women. Like him they all sat in wheelchairs. As John was pushed into the circle Elizabeth handed him a parcel wrapped with brown paper and string. 'Now John our first session will shortly begin'. 'Ladies and gentlemen today we are going to play pass the parcel. Whoever is left holding the parcel when the music stops will be the luck winner. Let us begin'.

Nurse Hopkins pressed play on an old cassette tape machine. The hissing sounds of Pop Goes the Weasel wafted the air. John found the whole situation surreal. Elizabeth gently prodded John and asked him to ‘pass the parcel’. Wishing to please her he passed it to the young man to his right. quickly the parcel was passed from man to man as it went around the circle. The men seemed to want to offload the parcel as quick as possible and in no time it was back in John's hands. He passed it on again and it got halfway around the circle when the music stopped. A small balding rotund man was left holding it.

'Well done Derek’ Elizabeth said. One of the women in the group gave out a little squeal of excitement. ‘Mary would you like to help Derek open his parcel’? Derek began to go red and didn’t appear too happy to have won the prize. As Mary began to untie the parcel John could see it contained a really old pair of blue, white and grey striped flannel pyjamas, a blue wool dressing gown and carpet slippers. Derek looked somewhat relieved.

'Now ladies who would like to help Mary in getting Derek ready for bed’ Elizabeth asked.'Jenny as a newcomer to our circle why don't you help?’

Mary took Jenny by the hand and they both pushed Derek out from the circle. Within seconds they had him up standing out of the chair and began to remove His clothes. He looked pathetic as he mumbled and pleaded with them not to humiliate him in front of the other men and women. 'Don't be silly darling, 'Mary said 'sure all your little friends have seen you get ready for bed; won't they all be joining you soon'.

Minutes later Derek stood naked with his trousers around his ankles trying to hide his manhood. Mary undid the top button on the pyjama jacket and asked him to put his arms over his head. He did so obediently and She slipped the jacket on over his head. Having closed the top button she flattened down the collar and helped him step forward out of his trousers. She then handed Jenny the pyjama bottoms. ‘Now Derek, be a darling and step into the bottom for Jenny’ instructed Mary. As he did Jenny slowly and methodically pulled the bottoms up. Elizabeth’s voice interjected ‘Jenny, men are always likely to play with themselves, particularly when being forced to wear pyjamas, so it is important that the Pyjama jacket is always tucked into the bottoms'. 'Be sure to always buy oversized Jim-jams and tie a number of granny knots well above the belly button’.

Jenny pulled the bottoms up over Derek's navel and tied a series of granny knots. 'Well done Jenny, look how obedient Derek has been throughout; in time you can expect the same results from John.’ Jenny then slipped the dressing gown over his shoulders and tied the corded belt. She placed the slippers on his feet before gently easing him back into the chair.

John was both aroused and mortified by the whole affair. How could a fully grown man allow himself to be treated in this way. He couldn't get his head around it.

Elizabeth then produced a second parcel and the game began again. This time John was as keen as the other men to offload the parcel. It went around twice before landing in in the arms of the young mans to his right. Just as it did the music stopped and the young man slipped the parcel into John's lap. He tried to hand it back But Elizabeth intervened. 'Now John, you must take it as it comes. As a punishment I think aunts Jane and Sarah will help you get ready for bed’.

Two of the ladies jumped up with joy and took the parcel from John as they wheeled him out of the circle. Opening the parcel they giggled like school girls. John struggled to see what was in it. One of the women swung around modeling what appeared to be a pale blue winceyette pyjama top with a small red rose pattern and frilly Peter Pan collar. The other lady swung around modelling a pale blue satin padded house coat.

It was evident that the men were relieved to see the pyjamas. 'You can't make me wear those' he moaned. 'Now John in no time at all you will be ready for bed and comforted by softness of these beautifully made Jim-jams. Ladies show Jenny and John how it should be done’. The two ladies danced mockingly towards John while modelling the nightwear. They teased him by caressing his face with the garments allowing him to feel the softness of the fabric.

Seconds later aunts Sarah and Jane had him standing up out of the chair and were deftly removing his clothes. Despite his protest he didn't have the energy to resist and couldn't keep their hands off him. In no time he was left, like Derek, standing naked covering his manhood in embarrassment. Sarah pulled his hands away and quickly slipped the pyjama jacket up over his arms. only then did John realise the jacket was going on back to front. 'What are you doing'? He went to remove the jacket when he noticed his hands had become encased in fabric. Sewn into the sleeves were soft Winceyette padded mittens. To his mortification the top buttoned up the back and as Sarah closed the buttons he knew he was trapped in this ridiculous ensemble. As he resigned to his fate Jane gently eased  him back into the chair. He looked in disbelief at his now disabled hands.  

Jane began to slip the soft bottoms up over his legs. Like the sleeves the bottoms had padded winceyette feet. John was highly aroused by both the softness of the fabric and his public humiliation. His enlarged member confirmed to the women that despite his protestations he was enjoying his slippage into the subservient male role.

Sarah began to sprinkle talc on his privates as Jane slowly pulled the jim jams up over his legs. She stopped at his knees and he was effectively immobilised.  To his horror Sarah then produced an adult nappy. Both ladies lifted his legs and gently placed the nappy under him. As Sarah closed the nappy she painfully folded his member forward and sealed the Velcro tabs. Safely now secured they  pulled the pyjama bottoms up to his navel and tucked the top into the bottoms.

The pyjamas were obviously too large but incredibly soft. Both Sarah and Jane began to button the top into the bottoms. It seemed they were designed to fasten together. ‘What sort of outfit was he being forced to wear and where had they got it from’. Now, completely clothed like a young child, Sarah began to slip the house coat on over His shoulders. He was totally mortified which seemed to please the ladies including Jenny. ‘Please don't leave me like this he pleaded'.

The men seemed to enjoy his humiliation but were afraid to expresses their delight should they be forced to wear a similar ensemble.

'Now John don't you look Divine,we'll have to take some photos for our web site. In no time we will have you in beddie byes. Those Jim-jams and the diaper will ensure you can't play with yourself and get undressed’.

'Jenny' Elizabeth said; 'Sarah has been kind enough to make these Jim-jams for John and over the next few weeks we'll help you make some suitable ones for when he is ready to go home'. 'You'll be amazed at how quickly he'll adapt to his new life and will be comforted only by having his regular bedtime pyjama routine’.

John was parked beside Derek and watched as the other men were stripped of their dignity and forced to wear pyjamas. When the game was over John was the only man dressed in feminine pyjamas. He began to believe it had been planned this way.

‘Now ladies the only task remaining before bedtime is to put our newer guests into their night time nappies. May I suggest that you work in pairs until you are familiar with the steps?’John’s humiliation was somewhat eased in seeing that some of the other men had to endure the same treatment. However none of the other men seemed to be aroused by their treatment which struck him as unusual. In no time they were all ready for bed and wheeled back to their rooms.

John was exhausted and as Jenny and nurse Hopkins tucked him into bed he was both comforted and relieved to get some rest.

Jenny kissed his brow as she said good night.'Jenny, please take me home, we can work this out surely you don't want to do this to me'.

‘John how could you be so naive, I had a wonderful afternoon and you look so beautiful in those Jim-jams. I want this more than ever now. Elizabeth assures me that in no time you will be a docile, obedient and subservient little man and wonderful husband who enjoys his bedtime pyjama routine. Look at the progress we’ve made in one day. Now go to sleep darling you have another big day ahead of you tomorrow.

Sisters of the Sorority

By Peter Amas

Jenny left the room feeling elated and aroused. She could not believe how empowered she felt seeing John in his pyjamas and knowing that she had total control over him. Already he seemed meek and emasculated. Elizabeth had told her how she would have to change the nature of their relationship. How he could no longer see her in a sexual way but must now begin to see her as a motherly figure that controlled and directed his life.

She began to understand the full depth of the transition that both she and John and must undergo. Jenny had been nervous when she first contacted Elizabeth but having visited the house and seen the behavioural change in patients she was convinced that Cambusnethan house and a relationship based on her dominance would be best for both of them.

Her own transition was revealing. Arriving the night before John she had been introduced to a number of other wives by Elizabeth. Within minutes of her arrival she had been shown to a dormitory and had her belongings removed. The other wives took her and began to introduce her to the ways of mothering like sisters in a secret sorority. They gently removed and bagged her clothes and prepared her for a bath. After the bath they dressed her in a beautifully soft old fashioned flannel nightdress that removed any sense of sexuality. Nervous and unsure she had a fitful sleep. The following morning the ladies had laid out unusual clothes for her which seemed quite old fashioned. They dressed her in a pink satin slip; over which they placed a pale blue short sleeved cashmere jumper and cardigan. She then stepped into a knee length grey and blue checked skirt. Surprised at how soft and feminine she felt she admired her new svelte yet dated image in the full length mirror. Surrounded by all the other wives they admired her new look and praised her figure. She looked and felt powerful.

Elizabeth entered the room and clapped her hands like matron in a school dormitory’ ladies please step back and let me see our new sister’. Elizabeth took Jenny by the hands and stood back admiringly. ‘Delightful, absolutely delightful dear. John will be enamoured with your new look and without realising it will began to transfer motherly feelings toward you. How could he resist being subservient to such a delightful and powerful woman.

John awoke with a desperate need to pee. Encased in the backbuttoning Pyjamas he had been free to move around the room but shortly after being put to bed he had fallen asleep. As the pressure on his bladder grew he awoke. He got out of bed and tried to open the door to get to the bathroom. The door was securely locked and in frustration he began to pace back and forth. Desperately he tried to unbutton the pyjama top from the bottoms but his hands were useless encased in the flannel mittens. Grasping at the fabric he tried to tear the pyjamas from his body but his efforts were futile; he was so securely bound in flannel. Fifteen minutes later he was sweating and close to tears. His struggle to remove the pyjamas had a profound effect and despite his need to pee he had become aroused. Sitting with his legs folded on the end of the bed he rocked back and forth to comfort himself. Shortly after he felt a little leak of warm fluid enter his nappy. Mortally ashamed he began to cry. As a flood of emotion swept over him his bladder relaxed and he felt the nappy grow hot and heavy with urine. Surprisingly it did not feel wet and uncomfortable and despite his disdain it was not a totally unpleasant experience.

Lying down on the bed he tried to relieve himself by caressing his loins but the now full nappy and mittens made it impossible for him to feel any pleasure and though increasingly aroused he was incapable of fulfilling his desires. He fell asleep frustrated and exhausted.

Jenny and Elizabeth, both dressed in flannel nightgowns and house coats observed John's behaviour from behind a smoked glass mirror. Unbeknownst to John he had been under observation from the moment he had arrived the previous evening. Jenny had watched from behind the glass as Elizabeth masterfully coaxed him into wearing the pyjamas shortly after his arrival. She was surprised at how little he had resisted and how sweet and powerless he looked in the striped flannel pyjamas. Elizabeth had told her how most men crumble when finding themselves in a similar situation and how their secret desire to be stripped and put into pyjamas by a powerful mothering figure always came through. Even the most dominant of men could be divested of their power when stripped and placed in oversized pyjamas.

Now as she and Elizabeth watched John struggle to remove the pyjamas and rock back and forth on the bed in desperation she knew he was close to breaking down. Shortly after he fell asleep Elizabeth instructed Nurse Hopkins to enter the room with Jenny and change his pyjamas and nappy.

John awoke startled to find a dark shadow standing over him. Nurse Hopkins spoke quietly to calm him. Jenny sat by his side caressing his head. Nurse Hopkins had already detached the bottom of the Jim-jams from the top and had pulled down his bottoms. She was taking her time in changing his nappy and began gently washing him with warm soapy water.

Somewhat groggy he was both aroused and relieved. He was beyond mortification and totally resigned to his fate. Jenny was surprised at how utterly compliant he was as he was further humiliated. Having completed changing his nappy nurse Hopkins began the process of placing John into a fresh pair of pink feminine flannel pyjamas. His eyes looked pleadingly into Jenny's. She helped Nurse Hopkins change his top and straightened out the frilly Peter Pan collar. She then pulled the blankets up over his flannel clad body leaving his arms on top of the candlewick bedspread. Kissing his brow she bade him goodnight. She knew he been broken and was now under her spell. She would begin to plan for their eventual homecoming and would prepare a special discipline bedroom. She would also purchase a variety of suitable pyjamas and make some special flannel punishment ones under the direction of Elizabeth and the other sisters. She knew now that she could call upon them at any time to control her husband. 'Jenny stood to go. Before leaving she kissed his brow and whispered into his ear 'sleep darling, you have been a very good boy and you will need all your energy for tomorrow'.