S.P.A.N.K.M.E

[Bertha]

Recently, on one of her visits my aunt announced she thought I looked decidedly peaky and needed some fresh country air. She informed me that I would accompany her on her forthcoming weekend away with the ladies of the select club she had founded called, Sensible Pyjamas And Nighties Knaughty Males Enjoy.

Aunty came to supervise my packing; she selected plenty of pyjamas and folded them neatly into one case. I had no intention of wearing any of those items on this trip and had already packed a case of sensible clothes for myself. Aunty looked at what I was wearing and shook her head.
"No nephew of mine is going out dressed like that she decreed.
 Aunty stripped me down to my underwear and pulled a pale yellow t-shirt over my head then, at her insistence she dresses me in a pair of babyish yellow shortalls
“You must join in with the spirit of things Peterkins,” she scolded. Grumbling, I did as I was told, despite my hatred of her calling me Peterkins,  I had no wish to upset aunty so early in the trip. The shortalls were the kind that have straps over the shoulders and fasten at the back. In addition she dressed me in white ankle socks and a pair of red plastic play sandals.
A horn beeped outside. The club bus had arrived.
I dived outside and hurried on board, anxious that none of my nosy neighbours would see me attired as the child aunty seemed to think I was.

 The five lady members of my aunt’s club greeted me.  Miss Gladys Spankalot, her of the buxom chest, was at the wheel,
“It’s young Master Peter. My goodness it’s been a long time since I had that pleasure” she laughed. I was puzzled by her comment until I noticed the lettering on the back of my t-shirt reflected in the bus window. Even spelt backwards I could read the words SPANK ME emblazoned upon it.
Blushing furiously, I recalled that Miss Frobisher used to take a keen interest in putting me across her knee. In fact all the ladies present had at one time, administered a spanking to me, usually at bedtime when I was wearing my pyjamas.

I noticed no one else was wearing the club t-shirt and huffily looked around for my seat. Aunty had followed me on board and was sitting up front behind the driver's. She motioned me to the seat on the opposite aisle.
She was indicating to the the child's safety seat.
“I can’t sit there,” I protested,  “do you know how old I am?”  Miss Faversham-Fulbright peered over her pince-nez, eyed me up and down and said. “About six I would estimate.”
That woman had always taken great pleasure in humiliating me. She was over six foot tall and was always dressed in high-neck blouses and a grey two-piece. She stayed rather aloof, owing my Aunt said, to the fact she claimed to be related to the Faversham-Fulbright family who owned most of Hampshire.
“Don’t be such a baby, Aunty reprimanded. “This is a six seater bus, five grown-ups and you.”

Furiously I sat down, I was a grown up for goodness sake, nineteen years old, I admit, due to a hormone deficiency I was only four foot eleven tall but I was still an adult for goodness sake, aunty was far too protective.

Sadly, to my disappointment, I found that the child’s seat fitted quite comfortably. Perhaps being so diminutive had something to do with it but I was still annoyed and I was even more so when Miss Harkness leaned across from behind and fastened the safety harness straps that held me firmly in place.
“I don’t need to be strapped in,” I said sharply and attempted to undo the catch. Miss Harkness grinned, “Childproof I am afraid Peter.”
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we shall take good care of you on this trip you can be sure of that,” she said, before resuming her knitting.
Miss Harkness appeared to suffer from colour blindness. I still shudder at the pink and lemon coloured woolly hat and scarf she had knitted me for my Christmas gift.

Aunty had made me wear them when she took me to the park to feed the ducks. Fortunately I had managed to hide them away at the bottom of a drawer, the hat and scarf. Not the ducks, which would be silly. Miss Harkness herself wore one of her own creations oblivious to the fact that her cardigan threatened people's retinas. 

Miss Frobisher crunched the gear stick into first and we lurched off.
Immediately I regretted not visiting the toilet before we had left. We had only gone about ten miles when aunty Hyacinth, my aunt's oldest and longest companion, passed me a fizzy drink. Aunty Hyacinth used to baby-sit me and I remember she had occasion to do so on my sixteenth birthday. I misbehaved and she put me to bed at six o'clock clutching Mr Bunny, my bedtime comforter and since then, everytime we meet she has always reminded of that occasion, even though I cringe when aunty lets her know that at nineteen years of age, I still sleep with my toy rabbit.

“Hyacinth!” Aunty exclaimed as she saw the drink being passed to me.
"He will only spill it, you know how careless Peter is.”

For some reason, just as I put the drink to my lips, Miss Spankalot chose that precise moment to brake quite violently. Why I have no idea, later she claimed to have been avoiding a hedgehog. Of course I spilt lemonade on my t-shirt and shortalls and dribbled lemonade down my chin.

“What did I tell you? Aunty always has to clean up after Peterkins.”
Aunty took the drink from me. Before I knew it she had tied a towelling bib around my neck, the one with the bunny rabbit on. I hated that bib. I much prefer the one with the little lambs on.
“Stop it Aunty, I don’t need a bib, you are treating me like a baby and I won’t have it!
Aunty slapped the inside thigh of my bare leg. “ Be quiet, you will do as you are told. Do you want a smacked botty?”

Immediately I regretted my outburst. “N.. no Aunty, Peterkins is sowwy."
I was furious with myself for reverting to the baby talk I used to placate aunty but I had no choice. The last thing I wanted was to be put across my aunt's lap for a spanking in front of all the ladies.

[Bertha]

Aunty gave me one of her stern looks. “That’s better, here use this.”

She thrust my sippy cup into my hands and insisted on tying my 'messy boy' bib around my neck and thus I was forced to complete my drink using my Peter Rabbit sippy cup and wearing a baby blue toweling bib.

Of course it wasn't long afterwards that I needed to go wee-wee. After begging for fifteen minutes, Miss Frobisher finally pulled over at a deserted picnic spot
Miss Harkness released me from my child's seat straps and I rushed toward a bush some distance away to gain some much longed for relief.

It was then that I discovered my shortalls were fastened in such a way that I was unable to lower them unaided. I could not reach the fastenings at the back to undo them.

Too late! I could not help myself; the wait had proven to be too long and I produced an involuntary torrential stream. My shorts, socks and sandals were all soaked. What would my aunty say?

Behind me I could see aunty and the others forming a gossipy circle and unfolding chairs and opening thermos flasks and packs of sandwiches. To the left was the parked bus.

With luck, I thought, If I was able to retrieve my suitcase I would be able to sneak back into the bushes and change into my big boy clothes.

Furtively, I opened the luggage storage area and cast my eyes over the many suitcases. Where was mine?

A pair of hand grasped my shoulders. “Had a little accident have we little boy?"
I was forcibly turned round. Facing me was a woman in her mid-fifties wearing a senior Guide uniform. Behind her was a gaggle of twelve-year-old uniformed girls, staring at my soaked appearance.

Standing there, with my yellow shorts, white socks and sandals all soaked I made a fateful decision to play act my way out of my embarrassing situation.

“My auntie’s over there,” I mumbled in a pathetic, little boy voice.
The Guides leader took my hand led me over to where aunty was sitting. The girls of her troop followed curiously behind.

“Is he yours?” She enquired of aunty. “I am afraid the poor little fellow has had an accident. I found him rummaging through your luggage, must have been trying to change himself, wasn’t that sweet of the little boy?"

Aunty looked at the Guide leader, without batting an eyelid , she replied.
“Oh yes, he's mine. How very kind of you to return him to me.”

Aunty beckoned me into the centre of the circle and I stood, soaked and shamefaced in front of aunty and the other ladies.

“Look at you, soaking wet, just like a toddler. Well, aunty knows just how to deal with naughty little boys like you.”

My voice trembled as I struggled to hold back my tears. “I'm so sorry aunty but I couldn’t undo the buttons on my shortalls to have a wee-wee.” I sobbed, my lower lip trembling.

“Well you could have asked for help to go tinkle but you didn’t and now you must suffer the consequences.”

Aunty began to undress me in front of everyone.
The Guide leader and her girls were only yards away setting up their camp for the night.

“I am afraid there wasn’t room for your suitcase on the bus Peterkins,” Aunty said, with a slight smirk, just the one I packed for you."

"It's not fair," I protested, stamping my foot with a wet squelch.

“Now then, I won't tolerate your tantrums Peterkins, only naughty little boys wet themselves at your age and as always, you will be treated accordingly."

I stood in the middle of my aunts friends and sobbed uncontrollably as aunty proceeded to strip me naked.

Encircled by her friends, I stood obediently as aunty grabbed a handful of wet wipes and  lifted me onto her lap. She proceeded to clean my little boy areas in full view of everyone as I continued to sob.

She opened the case and selected an item of clothing,

“Luckily I anticipated you having accidents Peterkins, come along, get these on.”
She held up a pair of Drynites pyjama pants, boys age 13-15.

I struggled to hold back more tears as aunty, in front of several pairs of eager female eyes, stepped me into what was basically a nappy and settled them around my groin.

“Yes, well you obviously need them my little pee-pee pants,” she said, patting the padded front and smiling at my discomfort.

She stroked my cheek as she spoke to me softly and I felt that familiar feeling of obedience and submitting to her will as she caressed me.

“Now then, let's stop pretending you are a big boy Peterkins," she cooed, delving into the suitcase, "come along, let aunty get her little nineteen year old boy ready for beddy-byes and into his jimmy-jams.”

In her hands she held a pair of my most extremely infantile winceyette pyjamas.

Aunty ignored my protestations and slipped the pyjama top around my shoulders.

The soft material encased me and I was engulfed in the warm embrace of yellow, bunny rabbit motif pyjamas. "There's a good boy," she said softly as she buttoned up the jacket and eased my legs into the pyjama bottoms. She pulled them slowly up, settling them over my Drynites and tucking the hem of the jacket into the bottoms.
Surrounded by the members of the SPANKME club I, a nineteen year old, had been humiliating dressed in a nappy and my babyish, little boy pyjamas and it wasn't anywhere near my bedtime yet.

Aunty turned me around, patted my nappied and pyjama clad bottom 
and ushered me toward Miss Spankalot. “Now off you go for a cuddle while I prepare your sleepy time milk.”

Miss Gladys Spankalot used her strong arms to lift me onto her lap.

“There-there Peterkins,” she cooed. Pressing my face into her bosom.
She clasped me to her chest that I found it difficult to breathe, she rocked me gently in her arms, caressing my pyjama clad back as she did so.

"Peterkins you are so vulnerable, I think it is best that you remain aunties little boy forever and not try to be a big boy, don't you agree?"

My face was buried into her blouse and I my protests only came out as a muffled, mmmph!

Aunty handed her my milk. I had expected it to be in my sippy cup, but no, aunty was happy to further my regression by preparing a baby bottle for me.

I would have complained but Miss Spankalot cradled me as easily as if I was an infant in her arms and proceeded to ease the teat of the baby bottle between my lips, with my head encased in her firm grip, I had no choice but to drink auntie’s concoction.
I knew from experience that whenever aunty prepared her special sleepy time milk for me that within ten minutes, I would be very sleepy indeed.
I comforted myself with the thought that at least I was hidden from the prying eyes of the gaggle of girl guides. I could hear their laughter only a matter of yards away.

[Bertha]

“We’ve come to see how he is?” A gaggle of guides gathered. "We were worried about the poor little boy."They enquired.

I was struggling to keep my already drowsy eyes open. Several of the Guides were leaning across Miss Gotobeds shoulder and staring down at me as I lay cradled in her arms wearing my nappy and infantile jimjams.

Miss Gotobed continued feeding me. “That’s very sweet of you girls, as you can see he is much happier now he is nappied and ready for beddy-byes. After his milky he will soon drift off to sleepy-byes.”

Miss Gotobed removed the bottle. “Say thank you to the girls for their thoughtfulness Peter.”

I turned crimson red lying cradled in Miss Gotobeds arms wearing my bunny rabbit pyjamas, but drowsily managed to mutter words of thanks.

“Isn’t it a bit early for him to be going to bed?” One of the girls ventured to ask.

Aunty hove into view. “Because Peterkins has been such a very naughty little boy he must be punished with an early bedtime, now run along girls.”

Everyone was packed up ready to leave and I was aware of Miss Gotobed hoisting me onto her hip, toddler like, I automatically wrapped my arms around her neck as she carried me to the bus. She strapped me back into my seat as aunty fumbled in her bag.

“Here we are Peterkins this will help you go sleepy-byes, there is quite a drive left and we have had enough of your babyish antics for one day." Into my mouth she thrust a babies dummy, sometimes when I was especially naughty, aunty would make me use my dummy but this was the first time in many years I had been made to use my dummy in front of all the ladies of the SPANKME club.

The sound of tyres on gravel stirred me from my induced sleep and I was aware of Miss Harkness nearby and releasing me from my child's seat straps.

I drowsily clasped her outstretched hand as she helped me out of the bus. As I looked downward gingerly trying to control my wobbling legs, I was horrified to discover that while I was asleep, my feet had been adorned with a pair of Miss Harkness' creations,  a pair of yellow, knitted bunny slippers.

“At are dese? Et em off me...”
I realised that my dummy had been tied in place as I slept and that my words of protest were only infantile babble. So there I was, being led by the hand, dummied and wearing a nappy, baby winceyette bunny pyjamas and bunny slippers as we entered the hotel.

Aunty was standing talking to the proprietor; a plump woman in her forties with a ruddy complexion derived no doubt from the local weather, which even in summer is never the warmest.

Miss Harkness positioned me beside aunty and the hotel owner.

Aunty patted me on the head. “No need to feel embarrassed Peterkins, Mrs McFlannel knows all about our requirements for you. That’s why we are staying here. You will get plenty of rest and fresh air during our visit.”

I was about to protest, what requirements?  I decided that dummied and dressed as I was, at the moment discretion was probably the best course of action.

Mrs McFlannel bent down toward me. “Hello there little one, your aunt has told me all about you. Melissa and I quite understand.”

Melissa? I wondered who Melissa was? As if reading my mind Mrs McFlannel enlightened me.

“Melissa is my sixteen year old daughter, she’s looking forward to your stay with us.”
Mrs McFlannel called out. “Melissa, our special guest has arrived, come and help with the bags.”

Melissa appeared, fresh faced with shoulder length, dark curly hair. She was a tall, well, taller than me and she wore the uniform of a hotel chambermaid, white blouse and a black skirt with a white frilled apron tied around her waist.

“This is Peterkins, the little boy we have to take extra special care of.”

I disliked the tone of her introduction. Melissa looked at me and smiled. “I love your slippers and pyjamas Peterkins, you look very sweet. Come with me and I will show you to your room."

Melissa grasped my hand and as I was still suffering the effects of my sleepytime milk, I let her lead me upstairs as aunty went ahead carrying the case she had packed for me.

We went into a normal looking bedroom with a double bed. Oh no, not sharing with aunty I thought.

“You're through here Peterkins.” Melissa said as she let go of my hand.

Melissa opened an adjoining door. It was nothing less than a nursery.The main feature was a canopied babies cot with matching baby blue rails and layers of soft, white flannelette bedding. From beneath the canopy a revolving mobile hung above the deep pillows.

Melissa left to fetch my aunts luggage leaving aunty and I alone in the nursery.

Aunty could see I was very upset and untied my dummy, I spat it out and it swung annoyingly on the ribbon that was pinned to my pyjama jacket.

“What the hell is going on?” I exploded. “Why have I got to  sleep in a babies cot?" I stomped my slippered feet and childishly insisted, "I want some my big boy clothes right now."

Aunty didn’t reply. Instead, she grasped my shoulders and turned me to face the mirrored wardrobe door and standing behind me began her lecture.

“May I remind you that you nineteen years old but here you are wearing little boy, bunny rabbit winceyette pyjamas, knitted bunny slippers, a nappy and have a dummy pinned to your pyjama top? You have been dressed in your babyish pyjamas in front of a group of Girl Guides and you have just been led into your nursery by a sixteen year old girl. Therefore one could only conclude that you are a baby boy and a cot is an eminently sensible place for you to sleep in. How would you explain your situation?" She asked querously.

“Well it just sort of happened that way, I….”

My voice tailed away as I struggled to explain away my predicament.

Aunty turned me to face her and knelt down looking me firmly in the eye.

“Yes, exactly Peterkins. It just happened. It just happened because you are a naughty little boy who has grown too big for his tiny little bootees.”

I wiggled my bunny slippered feet uncomfortably.

“I think it is time we reverted back to the days when you behaved properly and were respectful to aunty.
On this trip you will learn do as you are told, wear what you are told and generally behave as you are told."

She paused, "you will also behave like the polite little boy I know you can be."

She popped my dummy back into my mouth before continuing.

"Mrs McFlannel and Melissa don’t expect to hear anything but the odd babyish gurgle from you. So unless you want to complain to Melissa and her mother about your treatment and tell her how old you really are, I suggest you immediately come to terms with your current situation before she returns. Do I make myself clear?”

I stared down at my slippers. “Yeth aunty.” I lisped, deeply ashamed of how easily I capitulated.

“Good, and don’t think you have avoided punishment for your foul mouthed outburst. I will discipline you in due course.”

Melissa returned carrying auntie’s suitcase and I realised I had little option other than to cooperate with aunty.

“Melissa my dear, Peterkins is tired and requires a little nap, whilst I get him ready do you think you could warm his sleepy-time milk up for me? Perhaps you would like to feed him his bottle too?”

Melissa looked at me as she answered aunty.
“Yes madam, I would love to, Peterkins is so cute.” She wiggled the dummy in my mouth.

Aunty waited until she had gone. “Such a well-mannered girl, I predict she will be a great help to us during our stay. Now come along, I have to change you into clean some pyjamas for your nap.”

Aunty removed my bottoms and felt the crotch of my Drynites pyjama pants.

“You are a clever boy, still dry, do you need to do wee-wees before nap time? She asked mockingly as she opened the suitcase she had packed and approached me holding my pale blue, teddy-bear motif footed pyjamas.

“No, not those ones, I will look like a four year old.” I protested. Aunty ignored my pleadings and as she pulled up the bottoms and buttoned up the pyjama jacket commented, "there now, all ready for your nap-nap, just a last refinement I think.”

Aunty placed my baby’s dummy on a ribbon around my neck.

“Ah, here comes Melissa with your milky-wilky.”

Melissa had knocked and entered immediately. She had put on a pristine clean white pinafore apron; triumphantly she held my baby bottle.
 
"Peterkins,how sweet, I see you are all changed ready for you nap-nap what sweet pyjamas you’re wearing.”

I stood there feeling very embarrassed suc-king loudly on my dummy and cast my eyes to the floor. Aunty smiled at my obvious discomfort, and addressing me with baby talk said.

“Be a good babykins for aunty and dwink up all your lovely milky-wilky for Melissa while I go and change,”

Turning to Melissa as she left the room she instructed, “make sure he drinks it all up then you can put him down for his nap. I am glad to see you have followed my instructions and hung thick curtains, Peterkins needs complete darkness for his sleepy-times.”

Melissa's attitude suddenly became very dominant. “Right babykins,” she said, posing with one arm on her hip, “I want no nonsense from you, I don't hold with naughty boys, if you misbehave for me I will have to put you over my knee for a smacked botty. Come along it’s milky time, let me put your bib on then we can get you snuggled into your cot for sleepy-byes time.” 

I dutifully remained silent as she tied a white towelling bib around my neck and settled me onto her lap.             

Aunty had changed into her favourite tweed suit as she bustled back into the room.

“Has he drank all his sleepy-time milk up?” she asked, “I want Peterkins settled before the ladies and I go for our walk.

Melissa nodded, “yes madam, Peterkins has been a very good little boy.”

Little did Aunty know that I had had little choice. Melissa had insisted on tipping up the baby bottle until I was desperately gulping down the sweet milky substance to avoid choking and  I ended up with my bib wet with dribbles. Melissa had then spent five minutes rubbing my back until I had gotten up my "windy-woos", as she called them up.

She showed aunty the empty bottle.

“My Peterkins you must have been thirsty, I will have to make up a bigger formula for you next time.”

I glared at aunty and was about to give her a piece of my mind when popped my dummy into my mouth and put her finger to her mouth in a shushing action.

Melissa was busily folding back the flannelette cot sheets and aunty led me over to the cot. She lowered the side rail and I was ushered in, the soft flannelette sheet was used to cover me and I was settled down for my afternoon nap.