Fantasy Holiday

by

Rob Willson

 

Chapter 7

 

He awoke as Peter, but knew he would be functioning once again as Alan.

He also realised that, since they had been in Paradise, the usual overnight pain-easing treatment had not been given to them. Like all the other children of the town, they took their stripes to bed with them and woke up in the morning with the lingering after-effects. Just like any normal punished child does.

This day proved to be a fairly routine day for the family. Nothing much of any consequence happened. There were the usual chores, with Peter and Helen seeming to get most of the dirty or unpleasant ones, the usual aprons to wear, and there were the usual strappings and canings.

In fact, in one way it was not routine at all in that there were more punishments than usual. Mrs King seemed to go out of her way to find fault with Peter and Helen’s work. They were judged to be either too slow, too untidy, not polite enough, not humble enough, etc. She seemed to go out of her way to criticise AND PUNISH!

At that evening’s ‘punishment parade’, both were ordered to appear in a washer apron and nothing else. This was the first time that Helen had been dressed like this and she didn’t like it any more than Peter had. Mrs King then announced that their work and conduct that day had been so totally unacceptable, that she intended to give them extra punishment and to make an example of them, as a warning to the others.

The ‘others’, on this occasion, included the two maids she had caned on the first night. Mrs King had obviously arranged for them to be present as extra humiliation for Helen and Peter.

So, both of them got the standard six strokes with the strap and then a further three and, when they thought she had finally finished, she made them bend over and clasp their ankles while she administered another six strokes with her favourite cane.

These, on top of all the others they had received that day, had them both crying their eyes out like little babies and they were sent to bed, still in the washer aprons, with a large dummy (pacifier) strapped in their mouths.

The next day, the family had breakfast in a rather subdued way and Peter and Helen did a lot of fidgeting on their very sore bottoms. Neither had had much sleep.

When they had finished eating, he and Helen got up to go to do the washing up as usual. However, Aunt Freda told them not to bother and that Kate would be doing it instead, as someone was coming to see them

By the pout and sullen look on her face, this was unexpected and unwelcome news to Kate.

Very soon, their treatment of the day before was explained. Yesterday had been their last day in the family. Mrs King had known about this, in advance, and had taken every opportunity to chivvy and flog them as much as possible.

Shortly afterwards, one of the Town Councillors came to fetch them away. She explained that, since they were only in Paradise with their ‘relatives’ for a short while, until their parents returned, it had been decided that they would be given some maid training.

In the car, she explained that children, usually only girls, were put with a special teacher and her maid for two weeks before being passed on to their new ‘family’. Linda and Alan would not be together for training, but would be in adjacent houses.

They were now Peter and Helen again with the other names as their scenario ones, as in their first experiences.

They soon arrived at the other end of Paradise and Alan was taken in to meet Mrs. Clay, his new Mistress. He was surprised to recognise her. She was the lady who had only tapped his arse two days before at the tea party.

"Ah", she said, "it seems I will get another chance to whip that nice bum of yours."

She then handed him over to her maid, Ethel, who said, "We don’t often get the chance to train a boy as a maid, so this should be very interesting. Some mistresses do like to have a boy maid for a change, not many but enough, and it also makes a change for me too. Any special instructions Ma’am?"

"Oh No! He is to wear the same uniform and be treated exactly as we do the girl trainees. In fact, he will even be addressed as we normally do with them."

"Good", said Ethel. "In case you don’t know what that means, you will now answer to the temporary name of ‘Skivvy’."

"Right. Get him uniformed and put her to work".

At that time of the day, Ethel was dressed in the usual housemaid’s uniform of a blue and white striped dress and a heavily starched white cap and pain apron.

Ethel quickly had him dressed in an identical frock and he was surprised to have to wear a tight rubber girdle underneath, with suspenders holding up his thick black stockings. A second surprise was the apron. Instead of a starched cotton one like Ethel’s, his was rubberised cotton, which could be wiped clean, but not starched. It was exactly the same style however.

He asked Ethel about it and she explained that trainee maids all wore white rubberised aprons and that he would have to earn the right to wear a starched one!

This amazed him, as he thought of the generations of young servant girls who had been forced reluctantly to wear a starched apron as their ‘badge of servitude’ and now he was being told that he would have to ‘earn the right’ to wear one.

Finally, he was uniformed and his training began. I don’t need to report it here in detail. It was what maids throughout time have done – to clean house. There was plenty of scrubbing, polishing, other cleaning, laundry, preparing vegetables, yet more washing up in the inevitable rubber apron, and all the rest of the things that Mistresses didn’t want to do themselves.

Ethel did most of the instructing. To maintain discipline, she was allowed to use a light cane, or leather strap. Both of these only stung, but there was no limitation on their use and Ethel took full advantage of this.

One training session did surprise him. He was dressed in a very attractive black and white uniform. One that he would have thought very attractive on a girl maid. Underneath was a very tightly laced waspie corset, with a two inch wide strap, a quarter of an inch thick, hooked to the front of the corset, passing between his legs, and buckled tightly, very tightly, to the back of it.

This belt also included a bag, which covered his genitals. It was made of a strange synthetic material and was very damp. As the heat of his body dried it out, it shrank and closed tightly round his penis and balls. He found this very uncomfortable to wear, which was the whole point of course!

He was then made to stand against the wall with his hands clasped in front of him, over his fancy frilly apron, without moving for about two hours, while he looked at his reflection in a large mirror. This was to prepare him for when he had to attend his mistress and wait patiently for an order from her. Ethel then said he was standing on a pressure pad and that, if he fidgeted, it would be recorded on the counter he could see on the wall and he would be punished accordingly. He was!

She also told him that maids had to keep a pleasant smile on their faces, whilst waiting upon their mistress’s pleasure and that, if he was inattentive or looked bored at any time, that would add to his punishment. His expressions would be monitored from behind the two-way mirror and he would never know when he was being checked upon.

He soon realised that a maid standing like that would probably be thinking of all the other jobs that would be awaiting her, while she wasted her time just standing there. It also reminded him of the way that young, tired servant girls in Victorian/Edwardian times would be summoned up several flights of steep stairs from the basement to pull the curtains, or simply put one knob of coal on the fire. Something that the mistress, or master, could have achieved themselves with about the same amount of effort they used in getting up to pull the bell rope.

Every evening, at the nine o’clock punishment session, Mrs Clay came in with a regular cane. She looked particularly severe in her yellow rubber punishment apron. Because she very rarely did over-the-knee spanking with the bigger girls, she always referred to this as her ‘punishment apron’ instead.

Ethel got the usual standard minimum six strokes of the cane, but Skivvy Alan found that trainee maids got a minimum of twelve. On most days of his training, he usually got between twelve and twenty, but on one really bad day, it was twenty-five.

As he expected, Mrs. Clay turned out to be a very proficient and accurate wielder of the cane and he really appreciated at being let off the final stroke at the previous day’s party. If she had chosen to do so, she could really have made him howl. Nevertheless, she had him howling at the end of each of her punishment sessions.

This went on for several days and he hardly ever saw Helen next door.

Right at the beginning of his maid training, Mrs Clay had made it very plain that no fraternisation with ‘the servant next door’ would be tolerated and that any such attempt to do so would be followed by very harsh consequences. Peter supposed that Helen had been warned in the same way.

On one occasion, they were both put to washing clothes in large tubs in their respective gardens, at the same time, and could therefore see each other over the garden fence. Because of the job they were doing, they each wore a washer woman apron. But this time, there was a difference. It was the same dull red, but it was a normal sized apron for their heights and uniforms. Now they simply looked what they were – household drudges – and not children put into one of Mummy’s aprons.

This apron was therefore not so uncomfortable to work in as the previous longer one, but, underneath the striped dress, Peter was wearing a very uncomfortable tightly laced steel-boned corset. Attached to this was a crotch-strap, with another shrinking pouch over his genitals and a long thick butt plug up his arse. He wondered if Helen was similarly handicapped.

They smiled at each other, but risked nothing more, as they guessed they were under scrutiny.

A little while later, Peter heard noises from next door and risked looking up from his washtub. Helen had been strung by her wrists from the branch of a tree and her skirts pinned up to her shoulders. He had no idea of how she had offended. He could see that she too was wearing a long restricting corset, which is why she couldn’t be made to bend over to ‘touch her toes’. He could also see a crotch-strap between her plump cheeks and concluded that, yes, she too was wearing a butt plug, and possibly a dildo too.

Her mistress was now advancing purposefully down from the house holding a long thin switch in her hand.

He didn’t see any more, because Mrs Cray came to him and asked if he wanted a dose of the same. He didn’t and turned back to his scrubbing. It wouldn’t save Helen pain if he shared it with her!

As he scrubbed, he heard the sound of the blows and her cries of pain. Once more, he felt the urge to go to her help, but had to suppress it.

Then, one morning, he awoke simply as Peter, in his old cell. He was vaguely aware that they were coming up to the end of the first half of their month’s holiday and that they were due for things to become less intense for two days and that then the holiday, so far, would be reviewed and choices made.

That morning, two rather large burly women, one dressed as a Nanny and the other as a Nursemaid, came into his cell and just scooped him up and took him along with them, without saying a word.

They took him into a room with various ominous pieces of apparatus scattered around. He was laid face down on a rubber-covered table and his hands and ankles were strapped down, so that he could not move.

Another door opened and he was able to watch a nurse approach wheeling a trolley. He noticed immediately that the nurse was wearing a white rubber apron and his heart sank. Experience had already taught him that, whenever a maid or a nurse wore this type of apron, something unpleasant, or painful usually followed; often it was both! The sight of some of the things on the trolley, amongst them a tray of hypodermic syringes, confirmed his worse fears.

Without speaking to him, or the maids, she picked up one of the syringes and started to inject him close to his spine in the lower back. She didn’t numb the area at all, but just rammed the needle home, about six times on each side. Then she took a second one and repeated the injections between his shoulder blades.

Then, her first words, "Turn him over".

The Nanny and her helper deftly flipped him over onto his back. The next set of injections was to his cock. He rightly guessed immediately, that he would be unable to have an erection now. That it was in effect a chemical Penis Ring.

They left him lying there for about fifteen minutes for the injections to take full effect and then returned to unstrap him and carry him over to a chair. He could not co-ordinate his arms and legs and felt as helpless as a baby. As the penny dropped, he realised that that was exactly what they were doing, turning him into a large helpless baby, and hence the Nanny uniforms.

He was now strapped into the chair, and his head was secured to the headrest. He was petrified about what was to come next.

He saw the nurse approaching carrying yet another hypo in one hand and a small pair of tongs with rubber grips at the ends in the other. He was so busy watching her that he didn’t notice the other two women positioning themselves.

As the nurse nodded, the nursemaid suddenly grasped his balls and squeezed them hard. He opened his mouth to yell and the nanny slipped a metal dental gag into his mouth against his teeth and forced his mouth wide open.

As he sat there, completely immovable and helpless, the nurse reached into his mouth with the tongs and caught hold of his tongue. She pulled it out as far as she could and then to one side. She then roughly plunged the needle painfully into the base of his tongue and injected him again.

As she took the hypo out, she did another three injections along the side of his tongue. Then she repeated the sequence on the other side of his mouth. Peter thought she had finished, but she picked up another hypo with a very long thin needle and changed her grip on his tongue. She pulled it out straight and stuck the needle into the tip and pushed it well in. It felt as if she had pushed it in the full length right down to the root.

She then slowly pulled it out in stages, depressing the plunger at intervals.

It was not only painful, but decidedly unpleasant!

The nurse then smeared a jelly substance onto his nipples and the tip of his cock. Then she clipped an electrical lead to each place and made sure each was firmly fixed

She then said to the nanny, "Well, he’s all yours for the time being" and left the room, much to Peter’s relief.

This relief was short-lived as he heard a rustle and saw the other two women now taking rubber aprons out of a corner cupboard and putting them on.

"What now?" he wondered.

The nursemaid removed the neck-rest and its restraining blocks, put another strap round his throat and then tied a large adult-sized plastic baby’s bib on him.

The Nanny now brought up a chair and a trolley of her own. On the top shelf was a large bowl of goo, a king-sized baby’s feeding bottle and a bottle clearly marked ‘Castor Oil’.

He tried to protest and say ‘NO’, but found his tongue could not form the word. It had been paralysed by the injections, but they had also made his taste buds more sensitive.

She brought large spoonful of the unappetising-looking goo towards his mouth and said, "Open wide for Nanny, now, there’s a good boy".

As his nose caught the smell of the stuff she wanted to put inside his mouth, he clamped his teeth tightly together, determined not to obey. He had some hope!

Nanny just brushed her knee against a switch on the chair and an agonising surge of electricity went through the connections to his nipples and penis. His mouth came open as a reflex and he found he could still yell, even if he could not speak. However, the yell was stifled by the entry of the goo. It tasted every bit as foul as it smelt and he gagged on it.

Of course, he spat it out of his mouth. All down his bib and over Nanny’s apron bib too. She calmly scraped the mess off her apron and put it back into the bowl. Then she scraped his chin clean and turned her attention to his bib. When she was satisfied, she pushed the trolley away, after taking a leather paddle from the bottom shelf.

She then proceeded to give the front of his thighs six hard strokes. These confirmed that he could yell and scream, even if he could not say words.

She then calmly re-filled the spoon and said, "Now then, make Nanny proud of her baby and not angry. Open wide like a good soldier, or else I shall have to use the strap again and we wouldn’t like that, would we?"

No he wouldn’t! It had hurt a lot. He remembered the awful taste of the goo, but had forgotten, for a moment, the electrical persuaders. She nudged the switch again and his mouth came open. Once more she filled it with goo and the nursemaid, who had been waiting and holding his head still by the hair, clamped her other hand under his chin to help him retain it and tilted his head back. Now he knew why she had removed the headrest. He swallowed it as quickly as he could, but the awful taste lingered on.

"There’s a good babykins", burbled Nanny in that absurd voice that adults use to very young babies, as she brought another spoonful up. This time he definitely didn’t want either the electric shock, or the strap on his thighs again, so he forced his mouth open.

The nursemaid laughed and said, "They train so easily at this age, don’t they?"

When the bowl was finally empty, it was the turn of the feeding bottle. She put the teat into his mouth, but nothing happened.

Then she said, "Suck little one" and he obeyed to avoid another shock.

This also tasted foul, but he had no choice but to suck every time he was urged to do so, until that too was empty. Then he was ‘offered’ a large spoonful of castor oil. Once again, he tried to refuse, but another shock reminded him of the futility of resisting. Three more spoonfuls followed the first.

He was then freed from the chair and lifted back to the table, where the nursemaid had laid out a large terry-towel baby’s nappy (diaper). This was deftly tied and pinned around his bottom and then a large pair of rubber pants, with very tight leg holes, was fitted over it.

They left the bib on and took him into the next room, where he was suspended in a baby harness from the ceiling. He dangled there with his feet just touching the ground. The harness holding him up was made of rubber straps, so that he could bob up and down if he chose to, but this was the only movement he could make.

Helen was already suspended in a similar way close by. They tried to speak, but could not form the words. It was obvious that she had had exactly the same treatment as he had had.

After about a very boring half-hour, Helen began to moan and fidget and then gave a series of shudders. He wondered what had happened to her, but was unable to ask. Then he found out as a pain gripped his bowels and he emptied them and his bladder into his nappy. Then followed a very uncomfortable hour, as they hung there in the sodden shit and piss filled nappy and rubber pants.

At the end of that period, the two teams of women came back. Each nanny pulled he waistband of the pants open and sniffed ‘their’ child, pretended to express disapproval at what they found and took them away again. This time, Peter found himself in a small tiled room with a run off channel. He was stripped naked and then a high-pressure hose of very cold water was used to clean him off. The dirty nappy and pants were left in the corner of the room for some hapless slave-maid to clean up.

Then followed two warm soapy water enemas to clean him out thoroughly, followed by an ice-cold one. The nursemaid brusquely dried him with a rough towel and then a clean nappy and pants were put on. He found himself strapped back in the chair again and the leads were re-positioned on his nipples. (His penis was not available this time!) Then the bib went back on and another bowl of goo, drink and another four spoonfuls of castor oil were swallowed. This time he managed to obey with only one electric reminder to open his mouth.

"You are getting to be a good obedient baby, aren’t you" stated the nanny. Well, it wasn’t a question was it? You don’t ask questions of babies who can’t talk.

Back to the harnesses. Another half-hour and, this time, Peter filled his nappy first, closely followed by Helen. Then another hour of misery hanging there. Then the pantomime of surprise and disapproval again and the clean up.

This time, for ‘repeating his naughty behaviour’, before his nappy was replaced, the nursemaid held him down over her rubber protected lap, while the nanny thrashed his bottom with a strap. Then came yet another ‘meal’, drink and dose of castor oil. It was all repetitious and boring and made him realise just how boring a young baby’s life must be, when it is not actually sleeping.

He and Helen were now placed in adjacent cots for their afternoon naps and, once more, after about half an hour, the inevitable happened. This time they lay in their messes for about two hours.

Another clean up. Another scolding and spanking.

Back to two more sessions of the harnesses with exactly the same sequence of events.

After the final punishment of the day, which this time was a caning and not a strapping on their, by now, very sore bottoms, they were fed twice the amount of goo, before the drink and oil, and then put to bed for the night. The result was that they spent the entire night lying awake in their uncomfortable filthy wet nappies.

The following day, they were not injected any more, much to his relief, and he found he could now move about in an uncoordinated way and speak a kind of baby talk. In addition to his nappy and pants, he wore a very short dress with a frilly girlish baby pinafore over it (under the inevitable plastic bib), but they put a short spreader bar between his ankles, which caused him to waddle like a young child learning to walk.

They were now put into adjacent playpens, each with a doll, about ten little bricks and a few beads on a frame and were instructed ‘to play’. They now each had a large dummy strapped in their mouths, so that they couldn’t talk to each other. These, too, were impregnated with an unpleasant taste. When they both refused to ‘play’, they were prodded with electric goads until they made the effort.

Of course, the meals, the shitting, the clean-ups and spankings continued as on the day before.

That evening, instead of the ‘usual’ meal of baby goo, they were sat at a low table and given a meal of fish fingers and French fries and a mug of milk. Although they still wore nappies, they went to sleep without dirtying them in what had become to think of as the ‘normal’ way.

 

 

 

*********************************************
© 2001 by Rob Willson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.