"It's time to get ready to go to bed", my Nanny would say to me every
night between when I was 6 and 14 years old. Now, my family was not
wealthy by any means; but I was born in 1946 and during my childhood
many young women would serve as Nannies for room and board plus a small
stipend. My Nanny's name was Claudine, but she insisted I call her
"Nanny" during her eight years of service with my family. She was an
aspiring artist during this time, and has since become regionally known
in the midwest. I had a sister twelve years older than myself and a
brother 2 years younger. I was a bedwetter, the only one in the family.
This is the story of my growing up. My earliest recollection was when I
was around four or five, I think. All I remember was the embarrassment I
faced every morning with my wet bed. My mother was generally
understanding, but she was pressured by my father to "take steps" to end
my "problem". I remember that I wore diapers and Playtex rubber pants
during those early years. Frequently, as I grew older, the diapers and
rubber pants could not contain my "output", and the sheets and mattress
would get wet and soiled, and this infuriated my father.
The next step in protecting my bedding was a rubber sheet placed under
the cotton sheet. This at least protected the mattress. My mother would
dutifully change and wash the sheets every morning - but soon tired of
this and took her frustration out on me. The more she pressured me to
stop wetting the bed, the worse it became. A good thing, though, was
that I was not humiliated to my brother; and had a separate bedroom.
When I was six, my mother started helping my father in his business, and
hired Claudine to take care of my brother and I and keep the house
cleaned up. One of her jobs was to get me to stop wetting the bed; and
more particularly to stop needing diapers and wetting the sheets that
needed to be washed all the time.
Since Claudine made me call her "Nanny" I will refer to her by this name
from now on in this story. She started out, as I recall, very calmly;
trying to talk me into not wetting the bed, thinking that I must be
doing it on purpose. She kept this up for a couple of years, and the
more I tried to please her, the worse it seemed to get. My mother
started putting more pressure on her to get some improvement. One of the
ways my improvement was measured was how many sheets had to be washed.
Nanny found a way to improve this - she put the rubber sheet on top of
the cotton sheet and made me sleep on it. I really hated this - the
sheet was cold when you got on it in the winter, and was hot and sweaty
to sleep on in the summer. But because of the output I had, often the
top sheet and sometimes the blanket would become wet. Sometime in the
next couple of years, she got to the point of putting a second rubber
sheet on the bed to protect the upper bed clothing. I remember I had a
twin sized bed when I was around eight years old, and these rubber
sheets were so big that they would drape over the edges, almost as much
as the cotton sheet and blankets, so they would do a good job of keeping
everything dry. But during the summer they really got hot, so I would
take all the covers, including the top rubber sheet, off the bed and
sleep with no covers at all, but still laying on the bottom rubber sheet
in my diapers and rubber pants.
This continues for a couple of years with no improvement in my
bedwetting. I was taken to some doctors who said I would outgrow it by
the time I was twelve. My parents both would put pressure on Nanny to
get their "big baby" out of his "rubbers" (meaning the rubber sheets,
diapers and rubber pants). Well, Nanny, after several months of pressure
decided to take them off during the day, and make it seem like I wasn't
wetting the bed. Then every night she would say "it's time to get ready
for bed". This meant that I had to help her get the rubber sheets and
put them on the bed, and then put on a diaper and rubber pants something
I really hated - although my mother was really nice to me since she
thought I was improving. Nanny would hide the diapers and wash them
secretly during the day.
Then, it happened. My mother found Nanny washing the diapers and
demanded to know what she was doing. Nanny confessed that I still wet
the bed, and my mother erupted in fury. This is when I was twelve years
old. She told Nanny that if she could not get me to stop wetting the
bed, she would be fired. Now, Nanny was always nice to me and I became
very loyal to her, and she used this loyalty and the threat that my
bedwetting would get her fired to keep me in line.
She started making me wear the rubber pants without any diapers,
sleeping between the rubber sheets. I protested this more strongly
during the next several months. When she would say "It's time to get
ready for bed" I would procrastinate and become angry. She would ask me
if I wanted to get her fired, and after pleading I would give in and
help her get my bed ready and then slip on my rubber pants and go to
bed. I started taking the rubber sheets of the bed, because my
bedwetting was subsiding. But occasionally, I would wet the bed when I
had taken off the rubber sheets, and of course the sheets got wet. One
morning my mother found this out and blew up at Nanny and me. She told
me that if I ever did this again, Nanny was fired.
By this time I was just thirteen and entering puberty. Nanny was afraid
that I would be taking the rubber sheets off of the bed, and she would
stay in the room until I went to sleep. I started becoming more forceful
in not wanting to have to wear the rubber pants and sleep on the rubber
sheets and she continued her pressure and pleadings.
At some point in the next few months, I would feign sleep, and when she
left, I would get up and take off the rubber sheets and pants. The first
time I wet the bed without my "rubbers", Nanny found out, and I guess
luckily my mother did not. Well, Nanny got furious.
She said she was not leaving my room until she knew I was asleep. I
became very argumentative. Finally one night, after she got the rubber
sheets on the bed, I got mad and yanked them off. She then told me she
was going to tell my mother that I still wet the bed and was disobeying
Nanny - a thought that brought fear into me. I again gave in, but this
time Nanny decided to stay in my room until she was sure I was asleep.
She assured this by laying in my bed until my breathing became regular
and would then leave.
I protested this, and would turn over on my stomach to hide my face. One
night I started crying in frustration. Nanny felt sorry for me, I think,
and put her hand on my lower back and started rocking me back and forth.
I will never forget that night as long as I live. I got my first full
erection as she slowly rocked me back and forth. The rubber sheets were
getting wet with sweat, as were the rubber pants. The sheets started
clinging to my body and making a rustling sound as I was rocked. The
sweat in the rubber pants made my erection slip against the wet rubber.
It was then, as I lay with my head buried in the rubber sheet, gently
being rocked to and fro that I had my first orgasm. After this occurred,
and I am sure Nanny must have known what happened, I quickly went to
sleep, still being slowly rocked in my rubber cocoon.
For whatever reason, my bedwetting stopped shortly thereafter. Nanny
continued to make me sleep between the rubber sheets and wear the rubber
pants for another three or four months, and would rock me to sleep if I
would protest my "rubbers". Finally, Nanny got another job, and left me
"high and dry".
For the next six or eight years everything was fine, but after I got out
of the service I became very insecure. I started to wet the bed again,
and found myself longing for the security and protection of the rubber
sheets and pants and diapers. The smell and feel and sound of the
rubber, the softness of diapers.
I finally found a source for rubber sheets and pants and diapers; now
all I need to find is another Nanny.