"How I Married the Babysitter" - A Bedwetter's Tale

This is a concept I’ve been thinking about for a long time. It’s written in the form of a memoir, and as with most of my stories much of it takes place in the early 80’s. For those who have read my stuff in the past you may remember that I draw a lot from my own life experiences when writing. Although this is pure fantasy, parts of it are based on my life, but very, very few. None of these characters are real; I did however give the narrator my same first name. If anyone feels that it’s too racy in parts, I apologize in advance. I do my best to keep things PG but for me there is a sexual component to diapers and I don’t think people should be afraid to write about that (as long as it’s done with respect), so eventually this story will contain a bit of that. Lastly, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything of this length, so I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

Enjoy,

-Lizzy

“How I Married the Babysitter”

-A Bedwetter’s Tale

Chapter 1:

You reach an age in life where when looking back, things seem off kilter. Even if things appear to be off kilter, a second glance can give insights that you may never have considered. That’s what happened with Scott and I. Scott was my babysitter…but also my friend, and in my adult life, a boyfriend, and now my husband. Outsiders looking in may think that what we shared was wrong. In another situation it might have been, but I have never felt like it was wrong. We have always been happy. This isn’t the kind of memoir I’d want the world to read; it’s more of a large personal diary entry. It’s a way of helping me to make sense of it all, to accept myself and my personal needs and wants. It’s a way of helping me know that there is nothing wrong with me and there never was.

I was 7 and Scott was 13, almost 14 when the babysitting began. It was the 80’s and my parents liked to go out, they drank often. They were good parents, my siblings and I had a great childhood, our parents were not abusive at all, just…well they went out on weekends and came home late…and often drunk. Fortunately for us, they never did anything to cause us any harm. We lived in walking distance to the local pub and if they were too drunk to drive home they would leave the car in the parking lot and walk home. And when he was old enough, they also had the good sense to ask Scott to watch us.

Scott was our friend…but also our guardian. He didn’t know the maturity he possessed at such a young age. He just had a natural common sense about things. I don’t think he considered himself smart or a leader, but he just was…even if he didn’t know it.

I first met him when I was 5, my older brothers were 8 and 10 respectively and Scott was 12. We lived in a small town, there weren’t a lot of kids in the neighborhood we lived in, and so it wasn’t uncommon for older kids to play with younger kids. Times were different back then, video games were new and rare, if someone had an Atari at their house that was a big deal, but it wasn’t found in our neighborhood. We played outside, used our imaginations, hide and seek, ghost in the graveyard, running bases…dolls, building forts, board games, these were the activities of our childhood and the ages ranged from 5 to 14. You don’t find that kind of camaraderie between children of such different ages today. Kids grow up faster, with access to the internet, texting, Facebook and Twitter…childhood is short now, and thinking back, we didn’t know just how good we had it.

When we first moved in, Scott came over and introduced himself. He and my brothers became fast friends and played together often. Scott was the oldest kid in the neighborhood so when the parents looked to someone to keep an eye on the younger kids, Scott was the natural choice. That’s how he ended up our babysitter.

My oldest brother, Tom, didn’t need to be watched. On those first weekends when my parents would ask Scott to come over and sit, Tom was usually on a sleepover at a friend’s house, and during the summer, Tom went to sleep away camp…sometimes Robby, my middle brother was gone on sleepovers as well, and eventually, he too went off to sleep away camp for the summers. Those nights were my favorites because I had all of Scott’s attention to myself. I was the baby, and Scott looked out for me more than anyone else. In my little mind at the time, I dreamed we were playing house, and he was my “Daddy”.

Scott was an only child, I think that having other kids in the neighborhood that he could look after filled a loneliness that he felt. He’d never admit it, but knowing him as I did, I can say with certainty, that was the truth. Both his parents worked, Scott came home to an empty house after school. He was the first one out the door looking for other kids to play with. During the school year, from 3 O’clock to 5:30pm Scott was usually playing at our house until one of his parents got home. My mother didn’t mind at all, she loved having him around because he looked after all of us.

My private shame was that I was “accident prone”, and by that I don’t mean I was a klutz. From the moment I was out of diapers, I was never really out of them. I’d often wet my pants during the day and even have poopy accidents from time to time between the ages of 4 and 8. But the bigger problem was that I was a bedwetter. I was wet most nights until the age of 14. Even today, I have the occasional night accident, but usually only when I’ve had too much to drink, or sometimes during my period.

In the 80’s there were no Pull Up’s or Goodnites. If you were a bedwetter in those days, you either wore full on baby diapers or had a plastic sheet on your mattress and washed your sheets after each incident. In my case, I had both. Pampers were my friend and night time savior right up till the age of 14. This part of my life was filled with blows to my self esteem; I was teased often by my two older brothers and a few of their friends. But I was never teased by Scott.

Scott knew about my day time accidents, he had even been witness to several of them while playing at our house after school, or during summers when school was out. It didn’t take long for him to also learn about my bedwetting, or for him to see me wearing a diaper. He had slept over with my brothers, had clearly seen the diaper under my PJ’s and had been filled in about my “problem” by my brothers.

The difference between Scott and other friends of my brothers was that he didn’t tease me or make jokes. Older brothers and their friends can be such jerks, but not Scott. Scott was everyone’s friend, and never teased anyone, especially me. After each accident he’d seen me have, he always found the time to get me alone and ask me if I was ok, and tell me that I shouldn’t be sad or embarrassed.

One time, when I was 6, during a game of hide and seek with many of the neighborhood kids, I wet my pants. Everyone knew, and laughed as I walked off in shame to go change. Scott of course didn’t laugh. When I returned to the game, during the next round of hiding, I ended up hiding in the same closet where Scott was hiding. Most of the other kids would have shooed me away and told me to find my own hiding spot. Scott just said “Quick, get in and shut the door”.

We hid ourselves in behind the hanging shirts and coats. He had seen the look on my face when I had opened the door. My eyes still a bit red from crying after my accident.

“Are you ok?” he asked. I told him yes. I told him that I couldn’t help it and I felt stupid.

“You’re not stupid.” He told me.

“Don’t ever be embarrassed about wetting your pants. Everyone has wet their pants at least once in their lives.” He said. “I’ll bet every kid playing here today wet their pants at least once when they were the same age as you are… I know I did.” He added, giving me a nudge and a wink.

This made me feel better instantly. We stayed in that closet together for a long time before we were found. That day, I would have stayed in there with him forever.

So the next year, when Scott began babysitting for me and Robby, and eventually just me, he became my third brother. But he was so much more than that, he was my protector, my shield from the world. With Scott I always felt safe, I didn’t care about my accidents or bedwetting…or that I had to wear diapers at night. I didn’t care that Scott knew about my diapers, or that he saw me wearing them while he babysat. Scott didn’t tease me, he never had and I knew he never would. I was a little girl in puppy love.

During the summer of 82, Scott babysat for me and Robby almost every weekend. I remember a Friday night when the three of us were sitting in our TV room watching the Dukes of Hazzard. I had my PJ’s on and of course my Pamper too. Mom would get me ready for bed before she and Dad went out because Robby and I would always be asleep by the time they got home. She told me she didn’t want me to fall asleep and have an accident on the couch, my choice was to either let her put my diaper on before she left, or the babysitter would have to do it when I started to get sleepy. As crazy as I was about Scott, and despite the fact that he knew about my diapers, I sure didn’t want him diapering me…although thinking back on it now I kind of wish I had. I’m sure my mom didn’t want Scott diapering me either as she never even gave me the option on nights when he babysat. We had a few other babysitters that were older girls, my mom would give me the choice of having her diaper me or having the babysitter do it later only when we had a girl sitter. So when Scott was babysitting, I was always pampered by the time he arrived.

On this night, we were all watching TV and I was sitting next to Scott on the couch. I was thinking about how happy I was that he was here sitting with me. I started to bounce on my couch cushion, not standing on it, just sitting and bouncing myself up and down on my bottom. Pampers in the 80’s were plastic backed, very noisy, and very thick. There was no hiding a diaper in those days. My Pamper crinkled loudly with every bounce I made. I didn’t care; I liked hearing the sound and feeling the soft thick padding around my bottom and between my legs.

I was giggling and bouncing. So Scott looked over and said “What are you doing silly?”

“I’m bouncing and scrunching” I said and giggled.

“Scrunching?” Scott asked.

“Yeah…listen” I said and bounced up and down three times making my diaper crinkle loudly.

“Oh, it’s because of your diaper?” Scott asked.

“Yeah” I said and blushed. That was the first time I remember that Scott acknowledged my diapered status out loud.

Robby looked over from the chair opposite the couch and said “She crinkles everywhere she goes at this time of night” with a laugh.

“Be Quiet Robby!” I said

“Robby is just jealous.” Scott replied. “He can’t make funny noises when he bounces”

Robby ignored Scott’s comment stuck his tongue out at me and went back to watching TV. Roscoe was after the Dukes again.

“Do you want a horsy ride?” Scott asked me. “Then you can really scrunch!” he smiled.

“YES!” I practically screamed.

Scott lifted me on to his knee, held my waist and began bouncing me up and down on his knee. My diaper crinkled much louder than before. I giggled uncontrollably as he bounced me and began to tickle me around my waist.

“Faster!” I managed to shout.

“Quiet down!” Robby said, moving himself closer to the TV and turning the sound up so he could hear over my giggles".

I ignored him. Scott bounced me faster and my giggles turned to outright laughter. I loved it. Straddling his leg, my diaper was pressed back against me. It felt different, it felt wonderful. With every bounce I felt the soft thick padding between my legs and around my bottom. The diaper crinkled loudly as Scott bounced me. Before I knew it, I had lost control and was wetting my diaper. When I realized what was happening I begged Scott to stop.

“Stop…Stop!” I gasped between laughs…

Scott stopped and I leapt off his leg. I was still peeing but it was slowly stopping. It wasn’t a complete wetting; I almost had enough control to stop it after I realized it was happening…but not. It was exactly the sort of accident you have when you are an excitable seven year old who is accident prone. I wasn’t soaked, but could feel the warm wetness in my diaper. I prayed that Scott hadn’t noticed it, that I had managed to get off his leg before he felt the warmth. I had.

“Are you ok” Scott asked.

“Yeah…I just…was laughing so hard…I needed to breath” I said.

“Well…that was some good scrunching you were doing” he said with a smile.

This made me blush. Scott patted the seat cushion next to him and told me to have a seat. I thought about it for a split second, wondering if my diaper was wet enough for him to smell pee. I decided to chance it and sat down. Analyzing the memory of that night today, I remind myself that Pampers had a much stronger talcum scent in the 80’s, they needed to be soaked through or poopy to really smell. Maybe that was the case, or maybe Scott just didn’t smell it. Or maybe he did and just decided not to say anything. I don’t even remember if I smelled it, but I was so used to being in wet diapers that maybe I wouldn’t have noticed either. Regardless, I wasn’t found out. We spent the rest of the night watching TV, sitting close together on the couch. I loved those nights and remember hoping I wouldn’t fall asleep, that I’d be able to stay up with Scott all night long.

“If you have to scrunch again can you at least wait for a commercial?” Robby said sarcastically. I stuck my tongue out at him, he did the same.

I wasn’t able to stay up all night. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I woke up in my bed the next morning, my parents or maybe even Scott must have carried me upstairs and put me to bed. My diaper was soaked by that point. I remembered bouncing on Scott’s leg the night before, how wonderful it felt in my diaper just before I had my accident. I hoped that Scott would be sitting for me again soon.

I remember many nights like that one…but the one that sticks in my memory most, and in Scott’s as well was the night that brought us together. It didn’t bring us together at the time, but many, many years later. Thinking back, it’s funny how a moment from our past sealed our relationship so many years later.

It was two weeks after the night of my scrunching horsy ride…and it was the first time that Scott would be babysitting for me and only me. Tom was off at summer camp, and Robby was sleeping over at a friend’s house. It would be a Saturday night, and I found out on Friday, I was so excited that I was bouncing around the house all day and into the night on Friday. That was an unfortunate night because I had a poopy accident in my diaper.

I had just been tucked in for bed by my father; he had kissed me good night and closed the door. I was thinking about Saturday night, wondering what games Scott would play with me, or maybe he would watch a movie with me…or we would just sit together on the couch and watch TV, maybe he would give me another horsy ride. I really wanted another horsy ride. All of these thoughts were swimming in my head when I felt the urge to go.

I didn’t want to get out of bed and find my mom or dad to tell them that I had to go poop. I don’t know why I didn’t. I thought maybe my mom would get mad at having to take the diaper off and then put a new one back on again after I was done. The diaper tapes in the early 80’s were not refastenable, when they came off; they usually took a chunk of the plastic backing with them. I thought maybe I could hold it until morning…or maybe if I just concentrated enough the urge would go away.

I was seven, nothing made sense to me, I didn’t want to go poo poo in my diaper but by the time I should have said something it was too late. My effort to hold it in was futile, one small fart and I was done for. I felt the warm squishy mass filling the seat of my Pamper, pressing back between my bottom and the soft thick lining. For a moment, I don’t remember just how long, I kind of enjoyed the feeling. I certainly was glad that the urge to go was gone. I was sort of in a trance; feeling the poo poo in my diaper and even bouncing on my bottom a bit too really feel it. It didn’t feel bad at all, it was kind of nice.

Then the smell hit me, I was brought out of my trance right away and I felt embarrassed and ashamed. What if that had happened when Scott was babysitting I thought? What would he think of me? Would he change me? He had never teased me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t think I was a baby. I started to cry. I knew I couldn’t sleep in a poopy diaper, I’d never fall asleep, then I’d be so tired that I’d fall asleep early on Saturday night, I wouldn’t be able to play games and have fun with Scott.

I climbed out of bed; I could feel the poop in the seat of my diaper drop down a bit as I stood up. I opened my door and walked down the hall too my parents room. They were awake and watching TV in bed. My mom looked at me.

“Sweetie what’s wrong?” she asked.

“I…I had a accident in my diaper” I said through my tears.

She got out of bed and came closer; as soon as she was near me she caught the smell of my mess.

“Oh Elizabeth! Why didn’t you tell your father you had to go when he tucked you in?” She asked.

“I…I didn’t know…not…until after” I cried.

“Pumpkin you have to try harder” Dad said from the other side of the bed.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” my mom said as she took my hand and led me down the hall to the bathroom.

As we walked down the hall, Tom came out of his bedroom and saw us heading toward the bathroom. He raced passed us and into the bathroom ahead of my mother, slamming the door.

“Thomas!” my mother shouted in anger.

“Sorry mom, when you gotta go you gotta go” he shouted back through the door.

We waited outside until we heard a flush and a moment later Tom opened the door, I stood behind my mother with my head hanging in shame. The hallway was narrow; Tom walked right behind me and smelled my poopy diaper immediately.

“Oppsies…someone made a poopsie!” he said and laughed before running back to his bedroom.

“Thomas Philip Charles! How many times have I told you not to tease your sister!” my mother shouted back at him.

“Don’t you worry sweetie, I’ll deal with him” she said as she lead me into the bathroom. “For now let’s get you out of that stinky Pamper.”

I fought back more tears during the changing process, waiting patiently while I lay on the bathroom floor, being changed like a baby. I felt so embarrassed, I knew Tom would tell this story to Robby, and Robby would laugh about it with his friends. I worried about news of my latest accident getting back to Scott. Even though I knew he wouldn’t tease me, I didn’t want him to think of me as a little baby who couldn’t control herself.

“Sweetie, don’t cry…we’ve been through this before. You just need to try harder and remember to tell us if you have to go poopies after your diaper is on…I won’t get mad, but I want you to make sure from now on that you try to go before bed time ok?” My mother asked.

“Ok” I whimpered back.

After wiping me thoroughly clean with baby wipes, and disposing of the dirty diaper, she retrieved a fresh Pamper from the large white and purple box in the bathroom closet. I stared at the picture of the happy baby on the box. Feeling as though I was that baby now, I lay there and watched as my mom opened the new diaper, lifted my legs again and slid it under my bottom. She lowered me back down, quickly brought the front half of the diaper up between my legs with expert skill, opening the front of the diaper and quickly securing the tapes around my waist. I was once again back in my crinkly confines. I still felt ashamed for the accident, but I also felt comfortable and safe as my mother lifted me off the floor and gave me a big hug. She gently patted my diapered bottom as she rubbed my back. My tears had stopped.

“There we go, all better.” My mom said as she stood up and led me back to my room. I climbed back into bed and let her tuck me in. As she kissed me on the forehead I asked her a question.

“Mom, you don’t think I’m a baby do you?”

“Oh sweetie no, of course not.” She replied. “You’re going to stop wetting the bed someday, and you’ll be able to control yourself and not have accidents, don’t worry, you’ll see. It will happen sooner than you think.”

“When?” I asked.

“Soon, sweetie, soon…” She kissed me again and said goodnight.

Mom didn’t know that soon wouldn’t be for another year or two for the daytime accidents, and another seven years to life for the bedwetting.

Eventually my thoughts returned to thinking about Scott and Saturday night…I eventually drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed of bouncing on Scott’s knee. I would wake up soaked as usual. But when I did, it would be Saturday!

Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

This was very well written.

Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

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Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

Very well-written, nothing to racy, cute. I like this story (and everything else you’ve written).

Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

Thanks all. I was on a bit of a posting spree. I’ve got more to come, but I’ll wait a bit before continuing it.

-Lizzy

Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

Personally, I see nothing wrong at all with a posting spree… :wink:

Re: “How I Married the Babysitter” - A Bedwetter’s Tale

I don’t think I’ve read a story about a male babysitter with a female charge. I’m sure there are plenty out there but I’ve never stumbled across one (I’m surprised I haven’t looked). I look forward to seeing how this goes.