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(A Bedwetter's Experience of Humiliation at Camp)
It was the summer after my ninth birthday and I was looking forward to another summer vacation visit to the Catskill mountains hotel with Mom and Dad. During a few of the last several summers, my dad stayed with us at the hotel for a week then left my mother and me to stay for three or four weeks during which he visited only on weekends. I looked forward to having fun with new kids at the hotel and seeing Mimi again. She was the children's activity director whom I grew to love the past few summers. I also was happy I would be old enough to be allowed to eat in the adult dining room with my mother during the week.
Hopefully, there wouldn't be any embarrassments about my nightly bedwetting this year. Mimi already knew about it, but last year none of the other kids found out that I wet the bed. I didn't think I would have any trouble with wetting my pants during the day like I did a few times last year. Last year my mother took pretty good care not to let anyone see her hanging my rubber sheet up to dry on the laundry line in back of the hotel. A couple of years ago some other mothers and their kids found out it was my rubber sheet. It was something I worried about a lot last year.
Being an only child was nice, I thought at the time; I got plenty of attention from my mother and I got to go places with my parents a lot more than some other kids. Most other kids never got to go to a hotel and they either stayed home or were sent to camp during summer vacation. I dreaded the idea of being sent to camp. It was because of the bedwetting of course.
Then, not long before our scheduled trip to the Catskills, something terrible began to happen. My mother and dad started to discuss the question of finding a camp that would be good for me. The idea was to give my mother a break from taking care of me at the hotel and for me to get an experience that would have some effect on helping me stop my bed wetting. When I found out about their plan, I cried and pleaded with them not to send me to camp. But gradually I was calmed down about it somewhat. The camps had other kids that sometimes wet their beds. I wouldn't be the only one, I was told. Besides, I was told the camp counselors would see to it that I wasn't teased about my wetting. Well, a camp was selected. Camp Pine-Wood was only a few miles from the hotel where my mother would be, so I was taken there before my mother and dad continued on to the hotel. First, there was an interview with the Camp Director. My mother mentioned my bed wetting only briefly without saying that I wet just about every night. The director said there would be no problem, but that my mother could discuss the details about how the camp handled bed wetters with the Camp nurse. I was feeling very nervous about my being left at the camp and, just as the nurse came into the office for the conference with my mom, I was pleading with her not to make me stay at the camp. My mother quickly explained to the nurse why I was crying. The nurse patted me on the head and said I was not the only bed wetter at camp and that I would be with nice boys, etc, etc. I can't remember what else was said except something about putting me with the right group. Then my mother opened the extra little suit case that had my own rubber sheet, 3 or 4 rubber pants, heavy cotton flannel panties (like training pants), and some diapers. I was very embarrassed, of course. The nurse said that she hoped she wouldn't need to use my things; the camp used their own rubber sheets for the bedwetters.
Well, the next thing I remember was being left there and sent to a group in a tent cabin with 3 other boys in it. Two were about my age and the other looked to be only about 7. I had dinner in the dining room with all the other kids and then, after some board games, we were sent back to our cabins for bed time. I think my counselor was a teen-ager. He seemed nice but not very smart. He said my cot was made up that night, but I would be shown how to make my own bed the next day. I heard the other boys giggling a little, but I didn't understand why. I was thinking hard about how I could keep my bed dry that night and worrying about whether there was a rubber sheet on my cot. The counselor said something about kids having bed-wetting accidents and showed us that we each had a little potty in a box under our bed and said to use it if we woke up during the night. The first night I soon found out why the other boys were giggling. When the lights went out and we got into bed, I had my first experience with "short sheeting"! I was surprised to find that my feet hit the folded-back bottom sheet and I couldn't get all the way into bed! In the dark, I soon figured out what they did as I heard the boys giggling. I finally managed to unfold the sheet and get into bed. My embarrassment wasn't about being short sheeted, but I felt awful because in the dark I felt there was a rubber sheet half way on top of my cover sheet. I knew the other boys saw it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the middle of the night, soaking wet. I also discovered that my rubber sheet wasn't covering all of my mattress and I had peed on the mattress. I finally cried myself to sleep, wishing that I was with my mother.
The next morning, I was terribly humiliated as the boys laughed and teased me and the counselor discovered that my mattress was wet. The next day I was transferred into a group in the main building. I was sent to a room with two 7- year olds. You can imagine how embarrassed I felt! When I entered the room, there were the two other smaller boys and my new counselor, who was a girl. On each of the cots was stacked our pillow, sheets, and a rubber sheet. Nothing was said about bed-wetting, but we were each shown how to make our beds up with the rubber sheet going on the mattress first. Although we had a bathroom next to our room, we still had potties under our beds and were told to use them during the night if we needed to pee. Before bedtime, the nurse came into our room and checked my bed. Then she told me that the boys and the counselor in the first group were reprimanded for moving the rubber sheet on my bed. She said I would be happier in this room and close to her room if I needed her help.
That night in bed I was worrying about wetting the bed again but finally fell asleep, sobbing. In the middle of the night I suddenly woke up while I was peeing. It was too late. I was soaking wet! When I tried to get to the nurses room, my counselor, who was sleeping in the next room with some girl campers, heard the squeaking of the floor boards and found me in the hallway. She took me to the nurse's room. She was still up. They both said they were surprised that I wet the bed again. "Nine-year-olds don't usually wet every night like you do", said my counselor. "Go wipe off his rubber sheet, put a dry sheet on and come right back, Sally", the nurse said to my counselor. "I've decided to use the diapers and rubber pants his mother sent along with him, after all. So bring me his little suit case that's in his closet."
The nurse sat me up on the examining table, proceeded to take off my soaked panties and wash my diaper area. I was still in a stupor, not having been awake very long. I just submitted meekly. When Sally came back with my suit case, the nurse had me laying nude on a dry rubber sheet, stripped and ready for diapering. I was mortified! How could my mother have left me to endure such humiliation?!! "Sally, here's some powder to rub on him while I fold these diapers", said the nurse. Then Sally began to rub powder all over my diaper area. When she had me roll over to powder my bottom, the feel of the rubber sheet and the fact that I still hadn't finished peeing when I woke up, made me get a piss hard-on. They both laughed when I was turned over to get diapered. My penis was sticking straight up. But as soon as they laughed, my penis went limp again. But I still had to pee. They forgot to see if I still needed to go to the bathroom before I was all diapered. I whimpered, "I think I need to go!" but they just ignored me and Sally pulled on my rubber pants. "Now get back to bed, Teddy!", she said. "We'll talk about all this in the morning", said the nurse. By the time, I got into my cot, my diapers were soaked. Then I turned over on my tummy, sobbed and finally, as I masturbated in my wet diapers, I fell asleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I had to go with the other boys to the boy's dressing room to get showered and dressed. I noticed that none of the 7-year olds had wet their beds. When I got into the dressing room, the older boys I had bunked with the first night were in there and stood watching and laughing as I came in. The fact that I had on diapers and rubber pants under my pajama bottoms was obvious. I stood petrified, not knowing what to do next. Then their counselor came in and commanded, "C'mon Teddy, you have to get showered and dressed!" When I didn't do anything, he simply pulled down my pajama bottoms. There, in front of all the laughing boys in the bathroom, I was standing in my bulging rubber pants, knowing all were waiting to see me pull down my rubber pants to expose my soaking wet diapers! I continued to stand petrified! Finally, the head boys' counselor came into the noisy room, and promptly pulled me into the shower, pulled down my rubber pants, unpinned my diapers and turned on the shower. There I stood, under the waterfall, with the rubber pants and diapers at my feet and everybody looking in at me! The counselor then made them all get dressed and leave while I was left to wash and dress by myself. Someone had brought in my camp uniform. Except, instead of the regular undershorts, they had gotten my thick, double lined flannel underpants my mother had put in my extra suit case. I was told to wash and ring out my own diapers, dry the rubber pants and take them to the nurses office. I was almost numb with humiliation and shame by this time.
When I came into the dining room for breakfast, everyone knew what happened to me that night and morning. The dining room was in an uproar at my expense! I was so mortified that I wet my pants and ran to my bunk room.
Sally tried to soothe my feelings and stayed with me in my bunk room all morning. She was hugging me and telling me how it wasn't my fault that I still wet the bed. Then she noticed that I had wet my pants. I was inconsolable and bawling loudly. Sally called in the nurse. I cried for my mother and the nurse said everything was going to be all right. As Sally continued trying to soothe my feelings, the nurse spread out my rubber sheet on the cot. Then, as the nurse left the room, she told Sally, "You know what to do." Sally was as gentle and loving as she could be. Finally she got me to quiet down and lay down on the rubber sheet while she removed my wet shorts and panties. By the time she began sprinkling the cool powder on me, I felt completely transformed. It must have been the shock of all the humiliation and beyond that, the tenderness with which Sally was attending to me. I was falling into an ecstatic trance, imagining that I was a little baby again. I don't know how long it was before I finally came back to my normal senses. Then suddenly, there I was, standing in just my rubber pants and diapers as my mother stood in the doorway.
Mother had been summoned to take me from the camp. After all their false promises and wishful thinking, Pine- Wood Camp could not take care of a nine-year-old who still wet his bed every night and sometimes wet his pants as well. I think Mom was a bit embarrassed too, as she hurried to put some sandals on me and usher me out to the car wearing just my rubber pants and diapers.
Things were a lot better back at the old hotel. But it was an anti-climax to the previous events. And things didn't go quite as well as had been hoped for before vacation week began. Mother made me wash my pee-soaked sheets and hang out my own rubber sheet on the hotel laundry line every morning!; I wet my pants during the day several times!; Mimi said, "for a nine-year-old you're still quite a big baby!"; and Mom didn't let me eat in the grown-up dining room with her, after all!
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