Confessions of a Babysitter

If you're into kids in underwear and bedwetting, babysitting is the job 
for you! The neighborhood we lived in had lots of old people and lot of 
families with little kids, but no kids my age. The kids closest to my 
age were my three younger brothers (Steve, Scott, and Matt). There was 
about a year between each of us. That meant there were lots of jobs 
cutting grass and babysitting, but very few kids to do them. Once we 
were old enough, that kept my brothers and me pretty busy, and with 
plenty of money. Since I was the oldest and by far the most responsible 
I got most of the babysitting jobs, while my brothers did most of the 
grass cutting. These are true confessions about of some of my 
babysitting jobs (the names have been changed a little, just in case).

Alan and Andy Sadowski were my regular Friday night babysitting job. 
Most families would have the kids ready for bed when I got there 
(unless it was really early), but not the Sadowski's. It was understood 
that part of the job was to give Alan and Andy their baths and get them 
ready for bed. Even up to the time they moved away, when Alan was 11�, 
I would undress them, give them baths, and dress them for bed. As soon 
as their parents left we went up stairs, got the kids undressed, put 
them in the tub, and bathed them. I would dry them off and sent them 
downstairs. When I got downstairs after cleaning up the bathroom they 
would be sitting on the couch, naked, watching TV. They did not care 
about being naked, and would fight getting dressed for bed, I think 
because they thought once they were dressed for bed they would soon be 
in bed. Particularly Andy, who at 4 (when I first started sitting them) 
was still wearing diapers to bed and hating it. After giving them a 
bath I'd try to put Alan (2 years older than Andy) in underwear, and 
then he would laugh as I tried to diaper Andy. At their parents' 
suggestion, I eventually gave up and just put them both into underpants 
right before bed. That is all they wore to bed, even when friends were 
over for the night they just wore underpants.

But Andy didn't stop wetting. Typically, a couple hours after he had 
gone to sleep he would wake up crying, and soaking wet. I'd change him 
and, not wanting to re-make his bed, I'd put him into Alan's bed. One 
time I was putting Alan to bed and he said, "Last week after you put 
Andy in my bed he was wet again, and I was sleeping in it." "If you 
were sleeping in it, how did you know you didn't wet your bed?" I 
asked. "Because his bottom was wet, but only my top and head was wet!" 
And then he giggled; he thought it was funny that he ended up sleeping 
in his brother's pee. (Ugg.) I was still talking to him about ten 
minutes later when he said he had to pee and started to pull the covers 
back to get up. Considering what he had just said, and figuring this 
was just another stalling tactic to stay up a little while longer I 
said, "Why don't you just sit there and wet your bed? Then it will be 
just like last week when Andy wet it." I was surprised when Alan sat 
back down and it was obvious he was thinking about doing it. After what 
seemed like a long time of him sitting there thinking it over Alan 
grabbed his dick, got out of bed, and ran into the bathroom. When he 
came back there was a wet spot on the front of his underpants about the 
size of his hand. "Why didn't you wet the bed?" I asked. "Because daddy 
would beat me just like he does to Andy when he wets!" Now I knew why 
Andy always cried when he wet the bed. Too bad, too; if their dad 
didn't beat Andy for wetting Alan might have really sat there and wet 
his bed just because I suggested it.

Another couple down the street, the Wallinger's, were really good 
friends with the Sadowski's. They had a boy Alan's age (named George) 
and a girl less than two years older (named Christine). Sometimes the 
couples would go out together and I would babysit on all four kids at 
the Sadowski's house. The first couple of times I babysat on the 
Wallinger kids they were at the Sadowki's house. Alan and George were 
about 8 when this started. It was funny seeing George and Christine in 
nice, knit pajamas, with the tops tucked in, while Alan and Andy were 
playing only in underpants. When I sat on all of them Mrs. Sadowski 
would have already gotten Alan and Andy ready for bed (instead of me 
having to bathe Alan and Andy).

About an hour after putting them to bed the first time I was sitting on 
all of them together I heard the floor above me creak so I knew someone 
was up, but there wasn't any crying so I knew it wasn't Andy having 
wet. Christine was sleeping in Alan's bed and the three boys had gone 
to sleep on the floor in sleeping bags in Alan's room. When I got up to 
the bedroom George was standing in the circle of sleeping bags holding 
his dick, fidgeting, and whimpering; but his eyes were closed. I could 
tell he had to pee really badly, but he was more asleep than awake. I 
guided him to the bathroom and stood him I front of the toilet, but he 
just kept fidgeting and whimpering and holding himself with his eyes 
closed. He wouldn't pull down his pajamas, pull out his dick, or pee. 
Not knowing what to do, I just said, "Well, go ahead, George. Pee!" 
Immediately he stopped fidgeting and whimpering, let go of his dick, 
said "Pee" a couple of times, and started to wet his pajamas! And he 
really soaked them! By the time he was done his light blue pajamas were 
dark blue from just below the waist band, down the inside half of both 
legs to his socks that were soaked too since he was standing in a 
puddle. And his eyes were still closed. I didn't know what to do since 
the kids had arrived at the Sadowski's house in their pajamas. I guess 
I could have taken him back to the bedroom, taken the wet pajamas off, 
and put a pair of Alan's underpants on him, but instead I just put him 
back into the sleeping bag. I didn't tell the Wallinger's about it; I 
figured they would just guess he wet himself without getting up.

About three weeks later I was called to babysit the four again. When I 
got there Mrs. Wallinger told me in front of everybody, except her 
husband, who was at the car, "George was really soaked last time. Make 
sure he goes to the bathroom before bed and to take him to the toilet 
again at 11:00." Nobody batted an eye; I guess I was the only one in 
the group who didn't know George was a wetter. I did what I was told 
but George was sound asleep at 11:00 and I couldn't get him to wake up 
and pee. But he was still dry when his parents got back because they 
weren't as late as they usually stayed out.

A few weeks later I babysat only on George and Christina at their 
house. Mr. Wallinger gave he the same instructions about George, but I 
said that I had hadn't been able to get him to wake up and pee. "Oh, 
sorry about that," Mr. Wallinger said. "My wife didn't give the entire 
instructions. George is a very sound sleeper. You can't wake him up. 
Just take him to the bathroom, pull his pajamas and underpants down, 
aim him at the toilet, and then say 'Pee'. He will then say 'Pee" a few 
times, and then he will go." I guess I looked shocked because Mr. 
Wallinger continued, "Let me explain. When we were trying to potty 
train George we would pick him put from bed before he wet and set him 
on the potty, and say 'Pee'. When he did we would give him a cookie, if 
he was awake by that time, but most often he peed while at least 
partially asleep. We did the same every hour during the day, too. It's 
close to the same way I train my hunting dogs. Pretty soon he would pee 
on the command 'Pee'. We didn't need to wake him up, just aim him and 
say 'Pee' and he seemed to hear. His pediatrician says he has a very 
pliable mind, whatever that means". That was great, I thought! When I 
have sons I was going to train my boys the same way! I had stumbled 
onto the command the night George wet his pajamas; I just didn't know 
it! I could hardly wait to try it out again!

Before they went to bed and George was not in the room, I asked 
Christine about George's wetting. She said he doesn't wet the bed; he 
gets up while still asleep, and then can't find the bathroom because he 
is asleep, and wets his pajamas. That night at 11:00 I got George up 
and walked him to the bathroom. When we got to the bathroom he was 
still very much asleep so I pulled his pajamas and underpants down, 
aimed him, and said, "Pee!" After he so of said "Pee" a few times he 
peed, all over the toilet seat and lid, and finally, after I adjusted 
him better, in the toilet too. I was amazed! I couldn't get it out of 
my mind. What about daytime? Would he wet his pants if I said "Pee" to 
him when he was awake? Would he wet his bed if he was in bed when I 
said "Pee"? I had to find out! But I ended up waiting a while before I 
could find out. About three months later I had my best chance.

The Sadowski kids were sick so their parents stayed home, and Christine 
was staying over at another friend's house, so I only babysat George 
when the Wallingers went out that night. I was worried he might tell 
his parents what I was doing if he figured it out, so I had thought 
long and hard about how I would explain why I said "Pee" to him after I 
did it. I had it all planned out. First we had some pop to drink. He 
wasn't allowed pop in the evening for obvious reasons, so it could be 
used as a bribe in part and also to get the pee going, too. About 20 
minutes later I suggested we play a guessing game. I would write 
something down and he would try to guess it, and then he would think of 
something and I would try to guess. After a while of doing this he 
started to get fidgety. I figured he was primed and this was my chance. 
"I bet you can't guess my middle initial in three guesses," I said. 
"Sure I can," said George, "G?" "No," I said. "R?" "Yeah, that's it," I 
lied. How did you guess, can you read minds?" "Yep," George said, "I 
can read your mind. Now guess my middle initial." "You better sit there 
and not think of anything or I will read your mind, too," I said. I let 
him sit there a little bit trying not to think of anything and then I 
leaned over and in a loud voice I said "Pee!" The effect was immediate. 
A shocked look came over George's face, he grabbed his dick, and he ran 
from the family room and into the bathroom. When he finally came out a 
couple minutes later I asked him what was the matter and he said, "I 
really had to pee." he took the towel from in front of his pajamas and 
there was a really big wet spot with a trickle down one leg; ".you 
won't tell them will you? My dad gets really mad sometimes," he moaned. 
IT WORKED! IT REALLY WORKED! I MADE HIM PEE HIS PANTS AND HE DOESN'T 
EVEN KNOW IT WAS INTENTIONAL! "No, George, I won't tell them. In fact, 
lets quick take them off, rinse them, and put them in the dryer. Then 
you can wear them to bed and they won't know." His eyes lit up and he 
took off his pajama bottoms and underpants and handed them to me. With 
no pants on he led me to the laundry room and watched as I rinsed the 
wet spots and then put the pajamas and underpants in the dryer. He 
wanted to put on other underwear, but I told him they would know if he 
wore another pair, so for the next half hour he sat and watched TV with 
no bottoms on. By the time they were dry it was time for bed. He put 
them on and I put him to bed without suggesting he try to pee.

I had planned to wait until the next babysitting job for my next 
experiment, but I was so excited about how well the one had worked I 
wanted to try the next one that night, too. I waited until about 11:30 
so I knew he would be asleep and ready to pee. I made sure he was 
asleep and that the bed was dry, and then said quietly to him, "I like 
to wet my bed. I want to wet my bed." George mumbled something in 
response. I said it again and he mumbled something back. The third time 
I tried I was pretty sure he was repeating what I told him, so I then 
said, "Pee." Like before, he said, "Pee" a few times. I carefully 
reached under the blanket and HE WAS WET! HE HAD PEED! IT WORKED AGAIN! 
I then pushed my luck and three times said to George, "I like sleeping 
in a wet bed." He mumbled something back to me each time and I left his 
room.

When his parents came home I told them he wouldn't go for me at 11:00 
but I heard him at 11:30, and when I got to his room he was wet and 
already back in bed. They seemed to accept that. They paid me and I 
went home.

If his father could train him to pee on command, I was hoping to train 
George to be a bed wetter. From that point on, every time I babysat 
them I said the same thing to George in bed when he was asleep (making 
sure his sister down the hall didn't hear) and then made up something 
to explain to his parents why he was wet again. Whether or not I would 
get him to wet on his own, I really didn't care, because I got a real 
thrill each time I made him wet his bed. The following summer I was 
babysitting on Alan and Andy Sadowski. As I was getting ready to give 
them their bath and Alan pointed to a sleeping bag hanging over the tub 
and he said, "Me and a bunch of friends had a sleep over last night and 
George wet his sleeping bag again." The next time I babysat at the 
Wallingers they didn't say anything, but George's mattress now had a 
plastic sheet on it, and Christine was happy to point out that the 
second pair of pajamas next to his bed were for me to put on George 
when he wets. IT HAD WORKED! HE WAS WETTING THE BED ON HIS OWN! Only 
later did I think, Boy I am a bastard for doing that.

The Novacks lived next door to the Wallingers. They had six kids, two 
girls and four boys (the order was girl, boy, girl, boy, boy, boy) less 
than a year apart. Tommy was the oldest boy, and Billy was the next 
oldest boy. I don't remember the other kids names at this point. I only 
babysat on them a few times because they didn't have much extra money 
to spend on going out. But the kids were hard to control so when they 
did go out I was the babysitter of choice. Tommy was a typical bed 
wetter, but none of the other kids in the family wet. Tommy had never 
really been dry at night, and every kid in the neighborhood knew it. 
Nobody teased him, though, because he was also pretty tough and you 
could end up with a bloody lip making fun of him. Today, if you had a 
kid like Tommy you would probably put him in Goodnights, pull ups, or 
other big kid diapers. But they weren't around then and wearing diapers 
was a lot less accepted then. All they did was put a plastic sheet on 
the mattress. The first night I babysat on them I was checking on the 
boys and found him soaking wet. He woke up as I was feeling the wet 
sheet. "Here, let me change you," I said. I could tell he was 
embarrassed. This was the first time I had seen him wet and he didn't 
like it that I saw. "No, just leave me alone," Tommy said and rolled 
over. "But you are wet!" "I don't care," he said. "Just go away." It 
turned out that was what always happened; he wet the bed and slept in 
it all night.

Besides the bedwetting, the most interesting thing about the Novacks 
was the way the boys got ready for bed. They would play 'baseball' with 
a balled up sock and a rolled towel. I had sent the boys upstairs to 
get ready for bed and started hearing all this running around. When I 
got upstairs to see what was going on they were hiding behind the 
closet door. When I told them to come out two were in underpants, one 
was just wearing socks, and the other was just in a t-shirt. When I 
asked them what was going on they said they were getting ready for bed 
and explained they did that by playing baseball. They were in two teams 
of two each. One kid would pitch the sock and the batter would try to 
hit it. If he struck out he would take off something. If he made a hit 
the pitcher would take off something. Foul balls didn't count either 
way. Depending on how the play was made, they either got to choose what 
to take off or were told what to take off by the other team (I never 
understood how they figured this out). After two outs the teams would 
switch. After they were naked they would reverse the process. On the 
next 'out' they would start putting on clean underwear and their 
pajamas, one piece at a time. It took a while to get them ready for bed 
this way. I asked them if their parents knew about this, and they said, 
"Daddy told us how to do this." The girls confirmed it. I really got a 
kick out of watching them do this, so every time I baby sat them I 
always made sure to go up stairs to check on them soon after they 
started getting ready for bed.

Once, when they were already for bed when I got there to babysit, but 
were really wild and needed to blow off some steam, I suggested they 
play baseball anyway. They said they were already in their pajamas I 
said, "So? What difference does that make?" They got the hint and went 
up stairs to play. And I soon followed. As I got to the top of the 
stairs I noticed a dim light coming through the other bedroom down the 
hall. All the houses in our neighborhood were built close together and 
pretty much in a line, so you could look from the upstairs bedrooms in 
one house into the bedroom next door, down their hallway, and into the 
far bedroom of your neighbor's house. The light was coming from the 
Wallinger's house and I could tell from the backlighting that Christine 
and George were watching the 'baseball' game. Christine and George 
didn't know I saw them and I didn't say a thing until the four Novack 
boys were pretty much down to underpants or nothing. Then I told them I 
wanted to show them something. I had them line up in the doorway facing 
away from next door. Then told them to turn around and wave. It was 
hysterical when the six kids saw each other. The Wallinger kids and I 
laughed as the four Novack boys ran for cover. After that, Tommy always 
made sure the shade was pulled and the door was closed when they played 
baseball.

Another family I babysat for a few times one year was the Cockrans. 
They had three boys who were in 6th, 4th, and 2nd grades that year. 
After that year I think they figured their oldest son was old enough to 
watch the others on his own. The first time I babysat they were all 
ready for bed when I got there, so when it came time I just sent them 
to bed. The second time I babysat there the parents were going to a 
wedding so I got there late afternoon and had to serve the kids dinner 
along with the usually stuff. About an hour before bedtime I sent them 
upstairs to get ready for bed. Shortly Greg, the oldest, came down in 
his pajamas and said that Bruce and Tim wouldn't get into their 
pajamas. I went up stairs to find Bruce in his underwear and Tim still 
in his clothes. "I don't want to put my pajamas on," said Bruce. That 
was fine by me. They were more cute in their briefs than pajamas 
anyway, but telling them that was not good, so I said, "put on your 
pajamas, or else." With no conviction in my voice and no 'or else' to 
back it up it had the exact effects I wanted-he stayed in only his 
underpants the rest of the evening.

Tim said he couldn't find his pajamas. So we looked all over the house 
for them without success. We went back to their room and I went to 
check behind the bed, which he didn't want me to do. I thought that was 
because he had hidden them there, but that was not the reason. As I 
went to get on the bed he said, "No!" But it was too late. I kneeled on 
the bed and it crackled. I looked behind the bed, but there were no 
pajamas. I turned around on the bed and sat on it. "I think I know 
where they are," I told the three boys as I pulled up the fitted sheet 
to expose the plastic sheet. "Tim, you wet them last night; they are in 
the wash." Tim said, "No." But the look on Bruce and Greg's faces and 
their snickering said I was right. I got up and said, "And were there 
is one bedwetter there is usually more, right guys?" Before they could 
say anything I squeezed Bruce's upper bunk bed mattress "crackle" and 
sat on Greg's lower bunk bed "crackle" and pulled back the corners!
 of fitted sheets to expose plastic covers. The rest of the evening 
both Bruce and Greg vehemently denied wetting their beds. When Mr. And 
Mrs. Cockran got home I told them that Tim was asleep in his clothes 
because we couldn't find his pajamas. She confirmed it was because he 
had wet last night. When I asked about the plastic sheets she said the 
boys were not really wetters, they just had a few accidents a year, the 
bigger problem was protecting the mattresses from dirt, spilled drinks, 
water paints, and a bunch of other stuff the boys ended up doing in or 
to their beds. (Darn!)

I babysat on about five other families regularly and had a few 
occasional ones, but none of them had kids that wet, so there is no 
need to tell you about those kids. But the one thing that all of these 
kids and families had in common (those that wet and those that didn't) 
was that none of them knew their babysitter had a plastic sheet on his 
bed, too. And so did my brothers. And it wasn't to protect the mattress 
from spilled drinks, either. The four of us (me, Steve, Scott, and 
Matt) regularly wet our beds. From the time we were out of the crib 
until we left home, we slept in one bedroom with two bunk beds, and no 
matter what our parents tried, we each ended up wet about one to three 
times a week. Unlike many of the families I talked about above, after a 
while, a wet bed was no big thing at our house. By the time they were 
potty training my youngest brother my parents weren't even hoping to 
keep him dry a night-they knew it was a lost cause. And in conforming 
to the times, they took us out of nighttime diapers by the time we were 
five, even though we were still wetting at night. At first, when we 
would wet, we would get up, wake up mom and have her change us and the 
bed. But shortly, in hopes of stopping the wetting (in part) and so we 
wouldn't bother them (mostly I guess), my parents said we had to change 
our selves, and they set up a routine to deal with the wetting.

So, for almost as long as I can remember this was the routine at our 
house: We would wear pajamas to bed, and extra pairs of underwear for 
each of us would be laid out in the bathroom. When we woke up wet we 
were not allowed to go bother our parents. Instead we would go to the 
bathroom, peal off the wet stuff and put it in the tub, dry off with a 
towel meant for that purpose, put on dry underwear, and crawl into one 
of our brothers' bed for the rest of the night. (And hope he didn't wet 
too.) Breakfast was served first thing in the morning, so we went down 
to eat wearing whatever we had on in bed; no changing allowed. There 
were four calendars in the kitchen, one for each of us. As we came into 
the kitchen, Mom would say "Wet" and mark a big 'W' in black marker on 
the day if we were wearing underpants, or say "Dry" and mark nothing if 
we were still wearing our pajamas. After breakfast we changed into 
school clothes or play clothes and nothing more was said about it.

During the day she changed and washed all the wet things. She went 
through a lot of markers and wrote more 'W's than any other letter of 
the alphabet over the years. This continued until we each left home at 
18 to go to college.

Only once did I dare put on clothes for breakfast. When I was about 8, 
an older cousin, Robert, stayed with us for a week. The first night me 
and my brother Scott (he was 6 at the time) wet our beds. In the 
morning Scott, like a good little boy, wore underwear downstairs, but I 
was too embarrassed to do in front of cousin Robert, so I put on jeans. 
When I got to the kitchen Mom asked if I had wet the bed. I said "No" 
but my brothers said "Yes". Mom striped my jeans and underwear off of 
me and spanked me in front of everybody, for lying to her. Then she 
said, "Since you say you did not wet, go back up stairs and put your 
pajamas back on and come down to breakfast." Not wanting another 
spanking I put them on and came down even though I didn't want Robert 
to see me in wet pajamas. She made me wear them until they were dry, 
which was some time after lunch. Then I was allowed to wear only 
underpants the rest of the day. After that nobody tried to buck the 
routine.

That's my confession.

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What diapers do you wear? Cloth Disposable Multiple Underpants I do not wear diapers
Are your diapers plain white? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Do you wear multiple diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Are you pantsless at home while in diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
How do you use your diapers? Pee Poop
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