Ages: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18+
Current age: 22

Tim's Story

	My name's Tim, I'm 21, and because I still wet the bed I have to 
wear nappies at night. But I don't mind at all – in fact, I love 
wearing them! I never stopped wearing them. I was a chronic bedwetter 
as a little boy, and I just didn't grow out of it; instead I stopped 
trying to fight it and learnt to enjoy it.
	I had a very happy childhood, and it is so comforting to look 
back on it. I am very glad that I was such a heavy bedwetter, and 
allowed to stay in nappies. I guess it was the ideal boyhood for a big 
baby like me. When I could maybe have stopped wetting, say about 12 
like my dad, I didn't want to, and I never did. Anyway, this is my 
story, and I hope you like it.
	Even when I was a young boy, I didn't really mind wetting the 
bed. It's odd to me to read about how many people hated bedwetting when 
they were kids because it never bothered me at all. I have a younger 
brother, 2 years younger, who also wet till he was 10. Both of us 
always wore nappies to bed so I didn't feel that there was anything 
really wrong with me. I couldn't help it; it was the way things were. 
We came from a very loving family but mum and dad had both been late 
bedwetters themselves, so they never made a fuss about it - I guess 
they accepted our bedwetting as inevitable. In fact they were so 
unconcerned about it that it was easy for us to do. I think that they 
are sorry I never grew out of it like my brother did, and are a bit 
disappointed that I still wear nappies, but they're used to it now, and 
I don't get any problems. I'm actually an AB and will probably end up 
wearing them all the time - ah well. Anyway, this is what happened to 
me.
	I was out of daytime nappies before I can remember, but was put 
in nappies every night until I was about 8½. It didn't worry me one bit 
– why would it? After all, it was what I was used to. Getting my 
nappies on was just a natural part of bedtime and I certainly wasn't 
ashamed of it. And when I woke up in the morning my nappies were always 
wet, but so what? That was why I wore them. It just didn't occur to me 
that I could go to bed without nappies on. I wouldn't say that I 
actually enjoyed it, at that stage. It was just the way things were. 
Mum put us in nappies because she thought it was better for us to wear 
them than to wake up in a wet bed (she had worn them till she was 8 but 
then had to stop, and the next few years of wet beds and shame were 
horrible for her, so she didn't want to make the same mistake with us – 
thank goodness!)
	So all in all I was quite happy with things, until one night mum 
didn't put them on me as usual. We'd been to see the doctor that day, 
and she'd mentioned the bedwetting and that I still wore nappies – he 
had disapproved and suggested that I was too old for them, and that 
they might even make things worse, so mum said she was going to stop 
putting them on me. I was a bit surprised, and I guess I figured that 
it meant I wouldn't wet anymore – but that wasn't what happened. No, I 
woke up soaking wet, and it was most unpleasant. I couldn't understand 
why I'd stopped wearing nappies at all; I woke up in the night, and I 
got quite upset about it. Not about the bedwetting, because that just 
happened and I never understood how I could stop it, but I hated the 
wet sheets. This went on for quite a few weeks.
	One night I woke up again in the middle of the night, ringing 
wet, and went through to wake mum and dad. I was tearful and grumpy.
	"Never mind," said mum, getting up, "I'll change your sheets."
	Dad said: "Bloody hell, ever since you took him out of nappies, I 
haven't had a full night's sleep!"
	"I'm sure your mother thought that too" (my dad wet till his 
early teens) "And the doctor said -"
	"Yeah well the doctor isn't changing his bed in the middle of the 
night."
	"Yes but Tim doesn't want to go back to nappies, do you dear?"
	"I don't care," I said, "it's better than waking up all wet. And 
Darren still wears them."
	"Well anyway -" my mum changed my sheets and I went back to bed. 
When I woke up I was wet – again. I was a very heavy wetter when I was 
8, and this often happened.
	My mum didn't say anything, but that evening I went up to my room 
to see her putting Darren in his nappies. I watched, thinking: "I need 
them too." When she'd finished she let him down on the floor then 
turned to me:
	"Do you want me to put you back into nappies again?"
	I shrugged, "Don't care."
	She sighed. "All right then, maybe till you start to grow out of 
it." I lay down on the bed, and she slipped the nappy under me and 
taped up the sides. It felt nice, to have one on again, and when I 
stood up I liked the crinkling sound it made. It also felt right when I 
went off to play with Darren before bed, both in our nappies again. 
Oddly; I don't remember any great sense of achievement or triumph, just 
a quiet pleasure. Everything felt right again, it just seemed like the 
obvious thing to happen to me. That was the only time in my life when 
I've ever been out of night nappies – and it sure won't happen again!
	Anyway, the bedwetting carried on. I would wet almost every night 
without fail, but of course I was so used to it that I really didn't 
mind. To be honest, I don't think I even noticed much. I expected to 
wet myself while I was asleep, and I did. Darren stopped wearing 
nappies when he was 10, but that was because he began to dry up and 
wasn't so keen on them anyway. I kind of missed having him in nappies 
with me at night, but it didn't make me want to give them up – I sort 
of felt even then that the nappies, like the bedwetting, were a part of 
me.
	My parents did make a small effort – they tried me with a wetting 
alarm. It was a little probe thing that they stuck to the inside of my 
nappies, connected to a small white box, which bleeped whenever I wet. 
Well, it nearly worked - but not quite. The first few days I woke wet 
with the alarm bleeping, then I started to wake with a start, just when 
I'd begun to wet. I would get up, but I'd still be wet in the morning.
	Then, one night, I woke up before I'd peed. I lay there in bed 
thinking "wow, I'm not wet!" I put my hand down my nappies to make sure 
- dry! So I ought to get up and pee. But - I was confused; somehow it 
just didn't feel right. I did go to the toilet, but it wasn't a great 
success because I couldn't really get my willy out properly. It's 
awkward to pee over the top of nappies and it went everywhere. I got 
quickly back in bed. Maybe, I thought, that was the end of my 
bedwetting, and my nappies, or at least the beginning of the end but …
	I remember lying in bed that night, thinking hard. I didn't want 
to get woken up every night because I had to pee (I don't think I 
considered that I wouldn't need to get up at all, if I was dry) and I 
knew that up until the alarm arrived I'd always slept really well and 
the bedwetting didn't disturb me at all. In fact, I thought, if 
anything I quite liked the bedwetting, it was somehow….comforting, and 
the wet nappies weren't nasty - I hardly even noticed them. Or did I? I 
remember moving about inside them and listening to the crinkling sound 
and feeling them tight between my legs. They felt Ok; good in fact. 
Perhaps I liked them after all. And when I wet again it wouldn't matter 
because I had the nappies on. But I didn't want to wake up again so I 
pulled out the probe and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the 
morning I was wet again and realised that I was happy to be like that. 
My nappies were thoroughly soaked and they felt nice and warm and heavy 
– wow, that was great! I just tingled with pleasure all over. I 
thought: "this is nice, I like wearing my nappies," and kind of 
realised that I didn't want to stop wearing them, and didn't mind if I 
kept wetting them at night. It was a comforting thought and made me 
strangely happy. But meanwhile, I'd have to do something about that 
alarm.
	Well, the next night I managed to use it to my own advantage. I 
remember that it woke me just after I'd started to pee. I woke up 
suddenly to the bleeping noise, and felt cross. I hate this thing, I 
thought, waking me up like this. I switched off the alarm and put my 
hand down the front of my nappies, to find myself a little wet. I 
thought about getting up and using the bathroom, but this time I 
decided not to. "I am a bedwetter," I thought, "so I wet the bed. I 
don't think I am ever going to stop - I don't think I want to stop." 
This was an exciting thought, and I repeated it over and over in my 
mind – yes, that was the truth, I liked being a bedwetter, I liked 
wetting the bed, and nothing was going to stop me; If I was going to 
wet, I was going to wet. I pulled the little probe out, turned over on 
to my back, and had that pee right in my nappies.
	That was the first time I ever wet deliberately. It felt 
wonderful. "Wow," I thought, "this is brilliant. Why haven't I done 
this before?" I resolved to do it again. The next night the same thing 
happened, but this time I didn't hesitate, I simply carried on peeing 
as the machine bleeped, enjoying the feeling of wetness as my pee 
spread right around to my bottom, and then, as I continued to pee, to 
leak out, wetting my pyjamas and the bed. Lovely.
	I still felt the same in the morning, waking up in my wet bed, in 
sopping nappies. I just felt brilliant! From then on I understood – I 
loved wetting the bed, and wearing nappies and I hoped I never, never 
stopped! Yes, at around 12 years old, I finally accepted and welcomed 
my state, and made the decision, which I have never regretted, not to 
learn nighttime control and to carry on wetting the bed helplessly at 
night. At last I was in control of my wetting – I was choosing to do 
it, and that was what I wanted. I looked forward eagerly to my mother 
nappying me at night (though I had to hide it) and wetting them when 
the light went out.
	(I think it was that morning or soon after that I first became 
aware of my stiffie, when I turned over on to my front and began to 
move up and down, rubbing it on the wet nappy, a habit that I soon took 
to enthusiastically.)
	After a while I stopped using the machine. I didn't like being 
woken up, and now that I had discovered the pleasure of wetting 
deliberately I usually did that, just before going to sleep, and then 
when I woke up in the morning too, so I would pull the probe out and 
the machine was idle. (Incidentally, I have just got myself an alarm 
again, out of interest. It can be quite nice to be woken in the middle 
of the night, by an alarm, which tells you when you have just started 
to wet, and then to continue till the nappies are full. I have found 
out that I first wet about two hours after I've fallen asleep. Try an 
alarm – it's interesting and reassures you that you really are a 
helpless bedwetter!)
	I think that time was the greatest of my life. Of course I didn't 
understand why I wanted to wear nappies so much and wet at night, I 
just knew that I did. It just felt so right. I really looked forward to 
bedtime, and to waking up wet in the morning.
	 My mum soon became quite concerned because now I was wetting 
more than ever, and the nappies leaked, so the bed was wet in the 
morning too. I wasn't waking my parents up anymore if I woke wet in the 
middle of the night because now I was perfectly happy to be in wet 
sheets – but in any case I had pretty much stopped waking up however 
wet I was.
	 "I'm really worried, dear," she said one morning, "you're 12 now 
and you're wetting your bed worse than ever. I'm not sure that you're 
really trying to stop – it doesn't seem to bother you at all. And I 
don't think that you should be wearing nappies still, not at your age."
	I remember, just on that one morning, feeling ashamed and 
babyish, but in a bad way. I was standing next to my bed, with the 
sheet all creased up, in pyjamas that were cold and soaking wet, and a 
heavy, drenched nappy hanging down beneath them, with the plastic 
waistband sticking out above the pyjama bottoms. I burst into tears.
	"I'm sorry mum but I really, really can't help it," I sobbed. 
"I'll try harder, I promise."
	"But what about the nappies? I think you like wearing them."
	"Oh mum, please, please don't take them off me. I can't sleep 
without them. I'll try not to wet them, honest I will, but I can't help 
it!" I didn't answer her question.
	"All right, all right, I know you can't…but if you must wear 
nappies then I suppose I'll just have to get you some thicker ones." I 
continued crying, hugging her. "Now stop crying. I know what it is, 
you're still a bit of a baby, and it's my fault, I shouldn't have kept 
you in nappies so long – but I suppose it doesn't really matter. You're 
a good boy in every other way."
	"Thanks mum," I said, "I'll try to stay dry at night."
	My mum was as good as her word (though I wasn't!) and one night I 
went up to find a stack of terry nappies by my bed. I felt quite 
excited to see them there and knowing they were for me. I enjoyed it as 
she pinned me in tightly. Then she unfolded a new pair of plastic pants 
(I'd never worn these before – wow!) and pulled them over the nappies 
and carefully round the sides. They felt perfectly comfortable, and 
right. To my delight, these became my new nightwear. I loved wearing 
them and I began to really enjoy bedtime. With the new nappies I could 
wet quite heavily without them leaking, and from then on I hardly ever 
had a wet bed again.
	My mum nappied me at night for the next year or so, until she 
realised quite how much I liked the nappies. I got a huge erection one 
night as she was putting them me and she stared at it and said: "you 
really do like wearing nappies, don't you? After a long pause I said 
"yes." She sighed. "Oh dear, I should have taken you out of them long 
ago. Well, from now on you can put on your own nappies if they're going 
to make you all ...excited. Tomorrow you can nappy yourself. You are 
too old for mummy to do it to you."
	And that was the last time she put me in nappies. For a while, 
after she found out how nappy dependent I was, and that I just wasn't 
going to stop wearing them – ever – she felt guilty about what she did 
to me, but now she's cool with it, because she knows how happy I am 
that she did baby me, and accepts that I will always be a bedwetter, 
and that I just have to wear nappies.
	I quickly found that the wetting actually gave me confidence – 
every morning I woke up in my wet nappies feeling very happy, and the 
days just seemed to go well after that. I did have one or two dry 
nights, when I was about 13 and that made me a bit miserable, but I 
would immediately wet myself so that my mother never knew. I suppose I 
would have started to grow out of it, but by ignoring the dry nights 
they gradually went away and by 14 I was wet every night again, which 
was what I wanted.
	I knew now that I was always going to be a bedwetter and the 
prospect filled me with joy.
	(Once I realised how much I liked the nappies I got my brother to 
take some photos of me – now I have a really nice series of photos of 
me, at 12, wearing nappies before bed and in wet ones in the morning – 
I look so happy. What a nice souvenir!)
	I began to make lots of friends, telling some of them that I wet 
the bed, then finally invited one, Bill, to stay the night.
	When he arrived I decided to tell him right away. Standing at the 
door I said:
	"Can you keep a secret?" He said he could. "Well," I explained, 
"because I always wet the bed…I have to wear nappies at night."
	"Nappies? What like babies wear?"
	"Yeah," I said. "They keep the bed dry, and I'm used to it so I 
don't really care." I opened the door to my room and he gawped at the 
sight of all my nappies lying round the bed in piles, and plastic pants 
hanging up to dry. Well he was quite shocked but by bedtime he was kind 
of used to it, though he was still a bit surprised to see me come down 
just before bed with my bulging nappies on under my PJs, and when he 
saw me in my wet nappies in the morning, obviously quite happy with it.
	He was soon used to the idea, and when I got to spend a night at 
his house he arranged for me to wear them there. His mum was surprised 
too, but when she saw how relaxed I was about it she came round to the 
idea and there was never any problem. (In fact, my example was noticed 
– though Bill didn't wet his 8-year-old brother did. As a result of my 
quiet confidence and open nappy wearing he started wearing them too – 
and imagine how good I felt, going round for a sleepover and seeing his 
little brother in nappies and plastic pants, quite happy, like me. He 
wore them till he was 12, I think)
	As for me I finally confessed to all my family. One morning I 
went down to breakfast in my wet nappies (I was 13, and by now, if my 
PJs weren't wet, I didn't get changed till after breakfast. I liked the 
feeling of being in wet nappies and didn't really like taking them 
off.) I sat down. Darren, who I reckon knew before anyone else said: 
"did you wet last night?" Well, of course I had, I always did. But 
rather than be ashamed I said, after a pause:
	"Yes thank you. You know I always wet at night. And….well I think 
I'm always going to wet. I'm so used to it that it doesn't bother me in 
fact – I quite like it now. And I don't mind wearing nappies, either. 
And I don't care who knows."
	It was such a relief, to finally admit it. They were taken aback 
by my admission, and my mum said she hoped that I would manage to give 
up, but I knew I wouldn't. I confessed more to Darren later. "I like it 
now," I said. "I hope I never stop." He said: "it's a bit weird. I'm 
glad I don't have to any more, or I might be like you!"
	I now completely accepted that I was always going to be a 
bedwetter and I simply didn't want to stop. To make sure I carried on 
wetting at night I would repeat to myself over and over again: "I am a 
bedwetter and I always wet my bed. I am never going to stop. I wet my 
nappies when I am asleep, and when I wake up I enjoy being wet. I like 
wetting my bed." This worked – I was soon back to full, proper 
bedwetting again, it felt effortless, and increased my pleasure. And I 
would masturbate in nappies every morning when I woke up, which I 
loved.
	 After that, it just became the accepted thing. I was so lucky. I 
could wear nice thick nappies, and those lovely plastic pants – I 
quickly became a big fan of those – to bed every night, and I carried 
on wetting in my sleep, as I have to the present day.
	I made it obvious to my parents that this was what I wanted, and 
that since it didn't bother me I would just wait till I dried up - like 
Darren. I put on my own nappies about an hour before bedtime and would 
wear them openly around the house, dry or wet. I was proud of them, and 
thought they looked and felt so nice. I went out and found them to fit 
me in a local disabled store, and took care of the bedding, so they 
just got used to it. And since I studied hard and was happy and had 
friends there didn't seem to be a problem. I told anyone who asked and 
no one gave me a hard time. And in the morning I really loved the warm 
damp feeling of the nappies, and the fact that I always wet when I was 
asleep, just like a baby. I never tried to stop wetting (and yes, if as 
a little boy you decide to keep wetting and you don't try to stop and 
just keep doing it, it does carry on!)
	Now I'm 21 and would be really unhappy if I woke up dry, but then 
I never do. I am genuinely and happily completely nighttime 
incontinent. I wear nappies and plastic pants to bed, and can't 
remember a dry night. It feels wonderful to simply pee in my sleep, 
where my untrained bladder just empties in my dreams, and to wake up 
with no recollection of it happening at all, in very wet nappies and 
plastic pants. And I managed to avoid ever getting dry at night! Now I 
sometimes wear them during the day too, and in fact this is more and 
more often. The other day I got a pacifier and I like that too – I'm an 
AB now. But I was lucky – I got to experience it all when I was a 
little boy, and I don't regret a moment of it. Obviously this is the 
way to treat your own little bedwetter.