The Chronicles of a Chronic Bed Wetter

As the alarm nudges, you awake, and the reality of the morning starts to filter into your senses, you become aware of something else – it happened again.  As a result, you can feel the now cooled wetness of your pajamas and underwear sticking to your skin; the dampness underneath you makes you uncomfortably conscious of what occurred during your slumber – you wet the bed… again.  And again, you ask yourself why you are a chronic bed wetter.

You cringe and squeeze your eyes shut as if denial will change the facts. You take a deep breath, resolved to what you can’t change, and start to get up.  The loud sounds of the plastic sheets are magnified by the odd low squeak that only happens when wet material meets the unique qualities of plastic.

As you peel away the wet garments, you finally remember what she said the last time you had an “accident”.  What if it happened again, she would have to take more drastic measures. That perhaps you didn’t have the proper motivation to change your nocturnal excursions.

Perhaps deep down you enjoy being a chronic bed wetter.


Consequently, she continued to berate you, informing you that if your bed-wetting happens again, she will have to make some adjustments; that she wasn’t going to have a chronic bed-wetter for a son anymore.   In contrast, your mom said it in such an odd, quiet manner that it sent shivers up your spine.  One thing was for sure – you didn’t want to find out what those “adjustments” were.

You scramble to gather your wet pajamas, and your stained underwear, stripping your bed of the proof of your weak bladder.  Balling them all up and stuffing them all in the back of your closet, you then throw the bedspread over the mattress in hopes to conceal the lack of said bedding.

You quickly get yourself dressed and barrel down the stairs, grabbing your books, gulping down a glass of orange juice, and muttering how you gotta go if you’re not gonna miss the bus.  You figure a swift exit would be the best way to avoid the inquiries as to “how you slept” – code for ‘did you wet the bed last night?’.

 As the day progresses, you’re thankful that there was no school diapering policy, and you forget about the morning events.  At the close of the day, you climb onto the bus like any other day. You and your friends joke around and talk about the day’s events like any other day. When the bus pulls up to your house, you exit it like any other day. But then your friends start laughing hysterically, taunting and teasing you – NOT like any other day.

For this reason, you look to see what has them all snickering, and there you see it – your sheet hanging out your window, the undeniable yellow stain flapping in the breeze for all to see.

Your secret is no longer secret; the evidence is there for the whole world to see – you are a chronic bed wetter.


The phrase public humiliation takes on a whole new meaning for you at that moment. That’s when you race inside. Taking two at a time, you bound up the stairs and dash to your room where you rip the source of your shame and public humiliation out of the window.  As you turn around, she’s standing there, with a diaper in hand, tapping it in the palm of her hand.


“Now that I have your attention, let’s move on to phase two…”


Care to find out where phase two takes our chronic bed wetter in a bit of mommy phone sex?  Give me a call and I will tell you a fetish phone sex tale you won’t soon forget.


Your Free Sex Story & Chronic Bed Wetter Guru,

 Phone Sex Kingdom Nicole Burke