(gap: 2s) When I was younger, I lived in a big house with my Mother and Father. We had a nanny named Maureen, but I always called her Nanny. She was a big, warm lady who gave the best hugs, but she was also very strict! Back then, if you misbehaved, you got a spanking—that was just how things were.
I had some trouble with my tummy muscles when I was small, so I had to wear diapers, especially at night. I even had a special operation to help me, but after that, I realized I actually liked wearing my soft, squishy diaper. It felt cozy and safe, and I liked waking up to the warm, puffy feeling.
There were no disposable diapers back then, so I wore a big, fluffy towel diaper with a thick pad inside, covered by rubber pants. The rubber pants always leaked, so my bed would get wet and smelly! But I didn’t mind the smell—it was just part of bedtime for me.
After my operation, the adults said I didn’t need diapers anymore. But I missed them so much! So, I started wetting the bed on purpose. (pause) The first time, I remember lying in bed, hugging my teddy, and feeling the cool sheets. I squeezed my eyes shut and wished for my diaper back. My tummy fluttered with nerves and excitement. I waited until the house was quiet, then let go. At first, it was a tiny trickle, then a big flood! The wetness spread everywhere—under my legs, up my back, even my pillow got a little damp. The sheets turned cold and sticky, and the sharp, sour smell filled the air. But it made me feel safe, like I was wrapped in a secret. My heart pounded, and I felt scared but also proud, like I’d pulled off a sneaky trick. (pause) In the morning, the bed was soaked, with a big dark patch on the mattress. My pajamas stuck to my skin, my hair was messy and damp, and I shivered a little. But I was happy, thinking maybe Nanny would put me back in diapers.
Nanny wasn’t happy about the mess, but she felt a little sorry for me. She put me back in diapers for a few days, and I was thrilled! That first night, I snuggled down, wiggling my bottom in the soft padding and crinkly rubber pants. I felt safe and warm, like nothing bad could happen. But soon, she took them away again, and—uh oh—more wet beds!
I kept wetting the bed, even though I knew it made everyone upset. Each night, I’d lie awake, missing my diaper. Sometimes I tried to hold it, but the feeling got too strong, and I’d let go, feeling the warm rush and the spreading puddle. I’d listen for footsteps in the hallway, my heart thumping, hoping Nanny wouldn’t be too mad. In the morning, I’d see the wet sheets and feel a mix of shame and hope—maybe this time, they’d understand how much I needed my diaper. But mostly, I just felt small and nervous, especially when I saw Nanny’s disappointed face.
We went back to the hospital for more check-ups. The doctor examined me, then called in my Mother, Nanny, and the nurse who had helped me before. The doctor said, “There’s nothing wrong with his bladder!” For the first time, everyone realized I might be doing it on purpose.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment! The nurse said, “I think someone’s going to get a spanking before bed tonight!” Oh no! My Mother and Nanny both nodded. I wished I could disappear.
But I didn’t even have to wait until bedtime. As soon as we got home, I had to stand in the corner. After a while, Nanny came in and told me to get ready for my punishment. She grabbed her little paddle and put on her rubber apron—just like when she gave me baths.
She sat on her big chair and called, “Come here, George!” My heart thumped so loud I thought everyone could hear it. I shuffled over, toes curling on the cold floor, and she patted her lap. “Bend over!” she said, and I knew exactly what that meant. I climbed up, my tummy full of butterflies, and bent over her knee. The rubber apron was chilly and squeaky against my bare skin, and I could smell the soapy-clean scent from when she washed it.
Then the spanking started! First, Nanny used her big, warm hand—smack, smack, smack! Each smack echoed in the room, like clapping at a parade, except it was my bottom getting clapped! My skin tingled and stung, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to cry. But it hurt! My legs kicked a little, and I grabbed the chair leg, but Nanny held me tight so I couldn’t wriggle away. Then she picked up her paddle. (pause) That paddle always looked huge to me, like a giant’s spoon, but flat and wide. It was painted bright red, with a shiny handle that had little bumps on it, almost like the skin of a toad. Sometimes, I thought it looked like a piece of a fire truck, or maybe a dragon’s tongue! When Nanny waved it in the air, it made a whooshing sound, and I could see little scratches and dents all over it from all the times it had been used. The wood felt cold and hard if you touched it, and I always imagined it would feel like getting smacked by a heavy, angry pancake. Just seeing it made my tummy twist up in knots, and I wished I could shrink down and hide under the rug.
It was thick and heavy, and when it landed—WHAP!—it made a deep, booming noise, almost like a drum. My bottom felt like it was on fire, all hot and prickly, and I couldn’t help it—I started to cry, big, hiccupy sobs. The paddle smacked again and again, and I could hear my own voice, all wobbly, saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” But Nanny just kept going, her voice calm and serious, telling me, “This is for your own good, George.” The room felt huge and echoey, and the only sounds were my crying, the paddle, and Nanny’s steady breathing. My face was wet with tears, and my nose was all runny, and I wished I could just disappear into the floor. My bottom was so sore, it felt like it was glowing!
Finally, it was over. Nanny helped me stand up and gave me a big, squishy hug. I was still sniffling, my cheeks sticky with tears, and my bottom throbbing like I’d sat on a beehive. She asked, “Do you know why you got spanked? Did you learn your lesson?” I nodded and hugged her back, still shaking a little.
Then she said, “Good boy. Now, back in the corner for ten more minutes, hands on your head!
Sure enough, my Mother came in a little later to scold me some more. She said, “Early bedtime for you, and another spanking before lights out! And put him in a diaper, just in case.”
So, at half past six, I went back to the nursery. Nanny was waiting. She said, “If you act like a baby, you’ll be treated like one!”
She took me by the hand to the bathroom, picked me up, and plopped me in the tub. She washed me all over, then lifted me out and dried me off with a big, fluffy towel.
Back in the nursery, Nanny sat down, put a diaper on her lap, and told me to bend over again. My bottom was still sore, so I started crying right away when she spanked me again!
When she finished, she put the diaper on me and pulled up my rubber pants. I felt all puffy and squishy again!
I climbed into bed, feeling sore and sorry. Nanny said, “Go straight to sleep, George! If your diaper is even a little bit wet in the morning, I’ll ask your Father to come up with his cane! Do you understand?” I nodded, super scared!
And guess what? I never wet the bed on purpose again! But that wasn’t the last time I got a spanking—no way! (short pause) The end!
