Dear Lorraine,
Yours is such an interesting website with always something new to discover. My husband and I enjoy the letters page especially.
Of personal interest to me are the dentist stories by Margy and Ron. My discovery of the joys of rubber was due to a number of visits to the dentist in the late 1960s. When I was 11, I had to have a series of procedures done by an oral surgeon. These were all performed under general anaesthetic at the outpatients of the local hospital.
The first time I went in I did not know what to expect. There was a strict looking matron who told me to go the toilet and to 'empty yourself out completely', but I could not perform as I was very nervous. Afterwards she took me to a room with a dentist's chair and a big grey machine with pipes and gauges.
The surgeon and the anaesthetist were waiting for me. I had no sooner been strapped into the chair than a black rubber mask was put over my face and I found myself inhaling a horrible sweet smell. Then I started feeling very dizzy and funny. My eyelids became incredibly heavy and it was not long before I was out.
When I woke up I was still in the chair. I felt very sick and woozy, and there was the horrible taste of blood with anaesthetic in my mouth, but immediately knew there was something else wrong. Then I realised I had thoroughly wet myself. In fact, I remember seeing a big puddle under the chair when I was taken out. I was very distressed at this, but was also so doped that I could not think properly. After sleeping a while in the recovery ward I was taken home (in my damp state) by my mum.
The next appointment was in 2 weeks time and I dreaded having to go back. The same matron came and collected me from the waiting room and took me to the toilet and told me to 'this time go and wee properly' and to 'also put these on afterwards'. She then gave me a pair of red rubber knickers with elasticised leg and waist openings used for incontinent patients. I didn't like the look of them at all - they were old and stained and looked really horrible! I refused to wear them, but she said 'they were not going to clean up after me again it would be the worse for me if I disobeyed her'. Her tone was very threatening and unpleasant.
I was mortified and eventually gave in, putting them on under my dress and
pulling them up as high as possible - I just hoped that they were not too obvious.
It felt very weird, as if I was wearing a pair of children's waterproofs, which
if you think about it, I was.I was then taken to the room and put to sleep. Before the horrible hissing mask came down I heard the matron tell the anaesthetist and surgeon that I had 'the rubber waterproofs on this time, so I wouldn't make a mess'. I felt so utterly humiliated that she had announced this to everyone there. Then the gas took over.
But it was lucky that she had done so, because when I came round I again felt that terrible dampness and knew that I had again disgraced myself (but this time not as much). I could not believe it! This was just too much for me and I started to cry. My mum tried to comfort me but I really felt so ashamed. Again, after a doze in the ward, I was taken home, but kept the rubber knickers on, on condition that I returned them at the next appointment.
The last appointment with the gas was again in 2 weeks time and I was almost
hysterical when I had to go to the hospital. I just could not face the ordeal
of having to wear the 'knickers of shame' in front of the matron again. In
the end I had the idea of putting them beforehand on at home under a pair of
jeans. To stop things looking too baggy I wore the knickers only, without any
underwear (I thought this was OK as my mum had washed and disinfected them
by then). I must say the smooth cold rubber felt very strange against my skin.But I needn't have bothered. This time there was another more-friendly nurse who called me through. I was relieved that I did not have to face the horrible matron again. I went through to the toilet and was expecting her to ask me about the knickers (I was going to show her) but then she was called away and I was left alone for a while. This time I really squeezed every drop out. Then the nurse came to collect me. Nobody else said anything when I was led into the gas room. The black rubber mask soon covered my face for the last time and I was quickly put to sleep.
As I awoke, my first thought was 'Had I wet myself?' but all seemed suitably dry. For some reason the anaesthetic that I had been given was so strong that I blacked out again. Then I was in the recovery ward but I knew that I was OK. I spent an hour recovering before the nurse said I could go home with mum. I expected somebody to ask for the knickers, but everyone had forgotten about them or did not know I was wearing them and I was too embarrassed to take them off in the ward, so they came back with me.
When I got home I immediately went to bed. I took them off, put them in the back of my bottom draw and promptly forgot about them. I never wanted to see them again
About a year later I found them again when I was tidying out my clothes - I really thought my mum had returned them to the outpatients. Just the sight of them was enough to make me shudder. I was about to throw them in the bin, but then I had this really strange urge - I just wanted to put them on again, and feel them up against my skin once more - I could not understand why. But as I pulled them up, the effect was so electric and so interesting. It was really good. Of course after that, they never made it to the bin!
I took to wearing them secretly under my underwear where there was no chance of discovery. This led to some interesting effects, some strange rustling and squeaking noises when walking, sitting and riding on public transport, not to mention practical problems when going to the loo! Eventually they became too perished and were disposed of, but the pleasure was now too addictive to be simply ended. I needed a substitute. But what?
Rescue came in the form of my older sister's ex-boyfriend's motorcycle rubberised rain trousers which I discovered hanging up in the garage. These were suitably shortened and modified. They were larger than the knickers, but I had grown in size as well and they could be easily disguised under layers of clothing. They became my intimate companion for over 5 years and I still have them (not that they would fit me these days!)
By this time I realized that rubberised rainwear in general would satisfy my needs and over the years enjoyed assembling quite a collection. This really grew once I had moved out of home to university and I had 11 outfits at one stage. My desires eventually lead to meeting and seducing my husband, but not in the way I (or he) would even have dreamed about.
Maybe one day he too will tell his story?
Belinda
