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I was always a computer nerd. There’s not a very promising future for nerds in the grand scheme of high-school - we tend not to be the beauty queens or the star football players. Our cliques are never overly massive. Rather than Abercrombie, it’s khakis and glasses. Rather than beer-and-weed parties, its LAN games with your buddies. Besides, I’d rather compensate my lack of a penis with a machine that can kick the shit out of all these store-bought pieces of junk. It’s much more fun than waking up in a puddle of your own puke, laying next to a guy whose name you forget, with your ass throbbing like crazy. Not that I’ve done that - I’m just saying that my pastimes are better than those idiot jock parties.
I made my computer, piece by piece. All of my nerd friends are male, and I just love watching them gawk when I talk about computers the way girls aren’t expected to. I still hold the deatchmatch record in Quake III, too, so they’ll just keep on staring!
My name’s Anna, but you’re free to call me Ann. All my friends do. I like it better, anyway.
Even past being teased for how tiny I am, and how my glasses are a little too big, I like high-school. It’s pretty cool, given the fact that I’m one of the smartest girls in the class. But smarts don’t get you where tits do, these days - I’m just about to start twelfth grade, and I still haven’t even had one boyfriend. .. At least, not one that I’ve seen.
I spend more time on the internet than anyone I know. A cable modem tends to do that to you. My schedule usually looks something like this; Wake up at 6:30 in the morning, check my e-mail. Scarf down some breakfast, tie up my hair, and throw on some clothes for school while sitting in front of the computer. By 8, I’m slumped in my first of seven periods, doodling little drawings on my notepad only because I’ve known Algebra for two years before any of my classmates. It’s a required class - I had to take it. When I get off the bus at around 3, it’s back on the internet, where I fester in my chair until about midnight, at which time I reluctantly crawl into my bed.
His name’s Bfolds545. Or, his screen name, anyway. He likes Ben Fold’s Five. I met him in a music chat, and we just hit it right off. To make a long story short, me and Casey (that’s his real name) have been talking for about two years, and we get along great. Always talk on the phone about this and that, and he’s a lot of fun - only about four hours away from me, too! We’re as boyfriend-and-girlfriend as internet couples can get, but I wouldn’t admit that to anyone at school. I’d turn into the laughing stock, I bet.
That’s just one of the two secrets I keep well hidden, though. .. There’s this other one, you see, that only my family really knows about. And I came here to tell you my story, so here it goes. . .
“Ann, honey,” I heard my mom whisper. I felt her hand gently shaking my shoulder. I batted, unconsciously. “Ann,” she reiterated, “You need to get up to go to the bathroom.”
I rubbed at my eyes and lifted myself up in bed with a groan. I slapped at my bedstand for my glasses, and managed to shove them on my face. My mom was retreating out the doorway, and she said behind her, “When you’re done, come down and sit with me for a few minutes.”
Throwing the bedsheets aside, I stood up and stretched my hands above my head. The clock on my computer desk said 4:01 - the usual time my mom got me up. She had to be to work in an hour.
When I got to the bathroom, I flicked the light on, and simultaneously squinted. When I drew enough courage to do so, I skulked in front of the bathroom mirror and looked down at my nightie.
Thankfully, it wasn’t wet, which meant my sheets wouldn’t need changing. But my underpants were soaked, sagging warmly between my thighs. I pulled these down around my ankles and, hoisting my nightgown, sat down on the toilet.
I didn’t pee much - most of it had already been let out in my sleep, into the soggy diaper that lay used at my feet. It was yellowed, bunched up from turning while I snoozed. I plucked it off the floor, wrapped it, and placed it in the waste can near the toilet.
I looked back in the mirror and frowned. I was going on seventeen, and still bedwetting like the day I was born. It happened every night, and several times. It wasn’t uncommon to wake up cold and wet in a soaked bed, which had gotten so even through my night-time diaper.
I shook my head and held up my nightie with one hand while I looked under the sink for a fresh panty. After unfolding it, I taped the diaper onto myself and wrinkled my nose, taking a glance at myself once before I let my nightgown fall to my knees. The diaper came up to nearly the middle of my back, stiff with a clean, white pad that made my butt squarely bulge. In the front, four plastic tapes held it secure to my belly. If any of the girls at school knew I wet my bed? Man, I’d hear it worse than if they knew I had an internet boyfriend.
After I turned off the light and scampered down the stairs towards the kitchen. I rustled with every step. “Did you wet?” Asked my mom. She
I nodded. “Uh huh. ..But I didn’t mess the bed up, so I just needed to change my panties.” That’s the word I used if I didn’t feel comfortable saying diaper. “I have one left, so could you pick me up some on your way to work tomorrow?” I sat down in one of the chairs, rubbing at my eyes. My underwear loudly announced my seating. I’d gotten comfortable with it around my mom, though. Hell, she’d changed me at night up until I was nine or ten, so wearing a diaper around her wasn’t very embarassing.
She sat across from the table and passed me a cup of coffee. It was steaming, and I leaned over it tiredly, cupping it with both palms. I liked the acrid smell. “Of course,” she said, smiling softly and reaching over to pat my hand. “Anything to help.”
“Did Casey call last night, Mom?” I asked, resting my cheek on a hand and flicking the side of the coffee mug.
“No, but I’m sure he was busy. Did you have fun at your gaming get-together?”
“Yeah. I kicked everyone around,” I stated proudly. “They don’t think girls could play video games.”
My mom laughed. “I was a Pac-Man fanatic, but that’s about all. ..What are you going to do today?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe go shopping with Wendy. You going to be home tonight?”
She looked down at the tabletop, which was stained with old, brown rings from past cups. “I’m.. staying the night over at Philip’s house. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
Philip was her boyfriend. ..I’m not going to go much into it, but my dad and mom got divorced when I was about six. He was a drunkard, and she went through a lot of money to buy makeup just to cover up the bruises he’d given her. We hadn’t heard from him in years, thank goodness.
I grinned a bit, sipping at the coffee. “Mom, I don’t care! I like having the house to myself. I can bring over all those boys you don’t want me to have over.” I winked. With that, I pushed myself up from the table and leaned over it to kiss my mom on her cheek. She was warm. “It’s 4 A.M., Mom. I have a bed to go pee in. Gimme a call tomorrow when you’re at Phil’s?”
“Sure thing, Ann.”
“Love you, Mom.” I retraced my steps towards the stairs and, upon reaching them, I turned to lean over the banister and clear my throat. “Hey, Mom?” I asked.
She glanced up at me. I always wished my hair was as blonde as hers, but I ended up getting my dad’s ugly black hair. “Hm?”
I chewed on my lower lip. “Did.. you ever wet your bed when you were this old?”
My mom shook her head. “No, I didn’t. But you have to remember, it doesn’t exactly run in the family.”
I reached a hand down to pull up the back of my diaper - it’d shimmied down as I had walked. “I guess you’re right. Goodnight, Mom. Sleep good.”
Upon reaching my room, I closed the door behind me and crawled into bed. Even under my blankets, the plastic on my night diaper loudly rustled. I won’t lie - diapers are comfortable, at least when they’re dry. I never had the satisfaction of savoring that feeling too long, though.
I sighed. ..It felt odd. Most other girls my age got boys to sleep with. Me? I had to settle with a vinyl bedspread and a disposable adult diaper. But I’d been falling asleep with that for the past ten years, so it didn’t bother me much. Never would, either.
It’s hard to remember exactly how you wake up, or what you first do as soon as your eyes open. Really, it is. I came around with a start, eyes snapping open. That’s a frequent occurrence on a Saturday morning - flinch, stumble out of bed, get half-dressed, and then realize that it might nearly be noon, but you’re not late for much of anything.
I pulled my hands out from under the covers and ground my knuckles against my eyes, twisting my torso and stretching my toes as far under the covers as possible. Yawning uneventfully, I pushed the covers off of me and sidled out of my bed.
The computer desk wasn’t far away, and I dropped down into it with a grunt. I fiddled the mouse around until the screen danced with static and the display came up - I never shut my machine off. While I waited for the monitor to liven up, I bounced a bit in my chair, and my underpants rustled accordingly -- I always had to pee as soon as I woke up, and there were other things that seemed more important, so no matter how much my bladder ached, I held it off, even if my legs were crossed and my foot was swinging.
I did, however, peel up the hem of my nightgown and take a peek at where that plastic disappeared between my legs. The diaper was warm, stained from urinating while I dreamed. How disconcerting, to realize that while you were envisioning the world’s sexiest man in your sleep, you were simultaneously doing a most unattractive thing and unconsciously pissing on yourself. But waking up wet was never a surprise anymore. I was used to it, and it didn’t upset me. Obviously; it was nearly eleven in the morning, and I was slouched in my computer chair, clicking about with the mouse, and I still hadn’t changed out of my panties yet. Sometimes, that was normal morning routine.
Leaning on my computer desk, I idly clicked about the desktop, now and then pausing to jab out a few letters on the keyboard. I eventually made my way to my e-mail and scrolled my way through it.
Near the bottom, after I was almost sick from being bombarded with foul, pornography e-mail, I saw the only message that was important to me. I opened it - I recognized by the address that it was from Casey. Smiling, I pushed my glasses up on my nose and started reading.
It’s Casey. Guess you already knew that, hehe. Just wanted to e-mail you to say ‘Hi’, and I’m sorry for not being able to call recently. You know me. My job sucks, and I still keep working these dumb hours!!!!
I do have a bit of good news, though. Are you ready for this?
I talked to my Mom last night. She and my dad have to go on a business trip, and I invited myself along - after all, why wouldn’t I when the person I wanna meet the most lives in a city twenty minutes away? My parents told me they were heading out there, and I nearly screamed.
I blinked. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Curiously enough, I kept going.
I figured that I’d come along and pay for my own hotel room, and we’d be in town for almost a week, so I could finally get to see you in person! I’m not sure what there is to do in your neck of the woods, but it’s half-a-country away, so check with your Mom to see if she doesn’t mind you and I meeting up. Get back to me as soon as you can, hon, and I’ll pay for my reservations if it’s a go! I love ya, and I’ll talk to you soon!
Feelings hit me like a brick. If it weren’t for the chair, my stomach probably would’ve been oozing out onto my bedroom carpet right then. He was coming! I’d waited for a long time to find an excuse to meet Casey, and now, one had fallen in our laps without even any planning! I clapped my hands once and laughed, jumping up out of my computer chair to bound around it a few times, giggling the entire time.
When I was done and out of breath, pure excitement was replaced by utter fear. Just before I was going to drop back down into my seat, I glanced down at it.
There was a dark stain where I’d been sitting. At first, I assumed my used diaper had simply leaked in the change of position from laying to sitting. But after patting the rear of my nightgown and registering the tickling sensation of liquid on my inner thighs, I thought otherwise. It clearly explained why my bladder didn’t ache anymore, and why my panties sagged between my legs.
Even though it was because of complete surprise, the last time I’d wet myself when I was awake was a few months back, when I’d laughed too hard at a show I was watching at home. I had daytime accidents now and then, but usually due to stress, or just waiting too long to go - after all, bedwetting usually comes from having a small bladder. My night-pants were already damp from use during the night, and apparently, couldn’t take just a bit more. What was worse, I didn’t even realize I’d peed myself, having been too enthralled in the letter.
I ended up putting Lysol all over my chair, and after stripping out of my soaked nightie and trashing that dirty diaper, I hopped in the shower. I didn’t think much about the water, but about other things.
What would I do if I spent a night with Casey? Most other girls would think about having sex, losing their virginity, or even about being misued, but me? I was terrified that, because of some fluke, the love of my life might find out about my incontinence and my diaper-wearing, and disown me right then and there.
I tried to tell him so many times, but I never gathered the courage to do it. Hell, I’d never had the guts to tell my best friend about it, either.
After my morning business, I picked out a modest outfit for the day, and headed out to go pick Wendy up for a day of shopping and a girl’s night of movies and gossip. It didn’t seem as exciting as usual, though.
All this time, I’d been able to hide my secret from Wendy - would it go just as flawlessly with my boyfriend?
It was a few minutes after eleven when me and Wendy finally settled in my room for the night. After washing my nightgown, no one would’ve known I’d had an accident in it that same morning.
I flopped down on my bed, from which I’d removed the viny sheet and thrown it secretively in the hall closet earlier in the day. The first movie - some dumb horror movie we’d picked up on a whim at the local video store - was already in the VCR, and I munched idly on popcorn, waiting for Wendy to get through with her shower.
“This movie’s gonna be so bad!” She laughed, popping in through my bedroom door with a towel wrapped firmly around her head. A pair of white, fluffed slippers kicked her around my bed to lay on it next to me. Wendy never had much of a care when it came to pajamas - scrub bottoms and a sleeveless undershirt. There were streaks down the side of her face where water dribbled out from her hair.
“Tell me about it,” I said, rolling my eyes and pushing the popcorn bowl at her. “But you still have to wait. I’m going to go potty real quick, okay? Don’t start the movie without me.”
She stuck her tongue out at me as I pushed off the bed and disappeared down the hallway. “Be quick about it, girl!” Wendy called behind me. She’d always been luckier, with a chimey voice and lots of bubbling energy. “Don’t take all night.”
I clicked on the light in the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I made sure to lock it, too, just to stay secretive enough. With the bottom of my palm, I wiped away the condensation from my mirror and crouched down to open the cabinet below the sink.
While removing some various hairsprays, toothpaste tubes, and rolls of toilet paper, I called out, “Man! There’s enough water in the air in here to drown me!”
The yelling was just to mask my removal of a bag from the back of the cabinet. The GoodNites were in a small package, so they were easy enough to hide. I pulled two of the pants from the bag and hid it back beneath all of the other stuff. Even though my sleepwetting was really heavy, two pairs of them often did the trick. They weren’t loud, so they were good for sleeping over at someone elses house, or if someone stayed at mine. I just liked the extra security of honest-to-goodness diapers when I didn’t need to hide them, though.
I pulled the GoodNites on over one another and yanked them up around my waist as tight as I could. I dropped my nightgown back down and turned around to inspect myself in the mirror over my shoulder.
They didn’t bulge, as usual, and if I walked right, they didn’t make any noise whatsoever. I nodded in satisfaction. I could probably hide it well enough to get through the week with Casey, I assumed.
When I got back into my bedroom, I jumped down onto my bed and shoved Wendy aside with my shoulder. “Geez, give me some more room while you’re at it! Pass me over that popcorn.”
Lights turned off except for the flickering T.V., we managed in scaring ourselves more during the movie with little squeals and surprised jumps than anything else. Our fingers got greasy from the popcorn, and if there weren’t the sounds of axe-murders going on, Wendy and I kept licking our fingers and eating.
Finally, during one scene, when some ominous shadow was creeping up on a girl in a shower, Wendy rolled over on my bed and propped her head up on a hand. “Ooooh,” she groaned. “If I eat anymore, I’m gonna burst!”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, stop eating and watch, then! This is your favorite part, with the conveniently naked woman rubbing her boobs in the shower! ..”
“These movies are only good if you’re a horny guy, or if you’re a lesbian. I never see any naked guys in them!” We both laughed for a few minutes before she waned out of amusement and traced an invisible pattern on the bed beside her, all with a finger. “Hey, Ann, can I ask you a stupid question?”
“Well, I’m on my period, so after my shower, I went through your cabinet in the bathroom to find some pads. .. I found them, but why on earth are there diapers in there?”
I nearly gagged on my popcorn. Somehow, I found a way to turn my sudden struggle for breath into mimicry of laughter, and I shrugged, stammering out the best excuse I could find. “O.. Oh! You mean those Goodnite things?”
“They’re .. for.. my neice.”
“I thought Tempest was potty trained, though.”
I shrugged. “Sort of. She’s only twelve, but when they come visit, my mom keeps them in there. She goes pee in her bed all the time, so they help her out.”
“Eeew. Wendy squinched her nose up. “Where does she sleep?”
I glanced down at my blankets, somewhat glad I had never revealed my problem to my best friend. If that’s how she reacted, I’d probably be spending the night by myself. “Oh. In my bed. I sleep on the couch downstairs, so.. so in case she has a bad dream or whatever, she’s closer to my mom’s room. Remember when you came over a few years ago, and there was that plastic sheet on my bed?”
Wendy looked off elsewhere as though she were remembering. “Oh. Oh yeah! I never did ask you about that, but I thought about it.”
“Well, they put that on there for the few days she stays here with us, so she doesn’t ruin the mattress if she goes too much.” I added, lying through my teeth. Tempest could hold it all night long! “But it’s not her fault, so when you see her next, don’t tease her about it, okay, Wendy? She gets that a lot from the school kids.”
My best friend crunched down on a kernel. I squinted. “No problem, Ann. I won’t. I’m stuck up, but I’m not cruel! I won’t say anything to her, but she can’t sleep in my bed ever, that’s for sure!”
She burst into giggles, and I did, too. ..It was sort of ironic. Every time I spent the night at Wendy’s house, I’d worn my GoodNites, and I’d always woken up with them wet - sometimes, even, with a close call, where I’d leaked enough to wet a tiny bit of my PJs, but not her bed. She didn’t need to worry about my neice Tempest going in her sheets, but little did she know her closest friend always did.
The silence was starting to make me uncomfortable, and I jabbed the remote towards the television and clicked the sound back on. “Oh, guess what, Wendy?”
“Guess who’s coming to visit?”
She scratched the side of her head. “Uhm. Your neice?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Take another guess.”
Wendy rolled a piece of popcorn around on her tongue. “Is it who I think it is?”
“Well, who do you think it is?”
She raised an eyebrow as she pushed up from the bed. “What if I said Casey?”
I offered her a pillow as she began stretching out a sheet and an old quilt along the floor. She reached up to click off the television and eject the movie - a good waste of a few bucks, we both later agreed. I winked at her and began to laugh while I crawled up to the top of my own bed and stuffed my legs under the covers.
“You’d probably be right,” I told her.
“That’s so cool!” Wendy smiled, flicking off the single lamp we’d kept on. My room was plunged into darkness, and now and then, I could see my friend looking up to where my voice was coming from.
Pressing a cheek to my remaining pillow, I nodded. “I can’t wait. He’s getting a hotel room separate from his parents.”
“Ut oh!” She began to giggle hysterically.
“Ann’s gonna get laid!”
Wendy got a good, playful slap on the back of the head for that one. “I am not! .. What do you think I am, a slut?” Dramatically, I paused. “Okay, so I might, but who says I’m going to tell you?”
“No fun in that,” Grumbled Wendy, curling up beneath the quilt I’d given her. “Just slip me a hint or two now and then, okay? .. We’ll all have to hang out and go to eat somewhere.”
“We should. I always tell him about you.” I discreetly slid a hand down underneath my blankets to tug up the sides of the GoodNites. “ ‘Night, Wendy.”
The only response I received was a muffled mumble - she’d already fallen fast asleep. I breathed out a sigh and turned my back to the wall, peering out towards the clear, night sky through my window for some time before, just like my best friend, I ended up dozing off.
I came around fast, but not because I’d gotten enough sleep. On the contrary; something was terribly wrong. As soon as my eyes were open and I’d registered the relieving feeling, I shoved a hand down to clamp the crotch of my diaper.
Warm moisture greeted my touch. ..It was all I could do to grit my teeth and try to stop the sudden deluge of urine. I groaned a little, pressed the insides of my thighs together. Wetting the bed was embarassing in itself, but awakening just as you were toileting yourself was worse. It’s a hard thing to stop peeing once you’ve started, especially for someone with a tiny bladder, but twice as difficult when you were just waking to realize it. My gut felt like it was going to explode, and mid-stream, the flow trickled off to just a warm drip. I sat upright, still tightly holding myself.
The entire bed beneath me was nothing but a pool of piss. I could see enough by the moonlight outside that, as I pushed the sheets away, there was a puddle under my legs that had yet to soak into the mattress. Freezing cold, shivering, teeth-chattering, I soon discovered that my blankets themselves were damp, as well as even the bottom of my pillowcases. A blush came to my face - I’d gone so much that the entire back of my nightgown was dripping.
Horrified, squatting on my bed while trying my damndest to keep what was still left in me - and it felt like a lot - I reluctantly began to inch myself out of the lake I once called my bed. ..It’d been nearly a year since I’d wet this much, over the period of a few hours of sleep. It happened now and then, but why now, when my best friend was only a few feet away?
The GoodNites had absorbed as much as they could. Sniffling, silently choking back nervous tears, I waddled towards the doorway and began to draw up my nightgown to bring with me to the bathroom.
I looked over to see Wendy sigh in her sleep and unconsciously turn over on her other side. She wrapped an arm over her pillow and drew her legs a bit closer, shaking her own head back into rest. I bit my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. Don’t wake up, I pleaded, stripping off my nightgown and balling it in my hands. Please don’t wake up.
I ignored the quiet tears on my cheeks and felt my way through the dark hallway, towards that familiar bathroom. I got a glimpse of the wall-clock, saw that the shorter arm was just a bit passed four. ..It was the usual time my mom woke me up to pee and change, but she wasn’t here, and I hadn’t taken a leak before sleeping, I eventually recalled.
Squinting and swallowing, I tiptoed into the bathroom and flicked the light on. I paused after I placed my balled up nightie in the sink and began to rinse it, to keep it from stinking up the hamper. It was with the water running that I stared at my red face and eyes. I just stood there, observing myself.
My dark hair was a mess, and my belly glistened with wetness. I momentarily forgot about my protesting bladder, noting how disheveled I looked. The two GoodNites had bulged to the limit of their holding, and the dampness on my legs said that better than their soaked, yellowed padding. Even my bra was had gotten wet. I whined - Dear God, I could imagine getting my chest and back messy if I was a male bedwetter, but this was too much! After washing my hands, I wiped off my cheeks and scuttled to the toilet.
My GoodNites weren’t even off before I started peeing where I’d left off. I slid them down on my thighs while I sat and succeeded in getting their back drenched, too. What the hell was I going to do? . . . Such a wreck, sobbing in my hands and emptying out my bladder at the same time. I was damned lucky I had woken up when I did; I would’ve drowned had I not caught it in time!
I must’ve kept going for nearly a minute, cursing myself for drinking all of that soda just to get the salt of the popcorn out of my mouth.
I heard a gasp. For a minute, I thought it might have been me, but I knew it wasn’t. I looked up from my hands, and in that terrible state, I stared at the doorway. Wendy stood there, nervously leaning on the doorjamb with her hands as though she was peering right around it.
“A-.. Anny,” She said - she’d never called me that before. “Are you.. alright?” Her face was bleach-white, but her eyes were like saucers. I could tell by the deathgrip she had on the door that she was either worried sick, or just really confused. “Are you okay, Ann?”
“I’m.. fine,” I whispered, resting my forehead down in my hands. I heard Wendy’s bare feet shuffle on the tiling of the bathroom as she carefully made her way over to me. She had to notice the used GoodNites just above my knees. Who wouldn’t? I tried not to choke on remaining tears, but I just sat on the toilet and kept crying.
I peeked at her between my shaking fingers. “I’m s-sorry,” I squeaked, making the words off my tongue, rather than some pointless excuse. “I .. I w-w-w.. wet the bed.”
“.. I thought it was blood, or throw-up. I got so scared when I woke up. I heard someone moving in the hallway, and the room smelled horrible. ..At least that’s all it was, was pee. It means we don’t hafta take that trip to the hospital I suddenly saw in my head.” She patted my elbow.
“Please d-don’t tell anyone!” I bellowed, howling in upset emotion.
She cringed, drawing back. “I won’t tell anyone, Anny, don’t worry. ..Who would I tell?”
would I do that? You’re
my best friend in the whole world.
Why would I make a big deal over something like this?”
“.. Bec-cause I lied to you.” Wendy offered a piece of toilet paper to me. I took it and wiped at my nose. “T-Tempest doesn’t ever wet herself, Wendy. .. I always do. All the diapers? The GoodNites? Even that plastic sheet, they’re all for me.”
She crossed her hands and set them in her lap, peering at me from where she sat on the bathroom floor. “Why didn’t you tell me that awhile back? You don’t have to hide that from me. .. I don’t care - does a wet bed make you any different?” Her knuckles were warm. She gently punched my bare shoulder. “No. You’re still my computer-nerd best friend.”
“Do you really mean that?”
Wendy nodded, standing up to gently pat the same shoulder she’d hit. “I do. And don’t think twice about it. Now,” she reached down to pull me up the wrists. She wiped away my cheeks and pointed down towards the sad excuse for underpants that dribbled between my knees. “Throw those out, and get yourself a long, warm shower. I’ll throw your nightgown and sheets in the washer and scrub the bed down, and get it cleaned.” Wendy turned me around by the shoulders and pushed me towards the shower, which she promptly turned on while reaching around me. I nearly fell. I dropped my wet panties to the bathmat and shouldered into the warming sprinkle of water.
Out from one bath and into another, I thought, leaning my head back to take in a face-full of the comforting spray. Wendy was still shuffling about in the bathroom, most likely cleaning up after me. .. While I stood, massaged by the steaming water, I smiled - I’d had a better friend than I ever could’ve imagined.
“Hey, Wendy?” I chimed over the rush of the shower.
“You.. never knew I wet the bed? Or that I wore diapers to sleep in?”
“Nuh uh. You did a good job hiding it. Except for one time. . .”
I scrunched up my eyebrows. “When?”
“A long time back. I think we were like, eight. It was the same weekend I stayed over and I noticed the plastic sheet on your bed. You and me had just gone out to see a movie with your mom, and when we came back, we got in our P.J.s. I was wearing a nightgown, and you had on a pajama top and bottom.. and they were thin enough I could your undies through them. When you were walking, that’s why I kept giggling - you rustled like a baby, and your butt was bulging, and I could see these little car-and-truck designs on the back of the diaper, through your pajama pants. Your mom must’ve noticed my fascination, and said that the doctor had you wear Pampers because you’d scraped your bottom and - get this - it was more convenient than wearing a hundred band-aids!”
“Wow,” I rolled my eyes, rubbing a foam of soap all over my arms. I reached back to unfasten my bra. I kicked it unceremoniously to a shameful corner of the tub. “I didn’t know you were that gullible as a little kid. That was a bad excuse!”
“Yeah, but it worked! I never thought twice. .. I’ll go get you some fresh pajamas and put them on the sink-side for you.” I heard Wendy disappear off down the hallway.
My heart was beating faster than it ever had before. I stood a good twenty minutes in the shower, cleansing my thoughts just as much as my body. Nearly ten years of lies had been thrown in the wastebasket along with my wet diapers. And Wendy understood. . .
After turning the shower off, I leaned out of the tub to feel about for a towel. I dried my hair as much as I could before wrapping myself and stepping clammy feet out onto the freezing tile. Paying no attention to the cold shivers in my spine, I hopped onto the bathmat. I made a quick job of throwing away my messy GoodNites, and hadn’t expected Wendy to do it for me, either.
I was pleasantly surprised when I looked towards the sink. She’d put new pajamas there for me. There were a pair of clean scrub-pants along with a simple, white tanktop. Laying on top , still folded, newly removed from the package I’d tried to hide under the sink, there was a fresh diaper - the secure kind, and not an accident-waiting-to-happen like the GoodNites.
After slipping the tank on, I powdered myself and sat on the toilet-lid to tape the diaper onto myself. How comfortable it was, to finally wear a dry one! I stood up and smiled, striking a pose and admiring myself in the mirror - if diapers were sexy, I would’ve been quite the catch! Every few seconds, I’d catch a hint of my belly button between the tanktop bottom and the diaper.
“I should get my navel pierced one of these days,” I chattered down the hallway, slipping the scrub-pants on over the diaper. I gritted my teeth - my backside was clearly diapered with these bottoms on, but Wendy put the panty out for me, and knew I was too smart not to make the same mistake twice. So, rustling like I had around her like the day we were both eight, I nervously bounded into my bedroom.
It still smelled vaguely of pee, but the mattress had been flipped, blankets replaced, and pillowcases changed. Wendy was laying across it, flipping through television channels. She smiled up at me as a kind greeting.
I flopped down on the bed beside her. Not only did my diaper crumple beneath me, but the bedsheets rustled. I looked at her.
“I found your mattress cover in the closet. I put it on, just so you don’t have anything more to be embarassed about.” She rolled over and pulled a cleaned pillow to place under her head. “Don’t be afraid I’m going to say something, Ann. The bedwetting’s not your fault.” She propped her chin in her hand. “You remember when we were ten or eleven, we pinky-promised to help each other through problems, and we pretended to be sisters?”
“Yeah,” I frowned. I had been a mess at the time. Even though my parents had split up when I was six, I was really understanding it and feeling it then. “You know, I was such a wreck over that whole divorce thing, my mom had me in a diaper at daytime, too.”
“Well, I’m still keeping that promise now,” Wendy continued, shaking my pinky with her own before pushing down the top of her sweatpants.
Sleepily, I stared at the plastic front of one of my own diapers, but on her. The blue-ended tapes had been sloppily stuck to the waistband, but I assumed she had done an alright job - Wendy changed baby diapers every time she babysat, after all. Given the surprise information, I looked up. Her bottom was just as flat as mine.
Wendy snapped her pajama pants back. “You’re still my pinky-sister, and if you have to deal with something, I’m going to deal with it right alongside you. I don’t care if I need to tell my mom and your mom that I’ve started bedwetting, but I’ll wear diapers to sleep if you need to. Besides,” she added, bursting into giggles. “They’re sort of comfy! If you ever had to wear them during the day again, I wouldn’t protest doing it with you!”
The two of us slept in my bed that night. It was a lot like when we were littler girls, giggling and whispering secrets to one another under blankets. We stayed up nearly until six, lights off, sharing stories. I was flattered that Wendy was so curious about my diapering.
At one point in our little exchage, she paused. She squirmed and rested on her back and issued a few stressed grunts. I snorted with laughter. “What’re you doing? Do I really want to know?”
“P-..Peeing,” she sputtered, gasping for a breath and staring at me. “I.. didn’t know it’d be so hard.. laying.. down.”
I shrugged. “Easiest thing in the world, for me. I don’t even have to wake up.” My nose crinkled - the discreet aroma of brine filled the air, and Wendy’s tight breath eased a bit. A hissing noise whispered between her legs and under the blankets. I was familiar with that sound enough - the diaper was doing its intended job and wicking away the stream of moisture while she urinated.
“If you’re going to be wet in the mornings, then I’ll be, too.” She squirmed and turned to the side a bit so she could touch the back of her sweatpants. “For a minute, I thought I’d leaked already.”
I curled, resisting the urge to be lazy and unfreshen my own clean underpants. “You’d know if you did. You’d be twice as uncomfortable.”
“But this isn’t so bad. ..Hey, since we’re sharing secrets, do you want to know one?” She stopped, eyes getting thoughtful. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone to the bathroom in my pants. Know how I was on the cheerleading team last year, for J.V.?”
“Ugh!” She cringed. “I had to skip practice one time, because I had the school breakfast, and it didn’t do wonders for me. I had to shit so bad! Last period of the day, I excused myself out of History, but I didn’t exactly make it to the bathroom in time. . .” She raised an eyebrow, letting the rest of the story work itself out in my head.
“Eeew!” I said, trying my best to sound like what she’d said earlier. We both shook with laughter. “That’s so gross! But at least you were awake when it happened! I’ve done it a few times in my sleep, but that’s even worse to wake up to than just a wet diaper!”
Wendy nodded. “Do you think my mom will believe me if I tell her I started to wet the bed?”
“Well, do it a few times and act concerned, and cry about it, and change your bed. After awhile, I’m sure she’ll agree that it’s in your best interest to wear a diaper at night. .. But, are you sure you feel like doing that? I really don’t mind if you don’t want to do that.”
“No, no no,” Wendy smiled, turning her back to me in the bed and yawning. I could see the elastic back of the diaper folded down over the waist of her sweats. “We’re one in the same. I’m not going to sleep dry if you can’t. I’ll be a bedwetter, too, even if it’s on purpose.”
That made me smile - the one person I was so nervous to tell about my problem, and she understood completely! She sympathized even more than my own mother, who had never seen it as my fault, and had always been fully supportive. As disgusting as the whole concept of peeing in my sleep was, it warmed my heart to know that Wendy didn’t hold it against me.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face. I knew I’d wake up having bedwet, but I didn’t care.
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