The Diapered Couple

A Wet Morning: Ali

My eyes open. I stare up at the blank ceiling above me, my back against my soft bed. I inhale deeply as I turn my head to see light from outside slipping through the blinds on my window. I stretch out my arms backward as I turn my head back so that I instead face the digital clock on my nightstand. The blue numbers, their corners round and the shapes full instead of segmented, read 10:52. Wow, I slept quite a bit later than usual, I think to myself. Even now during the summer, I almost never slept past 9:30. The fact that I woke up this late only a few days from the start of school is somewhat concerning, but I suppose my alarm will help with that.

With my head still tilted towards the clock, I turn my body, trying to find a comfortable position. Wait. Something doesn't feel right. As my hip and lower stomach press into the mattress, I feel an odd sensation. A section in the middle of the bed feels cold, unlike how it usually feels. My legs are layered on top of one another in my current position, and I move the bottom one across the mattress. Weird. As my foot reaches the edge of the bed, the feeling changes. It's also cold, but it's a different kind of cold. More naturally cold that the section by my hip. And the top area of my mattress feels warm, as it should, having slept on it for twelve hours. The only place that feels weird stretches from my lower stomach down to my lower thighs.

I decide to shift my position again. As I move my legs, I feel something between them, a very similar feeling to that of the bed. What is going on? In utter confusion, I sit up and push the covers off of me, giving me a clear view of the cause of the irregular sensation. I speak out loud. "No way."

My immediate reaction is panic. I look first at the white mattress. The odd section is miscolored, slightly darker than the surrounding area. It looks more grey then white. I then look down at my light grey pajama shorts. A large area between my legs and on top of my thighs has turned a dark color significantly different from the few areas where the shorts' color still exists. The reality dawns on me. I peed my pants and wet the bed.

"No, no, no, no!" I begin to say. "No! Please, no!" I've never truly wet the bed before! Sure, those pills Josie brought sometimes made it happen, but never before that. I haven't even peed my pants before last week, even!

I stare in awe at my wet pants and bed for a good twenty seconds before the stress kicks in. What will happen if my parents find out? What if my friends find out? My brain goes into fight or flight mode. I can't let anyone find out about this.

I turn so that my feet are on the floor, my wet shorts clinging to my skin. I stand up. For a brief moment I feel something other than my anxiety overcome me. It's calming. Whatever the cause is, I take relief in the feeling before my fear returns. I quickly pull down my pants to reveal my soaked panties. The entire front section is completely soaked, heavily darkened by my accident. Drips of pee plop down to the floor below. While staring in shock at the nature of my accident, the drips slowly become more frequent until they become a consistent trickle down to the floor. Confusion sets in. Why are they dripping wet if my pants were only damp? I begin to walk to the bathroom connected to my room to grab a towel as the trickle become a thin stream. I stop dead in my tracks as I begin to recognize the slow release pressure in my bladder. I feel my panties become warm as the trickle becomes a steady stream. A puddle begins to form at my feet. I try to stop the flow but I can't. The shade of my grey panties becomes darker and darker as pee streams down my leg and onto the floor. I'm frozen in shock and horror as I completely flood my underwear.

As the stream finally stops and my bladder empties, I feel the heat of the pee against my legs. I look down at my soaked panties and the large puddle of pee on the floor. I begin to sob quietly. "What have I done?" I mumble through tears. In just my T-shirt and wet panties, I feel vulnerable, even standing alone in my room. Forgetting the puddle of pee on the floor, I begin to sit down. The pee soaks into the back and bottom of my underpants, intensifying the feeling of both wetness and warmth. I begin to cry more, putting my head in my hands and crying into them. I don't care if my parents can hear. I'm too upset to worry about any of that now. I just had a real accident, and a big one. I just don't know what to do.

I continue to cry for another ten minutes or so as the warmth of my pee starts to fade. It is replaced by a cold feeling much like the one I had felt when I woke up, only significantly wetter. I sniffle and wipe my tears and stare at the puddle around me. I heave out a trembling breath as I stand up again. I slowly walk into the bathroom as pee drips intermittently onto the floor as I walk. I open a cabinet and grab a big and absorbent towel. I first wipe off my legs and feet before pressing it against my soaked panties to try to get them to stop dripping. I then turn my attention to the floor, using the towel to wipe up all the pee that was there. I toss the towel aside and then strip the sheets off my bed. I grab another set from my closet to put back on the bed. I take a deep breath.

Now that I have cleaned up the messes I made, I turn my attention to my clothes. My shorts lay in a pile on the ground close to my wet sheets and towel. I'll throw them into the washing machine once I finish changing. Also to go along with them will be my panties, as they are very wet too. I walk over to my dresser and open my underwear drawer. Empty. The drawer is completely empty. I have nothing to change into. The panties I have on are my last pair for now. "No!" I whine. "Why today? Why now?" Anxiety fills my thoughts as I contemplate my options. The issue is I don't have very many. I can either go without panties, or keep these on until my others are washed. Through some sort of epiphany, I choose to keep my current ones on. I don't know why I feel that way, but it seems to be the best option, I think. I grab the towel from the ground and press on my panties some more to try to get as much pee out of them as possible so that my pants that I'll wear over them won't get wet. It doesn't seem to do as much as last time, though. I sigh. It'll have to be good enough. At least I hope it will be.

I walk into my closet to pick out some shorts to wear. I hope to find something looser so as not to press against my pee-stained panties as much, but all of the shorts I have are very tight. I groan in frustration and grab a pair of grey fuzzy shorts. I pull them up. The pressure from the shorts against my underwear increases the feeling of wetness. I cringe as I start to search for any wet spots on my shorts, hoping desperately that there are no leaks. I find a small spot between my legs as well as on my lower waist, but they don't seem to noticeable. I don't think so, at least. It'll have to do.

I open my door quietly and search the hallways for any movement. The door to my parent's room is still closed, so they must be still sleeping or getting ready. I turn around to grab wet sheets, towel, and pajama shorts. I walk very slowly to the washing machine and toss my items in. I then promptly fill the machine with detergent and move my hand to press the start button. Before I do, I come up with an idea. I dash back to my room and grab my dirty laundry and toss it in with my other things. That way, I should have some clean underwear in just a few hours. I close the door and start the cycle. The washing machine whirs to life as I once again feel a slight pressure in my bladder. Uh oh, I think to myself. I practically sprint for the bathroom, pulling my pants down and sitting on the toilet mere moments before I begin to pee. I exhale a sigh of relief. I made it. This time.