Getting Into Character part 1
Dylan sat on the bus, nervously looking out the window as house after house sped past. School was so boring, and besides, he had things to do when he got home. It was Friday, which meant that he would be able to stay up as late as he wanted to with no intrusion on his parents part. This suited him just fine, as he planned to do things that he would rather they not know about. His fingers ached to be at his keyboard, sending out those all to familiar commands to that beloved server that he had grown so attached to over the last few months. He wondered who would be logged in tonight, and if anything interesting would happen. He wondered if he should use the potty or just go in his pants.
About 3 weeks ago, Dylan had been told about a new text-based on line RPG based around one of his favorite pastimes, wearing diapers. Dylan had grown up with an intense interest in diapers, and when he was about 10 years old, his parents had gotten the Internet, which showed him that he wasn't alone. He had spent the next 4 years reading stories about diapers, chatting with friends on line about their shared interests, and generally trying to live out his fantasies through chat rooms and message boards. Then, magically, a few weeks back, someone had posted on one of the boards about this new MUD (Multi User Dungeon) that allowed for people like himself to really act as they wanted. What he wanted, as well as the character he created, was to be a young pre-teen boy with a slight fear of all things toiletry, causing him to have to wear pull ups or diapers. Lately he had been trying to be "good" and actually use the toilet for its intended purposes in the game. Tonight, he wanted to expand on his character somewhat.
After arriving home, Dylan dropped his book bag off in his room and ran to the bathroom to relieve himself. He made a quick trip to the kitchen to grab a soda, passing by his mom as he reached into the fridge.
"How was your day, Dylan?" She inquired, grabbing him by his shirt as he tried to scoot by her, and stopping him in the middle of the kitchen.
"Fine, fine... you?" Dylan didn't like the agitated tone that filtered into his voice, but he was eager to get back to playing.
"Well, thats nice. Your father and I are going out of town today, and we won't be back until Sunday. I expect you to clean your room and not spend all your time in front of that computer!"
Dylan looked as his mom, his face twisting into a look of utter aggravation, "Mom, I can handle myself! Geez, I'm fourteen."
Dylan's mom looked at him sternly, her voice hardening somewhat, "Well, you heard what I said. And I expect this place to be clean when I get back too."
Dylan rolled his eyes, but responded in the affirmative, "Yes ma'am.. geez.."
His mom rolled her eyes also, and pulled Dylan in tight for a quick hug, before finishing up sorting the mail. For his part, Dylan hugged her back, eager to get back to his room and his gaming. He popped the soda's top and sat at his desk, quickly opening his favorite MUD program before opening his Internet browser to check up on the message boards he frequents. After reading a few of the messages and new story chapters, he clicked back over to his MUD client, and logged in....
Dylan looked up at the clock, and noticed that it was late.... really late. The clock on the wall read 3:14 AM. He had spent almost 11 hours on the MUD before finally being the last to log off for the night. That evening had been quite exhilarating. Sarah had actually played for most of the evening, and Trinna and Ray were there, so he had someone his "age" to play with, and there were even a few new faces in the world.
This nights session had been particularly entertaining for Dylan, as he had finally been able to really FEEL his character, thanks to the absence of his parents. For the most part he had played the good boy, going potty when the game had told him he needed to, or when one of the "adults" in the room made him. He only got put into diapers once that night, and that was due mostly his somewhat submissive nature on line that made him a perfect target for others to "baby". In response, he had decided to give his character a little personality, and had him develop a thumb sucking habit as the night wore on.
But now it was time for real sleep. Dylan stood up and stretched, and looked around at his room, for a moment not recognizing it. The image of the MUD's daycare center in which he had just spent the last 11 hours was still fresh in his mind and almost caused him to forget where he was. He gave a brief thought to relieving the pressure in his bladder where he sat, but decided he was to scared to try.
After a quick trip to the restroom, and a small couple gulps of water, Dylan undressed and laid down in his bed, covering himself with the blankets. As he lay in bed, eyes closed, he thought about the MUD again, as he had been for quite some time, before drifting off to sleep, his dreams invaded by images of his friends on line, very vivid and real in his own mind.
Dylan awoke the next morning at about eleven, rolling over and stretching as the light poured in from his window. He sat up in bed and slowly became aware of his need to use the bathroom. Getting out of bed, Dylan went to the bathroom to take care of his morning duties, such as taking a shower, brushing his teeth, and relieving himself of the wastes his body had produced in his sleep. After doing so, he got dressed and ate some breakfast, then proceeded back to his room where he sat back down at his computer, drink in one hand, mouse in the other.
"Well, lets see whats been while I was sleeping..." he mumbled, logging into some of the message boards and quickly reading over the newest posts, before hastily closing them out and pulling up the MUD client again.
Upon logging on, he was thrilled to see that there were already a lot of people on for so early in the morning. But then again, he told himself, it is Saturday. As he began to interact with the others, he decided that today, he was going to be bad. From the first warning that his character needed to go potty, he decided to just let it pass. The past week had been pretty stressful at school, and he felt the need to take it out on the others, even if he was playing.
Throughout the morning, Dylan let his character have 3 wetting "accidents" and 1 messy one, playing the part of the difficult potty trainer, pretending to be afraid of the toilet to the point of "tears". As he played, he smiled, enjoying living out his fantasy through his text-y little persona on the MUD. At this point, having played so long in the world, he had started to think the same way his character would. When he had an accident, he felt slightly ashamed, and when the adults asked about the state of his undergarment, he felt embarrassed, and when he actually did go to the potty, he actually felt a small twinge of pride at his "accomplishment".
After a while, however, he began to realize that he was hungry, and a quick glance at the clock showed that the time was almost 5:30 PM.
"Crap, I gotta take a break.." Dylan mumbled, putting his character down for a nap, and logging out to get some food. He quickly grabbed a sandwich and a glass of milk, settling down on the couch in the living room to watch some TV while he ate. During his meal, however, he was constantly distracted by thoughts of the MUD and the people that played on it with him. He just couldn't seem to get his mind off of it.
After finishing his meal, and watching about an hour of television, Dylan decided to go back to the MUD. As he stood up to return to his room, he suddenly became aware of a more urgent need, however, and immediately thought of the message from the MUD that let you know you needed to use the bathroom.
"You feel a sudden need to go potty", Dylan mumbled, smiling as he headed off to the bathroom. Upon entering the small room, he paused, as some sort of feeling passed over his mind, but it was just as quickly dismissed, as he relaxed and let nature take its course. When he finished, he washed his hands and walked back into his room, a slight smile on his face and a spring in his step. For some reason, he felt really proud of himself, and couldn't say why. He sat at his desk, and once again, clicked the icon to bring up th AB/DL MUD, waking his character up slipping back into his role in the game.
Dylan sat in front of his computer, hanging on every word scrolling across his screen and typing his own commands into the game, sitting back again to eagerly await the response. He loved this feeling. He had played many MUD's and MUSH's in his time, and loved the feeling he got as he interacted through his character. He felt like he could really be himself.
Dylan didn't have many friends, and the ones he did were solely on the Internet. Because of his secret life and desires, he had never felt really comfortable talking to people his own age. Sometimes, over the summer, instead of running around outside and playing with the other children in the neighborhood, he would spend hours, days even, in front of his computer playing on the various RPGs he had discovered. His parents had tried to get him to make friends, but after a while and several failed attempts to have him play on community sports teams, they had figured that so long as he got some exercise it was OK.
As Dylan played on into the early morning, he started to realize that his leg was getting really tired. As he sat back to stretch some, he realized exactly why his leg was so tired. He had been so engrossed in the game, that he had been unknowingly swinging his leg back and forth under his chair, attempting to stave off the urge to go to the bathroom that was very urgently making itself known. Reluctantly, he rose from his chair, stretching his aching leg, and heading off towards the bathroom.
The light was off when Dylan entered the small, cold room, his feet curling as the touched the cooled tiles. He fumbled for the light switch, flipping it on and wincing as the bright light poured into eyes accustomed to staring at a computer screen for so long. He blinked a few times, eyes slowly coming back into focus. As he shook his head, his eyes fell upon the sight of the lone toilet in the small room.
Dylan's heart almost skipped a beat. He didn't know why, but for a brief instant, he just did not want to move any further into the room. It passed though, as quickly as it came, and he brushed it away as a side effect of being tired and suddenly being shocked into the light. He stepped forward and made his offering, shaking his head slightly again, washed his hands and headed off to his room again, this time intending on going to sleep, as the clock read 3:21 am, and his parents would be coming home later that same day. He didn't want them to think he had been up all night playing games again, or they may start to get curious as to what type of game he was playing.
Dylan shut down his computer, put on his PJ's and laid down for bed, curling up into a ball, snuggled deep in the covers. That night, he once again dreamed of being in the MUD, as if it were a real world. He could see the inside of the daycare, and smell the fresh roast beef sandwiches. He could even see all his friends. He couldn't put faces on them, but he knew who they were none the less. Dougie, Lizzie, Valentine, Leanne, Tannen, and even the high and mighty GM, Rob. He played in his dreams 'till the blaring sound of his alarm clock woke him from his deep slumber.
Dylan rolled over, and stretched, his hand brushing something damp on his pillow. Surprised, Dylan also felt the wetness on his cheek. He pulled his hand up to his face, wiping himself and realizing that he must have been sleeping with his mouth open again, and had drooled some on his pillow. Quickly, he used the sleeve of his PJ's to wipe the rest of the wetness off of his pillow, and flipped it over. Thinking nothing of it past that, Dylan turned off his alarm and got ready to take his morning shower.
Following his cleansing, Dylan was tempted to log back onto the MUD and play for a while, but he had promised his parents that he would help clean up the house while they were gone. Sighing heavily, he began the long, boring task of weekend chores. First came the living room, then he cleaned his own room, making sure to keep his pillow drool side down. After that he swept the kitchen floors, and gathered the materials to clean the bathroom. By this time, he was quite tired of cleaning, and stopped short just outside the bathroom, deciding that his parents wouldn't notice the difference in whether it was cleaned or not.
Putting the supplies away, Dylan went back to his room and started to boot up his computer, smiling as it went through the process that would eventually lead him back to the MUD. As he sat and watched the POST and operating system loading screens flash and work, he started thinking about all the people he had met on-line. He wished he could get diapers as easily as they tended to, and other baby things, but he had never had the money or the privacy to be able to do such things. His only solace had come in the form of the Internet message boards and chat rooms, and now, the MUD took up most of his time outside of school and family. On the MUD, he could have all the things he would be to scared to get in real life.
The computer finally shuddered to life on his desktop, all its miscellaneous processes slowing and stopping. He quickly clicked the link to bring up the window, allowing his character to rest in a "crib" as he checked up on the newest board messages and caught up on his e-mail. When he was finished, he woke his character up and began playing.
For the short time he was on, Dylan decided to work more on his characters newly found thumb sucking habit, as well as his potty fear. He liked it when people had to help him to go, as it made him feel like he could never feel in real life. He was only able to play for a few hours before he heard his parents pull up in the driveway. Quickly, he shut down the program and rushed to meet them, trying to see if they needed help with their bags.
"Hey Dylan, " his dad said, seeing him coming out the front door, "Nice to see you haven't dried up and crumbled in front of that computer."
"Don't tease him!" His mom shot back, a big grin on her face.
"Yeah!" Dylan smiled, knowing his dad was only kidding, "Besides, you had me slaving away over all those chores too much to do anything else!"
"Yeah, I bet," Responded his dad, eyes rolling back in his head.
They finished unpacking the car, and spent the rest of the evening making small talk about the trip, his mom indeed noticing that the bathroom had not been cleaned. About halfway through the evening, Dylan's mom noticed he was looking a bit uncomfortable in his seat, squirming around quite a bit.
"Dylan, are you ok?" she asked, looking worriedly at her son.
Dylan looked up from the TV, suddenly aware of his actions.
"Umm, no, I'm fine.. I think I'm gonna go hang out in my room for a while."
"Oh, OK" She said, deciding he was just bored.
Dylan left the room heading first to the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder that his mom's comment had brought to his attention. Once again, he felt a small twang of apprehension about entering the bathroom, but just attributed it to the guilty conscience he had from the fact that his mom had noticed he hadn't cleaned it. After finishing up, he went back to his room, booting up the MUD and playing until it was time to go to bed. Not many people were on, so he ended up doing a lot of OOC (out of character) chatting about various random things.
"Dylan! Go to bed, young man, or I'll take that computer away from you before you can even say... something!" Dylan's dad said, poking his head in Dylan's room.
"Fine, fine! I'm going!" Dylan said, closing his connection to the world, and turning his screen saver on. He set his alarm, got dressed, and lay down in his bed, pulling his thick covers over himself, rolling over and closing his eyes. As his breathing slowed, and Dylan slipped into a deep slumber, his mouth slowly inched its way up, his thumb slipping softly between his waiting lips.
Dylan awoke the next morning, rolling over and stretching as his alarm blaring at him to wake up. As he stretched, he once again felt a wetness on his pillow, and his cheek... and his hand. He quickly wiped his face on his hand, then his hand on his PJ's before trying to dry his pillow off as much as possible. There was a strange taste in his mouth, and for some reason his teeth felt kinda funny. He sat in bed and pondered this for a moment before a familiar voice echoed down the hall, and into his room.
"Dylan! Wake up NOW or you'll be late for school," his mom yelled at him, the sounds and smells of a cooking breakfast wafting through the house.
"I'm up, I'm up," he responded, ignoring his current perplexing situation for the time being, and getting his things ready to get in the shower. The warm water got his blood flowing as he cleaned him self, his hair, and even brushed his teeth, more than happy to be rid of the strange taste that had been offending his pallet.
Following his shower, he said 'good morning' to his mom, as his dad was already gone for work, and sat down for a quick breakfast before running out the door to catch the bus. Dylan sat by himself on the bus, despite the fact that he was sharing his bus bench with two other people. He sighed as his house rolled out of sight, thinking of how great it would be to just sit at home all day, not having to deal with the constant social struggles of his middle school.
The bus pulled into the parking lot of the school, and the children started to file out and into their classes, for which Dylan was most appreciative. The entire ride had been completely uneventful. Dylan walked to his first period class, looking around nervously at the other children around him. He had never really gotten to know anyone in school. He was scared that they'd make fun of him if they ever found out about his secret desires. As a result, most of the others just kind of ignored him or at the most, made small talk between classes.
But today was Monday, which meant that most of the kids were too tired to talk. Dylan sat down in his chair as his first class started. Math. He usually just daydreamed during his math class, as he already knew all the answers. He would think about the MUD, the stories on the message boards, his chat friends, and other random things for the hour and a half he had to sit in class.
"..and so we see, that if you want to multiply two equations together, the easiest way is to use the FOIL method..." The teacher droned on, finishing up the day's lecture, "And your homework will be pages 192 through 193, doing the odd problems".
The bell sounded at that point, and all the kids jumped up, rapidly packing back packs and talking, getting ready for the next class. Dylan did the same, minus the talking, giving only a few "see ya"s to some of the more friendly classmates. His next class was English, in which they were currently reading "Romeo and Juliet". Every day, some "lucky" kids would get picked to play the different parts in the play, and Dylan prayed today wouldn't be his day.
He was not to be so lucky. Dylan got picked first to play Romeo that day, meaning that he would have to stand up in front of the class and read Romeo's lines. Thankfully, though, the part today started with a scene involving only Juliet and her "parents". Dylan sat nervously, waiting for his turn, reading along with the rest of the class. As he sat, he became aware of his morning's glass of orange juice starting to catch up with him. He didn't have much time to think about it, however, as it was suddenly his turn to read.
Dylan stood up and began to read his lines, "Hark, what light through yonder window.. breaks.. Tis the east, and Juliet is.. umm.. the sun.." he recited, halfheartedly.
"Umm.. Dylan," his teacher started, as he took a pause in the recital, "Are you ok?".
Dylan stopped reading, and once his concentration was broken off of the page before him, he realized that he had been holding his crotch with his free hand and squirming his legs beneath him. He suddenly stopped, and blushed.
"I... I gotta go po-- " Dylan stopped himself. The words had started coming out before he could even stop to think almost. He started over again, hurriedly, "I need to use the bathroom."
"Oh.. OK." his teacher responded, and motioned towards the door, "Now, who would like to pick up where Dylan left off?"
Dylan didn't hear the reply, as he was quickly removing himself from the room, turning down the hall towards the bathroom. Upon entering his nose was assaulted by the all to unique smell of a school bathroom. Ignoring the urinals along the wall, he headed straight towards the stalls, suddenly preferring his privacy to the convenience of the urinal. He searched through each stall he came through, looking at the filthy bowls on each one.
"Theres no WAY I'm gonna sit on those.. they're nasty!" he thought, as he continued down the line, finally finding one that wasn't totally sickening to look at. As he entered the stall, he suddenly felt very cramped and nervous. He looked down at the toilet, starting to have second thoughts about sitting down.
"Wait. All I gotta do is pee, why would I even sit down?" he thought, shaking his head as the thought of sitting down to pee suddenly flashed in his head, and was gone. He did, however, pull his pants all the way down to his ankles before taking careful aim, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes, and relaxing at the potty. When he was done, he quickly pulled his pants up, getting out of the stall before finishing buckling his pants up and making sure his zipper was in place. He stood back against the far wall, looking back towards the toilet, feeling a slight wave of relief, and a bit of pride, was over him.
Smiling, he washed his hands and headed back to class. He was smiling big when he walked back in, his teacher and the other students stopping what they were doing as he walked back in. He ignored the strange looks, and smiled as he took his seat. His teacher just nodded and got the rest of the class back on track, picking up the play where she had left off.
Following English was lunch period, during which time Dylan sat by himself on one end of the cafeteria, pushing his food around distractedly. He wasn't really hungry during the day, and he never really ate much at lunch. He had already drank his water and ate half a pizza and was full. He sighed and thought about how nice it would be to be home right then.
The rest of the school day was pretty uneventful, and passed quickly, as Dylan just day dreamed or doodled through his Science and History classes. Later, on the bus, someone decided to start teasing him about his slip-up in English class, asking him if he needed to potty, but no one else on the bus was in that class, so the other kid gave up quickly. Dylan felt nothing of it, and just stared out the window, sighing.
However, by the time the bus rolled up in front of his house, Dylan was once again holding his crotch and fidgeting nervously. As he got off the bus, he practically ran to his house. Just as he was getting in the door good, he heard his phone rang.
"Hello?" he almost yelled, picking it up on what he was sure was the last ring.
"Hey, Dylan, this is your mom." the familiar voice explained, Dylan rolling his eyes at his mom's need to explain who she was.
"Yeah, I know. Whats up?"
"Well, I have to work a little late tonight, and your father is out of town on business, so he'll be late to. Dinner is in the 'fridge, and don't forget to clean up! I'll be home about 8, so don't think you're gonna be staying up late, Mister".
Dylan once again rolled his eyes, and just mumbled a quick reply, something gnawing at the back of his mind, but the distraction of the phone had made him forget what was so urgent. As he hung up, he sighed loudly and went to his room, quickly bringing up the MUD window in order to get some relaxation in before he had to start his homework.
On the MUD, he sat in the daycare playing with some random toys. Well, that is, a? much as one could play with text-based toys, but thats why he liked this game, he could really stretch his imagination. As his character played, the message "You feel a sudden urge to go potty" scrolled across the screen, and Dylan could swear he could actually fell the sensation growing in his physical body too. He started to really get into playing now, as none of the people playing the adults in the room had noticed his characters obvious signs of needing to go pee pee. The only thing detracting from his joy was the dull ache in his legs, the same kind of ache that he had the day before.
After a while, after being mostly ignored or misunderstood by the "adults", those famous words that Dylan had read on the MUD so many times before rolled across the screen.
"You feel a warm, damp feeling around your groin."
Dylan smiled at the screen. Now he knew that the others in the room would have to "discover" his accident, and he relaxed. His leg had stopped aching too, which made him smile more, and he could swear that he could actually feel that warm wetness in his own crotch. He shifted his leg beneath his chair, stretching slightly, and wondered why his sock was wet.... and warm.
Dylan was suddenly startled out of his gaming mood, his hands reaching down to feel under his chair for what may have spilled. He got about halfway down before he realized something. He had not spilled anything on the floor. He had done something MUCH worse.
Dylan began to panic, looking frantically up at the clock on the wall. His mom would be home any minute now! How could he explain to her the obvious wet spot spread across his pants and down his legs, not to mention the puddle on the seat of the chair and the one slowly growing under said chair. He had to think quick. Grimacing a bit, he quickly shut down the MUD program and stripped down to his sopping wet undies.
"How the crap did this happen?" he mumbled to himself, genuinely worried about it. He suddenly remembered the urge he had before he came on, and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he have forgotten to use the bathroom?! "So stupid!" he exclaimed, deciding to just wipe up the mess he had made with his already wet pants and shirt.
Now Dylan had a problem. He had to get rid of the evidence and get himself cleaned up before his parents go home. A quick look in the washroom made his eyes brighten up. The washer was empty and the dryer only had a few towels in it, ready to be folded. He quickly dumped his soiled clothing into the washer, adding a bit of detergent and turning it on. He shifted a bit, feeling a slight draft "down there" and quickly stripped down, wrapping one of the clean towels around his waist and tossing his undies quickly in with the rest of the wash.
A quick shower later and Dylan was feeling much better. That is, until he opened the bathroom door and heard the familiar sounds of his mom rummaging in the kitchen. He stood in the door of the bathroom for a moment, pondering what to do. He had forgotten to bring any clean clothes to the shower with him, and his room was on the far side of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Dylan wrapped his towel tight around himself and stepped out, moving quickly through the kitchen.
"Dylan?" his mom inquired as he shuffled past, catching a glimpse of her son from behind the cabinet door.
"Be right out, Mom! Let me get dressed!" Dylan called back, quickly making sure that his chair and floor were sufficiently cleaned, hoping the light odor of urine was just in his mind. He pulled on his night clothing, walking back to the kitchen.
"I noticed you were doing some laundry?" Dylan's mom asked as he re-entered the room.
"Uhm.. yeah. I, uh... spilled some Coke on myself while playing. Its all good now, though." Dylan lied. There was no way he was gonna tell his mom he had peed his pants!
"Oh, OK then, did you eat dinner yet?" She inquired eying her son a bit, but deciding that he was probably just startled to see her.
"No, what you cooking?" He asked, glad that his mom bought the story, looking at the cabinet his mom was currently packing with groceries.
"Well aren't we a bit presumptuous?" his mom asked with a slight grin.
"Sorry" Dylan apologized, grabbing some microwave macaroni from the cabinet before it shut and starting to prepare it.
"So, other than your little accident, how was your evening?" she asked.
Dylan jumped a bit, eyes going wide and his lip quivering slightly. How did she know?! Did she see his clothes? Did she smell it in his room? He sniffed a bit to confirm that he didn't smell like pee. He didn't, he was sure of it! In his sudden confusion, Dylan knocked over a salt shaker, sending it to the floor with a loud bang.
"W..what?" he stammered, not turning to face his mom.
"The coke? That you spilled? I swear, you kids these days get food on your minds and just...." She continued talking, Dylan pretty much tuning her out. He took a deep breath and picked up the salt, now remembering the lie he had told his mom about the clothes in the wash.
"Y.yeah.. that. I'm fine, thanks." He was shaking a bit, but not noticeably as he finished "cooking" his microwaved meal and sat down at the table to eat. He asked about his mom's day and they chatted a bit, just making small talk for the most part. He finished eating, put his dishes in the sink and gave his mom a small peck on the cheek.
"I think I'm gonna turn in for the night, Mom." he said, needing an excuse to get back to his room.
"Ok, remember, tomorrow is a school day!" she warned, giving her son the "don't stay up too late" look.
"Sure, sure." he said, wandering off to his room and closing the door, leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath. He almost lost it back there, but at least she didn't know.
Dylan stared at his computer screen from across the room, wanting to load up the MUD again, but deciding against it, not wanting to sit in the still damp chair. Instead, he flopped down on the bed, grabbing his remote and flicking on the TV. He flipped channels for a bit, sighing and looking over at his computer monitor every few minutes. He REALLY wanted to log in, but decided against it. He had his fill of it for one evening.
After a bit, Dylan started to feel the need to relieve himself again. A quick glance at the clock made him realize that it was getting late, also. Dylan turned off the tube, and walked into the small bathroom attached to his room, stretching his stiff limbs as he did so. Upon entering the bathroom, he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face and hands again. An urge from his bladder caught his attention suddenly, and he turned towards the toilet.
Then it hit him. A sudden, stinging fear. It was irrational and had no basis, but it was there anyway. Dylan took a few steps back, shaking his head and trying to breath normally. He took another step towards the toilet, suddenly unsteady on his feet. He bit his lip and stared at the white porcelain, trying to muster the courage that he had somehow lost.
"DYLAN! Go to bed NOW!" his mom shouted through his door, shaking out of his fear induced haze. He quickly turned out the light and closed the door as he exited the small room, shouting back to his mom that he was, indeed, going to bed now. Dylan quickly stripped down, getting dressed in his PJ's and laying down under the covers. He ignored the slight complaint from his bladder as he snuggled down under the covers.
It took him a while, with the slight irritation in his groin from needing to pee, but when he finally did he slept deeply. Unbeknownst to him, though, Dylan's thumb was once again making its way to his mouth, and something else was making its way to his mattress...
Dylan awoke the next morning and rolled over, suddenly feeling very cold... and wet. He suddenly jerked awake, accidentally biting his thumb hard as he sat up, making him wince. He slowly shook his hand, trying to let the stinging subside, and pushed his covers off. He was immediately assaulted with a somewhat familiar smell, and the location of the large, oval shaped wet spot on his bed left no doubt in his mind what happened.
As Dylan sat in bed, puzzling, his door suddenly swung open and his dad entered, flipping the light switch as he did so. Time seemed to stop completely as Dylan stared up as his father from the middle of an obviously wet bed, still cradling his thumb.
"Oh.. Wow.. umm... are you ok, son?" His dad asked, obviously stunned. "D.. Do you need any help there?"
Dylan was terrified. He didn't know how it happened, but he was completely embarrassed at this point. He just kinda stared up at his dad for a moment, before slowly responding, "I think I wet the bed."
His dad nodded somewhat, glancing around nervously and suddenly spotting the many drink cans in the trash can by the computer, along with the large, half-filled glass of water left over from the previous night, and had an idea.
"Do you think maybe you had a bit too much to drink last night, kid?" he asked, trying to come up with some reason his fourteen year old son was sitting in a wet bed.
Dylan quickly collected himself, taking a deep breath and fighting back whatever tears may have been building up behind his eyes. "Maybe.." was his only response.
"Well, hey, its alright. Just get these sheets to the wash and take a shower, ok?" he reached out, patting his son on the shoulder. "And try not to drink so much at night, alright?"
Dylan nodded once, waiting for his dad to leave before jumping up and stripping his bed down. Quickly, he dragged his dirtied sheets down the hall and into the washroom. As he dumped the sheets into the wash, his mom walked buy, poking her head in quickly just to say "Don't forget your PJ's" and nothing more. He blushed heavily, stripping down and wrapping a towel around himself as he rushed to the bathroom to start his shower.
As Dylan entered the bathroom, he stopped, sending a worried glance at the toilet before slowly starting the shower, his eyes never wandering far from that porcelain villain. He quickly ducked into the shower as it reached optimal temperature, feeling much better about getting cleaned up. He tried not to look in the direction of the potty as he dried off and wrapped the towel around himself again, exiting the room quickly and heading back to his bedroom.
Dylan finished getting dressed for school, combing his hair, and brushing his teeth, making sure to stay out of the bathroom for the majority of the brushing, only entering to quickly spit and rinse his toothbrush off. After a quick, mostly silent, breakfast Dylan started out the door. His mom watched him go, worry filling her eyes but she quickly stopped, sighing and going to turn on the washing machine.
Dylan pretty much ignored everything at school in the morning. He tried his best to just stay quiet, hoping beyond hope to just fade into nothingness after waking up the way he did. It wasn't very hard, considering how many people ignored him anyway. About halfway through his third period class, Dylan started to feel that familiar urge. He had to go bad, and started to shift around in his desk. He glanced around nervously, squirming slightly and pulling his arms in close to his body. He looked at the clock, and pressed his thumbnail to his bottom lip slightly, trying to stave off the urge.
A little while later, it became too much. He quickly raised his hand, waving it a little.
"Yes, Dylan? What do you need?" The older teacher said, turning around and tapping the dry-erase marker's end to his temple.
"I... Gotta goooo" Dylan whined, still squirming in his seat. The teacher stared at him for a moment, then widening his eyes and trying his best to suppress a chuckle.
"Then, by all means, Dylan. Go." he almost laughed, motioning towards the door. Dylan got up quickly and headed out, the sounds of quiet snickers and muffled laughs behind him.
As he approached the bathroom, he looked around the empty hall, suddenly having second thoughts about this trip. He stopped outside the door, doing a distinct "potty dance". He stepped in, bypassing the urinals and heading straight for a stall. He entered, clutching his groin desperately, and staring at the toilet. He breathed shakily for a moment, then he felt a small "squirt" escape. His eyes went wide, and he quickly pulled his pants off, sitting down on the potty and letting the rest go. He was terrified of the toilet, but even more terrified of having an accident in school.
He finished his business, and gets up, checking his pants and undies, finding only a very small wet spot on his undies, and none on his jeans. He sighs, quickly pulling up his pants and getting out of the stall, realizing he had been holding his breath ever since he sat down. He took a moment to get his breath back to normal, and started to wash his hands. As he was washing his hands, Dylan became aware of another potty urge, but was not ready to brave the stall again now, so just stood and held it, deciding to wait 'till later to take care of it.
Dylan returned to class, ducking in and sitting down quickly, blushing and trying to ignore the soft chuckles that accompanied his entrance. The rest of class was spent with him enduring whispers of "did ya make it?" and "I gotta gooooooo" from all sides. He wanted to just die.
Fortunately, school was over quickly, having only to suffer through one more class that day. During the last class, Dylan once again started squirming, the urge to use the bathroom again growing with every passing moment. He once again was pressing his thumb to his lips, trying his hardest to look normal. He watched the clock intently, ignoring the talk of the reign of Julius Caesar his teacher kept spewing. The sound of the bell startled Dylan from his thoughts, and motivating him to jump from his seat, grab his things, and rush out the door.
Walking seemed to help take the edge off the growing pressure in his abdomen. He dreaded taking his seat on the bus. The bouncing and jerking of the bus did not help his condition any, and only helped to worsen the problem. By the time the bus pulled up in front of his house, Dylan was almost in tears. He squeezed his cheeks tight one good time before standing and walking quickly down the isle and off the bus. He paused as the bus drove off, straining to keep it in 'till he could get inside.
Dylan took a few steps, straining still. The only sound was the sound of the birds in the trees. Then, Dylan stopped, his eyes going wide as he suddenly felt a strong surge in his lower regions as his body decided he could take no more pressure. His pants bulged slightly as Dylan squatted slightly, and instinctively pushed the mess out. His eyes watered up and he immediately began sucking his thumb as he stooped in front of his own home, messing his pants almost uncontrollably. The only way this could get worse, he thought with closed eyes, was if he wet himself. Then, without warning, it got worse. Dylan could no longer hold it in. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he slowly opened the door and walked into his home, trying not to drip too much on the carpet as his mess shifted against his bottom.
Dylan went into action as soon as he got in the house. He went first to his room, putting down his book bag, and then gathering some clean clothes. This one was gonna be a bit harder to hide. The smell alone had already spread through the front room, and was making its way down the hall. He quickly removed his pants and shirt, standing in just his soaked and quite messy underpants.
Upon arrival in the main bathroom, Dylan carefully peeled off his underwear, dumping most of the mess in the toilet, and using toilet paper to get as much as he could off of himself. He flushed the mess down the toilet, placing the soiled undergarment in the sink for the time being. He turned on the shower, stepping in lightly, and quickly cleaning himself up, grimacing the entire time at the smell and feel of his mess. By the time Dylan was clean, the water coming from the shower head had turned cold.
After drying off, Dylan gathered the washcloth and his soiled undies and headed out, turning on the exhaust fan to try and clear the smell from the room. He went to his room, grabbed his pants and shirt, and took the whole collection to the washroom. He didn't know how well a washing would work on such a mess, but he was gonna try his best to get them clean. He added the detergent and set the washer to permanent press, and went about scouring the floors for any sign of drippage. He sighed, not finding any, and grabbed the deodorizer from under the kitchen sink, spraying it around the house liberally to remove the smell.
An hour later, Dylan was sitting in his room, staring at the wall and nibbling on the tip of his thumb. He was worried. His parents were milling about outside his room, chatting about their days and making the usual evening small talk. So far nothing had been said, but he knew something would be. It was only a matter of time. He could swear he still could smell the stench. He knew they'd find his dirty underwear in the dryer. It was only a matter of time.
"Dylan! Its dinner time!" his mom yelled from the kitchen, startling Dylan from his thoughts. He decided the best he could do is just go forward and face whatever they had to throw at him.
"Hey, son" Dylan's dad's greeting was happy, relaxed, and sounded free of suspicion.
The dinner went pleasantly, with no one saying anything at all about Dylan's fears. He was nervous, and jittery, but tried not to let it show. After dinner and the ensuing cleanup, the family moved its evening activities into the living room.
"So, Dylan, hows school?" His dad inquired while flipping through the channels, trying to find something good on.
"F-fine, I guess." Dylan replied, shifting uneasily on the couch, his bladder suddenly warning him of an impending need to relieve himself.
His father raises an eyebrow slightly, noticing the shifting. "You sure? Did you get in any trouble?" he asked, warily.
"No, really, its fine." Dylan insisted.
"Are you ok, Honey?" His mom asked, suddenly a bit worried.
"Y..yeah, I'm good, really." he said, "I just umm.. gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He jumped up from the couch, heading back to his room, and inside there, the bathroom. He stopped short as he flipped on the lights, glaring at the toilet from the door way. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and pulled on his shirt a little.
"No..." he muttered, turning off the light and turning his back to the room, fully aware of the tingling sensation from his bladder, urging him to go back in and do the job. He ignored that urge, returning to the family room and taking a seat on the couch, making a conscious effort to NOT squirm or fidget, concentrating on the television.
About thirty minutes later, Dylan's concentration was interrupted by a loud noise. A split second later, Dylan realized the sound was his mother yelling his name. He also realized a warm trickling feeling in his crotch. He jumped up, clenching down in that region to stop the flow.
"Dylan! Bathroom! Now!" his mom almost shouted, more worried than angry. Dylan didn't have time to react, other than to bolt from the room and shoot into his bathroom. His embarrassment overcame his fear, and he jerked his pants down and finished into the toilet. When he finished, he inspected the damage, finding only a quarter sized damp spot on the front of his jeans, but his underwear was pretty bad off.
"Just put the dirty clothes in the wash, please!" his mom called out.
"Yes ma'am" Dylan replied, stepping quickly across the hall. He pulled his clothing from the dryer, inspecting to see how badly his clothing was stained from earlier. Deciding it wasn't to bad, he slipped back into his now semi-cleaned, yet stained underwear, grabbing some shorts from his room, and heading dejectedly back into the living room.
"Is everything ok, hun?" his mom asked, a look of concern on her face.
"Yeah, son. What happened?" his dad followed up, worry also apparent in his eyes.
"I, don't know," Dylan replied, keeping his head lowered, "It just.. happened, I guess."
"Didn't you feel you had to go?" his dad asked.
Dylan just shook his head, figuring the "I didn't know" lie was better than the "I'm terrified of using the bathroom" approach. He hated lying to his parents, but this time he was just to afraid of the alternative. If they found out he was scared, they'd send him to a psychiatrist or something.
"Well, I'll get an appointment with the doctor tomorrow, I promise." Dylan's mom said, walking over and giving her son a big hug.
"T..thats not necessary." he said, hugging back. "I'm fine, really." Dylan was trying to reassure his mother, hoping she wouldn't follow through.
"Yes, it is. Now go get some rest. Maybe its just stress, you know?"
Dylan nodded, letting go of his mom, and turning to leave, muttering something along the lines of "yeah, stress" on his way out. He entered his room, closing the door and leaning on it for a moment, taking a deep breath. He shook his head, heading over to his computer, thinking that the MUD would help calm him down. It was a slow night, but he managed to relax despite the in-activity, forgetting his real problems, and focusing entirely on his character. After about 4 hours, he was almost falling asleep at the keyboard, and decided that it was probably time for some sleep.
Setting his alarm to get up in the morning for school, Dylan curled up in the bed, once again suckling his thumb peacefully, and falling into a very deep, comfortable, and un-troubled sleep.
Dylan slowly opened his eyes, then closed them again, trying to shut out the light of the morning flowing in through his window. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get away from the early morning intruder, only to realize why he was awake to begin with. Someone was standing over him, shaking him gently.
"C'mon Dylan, get up. You cant lay in that wet bed all day, and we need to get ready to go." A gentle voice said. It took him a moment to realize who it was, and what was being said, but as soon as he did, he shot upright in bed, almost knocking his mom off of her feet. His sudden movement brought to his attention the cold wetness that was spread about on his bed. He rubbed his eyes, looking up at his mother, his pajama's clearly soaked with the evidence of his nighttime activities. Small tears started to well up in his eyes as he sat in his wet bed, his groggy mind trying to make sense of what was going on around him.
"There there, honey." Dylan's mom comforted, rubbing his shoulder, and moving down his back. "Its ok.. Don't worry, ok?" She frowned a bit, realizing how bad her son must be feeling at the moment. Dylan, for his part, was trying his best not to just burst into tears. He looked up into his mom's eyes, starting to chew on his bottom lip.
"Come on, kiddo." she said, gently helping him out of bed after a tentative glance at the clock, "Go get a shower. I've got you a doctor's appointment in an hour and I don't want to be late." She started stripping the sheets off the bed, hoping the mattress wasn't completely ruined by this point.
Dylan stood for a moment, watching as his mom removed his soaked bedding from the moist mattress. He thought of apologizing, or even saying it wasn't his fault, but after the third wet bed in a row, plus his multiple accidents thus far, he wasn't sure if anything he could say would change the situation. After a moment, he simply wiped his eyes again, and shuffled off to the bathroom to take a shower. He almost cried again when getting undressed, seeing the stain in his undies from the day before. Why was this happening to him? He carefully stepped into the shower and began to get cleaned up, so involved in his own thoughts that he didn't notice his mom open the door to grab his wet night time clothing.
Dylan's mom held her son's sopping wet night clothes out at arm's length as she carried them from the bathroom to the washroom to deposit them in the washer with his sheets. As she did so, however, the dark stain in the back of his underwear caught her eye. These underwear were almost brand new, yet here they were with an obvious poop stain in them. She suddenly became even more worried for her son's health. It seemed that the problem was already far beyond just the single small wetting and nighttime control issues she had herself witnessed. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and hoped that the doctor could find out what was causing all of this, before it got any worse.
After his shower, Dylan found himself without clothing, and quickly rushed back to his room to get dressed. He could tell by the clock that he wasn't going to make the bus, seeing as how it was already an hour after school had started. He got dressed quickly, taking note that his mattress was missing, and went to go find his mom. He found her sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of coffee.
"Umm.. .do I really have to go to the doctors?" He asked, grabbing a cereal bar from the cabinet before joining his mom at the table.
"Yes, we do. Why didn't you tell me you had another accident" She inquired, now very worried about the health of her son.
Dylan squirmed in his seat, realizing that she must have seen the stain in his undies while he was in the shower. "Ummm... I.. I didn't want you to be mad." He said, somewhat truthfully. "I mean... It was an accident.. I couldn't help it!" His defensive tone sounded a bit harsh, even to him, but he was too upset to care. He felt his throat catch up some.
"Its ok, Dylan. That's why we're going to the doctor's office, ok?" She reached over, rubbing his shoulder again to calm him down. Dylan nodded weakly, taking another bite of his granola bar. After a few more silent moments, they both got up and headed towards the car. The drive to the doctor's office was short, but the wait in the office was short. Dylan had to answer some questions on a small sheet about whether or not he was sexually active, or if he had engaged in any recreational drug use. There were other questions about his allergies and past medical history, but his mother took care of filling that part out.
After a long and somewhat uncomfortable wait, one of the nurses called Dylan's name, and he and his mother got up and proceeded into the examining room. There, he was instructed to take off his clothing and replace it with a standard issue hospital gown. He was embarrassed, but at least the nurse and his mother left the room as he did it. He tried his best to wrap himself up in the very flimsy garment. A moment later, his mom and the nurse returned, peeking in first to make sure he was dressed.
"Well, Dylan, I've been looking over your charts, and talking to your mother, and she says you're having some 'control' issues, is this right?" The nurse asked somewhat tentatively, so as to not embarrass the boy.
Dylan nodded slightly, looking over at his mother and wondering just how much she had told the nurse. "Yeah, a little... I had an accident... y'know... and.. I... wet the bed." The words came out as little more than a mumble, but the nurse just nodded.
"Ok then, well, what we're going to do is take your temperature, your weight, and height, as well some other small measurements, is that ok?" The nurse motioned for Dylan to follow her as she talked, leading him to a small station at the end of the hall, much to Dylan's embarrassment to be having to maneuver the halls in just the open backed gown. When they arrived, the nurse had him stand on a scale while she took his weight and height, then he sat as she took his temperature and blood pressure. After she recorded all these, she led him back to the exam room, where he was informed that the doctor would be with him shortly.
After another uncomfortably silent wait, the doctor did indeed appear. He smiled at Dylan and his mother, and when he spoke, it was in a slightly odd accent. "Hello there, I'm Doctor Bjolkim." He smiled then, looking over the sheet and then back at Dylan. "And you must be Dylan, eh?"
Dylan swallowed hard, and nodded, too embarrassed to really say anything. The doctor smiled reassuringly, and started to speak in that same odd accent again. "Good good... Well, I've been looking over your charts here, and so far as I can see nothing out of the ordinary so far, but I think we're gonna have to conduct some other tests to find the cause of these problems."
"What kind of tests?" Dylan's mother injected while the doctor took a break and a breath. She moved closer to her son, putting an arm around his shoulders.
"Oh, nothing too serious," Doctor Bjolkim said while smiling, "Just some blood and urine tests. These will help determine if theres anything wrong with his kidneys or bladder directly." He wrote something down on the chart, then gathered some supplies from the nearby cabinets and sink area.
"Now," he said, taking a small needle and attaching it to a strange little bottle, "This will only hurt for a second, ok Dylan?" He waited for Dylan to nod, then look Dylan's arm in his hand, probing around for a vein, then quickly sticking in the needle, trying not to chuckle at Dylan's wince. The small bottle filled up with Dylan's blood, and the doctor quickly removed the needle, placing a band aid over the small puncture hole. The placed the bottle in a small bag, then retrieved a small plastic cup with a lid from the cabinet, turning and holding it out to Dylan.
"Dylan, I need for you to go to the bathroom and fill this cup up to the line, ok? Can ya do that for me, sport?" He asked, somewhat patronizingly.
"Y.. yeah, I can do that" Dylan said, taking the cup and trying to hold the back of his gown closed as he headed out the door. He found the bathroom easily enough, but it took him a moment to bring himself to actually go in. Upon entry, however, he just couldn't bring himself to go over to the toilet. He stared at the cup, and then at the toilet, and suddenly had an idea. So long as he kept control, he could make in the cup without having to go near the potty!
Standing in the far corner of the bathroom away from the threatening looking toilet, he carefully lifted his gown and tried to relax. Unfortunately, he found out just how hard it is to stop once you've started, and quickly the cup was filled, and some was splashing out onto the floor. He panicked, and clenched down hard, shutting off the flow and pulling the cup away, leaving a small mess on the floor and, embarrassingly, on the front of his gown. He got some paper towels and quickly cleaned up the floor, and tried to clean up himself. He sighed, realizing that he couldn't get the spot off the gown, and just washed his hands and put the lid on the cup.
No one saw him going back to the examination room, thankfully, but as soon as he walked in, his mom's eyes went a bit wide. "Did you have another accident, Dylan?" she asked quickly, noticing the damp spot on the front of his gown.
"No... it just... got away from me, I guess." Dylan responded, quickly handing the small cup over to the doctor, who for his part, merely nodded, and said nothing in regards to the small wet spot on the gown, which, unbeknownst to Dylan, had grown slightly larger since he had left the bathroom. The doctor slipped the cup into its own little bag, writing Dylan's name and some ID number on the outside.
"Well, Dylan," the doctor said, "These tests are gonna take at least 2 days for us to see any clear results." He then turned slightly towards Dylan's mother. "Until then, however, if the problem is as bad as you've said, I think maybe we should talk about some sort of temporary protection, eh?"
Dylan froze, eyes wide. He knew what Doctor Bjolkim was talking about. Diapers. Or something close to it. He was suddenly torn. This was what he had thought he wanted, to be able to wear diapers in real life, and not just on the game. The thought of it coming about this way, however, scared him. It scared him so bad, in fact, that what little was left over in his bladder from his trip with the cup suddenly decided to flee the confines of his body, to the sounds of water hitting a tiled floor.
Dylan sat on the table, his mind almost frozen from embarrassment and fear as his bladder fully emptied itself on the doctor's examining table. After the first moment of initial shock, Dylan's mother began apologizing profusely to Doctor Bjolkim as she grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser above the small sink. For his part, the good doctor helped with the clean up, looking curiously at Dylan's beet red face, but not saying much.
"Oh, Doctor, I'm sorry! Dylan! Apologize right now!" His mother was frantic to not loose face due to the current turn of events. "We are SO sorry for this!"
"No no, its quite alright," the doctor comforted, calling for a nurse to come with a mop. "Thats why we're here, is it not? I see now that the problem is indeed serious. I'll have the lab look at these and get the results back as soon as possible."
Dylan stood off the table as his mother pulled at him, offering little resistance to her directions, being not in any frame of mind to put up a fight. He was quickly stripped of his sopping wet examination gown and left covering himself with just his hands. Soon the nurse arrived with a small mop and sanitary spray bottle, as well as a medium sized bag. The nurse began cleaning the floor after handing the bag off to the doctor, making sure to get all the excess urine off the floor before spraying it down good with the sanitizer.
Doctor Bjolkim thanked the nurse and opened the small bag, pulling something from it and handing it off to Dylan's mother. "I think, given the current situation, that these will be appropriate. I'm also recommending a store where you can buy any other items you may think you will need to handle the problem for now."
Dylan's mom looked at the object, then slowly opened it up, revealing that it was a pair of pull on protective underwear. A pull up, for all intents and purposes. Dylan blushed heavily as his mother nodded towards the doctor, then turned and held them open at about Dylan's knees.
"Thank you very much, Doctor. I hope we wont need them very long, but for now they'll at least keep his pants clean." she then turned to Dylan, and said with all the love a mother could have, "Step in dear, we need to get you dressed again."
At this, Dylan spoke up. "Mom! I can dress myself, ok!" he stated, but stepped into the waiting training pant anyway, reaching down and trying to help as his mother pulled them up his legs and made sure they were securely in place before handing Dylan his clothes back. As he was re-dressing himself (minus underwear), he listened as the Doctor and his mother went on.
"But do you think they'll do for at night? I mean, I don't want to have to get up at all times of the night to make sure he's not leaking..." his mom said worriedly, eying the thin protective garments in the bag.
"Of course not, and I wouldn't suggest trying to use them at night. I'm sure the employees at the store would be more than willing to recommend something for night time use." Doctor Bjolkim stated.
"Hmmm.. we'll see. These are just temporary, right?" She asked, looking over the features on the side of the bag.
"Certainly," doctor Bjolkim reassured her, putting one hand on Dylan's shoulder, "I'm sure we'll be able to get Lil Dylan here back to his normal self in no time. But for now, however, I would recommend lots of rest, and very little stress. Just take it easy for a week or so, until we can get to the bottom of it."
Dylan's mother nodded, then asked, "What about school?"
The doctor, who had gone back to writing on the charts, looked up. "I'll write you a note for today, so that you can get the things you may need until we come up with a more permanent solution. However, I don't think taking him out of school would be a good idea."
Dylan's mom nodded again, taking this all in. "Well, Doctor, I thank you so very much. Please keep us informed." She reached over and put an arm around Dylan then, causing him to blush heavily. "I do hope this isn't a very serious condition..."
"Oh, you'll be hearing from me soon, don't worry." He said, handing her a bit of paper. "Thats the address of the store I was telling you about. You should be able to get what you need there."
After a few more formalities, and goodbyes, Dylan followed his mom out of the office, his new underpants feeling quite strange in his crotch, since there was a bit more to them than just regular underwear. The plastic outer covering of them also felt strange rubbing against his inner thigh, and the slight crinkle that he was sure everyone would notice immediately caused him to keep his eyes darting around the room for anyone who may be staring at him funny.
The car ride over to the store was silent, except for the radio. Dylan was deep in thought, and worried. What if he was loosing control? Would he have to wear diapers forever? Why was he loosing control? His mind chugged through these questions, but refused to offer up any answers. He was also trying to concentrate on his bladder, fearful that he would pee again. He kept his hands in his lap, just in case. Dylan's mom was racing with the same thoughts, almost, as she peered at the signs on the road side, looking for the shop the doctor had told her about. Lost in thought, she almost missed it, but managed to get into the parking lot without too much difficulty.
Dylan's mother took his hand and almost drug him into the store. The store, they soon discovered, was a medical supply store, selling all sorts of health care supplies and equipment. An attendant noticed them immediately as they walked in, and stepped over to greet them.
"Hello, how may we help you today?" She asked in a cheerful voice, her wide smile beaming at the Mother and Son.
"Why yes," Dylan's mother smiled back. "My son is having a bit of an ... issue, and the doctor recommended that we come here to get something to help deal with it." She then fished the small piece of paper out of her purse, and handed it off to the young sales clerk. The girl looked at the paper for a moment, then shot a sympathetic look in Dylan's direction before turning back to the older woman.
"Of course we can help. Please, follow me." She motioned for them to accompany her, and led them towards one of the small aisles. "Here we have all sorts of incontinence supplies. From just light control issues, to full bladder and bowel loss,a" she said, waving at the shelves.
Dylan's mother looked over the shelves, then looked back at Dylan. "Well, we're going to need something along the lines of what he's wearing now, for the daytime, but at night...." she trailed off, looking back at the shelves.
The clerk looked confused, eying Dylan for a moment. "Well, ma'am, what exactly is he wearing now?" she asked, causing Dylan to go a very deep shade of red, and take a step back.
Dylan's mother suddenly looked a bit confused. "Oh, my... I forgot the name, and I left the bag in the car. I'll go get it." she said, and started to hurry off. Dylan started to breathe again. He was terrified his mother was going to pull down his pants and show the clerk what he was wearing. As he fought to stay calm, his mother reappeared, and quickly explained to the clerk what brand the doctor had given her.
"Oh, those kind..." the clerk trailed off, looking back to the shelves. "Those are ok, I suppose, but not very absorbent. Now these, are much more recommended by our other patrons" she said, picking up a bag off the shelf.
"Really?" Dylan's mom asked, looking at the bag, then at Dylan. "Do you think they'll be ok for him?" The clerk nodded, and she smiled, continuing on, "Well, then we'll also need something for night time too, but something that we don't have to worry about changing or leaking..."
The clerk nodded again, and grabbed another bag from the shelf, this one a little bigger. Printed on the side were the words "Fitted Briefs", but judging from the pictures, they were adult diapers. Dylan wanted to die as his mother took the bag and looked it over.
"Hmmm... Maximum Protection, Perfect for overnight use.... Less changes, more odor control..." she read off the package, then turned it over in her hands a bit, "Aren't they a bit thick?"
The attendant nodded slightly, but chirped "Yes, but they're the very best for night time use. The thicker they are, the less often you'll need to change it."
Dylan's mother looked at the package, then nodded. "I'll take two of these, and four of the pull on style." she announced, grabbing a few off the shelves. Dylan, was surprised. He didn't think they'd need nearly that many, as he didn't intend on having to be changed at all. However, in order to get this situation over and done with, he just followed his mom silently as they headed towards the counter.
As they were checking out, Dylan's mother leaned over to him, and whispered in his ear, "Do you need to use the bathroom?" to which Dylan could only respond by shaking his head quickly. They had been at the store for about 30 minutes looking over different products, and Dylan hadn't felt an urge to potty. He just stood there, trying to not look nearly so embarrassed as he felt. His mother smiled, and paid for the packages and thanked the nice clerk, and together, she and Dylan took the bags to the car.
On the ride home, Dylan's mother began to talk. "Now, Dylan, I know you don't want to wear these, but they're for your own protection, ok?" she checked her side mirror, and merged lanes, then continued talking. "I'm trusting you to try and go to the bathroom whenever you need to. Also, make sure you change your pull--" she stopped short, realizing what she almost said, "eer, underpants whenever you need to."
Dylan stared out the window, leaning his head against the glass. "Yes, Ma'am..." was his response. He was feeling a bit confused. He wanted to wear diapers, but now that he was, he didn't want them. Especially since he now HAD to wear them. He lifted his head as they arrived home, climbing out of the car and grabbing the bags from the back seat. As they entered the house, Dylan and his mother took his new packages to his room, and placed them on the dresser. He turned to look at his mother, who had a worried look in her eye.
"Whats wrong, mom?" Dylan asked, thinking he knew why she was worried.
However, imagine his surprise as she reached over, and hugged him, finishing the hug by pulling down his pants quickly and sticking a finger in the leg band of his new underwear.
Dylan awoke with a jump kicking his computer desk with his knee and sending his assorted collection of junk toppling over. He did, however, manage to grab his drink before it spilt all over his keyboard. Breathing at least that sigh of relief, he slowly looked around, realizing he had dozed off at his desk. The clock on the dresser showed that the time was a little after 3 in the afternoon. His mind still clouded by the unexpected nap, Dylan shook out the cobwebs and tried to regain his bearings.
Sitting on his dresser, right where he had left them, were the 6 packages of his new "protection". So much for the morning just being a bad dream. He quickly reached down and touched his pants, sighing in relief that his pants were still fully fastened and in place. "I guess that part was the dream..." he thought, also relieved. He would have not been able to face his mother if she had truly tried to check on him like that. So far, this day had been bad enough on its own without having to deal with something like that.
"Dylan!" His mother's voice called out from the direction of the living room. "Did you put your things away like I asked? I really don't think you want them just sitting out like that, do you?"
"Umm.. I... I'm doing it now, okay?" Dylan answered back, stretching his arms and somewhat cramped legs as he stood up, computer desk chairs apparently not being the greatest of sleeping accommodations. As he stood, though, something felt odd. He remembered the pull-on protective garments being a little thicker than normal underwear, but did they always feel so squishy?
Dylan shuddered slightly, not wanting to think that he had suffered another accident and, pushing the thoughts from his mind, approached his dresser. He could not, however, ignore the slight sagging of his bottom as he maneuvered over, nor the slightly cool damp feeling around his crotch. He was wet, and he knew it. Fighting back a slight desire to tear up, he opened one of the dresser's up till now empty storage drawers and grabbed one of the packages of the pull-on pants.
After about 5 minutes of arranging, he had managed to get almost 2 whole packages of the pull-up garments and 1 package of the "fitted briefs" into the drawer. He looked at the three full packages still sitting atop his dresser, along with the 3 pull-on's he had not been able to fit into the drawer along with the others. Thinking quickly, he shoved the full packages under the edge of his bed, and out of sight, then grabbed the remaining loose garments and put 2 of them into his regular underwear drawer. The last one he held in his hand, eyeing it as if it were some sort of evil being wishing to do him bodily harm.
Dylan stood still, trying to decide what exactly to do here. On one hand, he could just change into a pair of normal underwear and risk his mother finding out either on her own or by way of another accident. As Dylan considered this, his attention was drawn to the computer monitor. There were several public messages on there, mostly to the extent of "Did you fall asleep? LOL", and an idea started to form in Dylan's mind. Wasn't this what he wanted, really? Sure it didn't happen the way he would have exactly chosen, but here he was holding a pull-up with a drawer full of what are essentially diapers with free reign to wear them with no repercussions from his parents. Despite how he didn't want to be having these accidents, he figured that if he needed AND wanted them, then what would be the harm?
Quickly, Dylan walked around his bed and quietly closed his door. For a moment he considered going into the bathroom to change, but that thought was pushed out of his mind just as quick as it had entered it. His brain wanted nothing to do with that evil, evil bathroom. He set the fresh pull-up on his bed and slowly slipped his pants down his legs and off. He looked down at his mid-section and the slightly sagging and discolored garment there abouts. He tentatively poked it. The garment was cool to the touch, and had a strange though not all-together bad squishing sensation to it. It wasn't bad feeling, but the fact that it was cold and damp definitely motivated Dylan to continue in his course of action.
Dylan gingerly slid his fingers into the waistband of the pull-up, getting ready to continue when suddenly there was a knock at his door. He jumped a bit, suddenly startled out of his almost trance-like state of amazement with his opportunity. The slight warming sensation around his groin did not, however, escape his notice as he quickly grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his waist.
"What?" he asked, his modesty and total embarrassment causing him to blush heavily even though he was covered and the door was still closed.
"Is everything okay in there, Sport?" came his dad's voice. "I got off work early when I heard about your doctor's visit..." the voice trailed off some, his dad obviously not wanting to talk about it. "Y.. .You okay in there?"
"Ummm...." Dylan started, "I'm .. uh.. I'm changing, okay?" he responded, hoping his dad wouldn't press the issue.
"Oh! Well, in that case I'll just leave you to that." He said quickly, and walked off, the sounds of his footsteps fading into the back of the house. Apparently Dylan's dad was just as embarrassed about the whole ordeal has his son was.
Dylan waited for a moment after hearing the last of his dad's footsteps before slowly un-raveling himself from the blanket and nervously continuing in his task of getting cleaned up. He quickly slid the now slightly damper pull-up down his legs and stepped out of it, leaving it lying on the floor. The smell of his accident wafted in the room stronger now, and suddenly Dylan realized something. He needed to clean himself somehow. He started to fret, thinking he would have to step in the bathroom, but then quickly remembered (much to his relief) that he didn't have anything in there to clean up with.
Dylan slipped to the door, opening it a slight bit and hiding his naked bottom half behind it, calling out lightly. "Mom? Hello?"
"Yes?" his mom called back, and Dylan could hear her moving down the hall towards him. "Whats wrong, honey?"
"Ummm... Could you bring me a damp washcloth or something? I.. Don't have anything to clean up with." He managed to stammer out, blushing hotly from behind his door.
"Oh my! Did you, well, I mean, did you." she started, then as she neared the door, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, "Go poop?"
Dylan, for his part, was both mortified and embarrassed. "NO!" he almost shouted, then quickly regaining his composure, "I mean, no. I didn't. I kinna fell asleep at my desk and, well, y'know. But I don't have anything to wipe down with, y'know?" He stammered, trying not to sound too silly about it.
"OH!" his mom exclaimed, sounding more relieved than surprised, "Well, I'll go get something. I suppose we should have thought about that at the store and picked up some wipes and some...." She kept talking as she walked off, her exodus soon followed by the sound of running water over in the main bathroom. More approaching footsteps, and suddenly a damp cloth was thrust through the crack in the door. "Here ya go. Put it in the wash when you're done, alright baby?"
"Sure thing, alright? I'll make sure okay?" Dylan said, quickly grabbing the warm cloth and almost slamming the door on his mother's hand in his haste to end the embarrassing situation.
Dylan went back over to his bed, and carefully cleaned himself up with the warm cloth, giving his skin a moment to dry before picking up the white, plastic backed, slightly thick pull-up. It was slightly soft to the touch, and the plastic outer covering was smooth and soft. Slowly he opened it up, and touched the padding on the inside. Again, it was soft and smooth, with a slightly clinical smell to the whole thing. Not overpowering, and you could really only smell it if you brought it right up to your face.
Gently, Dylan slid the pull-up on and pulled it snuggly in place about his waist. The first thing he noticed was that these store-bought ones were slightly thicker than the one he had worn home from the doctor's office. He wiggled his waist a bit, and blushed at the sound of the slight rustle the movement produced. He fought back the urge to giggle as he ran his fingers over the plastic of the garment along his bottom. This really wasn't so bad now that he was alone. Dylan's enjoyment of the moment pushed any thoughts of the future from his mind. For now, he was finally getting to wear a "diaper", something he had longed to do for quite some time.
Despite wanting to continue to enjoy his newly cleaned and padded state, Dylan grabbed his jeans and slid them back up over his pull-up. He picked up the used garment and the drying wash cloth and opened his door. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table as he entered, and out of habit and embarrassment he put the soiled training pant behind his back.
"Ummm.. I'm just kinda, cleaning up, and, y'know, Where should I throw it away?" He stammered, blushing heavily.
"Well," His mom started, looking up from her bit of work, "Just toss it in the garbage in the washroom for now. We'll get you something later tonight when me and your father go to the store."
Dylan's eyes went a bit wide at that, fearing the prospect of having to go out of the house wearing pull-ups. "I don't have to go do I?" he quickly asked, hoping beyond hope that the answer was 'no'.
"Of course not, honey. We're just going to pick up some supplies for you and some groceries and the like. We shouldn't be gone long." she answered, going back to her work.
Dylan sighed a breath of relief, and hurried off to the washroom to dump his trash and washcloth. He took the time to bury the dampened protective underwear near the bottom of the trash can just incase someone were to walk in and see it. The washcloth he draped over the side of the washing machine to dry. After making sure that the trash didn't look to obviously arranged, he took a moment to look at himself in the reflection off the front of the washing machine. It wasn't the best reflection, but from what he could see, there was no obvious bulge or outline around his now padded areas.
Upon re-entering the kitchen, Dylan noticed that his parents were getting ready to leave, and tried to sneak past and back into the confines of his room. He was not to be successful.
"Dylan, Me and your mother are running out to the store for a while, okay?" his dad started, and before he got a response he continued. "Now, I know you're having problems, and the doctor said you should wear protection, but please, son, try to get to the bathroom if at all possible. And remember to change if you...." He stopped, giving Dylan a somewhat knowing look.
"Ummm, Sure okay." Was all Dylan could muster. An awkward silence followed, during which all parties tried to think of something to say, but couldn't.
"Well, then, we'll be back soon. Behave kid!" Dylan's mom finally said, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead on her way out the door. Dylan's dad just ruffled his hair in passing, and they were gone. Dylan was left standing in the middle of the kitchen, his face red, and his entire body tingling. Quickly, before they could change their minds and come back inside, he darted into this bedroom and jumped on the MUD program again.
After letting everyone know he was, in fact, awake now, he started to tell his tale to the gathered folks. Everyone seemed supportive of his condition, and soon everything was back to normal in the game. Dylan continued to play his character, getting really into it tonight, since now he had first-hand experience in having accidents and having to wear protection. He quickly fell into a good role playing groove, relaxing into the game.
After about 3 hours, though, Dylan began to realize a growing need to use the restroom in his bladder. He briefly thought about just letting go and wetting his pull-up, but he had promised to try and use the bathroom, and decided to at least try. Putting out a 'brb' message, Dylan slowly stood up and, walking past the smaller bathroom attached to his room, headed for the master bath at the back of the house. For some reason, he felt more comfortable in the larger room than the cramped almost closet-like feeling of his own bathroom.
Dylan started to shake slightly as he neared the toilet, however, his new-found fear suddenly washing over him with renewed vigor. He stopped short, and stared into the bowl from a few feet away. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steeled himself against the irrational phobia. Slowly, ever so slowly, he approached, lifted the lid, and started to undo his pants. By the time he got his pants and pull-up down around his ankles, he was shaking badly. To avoid a mess, he decided to sit down for this visit, and, with eyes closed and fists clenching his knees, he went pee pee in the potty.
As soon as he was done, Dylan leapt off the toilet, taking a few staggered steps and steadying himself against the nearby sink. He finally took a breath, his first since setting bottom to porcelain and quickly pulled his pants and pull-up back on. He didn't seem to notice the small wet patch in his trainer, or if he did, it didn't register with his still somewhat panicked mind. Taking a few more breaths, he exited the accursed room and headed back to his own bedroom, making sure to close the door to his tiny bathroom on the way by. Taking his seat back at his computer, he quickly fell back into the almost hypnotic state of Role Playing he was so used to.
The sound of his parents entering the house shook him out of his game, however, and he quickly went to go help his mom and dad carry in the groceries. After all the bags were in the house, Dylan's dad went back out to the car while his mother gently urged him into his room whilst carrying a small grocery bag.
"Dylan, I think I found a solution to the problem of cleaning up when you... y'know, have an accident." she stated. Dylan nodded a bit, having already seen what was in the bag. "I don't want you to keep using my wash cloths, so I bought some sanitary wipes and talcum powder. These will help prevent rash, okay? Now, I'm going to trust you to use them, is that understood?"
Dylan nodded, somewhat excited and embarrassed at the same time. "Ummm.. Okay mom, I guess..." he stammered, his eyes suddenly drawn towards the door to his room, where his dad was entering with a strange box.
"We've also decided to get you something to put your used... things... in. It will keep the odor down and wont fill up the trash cans around the house as fast, alright?" his mom continued while his dad freed the diaper pail from the confines of its box and placed it just inside the door to the closet.
Dylan merely nodded as his mom took a package of baby-wipes and powder from the bag and set them on his dresser. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" she asked in passing, obviously referring to if he needed to use the bathroom or not.
"No, I'm fine mom. I went a little while ago, okay? Sheesh" Dylan was a bit defensive, but it was just from being so embarrassed.
"Okay then," his mom reached over, grabbing him into a hug, "Thats a good boy. We'll get over this yet, you'll see!" She let him go, wiping a small tear from her eye as she turned away. "Oh, we got subs if you're hungry."
Indeed, Dylan was hungry, and after a somewhat normal dinner of a meatball sub and a small sprite, it was back to his room, and back to his game. He only had about 2 hours left before bed, and he wanted to make the most of his time. He kept casting nervous glances towards his closet, though, making sure the pail was well out of sight. His dad, for his part, had tried to turn it so that the baby-ish designs were facing towards the wall, but you could still see a few stray balloons and teddy bears on one side.
After a couple hours of gaming, the sprite from dinner was making its course through his system, and was now at the point of wanting to be let out. Dylan considered going to the toilet but when he even thought about that he started to shake a little. Taking his time to say his good night's to the people of the MUD, Dylan leaned back in his chair and considered his options. He could just go in his pull-up, or he could brave the toilet again. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, one of the packages of his night-diapers caught his eye from under his bed.
"Well," he thought, "I'm gonna have to toss it out anyway once I have to get ready for bed, so why not?" And with that, Dylan closed his eyes, relaxed, and let himself go into the waiting protective garment. The feeling was somewhat exhilarating, the warm dampness spreading across his front and down between his legs. He sighed a breath of relief as he finished, enjoying the feeling of the warmth and security. Slowly, after a moment, he stood up, and slowly pulled his pants off to check for leaks. Smiling at the fact that he was indeed leak-free, he slowly rubbed his hand along the outer covering, feeling the slight sag that the garment now had to it. It pulled at his hips some, and the soft plastic caressed his inner thighs as he moved around the room. He also noticed that when wet, the slight rustling became a full on crinkling sound.
As he stood near the foot of his bead, Dylan tugged up on his pull-up, smiling a bit as it sagged right back down with the slightest movement. His enjoyment was short lived, however, as his door was suddenly opened with a small knock, his mom entering the room. She spoke before she was fully in the room, her eyes not yet witnessed her son dressed only in a t-shirt and soaked training pant.
"Dylan, honey? Its time for bed."