Freddie the Diaper Boy By David Malone Part I It was six a.m. when Freddie woke up. Something just wasn't right. As Freddie came to his senses, he discovered he was lying in a cold, wet bed. "Oh Shit," he murmured to himself, "I wet my bed." Freddie quietly got up and stripped the sodden sheets off his bed. He threw them into the corner of his room along with his wet pajamas, and got clean sheets out of his closet. After making his bed with the clean sheets and his spare blanket, he stopped to think about what he had to do next. "I can't let my family know I wet the bed," he thought, "but how will I get my sheets cleaned?" Freddie decided to just throw his sheets into the washer after everyone was up, and to pretend that he was just changing his sheets, which was possible since at eight years old, he was responsible keeping his room clean-this included changing his sheets and laundering them at regular intervals. Freddie climbed back into bed, and realizing that he only had a half-hour left, tried to stay awake. At seven, his alarm went off, and Freddie walked down the stairs to the breakfast table. "So, what do you have planned for today, Freddie?" his mother asked him as he sat down. She placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. "Not much, just me and the guys are going to ride bikes down by the creek after school." "The guys and I, sweetie," his mother corrected, "and I don't like you hanging out by the creek." A frown appeared on Freddie's face. He knew that the "creek" was just a drainage canal, but it was a cool place to hang out. Freddie and Joe had even dug a fort into the side of the bank, and Freddie and his friends had made this into a sort of home away from home. "There was that boy that drowned a few years ago. I just want to keep you safe." Freddie did not remember this occurrence, but then he would have been five when it happened. His mother brought it up whenever Freddie wanted to go down to the creek. Freddie thought the story was a crock, but didn't have the guts to tell his mother this. "We'll be careful," he promised. After his mother relented, and gave him permission to go to the creek, Freddie finished his breakfast and went back upstairs. He bundled his sheets up and took them down to the basement. He could smell his pee on them and decided that he should use extra soap. After starting the cycle, he yelled, "Mom, I'm washing my sheets, could you pop them in the dryer when they're done?" Then he ran back upstairs, all the way to his room. He had to get ready for school. After putting on his pants and a shirt, he looked into the mirror and tied his tie. "Man," he thought to himself, "why can't I go to a normal school. I hate going to The Academy." Freddie knew that complaining would do no good. His parents had set strict rules about that. Besides, they said, The Academy is the only school in town that challenges talented children such as you. It wasn't all that bad, though, his best friend Joe attends the Academy as well, and he was studying at a ninth grade level. But sometimes he wanted to be a normal kid. As Freddie walked out the door, he saw the third member of his group, Sam. Freddie and Joe attended the Academy, while Sam went to regular public school. Freddie envied Sam. Most of the other kids at The Academy (it was always The Academy, as if the name had a high degree of importance. Freddie didn't think so.) were, in Freddie's opinion total wanks. Freddie wanted to go to school with kids who liked to ride bikes and dig in the dirt, the Academy kids thought that fun was playing with mathematical theorems. As the passed on the street, Freddie said, "The creek, after school." Sam nodded his head and hurried on. Freddie took his time walking down the street-it was only three miles, and at The Academy, one is allowed to come and go as he chooses-thinking about the last night and his accident. Freddie was a little concerned he hadn't wet the bed since he was a baby and just getting potty trained. He hoped that it would be the only time. Freddie walked through the doors of The Academy, and met up with Joe. Freddie and Joe were in the same class, although Freddie was a year younger. Joe felt the same way about The Academy as Freddie, and the two hit it off from the first time they met. Freddie told Joe that Sam was going to meet them at the creek after school, and Joe smiled. He got along well with Sam, and Sam always had some juvenile joke to tell them. Kids didn't tell juvenile jokes at The Academy, it was supposed to be beneath them. After a day that seemed to last forever, Freddie and Joe finally escaped from The Academy. They knew that they had to hurry, since Mrs. Johnson's lecture on the life cycle of the common horsetail went long. They liked Mrs. Johnson and didn't want to insult her by leaving in the middle of class-they felt differently about most of their other instructors. When they arrived at their fort, Sam was already there. "What took you so long, slowpokes?" He called out when he saw them. Before they crawled through the tunnel into the fort proper, they all took a leak into the creek. Freddie dribbled a bit onto his pant leg. "Peed his pants, didn't he?" Sam joked out loud. After zipping up, the boys crawled into their fort. After lighting a small oil lamp, the boys could easily see around. There wasn't much to see, but they boys had worked hard expanding its size and shoring up its walls. Quite the marvel for three small boys, two of who aspired to be engineers. After several hours of talking about stuff that boys talk about, they headed home. Freddie wanted to talk to Sam in private, about his accident last night. Sam had been a bedwetter until the age of seven, and Freddie thought that Sam might have some advice. Not only that, but Sam's experience with the shame of bedwetting would mean that Sam would use discretion and not tell anyone. After Joe turned down his street, Freddie and Sam walked down the street together. Freddie didn't know how to begin, and just blurted out, "I wet the bed last night, Sam." Sam just looked at him for a second and started laughing. "It's not a joke." At that Sam became serious. "Dude, that sucks," he said, "but it only happened once right? Besides, Joe and I won't make fun of you if it keeps up. You didn't make fun of me, right?" After many assurances that his dignity was safe with his friends, and that wetting the bed wasn't all that bad, Sam and Freddie parted ways and Freddie went inside his house. After dinner, Freddie watched some TV and finally went to bed. As he lay there trying to fall asleep, he kept repeating to himself, "I'm not going to wet the bed, I'm not going to wet the bed, I'm not going to wet the bed." Part II Later that night, Freddie wet the bed. He awoke in the same manner as the previous morning, but today he had the advantage-his mother had to work early on Wednesdays, so he was able to immediately go downstairs and wash his sheets. As he was pulling his sheets out of the washer and tossing them into the dryer, his little brother came in. "Freddie, didn't you wash your sheets yesterday?" "Yes, but they need to be washed again," Freddie growled, trying to hide his wet pajamas. Pat asked, "Why? Did you wet the bed?" "No! And if you tell Mom or Dad, you'll regret it." Freddie realized he gave himself away and started to cry. Pat just left the basement. "You might just want to tell Mom, she'll understand," he said as he shut the door. Freddie just stood there in his wet pajamas and waited for his sheets to dry. When they were done, he made up his bed and got ready for school. All day at school, Freddie couldn't concentrate on his studies. His instructors noticed, but most of all, Joe noticed. "What's wrong buddy?" Joe asked as they mounted their bikes and headed towards the creek. "Nothing," came the replay. As they approached their fort Freddie wet his pants. He couldn't help it, as he told Sam, "I thought I could hold it until we got to the creek." Joe just smiled, "I guess not." Freddie burst into tears, embarrassing both himself and Joe. Through his sobs, Joe heard about the last two nights, and now this afternoon. "It's OK, I won't tell anybody. Hell, I've almost wet myself coming out here, so don't feel bad." Freddie didn't feel much like hanging out, so as soon as his pants were dry, he left. Since Sam had a doctor's appointment, and Joe didn't like hanging out at the creek by himself, he left too. Freddie snuck in the door and went up to his room. He changed his pants because although the dark spot on the crotch was gone, he could smell pee. As he sat down on his bed, he heard a faint crinkling sound. After further inspection, Freddie discovered a plastic mattress cover. His mom stuck her head through the door. "The cover's just in case your GoodNites T leak, sweetie." She watched her son's reaction to being discovered, and as he started to cry, she walked over and hugged him. "It's going to be OK. We're in this together, and if this was only a two-time thing, then you don't have to wear the GoodNites." "How did you know?" "Freddie, you changed your sheets over the weekend, and then you changed them again only two days later. I thought something was up, so after you left for school, I came into your room and found your wet mattress. I stripped your bed and made sure your mattress was dry by the time you got home, I thought it might have just been a one time thing, but then I found your wet pajama bottoms today. Honey, you should have told me, I wouldn't have gotten mad, and the mattress cover is just to protect it." Freddie was still sobbing, promising not to wet the bed again when his mother noticed that he had changed his pants. "Did you have an accident this afternoon?" Freddie could only nod his head. "I guess this is worse than I thought, Freddie." "Mom," he said, "I was at the creek and didn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't hold it." "Its OK sweetie," his mom said quietly, "and Pat doesn't have to know." "He already does-he caught me this morning with my wet pajamas" "OK, but I won't tell him about your new sleepwear." Freddie's mother left and walked down the stairs. He walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. There, in all their gleaming whiteness was a package of GoodNites, opened and neatly stacked like underwear. "I guess I should try one of these on," Freddie thought to himself. He pulled off his pants and underwear, then proceeded to slip on his first GoodNite. "A little snug," Freddie thought to himself, "but I like the padded feel." As he pulled his pants back on, forgoing the underwear (that seemed a little redundant), Freddie felt the urge to urinate. "What the Hell, that's what they're made for," he thought to himself as he relaxed his bladder. A smile crept across his face; the warmth of the urine migrated through his GoodNite. Freddie walked down the stairs and plopped down on the couch. After watching his afternoon TV programs, Freddie got up to the kitchen for a snack. His mother walked up behind him and said, "I guess it's a good thing I put the mattress cover on your bed, your GoodNites do leak." Freddie didn't know what to say he just stood there knowing he was caught-not only wearing a GoodNite, but having intentionally wet it as well. "Mom, I just wanted to know what they felt like before I had to wear one to bed, and then I had to go, and since I had a GoodNite on, I just went." "Its OK, sweetie. If you want to wear GoodNites during the day, that's fine. In fact, I think it's a good idea, after your accident today. But you should put on a dry GoodNite, so you don't leak all over the furniture, and change your pants, or Pat will see that you wet them when he comes home." Freddie slunk up the stairs, wet GoodNite and all. He stripped down and stood in his room naked. He was thinking about the last few days. He was eight years old and wetting his bed and pants like a baby. He couldn't believe it. But his friends seemed supportive, and his mother was understanding, and that's all that mattered. That and the fact that his "little problem" had to clear up before the end of the term. Freddie's father was going to take them to Disney Land, and he didn't want his father to think he was a bedwetting baby. Freddie pulled up another GoodNite and pulled a dry pair of pants on over it. He thought that they leaked quite a bit, and hoped that they wouldn't leak in his bed. Freddie went downstairs and by this time, Pat had come home after soccer practice. For dinner, they had steak-thick, juicy, and perfectly done (pink all the way through, with a sliver of red in the center). After dinner Freddie just slunk to his room. He didn't want to have to look his family in the eye, knowing that he was the only one among them who wet the bed. After climbing into bed, Freddie immediately fell asleep. He woke up wet. When Freddie awoke, he expected the cold clamminess of a wet bed. He reached down and felt his sheets-They were dry! Then Freddie remembered his GoodNite. He reached his hand inside and felt that it was soaked. "Well, at least it didn't leak," he consoled himself. After stripping off his wet GoodNite, he replaced it with a dry one and got dressed for school. We smiled at his mother after sitting down at the table, "No wet sheets today!" She smiled at him and asked, "So the GoodNite worked OK? It didn't leak" "Not a drop. But almost." "You have seven left right? When they're gone, we might want to get you something more absorbent. That is, if you still have your problem." Freddie didn't want to know what "something more absorbent" meant. But it wouldn't be good news. "Oh well," he thought to himself, "we'll burn that bridge when we get there." Freddie went to school grudgingly, it was Thursday and that meant special project assignments. Freddie and Joe had been working on an Electric Field study, but Joe had dropped the electron tube and it had imploded. Today they would have to explain to Mr. Smith why their project would be late. Mr. Smith most likely would not take kindly to the destruction of school property, albeit accidental. Freddie had confessed to Joe that Mr. Smith was a hard-nosed bastard during lunch a few weeks ago. Milk had shot out of Joe's nose. As he walked to school, he chuckled to himself at this thought. After explaining to Mr. Smith why their project was going to be late, both Freddie and Joe were expected to stay after school and copy texts. "What a useless activity," Joe moaned as he copied page 104 out of the encyclopedia, "if I have to see one more article about monotremes, I think I may scream." "I don't have it much better," countered Freddie, "I have the French Revolution." "Touch�." Mr. Smith stuck his head into the library cubicle. "I see that's its 5:00. You may go now." The boys handed in their work, and then Mr. Smith tore their hard written pages to shreds. "You said yourself that it was a useless activity, Joe. Now be sure that your make-up assignment is on my desk first thing Monday." Freddie and Joe walked down the street, "Let's get together this weekend and finish our project. You heard what Mr. Smith said," Joe suggested. Freddie didn't respond-he was worried about his bedwetting. "If you're worried about your bedwetting, I don't care. I'll come over to your house, that way it stays in your family, Ok?" Freddie nodded agreement, and waved to Joe as he turned down his street. Freddie felt the urge to urinate and started jogging towards his house. He dashed up the stairs and into the bathroom, pulling his pants down just in time. As Freddie peed into the toilette, he smiled, thinking about how he didn't wet his pants. Maybe things were going to get better after all. That night Freddie wet the bed and this time his GoodNite leaked. In the morning, he looked at the large urine stain on his sheets, standing in his soaked pajamas, thinking he might as well have worn nothing at all. His mom walked in and saw him standing there, almost ready to cry. "It's OK, sweetie. It's really my fault. I knew that GoodNites sometimes leaked, I should have bought something better right from the start. Just go get cleaned up and dressed. I'll take care of your bedding." Freddie slunk down the stairs after getting dressed; he sat down at the table and ate his breakfast. He headed to school, dreading the coming weekend. "What would Joe think if he finds out I piss so much at night my GoodNites leak?" Freddie lamented. All day at school, Freddie couldn't concentrate on his studies, and he almost wet his pants at lunch, but made it to the bathroom just in time. None the less, he managed to dribble on his pants, but fortunately it didn't show. "Don't know why I'm so worried," he thought to himself, "I have a GoodNite on, I'm well protected." After school, they stopped off at Joe's house, and picked up his overnight bag. Freddie carried it, since Joe was packing the electron tube and voltages source. "Just don't drop this one," Mrs. Johnson chuckled, "Ol' Smithy would have a cow." On the way to his house, Freddie did wet himself. All the way home, he kept thinking, "Please don't leak, please don't leak, please don't leak." As luck would have it, it didn't leak. As soon as Freddie stepped in the door, he had Joe turn on the TV, then sped up to his room to change his GoodNite. Just as he had pulled a dry one on, Joe came in the room to see what was happening. Freddie quickly pulled up his pants and Joe didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Freddie pulled off his tie and tossed it on the bed. "Just getting out of these stupid clothes," he muttered. Joe saw the wet GoodNite lying on the floor, and didn't want to say anything and embarrass his friend. "Let's get this started," Joe said as he set up the electron tube, "if we get this done tonight, that gives us all weekend to hang out at the creek." Freddie saw his wet GoodNite lying in the open and kicked it under his bed. After hours of tedious measurements, Joe and Freddie finally finished their project. Since it was well after midnight, they decided to write-up the experiment in the morning. Joe spread his sleeping bag on the floor, and Freddie crawled into bed. Part III That night, once again Freddie wet the bed. His GoodNite had leaked again, but the wet spot on his pajamas was barely noticeable. The sheets show no signs of wetness. Freddie stripped down to his bare bottom, and pulled on a nice, warm, dry GoodNite. He picked up the one he had just wet, and reached for the one under his bed. But it was missing! Freddie figured that his mom must have picked it up when they had left his bedroom for a soda break. He walked down the stairs and threw his wet GoodNite into the garbage. He turned around to see Pat. "Pat," Freddie began, "Mom already knows. She's the one that bought me the GoodNites." "I know. She told me not to make fun of you, that you couldn't help it. Don't worry, I used to wet the bed, remember?" "Yeah, but you were four. I'm eight." Joe walked down the stairs, and Pat had the good judgment to change the conversation. For breakfast the boys had to have cold cereal, as there was nothing else to eat. Just as they finished up, Joe and Freddie ran out of the house, and headed for the creek. They hung out in their fort, waiting for Sam. While they were waiting, Joe spoke up. "Freddie, I have a confession. I'm wearing one of your GoodNites. The one you wet yesterday. I just wanted to know what one felt like." "Hey Joe," Freddie said as he moved toward the tunnel, "I'm taking a leak." Joe smiled, "Just wet your GoodNite. That's what they're made for." Freddie stopped in his tracks and let his bladder relax. Joe starred as Freddie's GoodNite began to sag with the weight of his urine. Just as Freddie finished peeing, Sam came through the tunnel. "Dudes--that's twisted. How come you're wearing diapers?" Joe laughed, "Freddie here can't seem to control his bladder, and I just wanted to see what one felt like." Sam said, "Well count me in. We can be a diaper club. But we have to get you guys better diapers. Come over to my house. I have something to show you." The two semi-naked boys pulled their pants back on, and followed their friend, not knowing what he was going to show them. To be continued