The Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers

Chapter 5: Unless I Knock

I really hadn't thought this through as well as I should have.

I continued to stare down at the massive wet spot underneath me on the bed. The urine had spread out in a puddle around me. I could feel the wetness beneath me from my knees to my toes as my bare skin pressed against where the urine had soaked through the sheets.

It was still warm, though not quite as warm as it had been in the seconds after I had finished peeing. I couldn't bring myself to move. I had attempted to inch away at first, but that only accentuated the feeling of the wetness against my skin. I did not like that sensation at all.

I drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. I had done it. Actually done it. I hadn't chickened out this time.

This next week was going to be the worst of it. I was going to need to keep doing this until my parents decided to purchase pull-ups for me. And that was something that had to be their decision. No twelve-year-old, even one who would be far better off wearing pull-ups to bed, would be actively asking their parents to purchase them for her.

That meant Mom and Dad would need to arrive at the decision on their own, without anything but the most subtle of hints from me.

As I sat uncomfortably on what couldn't actually be described as an accident, I now fully understood why my two younger cousins had no issues with their parents buying them pull-ups to wear to bed. For the longest time, I had struggled to understand why someone who was just a regular bedwetter – not someone like myself who actually wanted to wear diapers for the sake of wearing them – would be OK with doing so at night.

The proof was right underneath me. There couldn't be any way that someone would prefer going through this every night rather than wearing a pull-up or diaper to bed. There couldn't be any question that having an accident contained in a pull-up would be preferable to having to deal with soaked pajamas and bedding in the middle of the night.

I couldn't just continue to sit in the middle of the bed. I inched over to the side of the bed, leaving a trail of wet spots across the sheets as I moved away from the nucleus of the fake bedwetting accident.

I reached to the side of the bed, where I could barely make out the outline of the lamp sitting on the nightstand. My hands fumbled across it in the dark for a few seconds before they came across the light switch. I averted my eyes, shielding them from the blinding light with my arm.

Then I opened my eyes again.

The damage was far worse than it had appeared when I had wet the bed in darkness. My light pink sheets only made the location of the accident more apparent. And I had indeed left a trail of wetness over to where I was sitting next to the lamp.

The bottom of my light blue cotton pajama shorts were completely soaked, as was the underwear beneath them. Even my T-shirt hadn't been completely spared. The bottom of it must have touched a wet spot on the bed as I had gone to turn the lamp on, as there were some wet spots on the bottom of the shirt as well.

I had known the process of faking bedwetting to get pull-ups wasn't going to be pretty, but even then, the reality of what it was going to entail hadn't really sunk in until now.

But now what?

My initial plan had been to wet the bed in the morning, but I had worried that might not be a good idea. There were several problems I found with that option. The first was that all the wet spots on the bedding would still be warm; it would look a lot more like I had peed a few minutes ago than having had an accident in the middle of the night. Too suspicious.

The second issue with that idea was how it would be much harder to conceal the bedwetting from Grace and Jackson. They would both be awake, and it would be much more likely that they would come across wet laundry being hauled down to the laundry room or eavesdrop on a conversation about bedwetting between me and our parents.