Wet Road Trip

John

I am now 20 but when I was younger I was a nightly bedwetter, and it was a constant source of embarrassment. My older brother and sister loved to tease me about it. I had no sleepovers, but when my brother did he'd bring his laughing friend in my room in the morning to show him wet diapers and briefs. My sister would drag me out in diapers in front of her friends, who at least always seemed to find me very cute, though probably pathetic. When I got put back in diapers at night at age eight, I just stood and bawled uncontrollably as my mom sat on my bed and strapped them awkwardly on. I was so ashamed, discussion of them was usually strictly forbidden by my siblings. I could tell my parents were equally embarrassed by the situation. There would be long periods of nightly diapering's, followed by periods where I'd totally refuse to wear them, until I stopped wetting around age thirteen. When I was nine, I went on a family road trip to Niagara Falls. I'd travel with my family in one car, and we'd follow my cousins and grandparents in another. My one cousin was a year older and seemed to be the epitome of cool. He was thin and athletic and calm and not in diapers. We'd got along well, but he always treated me like a sad little kid. We'd have play fights as kids but he'd always beat the hell out of me accidentally, so he treated my like a frail endearing puppy. Again, I thought he was awesome and didn't want to give him reason to think of me like that. I'd just gotten out of diapers for a bit and cried like hell when I found out I'd be wearing them on the trip. It was a long trip and a new car. We woke up earlier than I ever had and I was like the walking dead. My mom diapered me, which by that age she only did when I was being very lazy and difficult. The diapers were always tight and gave me rashes, so she dumped powder on me, strapped me into my Huggies, and helped me into my clothes. we got separated from the front van and an eight hour trip became fourteen and our little van was a hot box in the sun. I stripped down to my diapers, indifferent to dignity in the heat. We had a good time at first, and as promised by my parents the diapers went unmentioned. But soon the heat made us get on each other's nerves, and I became a punching bag in my diapers, squeezed between aggravated siblings. I must have looked ridiculous in that seat. I was a little chubby and always tall for my age. Plus we never had much money so I always wore these cheap, tight Huggies. Either they were pure white or plastered with one of those bears. They were meant for toddlers not bedwetting nine year olds, but they were the best we could do. During the day I drifted off and had a little accident. It was so hot that at first I was unsure if it was sweat, until my disgusted siblings noticed the smell and much to my dismay started pinching and poking at the front of my diaper to verify before complaining loudly to my increasingly lost and agitated parents. They assumed I'd go again and decided to wait, and I thought it better not to tell them I'd wet so much I'd soiled the seats of their new car. A few hours later I realized I had to go again. But I stood by the busy toll road with my soiled diaper at my knees and was too nervous to go. Five minutes later I knew it was coming. They said I'd have to use a soda bottle now. Back in the car me and my siblings struggled frantically with my already wet diaper and ripped the straps to get it open. I shook and struggled with the bottle, shamelessly exposed in my open diaper, before giving up throwing my hands down on my self in desperation. I went like crazy and my siblings freaked out, scared I'd get pee on them. My sister tried to cover me with one end of my soiled diaper, while my brother grabbed my shorts and held it against me to save himself. Finally I stopped peeing and I sat there in shock, exposed and in shame. Everyone was angry and disgusted. It was eight hours into the drive as they pulled over at a rest stop by a creek. It was a nice day and lots of people were picnicking or resting there and mulling about. I assumed she'd park some place hidden and change me on the edge of the seat. But my mom figured since we were far from home, it wouldn't matter who saw me. She just wanted to get it done and leave. I was horrified, but she was unsympathetic. She was hot and frustrated, and her nine year old son had busted his diaper and peed all over her car and children. I struggled and begged her to let me get a new pair of pants from my bag on first, but she dragged me out. She held me roughly by the arm and held a fresh crinkly pair of Huggies and a bag in the other. I was holding my diaper against myself in embarrassment. It was still untapped and also mangled and dripping wet. I stumbled after my arm, barley holding my unraveled diaper over my privates in the bright day. There were people all around, gawking at the scene. In the out house she some how lifted me up on one of those baby changing tables. I sat still stunned as she poured bottled water on my legs and applied ointment to a growing diaper rash. Then I was given a fresh pair of diapers. I felt so small. I thought I would be to embarrassed to walk back out but I didn't struggle. I was already shamed and now just shy, trying to hide behind my mom, in nothing but a fresh diaper and flip flops, walking across a crowed parking lot. Before we got to the border we'd been driving fourteen hours and I'd wet a little again, and was now resigned to my sad soggy diaper. The border guard looked funnily at me as I sat there sleepy and with my thumb in my mouth absentmindedly. I came too and quickly pulled it out. We got to the hotel and piled out into the night and I waited expectantly for clothes. Then we realized the front car had gotten equally lost. My cousins family pulled up in their SUV, next our jalopy and my cousin neatly jumped out. He came towards me exited to tell me stories from the trip. Then he saw what I was wearing. My bed wetting was a family fact, but he'd never seen me like this. Covered in pee, sweat, and diaper rash, covering my pudgy body. Thank god he wasn't a bag guy. He smiled some what smugly and suppressed a laugh but didn't mention my diaper directly. He hit my arm affectionately and said awkwardly and untruthfully "aw you know... It happens." He then told me the riveting story of how he peed in a soda bottle and they threw it out the window. Which at the time seemed pretty bad ass. I don't know, but standing there in Canada, in a diaper. I felt like a baby next to my cousin. Some how removing my pants from the car for me to wear was not a main concern for my family. I'd spent over fourteen hours in my diaper, and far from home. After a long trip, nobody really minded my situation. It was Canada. "Who'll never see you again?" they reassured me. We snaped a quick family photo. It's still in my grandparents photo book and it sums up my childhood pretty well. It's of all of us by the river near the hotel at night smiling and sun burned. My cousin looking cool and energetic. His arm tight and joking around my neck. And me in nothing but a wet diaper looking shyly at the camera, knees locked and hands between my legs.

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