    After School Help
    By: Zac G.
    NOTE: This is not suitable for those under age 13, the close-
    minded, etc...... This is not pornography.

    Chapter 1

    	Since the time I was born, I'd always had problems
    controlling my bladder. Though I finally potty trained at age 3
    1/2, I had accidents and wet the bed on and off for years to come.
    I was teased and disparaged to no end. Though initially
    supportive, my parents eventually got fed up with me. They put me
    in diapers at night to deal with my bedwetting, and made me wear
    cloth training pants to school. I'd have to report to the nurse to
    have my training pants checking. One time, a teacher checked me in
    front of the entire class. It was very embarrassing.
    	By the time I was in 9th grade, my bedwetting had disappeared
    and I stopped having accidents. People stopped taunting me for the
    most part, and life was OK. However, I soon learned that adapting
    to high school can be quite a feat. The school was so big, and
    there were many people, including seniors, who made me feel
    uncomfortable. in addition, I was getting loaded down with
    homework. Between that and soccer, I had no free time. The amount
    of stress that accumulated was unbearable.
    	As a result of this anxiety buildup, I began wetting again.
    One morning, I woke up with a wet bed, the first one in years.
    Though embarrassed, I reported it to my mom. She didn't get upset;
    she merely told me to wash my sheets. A week or so later, it
    happened again. My mom was beginning to be concerned. Two days
    after that incident, I wet myself in school. Luckily, I was
    wearing a long shirt and black jeans, so nobody noticed. I myself
    was getting very worried by this point.
    	When I wet my bed for the third time, my mom asked me if I
    was doing it on purpose. I told her no emphatically, as I had no
    reason to bring this humiliation upon myself. She took me to a
    doctor, who found nothing wrong with me physically, but suggested
    that it might be a phase. My mom wasn't too thrilled to hear that.
    	A few days after the visit to the doctors marked a day I'd
    rather forget. I was taking a math test and had to go. However,
    since it was a test, nobody was allowed to leave the classroom. I
    held it in as I tried to finish up. By the time I got to the last
    problem, I was ready to burst. I rushed up to the teacher's desk,
    test in hand and turned it in. I then asked for a pass to the
    bathroom. She looked at me, deliberating for a moment. The rest of
    the class was looking at me as well. I glanced at the ground and
    saw pee dripping down my leg. I had wet my pants in the middle of
    class!
    	"Go to the nurse," said the teacher in disgust.
    	I flushed red in embarrassment as I took the pass from her. I
    left the room in a hurry, anxious to flee the many taints that
    were voiced as I was leaving. As if things couldn't get any worse,
    while I was in the hallway, I had another accident. Without
    warning, I messed my pants. I was now fighting tears (yea, I know,
    I shouldn't be crying) as I pressed on to the nurse's office. I
    was nearly stopped by a teacher who wanted to know if I had a
    pass. I held it up and continued.
    	As I was walking in my pee-soaked pants and poopy underwear,
    a group of girls passed right by me.
    	"Ew...that kid pooped his pants," one of them said in
    disgust. The rest started giggling, much to my mortification. I
    finally made it to the nurse's office and nearly fainted.
    	Well, from there on my life took a turn for the worse.
    Various nicknames were once again attributed to me by the kids in
    school. I also lost a good deal of my friends. To add icing to the
    cake, my mom told me that if I had one more accident, she would
    put me back in diapers.

    Chapter 2

    	Amidst these chaotic disruptions in my life came a burst of
    good luck; a saving grace in disguise. I was sitting in English
    learning about Shakespeare. It was right before lunch and I had to
    pee. I only had to hold it for 5 more minutes, but I wasn't sure
    if I could make it. I gritted my teeth and let the time pass. When
    the bell rang, I ran the hell out of there.
    	After lunch (we had a split period), the Shakespeare lecture
    continued and I had to go yet again.
    	"Miss Shaw," I asked my attractive young English teacher.
    	"Yes Joe?"
    	"Can I go to the bathroom?"
    	"You should have gone during lunch," she said, refusing me
    kindly.
    	"Please. It's an emergency."
    	A bunch of kids started laughing.
    	"Ask me a little later in the period and I'll write you a
    pass."
    	"But....."
    	"Maybe you should wear diapers, Joe," one kid blurted out.
    	"Enough of that," said Miss Shaw.
    	I ignored the pain in my bladder and took down some notes.
    Miss Shaw gave no indication of ending her lecture and I really
    had to go. At last, I put my hand up in desperation, but Miss Shaw
    didn't see it in time. I had peed my pants yet again.
    	People had an idea of what went on. I tried to be
    inconspicuous nonetheless, acting like nothing had happened.
    	"It smells like piss," one kid commented. I sat there and
    suffered until the bell rang.
    	"Can I see you for a minute, Joe?" asked Miss Shaw. "I'll
    write you a pass to your next class."
    	"OK," I said nervously. She would probably notice my accident
    and tell me to go to the nurse, who would in turn tell my mother,
    who would then put me in diapers. I was dead!
    	I nervously approached her desk.
    	"I'm sorry I never wrote you that pass."
    	"That's OK," I said. The words 'too late now' were at the tip
    of my tongue.
    	"Joe," she asked frankly. "Did you wet your pants?"
    	Up until then, I had my shirt tugged down and was standing in
    an awkward position. It was all a pretty bad cover-up to the
    obvious.
    	"Yeah," I said, hanging my head in shame.
    	"It's nothing to feel bad about; accidents happen. I just
    feel so bad because I didn't give you a pass and because everyone
    was teasing you."
    	"I wish they'd stop."
    	"The teasing?"
    	"And the accidents!" I was very frustrated.
    	"Do you have them frequently?"
    	"Yeah," I mumbled.
    	"I'm sorry if I'm being too personal, but how do your parents
    handle this?"
    	"They don't. My mom said that if I had another accident,
    she'd put me back in diapers." Miss Shaw laughed. "She was
    serious."
    	"Hmm....well, Joe. I think I might be able to help you. Stop
    by after school."
    	"I don't know......"
    	"It's not a detention, don't worry."
    	"OK," I said. I accepted a pass from her and trotted off to
    the bathroom so I could change clothes.

    Chapter 3

    	I was a bit nervous as I approached Miss Shaw's room. What
    did she want with me anyway? I didn't cause problems. Suppose she
    wanted to discuss my wetting? What if there were other people
    there? I was getting very hesitant?"
    	"Come in, Joe," said Miss Shaw.
    	I was wondering what I was doing here.
    	"Well?" I asked.
    	"Joe, if you don't mind I would like to discuss your
    accidents."
    	"I don't really want to."
    	"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," said Miss Shaw. "My
    sister used to wet the bed until she was 16."
    	"So?"
    	"So you are one of my best students. You look like a normal,
    healthy boy. I don't think there's anything physically wrong with
    you and I wouldn't like to know why your so dismayed and why your
    wetting your pants. The two are probably interrelated. If you
    don't want to talk about it, you can leave. If not, stick around.
    I have no detentions to administer today."
    	I knew that if I went home, my mother would find out about my
    accident (she had ways of getting information from me), and I
    would be punished. Yet I still had my doubts about staying here. I
    decided to take the latter option and just give it a try. I
    explained about my history of wetting and all the trouble it's
    caused me.
    	"It sounds like it could be stress," said Miss Shaw.
    	"Yeah, so what am I going to do about it?"
    	"It will eventually go away, but until then your liable to
    have more accidents."
    	"So there's nothing I can do about it?" I asked. I didn't
    event notice, but I was starting to cry again. "Damn it, why am I
    crying?"
    	"Here," said Miss Shaw, wiping my eye with a tissue. "Don't
    get upset. There is something you can do about it, something I can
    help you with. However, it requires your cooperation. You also
    can't tell anybody about it."
    	"Why not?"
    	"Because I could lose my job."
    	I was getting very suspicious.
    	"Joe, I'm only trying to help you. Do you want my help?"
    	"O-OK."
    	"Good. Then please see me after school tomorrow."
    	"All right. Bye Miss Shaw."
    	"Good bye Joe."
    	I left feeling a little better about myself.