THE CAMPFIRE STORIES

Summary: These are some stories we told around the campfire while camping with a friend of mine.

Story One: Bob’s Parable

Story Two: The Evil Doctor

Story Three: The Pee Monster

Story Four: A Thousand Points of Light

Hi, This is Greg. The first part of this is true, but the campfire stories attached at the end are not. That is why this is in the Submitted Stories section instead of the True Accounts part of the web page. If you have read my true account (Greg # 2) you know that my brother, JR, and me regularly stayed over at Bob’s place, a neighbor’s trailer, when we were growing up. And Bob’s nephews sometimes stayed at his place too. Bob was a botany graduate student and had what he called ‘test plots’ all over the state. He would regularly go on trips to measure all the plants in his test plots. Sometimes he would take JR and me on the day trips that were close to home. The ones that were farther away he would leave for a week and check out a bunch of his plots. To save money he would camp every night in a state park or forest rather than stay in a motel. We really wanted to go camping with Bob, but he would always say “No!”

One Saturday when Bob’s nephew Tom was over at his trailer because Tom’s parents were out of town, JR and me started in again trying to convince Bob to take the three of us camping on his next trip that was coming up in a couple of weeks. We came up with all kinds of reasons why we should go camping and Bob tried to come up with all kinds of reasons why we shouldn’t go. Most of Bob’s reasons had to do with our bed-wetting or how often we would have to stop and pee on the trip. During the discussion Tom went and sat on Bob’s lap and started saying how wonderful an uncle he was and how Uncle Bob would do anything because how wonderful he was. It was really silly stuff. But still Bob still said no. Then Tom tried something different, “Uncle Bob, guess what? If you don’t promise to take us on the camping trip, I’m going to sit here and wet my pants, and get you and the couch all wet too!” I couldn’t believe Tom said that, but we cheered him on with “Wet your pants, wet the couch, wet your pants, wet the couch.

“Stop!” Bob said to us. And he said, “You wouldn’t dare,” to Tom.

“Yes, I would! I wet my pants at home to get things mom doesn’t want to give me!”

Well, it won’t work here,” Bob responded. “If you wet me and the couch I will pull down your wet pants, spank your butt, and leave you in the corner for the rest of the day with your pants at your ankles! If you don’t believe me, ask Greg and JR. I’ve punished them here.” Tom looked at us and we nodded, both of us having been spanked and put in the corner with our red butts showing.

“I’ll do it,” Tom insisted. “I don’t care!” I don’t care was Tom’s response to everything.

“Whatever you want to do Tom, but it won’t get you on a camping trip,” Bob said. And Tom hung his head, but he didn’t pee his pants.

But you know what happened? It worked! I don’t know how or why, but it worked! The next week Bob told JR and me that he was going to take Tom and us camping the following week. But we would have to agree to one little thing. Bob called it little, but I didn’t think it was so little a thing when we heard. “What? We will agree to anything,” we stupidly said.

“Good! Glad to hear it,” said Bob. “The three of you will have to wear diapers every night...”

“That’s OK, Bob,” we interrupted, “We wear them here when we stay over anyway.”

“...and you will have to wear them all day in the car, too. I don’t want to keep stopping all the time when we don’t have to.” That stopped us in our tracks. But before we could say anything Bob said, “Tom has already agreed. If you want to go you will wear them, too. Your choice; wear diapers or don’t go.” Some choice!

The first night at camp we sat around the campfire just roasting marshmallows. It was really great even if the three of us were wearing diapers under our jeans. At some point Bob told us it was time to go to bed. In an attempt to prevent the inevitable we stalled him by asking for a story. “Everybody tells a story around the campfire before going to bed,” Tom said. This started our little tradition. Bob, or sometimes one of us, would tell a story before bed. The following stories are some of the ones we told, starting with the story Bob told that first night:

Story One: Bob’s Parable

Once upon a time there were two cousins, named Ben and Pete, who needed a place to stay because their parents were going on a trip together. So the two cousins stayed at their kindly uncle’s house. After they got unpacked the three of them went shopping for groceries. Their uncle lived in a big town so the grocery store had all kinds of things to eat that Ben and Pete usually did not see. When they got to the seafood counter the two cousins couldn’t believe their eyes: live lobsters. Ben and Pete wanted to get a lobster and bring it home because they had never had lobster before. Their uncle said no because it was too expensive. Ben and Pete said they wanted to watch the lobsters while the uncle did the rest of the shopping.

After their uncle went off to finish the shopping Ben said to Pete, “You know how much Uncle Rick likes his car and doesn’t want it to get dirty? My Dad is the same way. I know what we can do to make Uncle Rick buy the lobster. We’ll just do what I do when I want something from my Dad.” And Pete whispered in Ben’s ear, but it sounded so strange to Ben he wanted Pete to say it out loud. “I said, we tell him we will wet our pants right here if he doesn’t buy us a lobster. It always works with my Dad.” Pete wasn’t too sure about this but by the time Uncle Rick got back Ben had convinced him it was a good idea and he had to pee pretty bad anyway.

“Uncle Rick, buy us a lobster,” Pete started.

“No, I already told you it was too expensive. Let’s go.”

But Pete and Ben just stood there. Pete continued, “If you don’t buy us a lobster we’ll...”

“What? What will you do? Uncle Rick asked.

“We’ll…um... we’ll wet our pants, and your car will get wet if you don’t get a lobster!” Pete said. “Yeah,” Ben chimed in.

What Pete didn’t know is that his father had already warned Rick about the pants-wetting threat when they set up the stay-over. So Rick was ready for it. “No you won’t,” Rick said. “You’re too chicken to wet your pants.”

“We’re not chicken. We will wet them and then you’ll be sorry!” the two kids said.

“Prove it then. Show me you aren’t chicken. In fact, I dare to wet your pants.” Pete and Ben looked at each other and started to hesitate. Uncle Rick had probably won at that point, but he wanted to make sure this wouldn’t happen again. “Ok, chickens, lets go. You guys don’t get the lobster unless you really pee your pants! See, you are chickens!”

Pete and Ben looked at each other. What had happened? It had gone from ‘buy us a lobster or we’ll pee’ to ‘if you want one you have to wet your pants, and your guys are too chicken to do it’. Boy, Uncle Rick was good. “We will wet!” said Ben.

“No you won’t. You’re too chicken. Let’s go,” Uncle Rick said as he turned away and stared down the isle.

Ben hated being called a chicken. He got that at school a lot. He grabbed Pete’s arm and glared at him, “Let’s pee.” And Pete nodded. When Rick turned around to see why they weren’t following he was surprised to see pee running down the pant legs of both of their jeans! His mouth fell open.

“Ok, you guys aren’t chickens.” He said, “I guess I will have to buy you a lobster.” After they got the lobster Rick sent the boys toward the check out counter with the cart and the lobsters. “I’m going to get one more item. I’ll meet you at the front.” Pete and Ben were so happy about the lobsters they didn’t even think about how everyone could see their wet pants.

One check out lane had just opened up and they pushed the cart into it. “We are having lobster for dinner,” they told the checkout lady.

She was unimpressed with the lobster dinner. “Looks like you two boys wet your pants. Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“We don’t care, ‘cause were having lobster for dinner,” Pete said.

“If I had two boys that didn’t care if they wet their pants, I think I would put them in diapers,” the checkout lady said.

“That is exactly what is going to happen!” Pete and Ben looked surprised. They turned around to see Uncle Rick putting a big package of disposable diapers down. Both of your fathers said if you tried the pants wetting thing on me I was free to put you in diapers, and that is what is going to happen.

Pete and Ben started to say no, but the check out lady said, “Mister, if they give you any problem, I’ll help you change them right here. Kids like that need to be taught a lesson,” and she grabbed Pete’s arm.

Now Pete and Ben were scared. Uncle Rick said as he stared at them, “No, I think I’ll change them in the men’s room over there, if they behave. However, if they don’t, I’ll take you up on your offer. Pete and Ben followed their Uncle over to the men’s room. They left the groceries and lobsters in the cart outside the men’s room. There were some tears in there, but when they came out their wet pants and underwear were in a plastic bag and everyone could see they were wearing diapers. And they ended up wear diapers for the rest of their stay at Uncle Rick’s.

“So Greg, JR, and Tom, do you know what the moral of the story is?” Bob asked us. We all shook our heads. “Well the moral of the story is if you threaten to wet your pants you might get what you want but you will end up wearing diapers.” We all looked at each other conscious of the diaper we each were wearing. And guess what guys? In keeping with the moral of the story the three of you are going to wear diapers not only on this trip, but on all the following camping trips.” And Bob was true to his word; we did wear diapers on each camping trip. After a while we got pretty used to it, and I really think Tom actually like wearing them.

Story Two: The Evil Doctor

(This is another Bob told us a few nights later.)

I know it was wrong to do, and I have should not have done it, but I did it to help my son and would do it again if I had to do it all over again. Maybe if I go back to the beginning you will understand. Bill is a bright kid, but was slow at toilet training. We just barely got him out of daytime diapers in time for kindergarten, and he wasn’t mostly dry at night until half way though 2nd grade. The reason I say ‘mostly’ is every time he got sick the bed-wetting would start again. If he got a cold or the flu the wetting would start and last for a week to 10 days. It got to the point that as soon as he had the sniffles my wife would put him back in diapers. His doctor said it was it was an emotional problem, but since it never happened when he was well I wasn’t so sure. The proof came when he was 12.

Early in 7th grade after my wife died Bill got real sick. It started with a cold. As soon as he came home from school with a headache and a cough I put him to bed, but first made sure he was wearing pjs and a diaper. He slept until dinner, which was a little unusual for him. After dinner he watched TV but fell asleep and I had to carry him to bed. In the morning he woke up wet, which made him unhappy. He never liked the diapers, but he hated the wetting more. After a week of staying home from school, instead of getting better, he started to get worse. Even before I took him to the doctor I could tell things had gotten really bad because instead of being mad about wetting he started not caring about the wetting. He said that he had to urinate all the time, and instead of going to the toilet, he just started wetting while he was awake. It turned out he had developed pneumonia. He spent a couple of days in the hospital. He was so sick there he didn’t care who saw the diapers, and that was when the trouble began. His whole class from school visited him at the hospital, and all of the kids saw the diapers.

Even though four weeks later he was over the pneumonia he was still wetting all the time. It was very strange to have a 12 year old walking around the house in pjs and diapers. We went back to the doctor and that was when they discovered that Bill also had a bladder infection. He pointed out that boys don’t often get bladder infections so that this fungal strain was probably a little different than what was typically around and probably very persistent. The doctor guessed Bill got a bladder infection each time he got sick, and that caused the wetting. Only this time he was so very much sicker, and we had given him antibiotics for the pneumonia that did not hurt the fungus infection in his bladder. So it had grown to the point that the fungus had scarred the bladder so much it couldn’t stretch easily and the muscle that holds it closed wasn’t working. Even after Bill was well enough to go to school he was still dribbling in his pants and had to wear Goodnights to school and at home he wore diapers.

Since they had seen the diapers at the hospital, it didn’t take long for the bullies in school to check him out and take notice of the goodnights. That was when the teasing about wetting started. The final straw was when a couple of kids followed Bill into the boy’s room. They pushed in the stall door while he was changing and pulled him out. They made him take his pants the rest of the way off and threw them out the window. Then they pushed him into the hallway where everyone could see him in his goodnights. When I had to pick him up at school and found out what happened I vowed to make those boys pay for what they had done to my son.

I tried to figure out what a microbiologist/doctor could do to help his son in a situation like this. About six weeks later Bill caught another cold, and like in the past when he got sick he started wetting more. I figured he got another fungus infection when his resistance got low. And that is when I hit on a plan of revenge, and talked to Bill about it. He wasn’t sure it would work, and was a little scared to try it. I assured him it would work, but that I needed his help, cooperation, and silence. The first step was to collect and grow a sample of the fungus that was attacking his bladder. Bill was pretty embarrassed to have his dad run a catheter up to his bladder to get the sample. But I told him that as a doctor I had done this many times, and that a nurse did it to him at the hospital when he was so sick, so he relaxed a bit after that. After we got the sample we started him again on the medication his pediatrician prescribed to get rid of the bladder infection.

I used Bill’s sample to grow a large colony of the fungus and started experiments with it. I was not an expert at recombinant DNA work, so I had to let nature take its course. Because different types of fungus will exchange DNA if they are grown together, all I did was grow Bill’s fungus that liked to attack his bladder with other fungi that could grow on the skin. I figured that if it could grow in both places we had a better chance at getting the bullies sick with the same ‘bug’ that made Bill a diaper wearer! (That is what we called it at home: the pee bug, or bug for short.) For a few months I tested my experiment on mice. I collected and grew all kinds of fungi that attacked rodents. The mice did not catch Bill’s bladder fungus by itself. But I found my idea worked when Bill’s fungus was grown with two other fungi so that they exchanged various genes. The two best fungi to combine with the bladder fungus in mice were one that attacked mouse lungs and one that attacked their feet. I decided lung infections were too dangerous to work with, so I figured the two best fungi to try that attacked humans would be athlete’s foot fungus and a related one that causes ‘jock itch’. If I could give the bullies a fungus infection on their skin, it could make its way to the bladder on its own.

The next few weeks I made sure any patient that came in the Medical Center’s office with athlete’s foot or jock itch was brought to me so I could do a culture of it. That way I got lots of different samples to work with. After growing various strains of them together with Bill’s fungus for a couple of months I tested the results on a small number of monkeys. At first it seemed like nothing was happening, even though it was obvious they had gotten athlete’s foot and ‘jock itch’. But a few weeks later it was obvious that at least two of the monkeys had become incontinent. When I checked their bladders they looked the way the pediatrician had described Bill’s bladder as looking. I cultured the fungus from them and tested for drugs that would kill it. I kept selecting for the fungus that was not affected by the usual medications until it was pretty resistant to everything except a couple of experimental drugs that were available to me. Then I told Bill we were in business to get those bullies. By this time it was better than halfway through the school year, and Bill had gotten so much abuse at school he was ready to try anything. We started by testing the ‘bug’ on us.

I took a big culture of the fungus and rubbed it into Bill’s feet and crotch. He didn’t like to wear shoes around the house but we needed to keep his feet warm. And he wore the same Goodnight all day and night if possible so that his crotch was damp. To my surprise it only took a week and he was wetting as much as when he was really sick. And most of the time when he wasn’t urinating he was at least dripping. I ran a culture on his urine and it was loaded with fungus. IT HAD WORKED! The next test was to see if he could transfer it to someone else, so we tried me. I figured the best place for Bill to transfer the ‘bug’ was gym class; he could walk around the locker room making sure he dripped on the floor. So we tried having him walk around at home unprotected and me without shoes or socks to see if I caught anything. I kept him home from school for the week. He walked the around the house without pants, diapers, or goodnights on for a week. At first he was self conscious, but after a while he didn’t seem to mind it. And by the end of the week it was obvious he had dribbled everywhere. I gave him the drug to get rid of the fungus so it wouldn’t do too much more damage while we waited to see if I caught his ‘bug’. A week or two after that, even though I did not get athlete’s foot or jock itch I started to drip pee. Only a little at first, but by the end of the week I needed to wear light protection so I didn’t end up with a wet spot in my pants at work. Two weeks later I wet the bed for the first time since I was a little kid. When I woke up wet, I ran into Bill’s room and we celebrated. I tested my urine for the fungus and found I was loaded with it. Now knowing it was highly contagious I told him about my plan. He would get off the medicine and he would catch the ‘bug’ from me and then he would have to start taking gym class again to pass it along to the bullies. He wasn’t too excited about that since they always picked on him in the locker room, but he knew this was the best way to pass the ‘bug’ along.

We tried a new test to pass the ‘bug’ back to Bill. I just dripped on the floor in the bathroom while shaving, washing, etc. so it was more like the locker room situation. Within ten days he had it again and I started on the medication. A week after starting the medication I stopped wetting the bed, but I dripped for another month. Gym class was Hell for Bill, but the bullies got what they deserved, and they did it to themselves.

For the first week Bill was able to hide the wet spot that showed up and grew on his gym shorts during the hour-long class by wearing his shirt outside his shorts. But the following rainy Monday they had a substitute teacher and played basketball inside. Bill was on the skins side for basketball and John, the leader of the tough kids, saw the wet spot. And the teasing began. At first it was just verbal, but late in the class it started getting physical. But the sub did not notice Bill getting pushed around, and because the sub was a woman, she did not supervise the locker room after the game was over. In the locker room after the basketball game John had two other boys grab and hold Bill, and told him, “OK, baby, pee your pants for me.” Bill refused, even though he was dribbling in his gym shorts anyway from the struggle. “Either you pee your pants or I will pee on them for you.” And John pulled his own gym shorts down, aiming his penis at Bill. Bill did not want to get urinated on, and he realized this was the perfect time to infect John and the rest of the bullies. He urinated with as much power as his damaged bladder could muster. His supporter and gym shorts did not absorb much, so urine soon was splashing on the locker room floor. John tried to push Bill down into the puddle, but Bill fought that and somehow all four of them ended up on the floor.

A couple of the other tough guys laughed at John when they saw he ended up sitting in the puddle of urine. He pulled off his gym shorts and threw them at them. This started a general lock room-wide fight with many of the kids getting the infected urine on them in some amount. Plus the fungus also was spread throughout the locker room. When I got home Bill told me the entire story, and we celebrated. At least half a dozen kids were given a week of after-school detentions for the fight, but to my surprise nobody was suspended for fighting. Bill wasn’t happy about still having to deal with them in gym class, but I pointed out to him that the more time they spend in the locker room while the fungus was there the better. I told Bill to keep dribbling for the rest of the week. After the week was over I figured the job was done so I started Bill on the medication to clear up the fungus once again.

The following week all the kids came back to school with no apparent problems. Bill was very disappointed about that. But I reminded him that it took at least two weeks for me to catch the fungus from him so we just waited to see what would happen. It took another two or three weeks, but then John and one of the two kids that held Bill didn’t show up at school for an entire week. Then a couple more boys were absent, too. When the teacher asked the class if they knew what the boys were sick with a group of girls in the class started giggling. They were reluctant to tell the teacher what they knew, but finally under some pressure from the other girls one of them said, “My little brother is in class with John’s little brother, and he says John started wetting the bed last week and now wets his pants like a baby!” The entire class broke up into uncontrollable laughter. The teacher tried to impress upon the students how serious this could be, but nobody cared. They all pictured tough guy John in a wet bed, in wet pants, or in baby diapers. One of Bill’s friends leaned over and whispered, “See, you’re not the only one.”

It didn’t take long for the bedwetting to spread through the boys in Bill’s class, and to their families at home. The number of kids reporting bedwetting to their doctors sky rocketed. In many cases, especially at first, the kids were not taken to the doctor right away or the doctor did not recognize the problem. For some reason, very few girls caught it. If it was something about the difference in anatomy or in hygiene, I don’t know. But at the peak it appeared that about 60 percent of the boys in town from ages 5 to 16 were wearing diapers! It took the doctors in town months to recognize this was an unusual fungus and to find the medication that would stop it. By then most of the boys in Bill’s class were permanent diaper wearers; even more so than Bill.

We moved away at the end of the school year. But I still keep tabs on the place, and Bill’s ‘bug’ is still loose in the area. Still after all these years that town and the surrounding area is producing more bedwetters than anywhere else in the US. Based on what I hear from colleagues when the subject comes up at medical conferences, even with treatment I would guess 25 to 35 percent of the boys are still wetting their beds in 8th grade, and better than 10 percent of them have to wear diapers to school. With that many kids with the same problem, at least the teasing shouldn’t be too bad, like it was for Bill.

That’s my story. What do you think Father? Will God forgive a dying old man of this sin? I was only trying to help my son.

Story Three: The Pee Monster

This is a story Tom told around the campfire. Every time he started to tell it we would go around the group, each one of us adding a new part, so the story grew and changed; sometimes for the better, sometimes not. This written version takes all the best parts of Tom’s story and adds a few things to round it out and make it work; I think for the better. After he told the story at few times ‘monster’ became our code for pee or wetting the bed. As in “I really monstered last night, the bed (or sleeping bag) is soaked” or “I dare you to monster in your pants right now.” And we could use the word anywhere and nobody would know what we were talking about. It was really neat. The first time we heard the song the ‘Monster Mash’ we couldn’t stop laughing for an hour! Anyway, here is the story:

Billy and Bobby really didn’t want to move into the big old house, but the family needed more room, and buying this old house and fixing it up was the cheapest way to do it. The house was so big they each got their own bedroom instead of sleeping together in a little bed in the parent’s room at grandmas house. But the house looked old and scary. While they were taking a break from helping move stuff in to the house, a kid about Billy’s age walked by.

“Hi, I’m Pete. I’m 10 and I’m in 5th grade.”

Billy said he was 10, too and Bobby was 8, and they would be starting school as soon as they were registered.

“I live over there,” Pete said pointing to the house next door. Are you guys moving into this house?”

“Yeah, my Dad’s gonna fix it up,” answered Bobby.

“Well, I wouldn’t live there, it has monsters in it,” said Pete very seriously.

“There’s no such thing as monsters. You can’t scare us,” boasted Billy.

“Yes there are, and they live in that house. I’ve heard them. You’ll see,” Pete said as he left.

“No there aren’t,” Billy called out to Pete, but looking at Bobby. Bobby nodded and they went back to work moving their toys in.

That night both boys were very tired and so even though they were in a strange house they didn’t take long to fall asleep. In the middle of the night Billy woke up and heard a lot of creaking as if something was walking around his bedroom. He didn’t see anything but he couldn’t get back to sleep for a long time. At breakfast he asked his Mom, “Are there such things as monsters?”

“Bill, you know better than that,” she said. “Of course not. Are you trying to scare your little brother?”

“No, I just heard something like it was walking around my bedroom last night.”

Mom answered, “It was probably just the wind making the house creak. Don’t worry about it.” But Billy, and now Bobby, couldn’t get the thought of monsters out of their minds.

Except for the trip to their new school to register, they played outside all day. When Pete came home from school, he asked them about the monster, and said his mom told him that monsters couldn’t get you if you hide under the covers. But they put on a brave act, pretended not to care, and asked Pete what the school was like instead.

That night both boys wanted to sleep with Mom and Dad but were told, “NO, you guys finally have rooms of your own. Don’t act like babies! Go sleep in your rooms!” That was what Dad always used to stop them from doing something: “Don’t act like babies!” or “You should be ashamed, only babies do that!” That was all it took. They marched of to their rooms because they didn’t want to be babies.

Billy kept repeating to himself as he crawled into bed, “Only babies believe in monsters. I am not a baby. There is no such thing as monsters. Only babies believe in monsters…”

It wasn’t long after Mom had come in and turned off the light that Billy fell asleep, but a little while later he woke up the sound of creaking again, like something was walking around his room. He peeked out from under the covers only to be staring right into the face of a big hairy thing. Billy felt a spasm in his gut and wet spot in his underwear. He tried to scream, but only a little squeak came out.

“Hello, Billy!” the monster said. Billy squeaked again. “So you don’t believe in monsters? You will by the time I am though with you,” the monster said. “We are going to play a little game called ‘monster says.’ I will tell you to do something and then you will do it. As long as you do what I ask, I will not punish you. But first we need to decide on a good punishment. Get up and let me look at you while we decide.” Billy didn’t even squeak at this, he just shivered. “Get up now!” the monster roared, “or I will start the punishments now!” Billy pulled the cover back and got up. Seeing the wet spot on his pajamas the monster said, “That’s it, bed wetting will be your punishment. I like making boys wet their beds. It is so much fun!”

A weak “please, no” was all Billy could muster.

“Oh, yes! Since you like it so much, it will be bedwetting for sure!” the monster said.

The first thing the monster told Billy to do was jump on the bed, which his mother told him not to do. Billy did it, anyway. The next thing was to pull all of his clothes out of the closet and throw them on the floor. Billy knew he would get into trouble for that, but did it anyway. “Ok, last thing, Billy, and I’ll leave you alone for the night,” the monster said. “Take off all your clothes and run over to Pete’s house.”

Billy knew this was wrong, and said, “NO! I won’t!”

The monster started to come after him and Billy ran and jumped into bed and, remembering what Pete said, tried to hide by sliding under the covers and pulling them all the way over his face. The monster stopped, leaned over him and said, “Hiding under the covers only works on imaginary monsters, not real ones like me, Billy. Now you will be sorry.” The monster reached down with his paw though the blanket, though the sheet, though Billy’s pajamas and underpants, and touched Billy’s dick. Billy felt something warm, and then nothing.

In the morning Billy’s mother came into wake him up and found the mess of his clothes scattered all around the room. She was so mad she ripped the covers back, “William, what on earth did you do to your clothes last night??? And my goodness!!! Billy, you wet the bed!”

Billy sat up and looked at this lap, which was soaked, and the big wet spot on the sheet. “The monster did it,” he said.

“The monster, my eye!!! William, you wet the bed and made a mess of your room!!! Take off your wet pajamas and underwear, put them on the wet sheet, and go rinse off. I’ll wash these later. When you get home from school you will put all your clothes away and stay up here until you learn your lesson.”

After getting undressed Billy slunk out of his room to the bathroom. Luckily, his brother didn’t see him, but Bobby knew something was wrong when nobody said a thing a breakfast and Billy didn’t talk to him at all on their walk to school.

When Billy got home he was sent straight up to his room. After cleaning up his clothes he just sat in the chair in his room staring at his bed. His mom had cleaned it up. He didn’t believe in monsters, but he couldn’t believe he wet the bed either. He was potty trained so young he couldn’t even remember when the last time he had wet, day or night. Except for dinner, he spent the entire rest of the day in his room. Bobby wanted to know why Billy was being punished, but nobody told him.

When it was time for bed Billy begged to sleep with Bobby, but mom said, “No, this is your room, you sleep here. And besides, we don’t want Bobby to know you wet, now do we.”

“But I won’t wet again,’ Billy replied, “it was just because I was scared.”

“And you want to sleep with your little brother so you won’t be scared? Don’t be such a baby!” That was the word again—baby—that ended the discussion. Billy knew he wasn’t a baby. He changed into his pajamas and got into bed. Mom turned out the light and closed the door. And Billy tried to go to sleep.

It took a long time but Billy finally started to nod off. Just as his eyes closed the creaking started. Billy eyes popped open to again see the monster standing over him. “Hi, Billy, ready for some more fun?” said the monster.

“No, please, no,” Billy said in a little whiney voice.

“Oh, yeah!!!” said the monster. “Now get up!” When Billy didn’t, the monster started to reach down at him, “I guess you want to pee again?” Billy got up. “That’s much better,” said the monster. The monster first had him jump on the bed again, which Billy didn’t mind as long as mom didn’t catch him. The monster had him pull all of his toys out and scatter them around like the clothes last night. “You are much better trained already. You didn’t complain at all. Now let’s see if you can do this next thing,” the monster said. “Go into your brother’s room and punch Bobby as hard as you can in the stomach.”

“No, I like my brother,” Billy said. The monster started coming at Billy,

“And you like wetting the bed even more?”

“No!” Billy said, OK. I’ll go.” Billy sneaked out of his room, down the hall and into Bobby’s room. He was standing next to Bobby’s bed knowing he shouldn’t hurt his little brother and trying to convince himself to hit Bobby when his mom came in.

“I thought I heard something,” his mom said. “Billy, what are you doing in here? Go back to your own room.”

Billy tried to think up some excuse, “I was thirsty and just came to see if Bobby wanted a drink, too.”

Mom said, “Bobby is asleep, and after last night I don’t think you better have anything to drink. Now back to bed.” Mom took Billy by the shoulders and steered him back to his bedroom door, but she didn’t go in and she didn’t see the mess of toys.

There was no monster in the room. Billy got into bed hoping that was it for the night, but as soon as his mom closed the door the monster was back. “Well you failed. I guess your Dad is right, you are a baby!” the monster said.

“I am not,” Billy said in as strong a voice as he could find. The monster was right over him.

“I don’t believe you,” he said and again reached his paw though the blanket, though the sheet, though Billy’s pajamas and underpants, and touched his dick. Just like the night before, Billy felt something warm, and then nothing.

The next morning his mom woke up Bobby first and came in to Billy’s room to wake him, with Bobby following behind. When she saw all the toys scattered across the floor she was furious. She pulled back the covers, and yelled at Billy to get up and pick up the toys.

As Billy sat up Bobby said, “Look mom, Billy wet his bed!” Again Billy was soaked and sitting in a wide circle of soaked sheets.

Billy tried to pull the covers over himself to hide, but mom pulled him out of bed, pulled down his soaked pajama bottoms and underpants, and spanked him twice. “Now pick up you toys! No, don’t get dressed. First you pick up the toys, and then you go rise off. After that you can get dressed.” Mom left to finish making breakfast.

Bobby giggled when he saw the two red hand prints develop on his brother’s bottom as Billy walked around the room picking up the toys. “Shut up, Bobby! The monster made me pee the bed because I wouldn’t go and hurt you last night while you were asleep. This is all your fault.”

Bobby’s eyes bugged out. “The monster?” was all he could say. Then, “Really? You saw a monster?” Billy nodded. Bobby said, “I don’t want to be turned into a baby!” and then ran from the room. I’ll show him who’s a baby, Billy thought.

When Billy got home from school he was again sent to his room as punishment. He just sat and stared at his unmade bed, which, for the first time he could remember was covered in plastic. Mom finally came in to make the bed with the freshly washed sheets. “Mom, only babies have plastic on the beds.”

“Well, yes, that’s true, and as long as you are wetting the bed like a baby, your bed will have plastic like a baby.”

“I am not a baby!”

“I think you must be a baby, otherwise I wouldn’t have to put plastic on your bed.” As mom left the room all Bobby could hear in his head was his mom saying over and over “…must be a baby, must be a baby, must be a baby...”

That evening it started to rain, and it was still raining when Billy and Bobby went to bed. Just as he was about to fall asleep Billy heard the footsteps again and the monster said, “Hello baby Billy, are you wet yet?” and the he laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“Well, if you want to stay that way I have another job for you,” the monster said. “It’s going to be wet all day tomorrow, and you know how much your brother doesn’t like to get wet and dirty.”

“Yeah he’s weird that way,” Billy replied.

“You job is to get him all wet and muddy at the construction site on the way home from school.”

“But he will get mad, tell mom, and I will get into real trouble. What if I just get all wet and muddy instead?”

“You like to get wet and muddy. I know you will play in the puddles and mud tomorrow whether or not I tell you to. But if you don’t agree to get your brother wet and muddy too, do know what will happen? Baby Billy will be wet again tonight and tomorrow night,” the monster said with a grin as he reached for Billy.

“Alright, I’ll do if you don’t make me wet tonight.” At that the monster vanished.

In the morning Billy’s mom was happy to see the room was still neat and Billy’s bed was dry. She figured the plastic sheet made him think twice before acting like a baby again, and told him so. It was still raining when they left for school. Mom told them to stay dry even though she had gotten used to the idea that Billy loved to play in puddles and that he would not be dry by the time he got home. “At least Bobby would stay out of the puddles,” she thought to herself. All the way to school Billy splashed in every puddle they came to, and his jeans were wet from the knees down, but all he could think about was Bobby calling him a baby the day before, and what the monster told him to do to Bobby on the way home.

On the way home Billy started trying to get Bobby wet by slashing in the puddles next to him. By the time they got to the construction site they were fighting. “Stop splashing me,” Bobby said.

“Oh, stop being such a crybaby,” Billy said.

“I’m not the baby, you are. You’re the one wetting the bed!”

“Shut up, or I’ll cream you. It wasn’t my fault, the monster did it to me,” Billy yelled.

“Mom says there is no such thing as monsters. You are just a pee baby!” That was all it took, Billy was really mad, now. He shoved Bobby’s shoulders really hard, he fell backwards and he landed on his butt in the mud. Before Bobby could get up, Billy grabbed his feet and twisted them to roll Billy over on his stomach and pulled him through the mud and a bunch of puddles. He didn’t stop until he tripped over something and ended up sitting in a mud puddle, too.

Billy was screaming, but Bobby was laughing, “That’s for calling me a baby.”

Bobby got up and said, through lots of tears, “I’m telling mom, you are really going to get it now,” and he ran home. Billy knew that was true. Last time he got Billy wet and dirty he got spanked from both mom and dad, and was grounded for a week. This would be worse, but at least he didn’t wet the bed last night and wouldn’t wet it tonight either.

He got home to find mom waiting for him in the front yard with the paddle. “Take off those wet clothes,” she said. He did not want to in the front yard, but before long he was getting paddled bare-naked for all the neighbors to see, and he was crying like he never cried before. “Now go to your room!” He went to his room and tried to put underwear on, but his butt hurt too much so he lay on his bed in just a tee shit. When dad got home he got another paddling, harder than the first. He hurt so bad he didn’t come down for dinner, and fell asleep still wearing only a tee shirt.

In the middle of the night he woke up to the sound of footsteps. “Hey that was really good,” the monster said. “I couldn’t have done better myself. You did so good I won’t have a job for you for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, OK.” At this point Bobby wasn’t sure whether he would rather wet the bed or get paddled. At this the monster disappeared and Bobby fell back to sleep. Bobby was grounded for the next week. Other than going to school he couldn’t leave the house, and other than for homework he couldn’t do anything except sit in a chair in his room. At the end of the week, his parents laid down the law. If he did anything wrong, no matter how small, or blamed the monster for his wetting or bad behavior he would get paddled again by both of them and be grounded until after Christmas, including the loss or presents, parties, and everything else. And he knew they meant it. He promised to be good.

That night the monster showed up just as Bobby was falling asleep. “I have another job for you to do.”

“NO! I won’t do it. Mom and Dad are really mad and I don’t want to miss Christmas.”

“Then you know what happens,” and the monster reached for Bobby.

“No, I don’t want to wet the bed again,” said Bobby.

“It’s your choice; do you want Christmas or a wet bed?” the monster asked.

Bobby thought about missing Christmas, and said, “I want Christmas.”

“If that is what you want.” And the monster once again reached down with his paw though the blanket, though the sheet, though Billy’s pajamas and underpants, and touched his dick. Again, Billy felt something warm, and then nothing.

Billy woke up to a wet bed. Mom said, “Are we starting this again. A whole week dry and now this.” Billy could hear she wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

He knew not to mention the monster, “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be good.”

“Is that the choice I have?” Mom asked, “a bad boy or a good baby?”

“I’m not a baby,” Billy said weakly, not really believing it himself anymore.

“You couldn’t prove it by your soaked bed. Go rinse off and get dressed,” mom said and left to finish breakfast. The monster visited Billy every night for the next couple of weeks. In a strange way they got to be friendly. The monster didn’t ask him to do anything but every night made him wet the bed. His parents took Billy to the doctor, but the only explanation the pediatrician had was the move to a new house had caused Billy to seek security in early childhood, and that it would pass.

About a week before Christmas Billy and Bobby’s Grandmother was babysitting them while their parents were shopping. Grandma had notice the new extra pajamas, sheets, and blankets Billy had, and the crinkly sound the Billy’s bed made but said nothing about it. But then Bobby asked Grandma, “do you know why you are babysitting us?”

She thought he was telling a joke, “No, why am I babysitting you?”

“Because Billy is a baby again, and wets his bed. If he wasn’t a baby you would just be sitting us.” Bobby thought this was very clever, but Billy wanted to kill him. By the time it was all over Billy was crying, and had told Grandma everything about the monster, the things he had been told to do, and the bed-wetting.

“Billy, I know about real monsters. I know what to give you for Christmas to fix your problem.” Then Grandma turned to Bobby and said, “What you did was not very nice. I want to you stop teasing your brother about this and stop telling people he wets the bed. Do you understand?”

Bobby hung his head, “yes, Grandma.”

“Good, now that is settled.”

Billy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw his present on Christmas. It was a brand new set of bunk beds. Everybody in the family was confused and thought Grandma had flipped out because she should have known the boys had separate room. But she pulled Billy aside and explained the whole thing to him. “Fake monsters live in closets,” she said. “But real monsters like you have hide under beds. The secret is to have a bed high enough so there is no place to hide. Lots of kids do that. Now, all you have to do is set up only the upper bed and put a chair or you desk under it. With no place to hide your monster won’t come back. Oh, and get rid of the old bed the monster has been hiding under.” Billy was so excited he convinced his dad to set up the bunk beds that evening after everyone had left. But no matter how much he begged his dad to set the bed up the way Grandma said to should be done, his dad had different ideas. He set up both beds like an ‘L’ with the bottom one sticking out, and he left the old bed in the room too because they had no place to put it until they finished fixing up the other rooms. When Billy had a fit about the bottom bunk and the old bed, his dad threatened to take the beds down altogether and make him sleep in the old bed.

When it was time for Billy to go to bed he crawled into the upper bunk and hoped that was good enough. It took him a while to get settled into the new bed, but soon he was nodding off. It took a while but Billy was eventually awakened by footsteps. He opened his eyes to see the monster staring at him. “So you want to get rid of me, huh? And I thought we were friends,” the monster said though a nasty grin.

“My friends don’t make me pee the bed! You’re not a friend of mine!”

“You’re right about that but wrong about getting rid of me. I’ll show you for trying to get rid of me,” and the monster, and he slowly and with great difficulty climbed into Billy’s upper bed. “And since I can hardly get up here I’ll fix you for good so I don’t have to crawl up here again.” Billy fought all he could but the monster reached his paw though the blanket, though the sheet, though Billy’s pajamas and underpants, but this time instead of just touching Billy he grabbed Billy’s entire crotch and squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed!!! Billy screamed and nearly launched himself out of bed to get away. He landed on the lower bunk straddling the headboard. The monster disappeared. His parents rushed in to find Billy unconscious still partially straddling the headboard.

When Billy woke up he was in the hospital. Two doctors were talking to his parents. “He has a concussion, bruises on his chest and abdomen, and a very badly damaged groin area.”

“Will he be alright, doctor?” his mom asked.

“Well, with bed rest the head injury will heal. I don’t know how he did it, but he also severely damaged his penis and bladder. Much of that damage is permanent.”

“What do you mean, doctor?” Billy’s Dad asked.

“He is going to have a wetting problem,” the doctor answered.

“He has been wetting the bed recently. You mean that?”

“No,” the other doctor answer. “To put it bluntly, his bladder is so badly damaged he is going to need to be in diapers night and day for the rest of his life.”

That night, with the family still at the hospital, the monster quietly moved to under Bobby’s bed. “It’s really nice under this bed,” he said to himself. “I think I'll like it here as much as in Billy's room.

Story Four: A Thousand Points of Light

This is an idea I came up with, and told around the campfire, but it really didn’t develop into the final story until a few years later. The original campfire story came from a desperate wish to be able to tell who else at school, the park, the mall was a bed wetter too. Sitting at the mall I could squint my eyes until a little halo of light formed around anyone I was looking at. I would then pretend I had just discovered a fellow bed wetter. I call this story “A thousand points of light” with no apologies to Geo. Bush Sr.

Tim was putting off bedtime as long as possible. It had been a bad Friday at school and he knew it was only going to get worse real soon at home, too. He was down to his underpants and playing with his racing cars when Mom came in his room.

“You should already be in your PJs and in bed!” She sounded mad. He started to put his PJs on as Mom went to pull down the covers. He knew what was coming. She saw the big yellow circle as she pulled down the top sheet. “TIM! You wet the bed again last night and didn’t even change it! Now both sheets, the blanket, and comforter are wet! That’s the last straw mister.” Tim watched as she stripped the bed, wiped off the plastic sheet underneath, and made the bed. “Now for you,” she said as she went to his closet and grabbed an unopened package of diapers. “This time I am serious. I’m tired of finding wet beds. I don’t care if you are eleven or not, starting tonight you are going to wear these. I mean it.”

“NO! I won’t,” said Tim as his mom put him on the bed.

“And stop fighting me or you will get paddled, too.” Tim let his Mom pull down his bottoms and underpants, but started struggling when she tried to put on the diaper. She grabbed the paddle off the dresser where it always stayed as a warning to behave. She whacked him once on the butt, and Tim started crying but let her diaper him. She didn’t put his PJ bottoms back on him, just put him under the covers, tuned out the light, and walked out of the room with the wet bedclothes.

Tim quietly sobbed, wishing he was dead, his mom was dead, the whole world was dead. He didn’t dare reach down and touch the diapers. If he didn’t touch them maybe they weren’t real, or they would just go away. “That’s it,” he thought. “This is just a bad dream. When I wake up everything will be back to normal.” With this thought he soon fell asleep. All of a sudden it was next Monday and he was in school trying to solve a math problem at the chalkboard. All the class was laughing. In horror he looked down to see he was wearing only his PJ top and wet diapers.

Everybody was calling him names, and even his teacher was saying, “Class, let baby Timmy finish the problem. Then you can change him.”

“NOOOOO!!! I’ll kill you all, first!!!” They all kept laughing. Tim dropped the chalk and ran for the window. He pushed the window open. “I’ll jump and kill myself. Then you’ll be sorry!!!” he yelled at them, but they laughed all the more.

“You and your fat diapers will just bounce when you hit,” laughed Bruce, the class bully. “Let me show you.” And Bruce ran at Tim to push him out the window.

Just then the classroom faded and was replace by…a little cherub? “You really don’t want to kill yourself. You’ll miss out on a lot of things I have planned for you,” the cherub said.

“Who are you?” Tim asked.

“Make a wild guess, silly. I’m your guardian angel.”

“Humph. I don’t believe in angels and I do so want to be dead. Now the whole school knows I wet the bed and wear diapers. I’m the only 11-year old who wears diapers and I want to be dead.”

“No you’re not, lots of kids wear diapers.”

“No they don’t. Only babies wear diapers. So I must be a baby, and I want to be dead instead.”

The cherub shook his head. “If I show you that lots of other kids wet their bed and wear diapers will you stop wanting to be dead?”

“I don’t know; maybe,” Tim said in a sulk.

“OK. Lets see how I can do this? Here is what I’ll do for you! From now on if you want to see who wets or wears diapers just cross you fingers on both hands and say ‘show me’. Anyone who sometimes wets the bed will have a green glow around them. Anyone who wears diapers to bed will have a yellow glow. And anyone who is wearing diapers right then will have a red glow.”

“That sounds dumb!”

“You got a better idea?” the Cherub asked. “Here, check it out in this mirror.”

Tim stood looking at their reflection in the mirror. He crossed his fingers and said “show me.” As he watched a red glow appeared. “Hey, why me?”

“Because you are wearing a diaper.”

“And why is there a glow around YOU?”

“Because cherubs always wear diapers. You’ve seen pictures. Why do you think I was so interested in you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Tim. “I guess so. But won’t everybody wonder about this glow?”

“Only you will see it. Nobody else. And anyone you look at will glow if they wet or wear diapers; that way you will know about them, but they won’t realize you know their secret.” The guardian angel disappeared.

“Neat-o!” said Tim. He smiled for the first time since that morning, rolled over, and fell into a deeper sleep.

Tim woke up to a dry bed but wearing a wet diaper. His wish that the diaper episode was only a bad dream hadn’t come true. He figured the rest of his strange dream wouldn’t be true either. It was going to be a gloomy weekend. He threw the diaper in the trash, got dressed, and went down stairs for breakfast and watch cartoons. His Mom came down a little while later. “Hey, see, the diaper worked. It’s wet, but the bed’s dry. That isn’t so bad, now is it?” she said. Tim just mumbled something and kept watching TV. “Have it your way mister gloomy. As soon as I’m done doing your sheets from yesterday we’re going to the mall, so don’t start another program.” Again, Tim just mumbled and kept watching TV.

Shortly they were off to the mall. Tim gloomily followed his Mom around to various shops until it was time for her hair appointment. He hated the smell of the hairdressers so he headed off to the food court, stopping at the restroom on the way. Nobody else was in there. He was headed out the door after peeing, but he stopped at the mirror. He looked into it remembering again last night’s weird dream. “Yeah, right, this is dumb. Dumb as wearing diapers,” he said in a whisper. “Anyway, show me.” Tim was amazed as a yellow glow grew around him. He stood there, not sure what to do next, and afraid someone would see it. Before he could think what to do next two guys came in.

The older man said, “Excuse me,” and they walked right past him like nothing was different about him. Tim looked back at the mirror and glow was still there.

“Wow,” he thought, “maybe this will work.”

Tim walked out into the food court. The first thing he saw surprised him. There were lots of red glows: babies and toddlers everywhere, even more than you would notice otherwise. Occasionally there would be a slightly bigger kid, maybe 3 ½ years old, with a red glow. But it took a few minutes for Tim to start ignoring the red and start to see the yellow and green glows, but they were there!!! Again most of the glows were from the little kids, but as Tim started to get braver and started to walk around he saw more, older kids glowing. First was Kenny, who was the 9 year old from down the street with a green glow. Tim walked up to him and started talking. Kenny didn’t act any different from normal. “Cool, this is going to be fun,” Tim thought to himself. A few minutes later he saw the twin boys from the fourth grade in his school. They were in yellow!!! He had never spoken to them before so he just looked at them, grinned, and thought, “Nah, nah, nah, I know about you guys; you wear diapers,” and then caught himself. He looked at his arm; there was a yellow glow there too. Better be careful, someone else may be able to see the glow too. You never know. He kept walking around and was surprised at all the people who glowed, even some adults. There were even a few red ones!!! “I guess I’m not the only one, after all,” he thought, “there must be thousands of them in town.”

Tim was feeling pretty good about himself as he rounded another corner and nearly ran into Bruce. “Hey, watch where you are going. Oh, little shit, it’s you. Give me that lunch money you were supposed to give me yesterday and maybe I won’t pound you!”

Tim tried to pull away, but couldn’t. Bruce had grabbed his shirt. “Leave me alone, or…”

“Or what, shit?”

A security guard walked up, “you kids having a problem here?”

Bruce immediately let go and Tim was finally able to get back from him. Bruce said, “No, he just ran into me. That’s all.”

Tim said thanks to the guard, then turned to look at Bruce as he was going to walk away with the guard between them, and he nearly died. Bruce was in red!!! That meant Bruce was wearing a diaper!!! The meanest kid in 5th grade was wearing a diaper, right now in front of him!!! Tim nearly crashed into a planter as he walked away while still staring at Bruce. In about an hour the glows faded, but he didn’t care; he knew what he needed to know to protect himself at school. He couldn’t get over that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling all day. And much to his Mom’s amazement he didn’t fight being diapered that night, or the next, or the next. He even didn’t mind that they were wet in the morning, either.

When Tim got to school on Monday he knew Bruce would be looking for him. He had been able to avoid Bruce on Friday, and nearly got Bruce into trouble on Saturday with the guard at the mall. It happened on a landing in the stairwell on the way to lunch. With no teachers around but lots of kids watching, Bruce caught up to Tim and grabbed him. “Where’s my money, shit?”

Tim had run this over in his mind all day Sunday. “I don’t have any, but I’ve got something better.”

“Yeah, what is it? Bruce asked, “you got cigarettes to buy me off?”

“No, I got a secret, instead.”

“Big shit, a secret!”

“It is big,” Tim said. “Its about you.”

“You got nothing on me. What is this secret?”

Tim knew the secret was only good if Bruce knew that Tim knew about the diapers, but that nobody else did. He didn’t want to get too close to Bruce to whisper the secret, so he had the secret written on a folded piece of paper in his pocket. He took the paper out and handed it to Bruce. Bruce had trouble opening the paper with only one hand, but Tim knew as soon as Bruce got it opened—all of a sudden Tim was free. He took a couple of steps and then turned around. Bruce’s face was a bright angry red; no glow this time. He started coming at Tim, but Tim said “I won’t tell; you won’t hurt me.” Bruce stopped. Everybody was just staring at Bruce, and wondering what was Tim’s secret. Just then a teacher showed up, the crowd of kids broke up, and they all raced off to lunch.

From that point on Bruce stayed clear of Tim. And Tim was happy; it was worth wearing diapers if that meant being safe from Bruce.