    Derrick's Summer (Part 1)

    Summary: An 11 year old boy explores his freedom and his
    enuresis/pantswetting during the first summer he's been at home alone
    while his single mother works.

    Chapter One.

    Derrick is 11 and a half, and this is the first summer that he’ll be
    allowed to stay home by himself while his mom goes to work. His dad
    hasn’t been with them since Derrick was three, and he hasn’t seen him
    in several years.

    The first day of summer was Saturday, and although he was excited, he
    was looking forward to Monday, when he’d have the whole house to
    himself. He played outside, and a lot of play station games, and then
    it was Sunday night.

    Derrick was excited as he got undressed for bed, taking off his shoes
    and shorts, and dropping his underwear in the hamper beside the
    dresser. He opened the top drawer and took out a Tranquility Youth
    Brief and carried it over to his bed. He spread it out and lay down on
    it, diapering himself for the night. Derrick has always wet the bed.
    He’s had dry spells as long as a month, but they’ve never lasted, and
    lately he’s been drinking Mt. Dew again, even in the evenings. It’s
    summer, time to chill out and have fun, not worry about bedwetting.

    When Derrick woke up he’d momentarily forgotten that he was home alone.
    He started the routine he followed nearly every morning; crawl out of
    bed (he’d always been a deep sleeper), strip of his wet night diaper,
    roll it up, toss it in the trash. Then he’d dry himself on a hand towel
    kept in the closet for that purpose, and put on cotton briefs and
    starter shorts, or jeans, and be off to the kitchen for a Mt. Dew.

    On this morning though, by the time he was on his feet he realized he
    was home alone. He went out the door into the hall listening to the
    silence in the house. He went to his mom’s bedroom to see if maybe
    she’d stayed home sick from work. Empty, so he went down to the
    kitchen, peaking into the living room along the way. Sure enough, he
    was the only one home.

    He ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a Dew from the fridge, opened
    it, and took a long pull, which resulted in a twinge from his bladder.
    Skipping his morning routine meant that he hadn’t taken his diaper off
    from the night before, and hadn’t been to the bathroom, which
    ordinarily would be his last stop before bed and his first after. He
    took another drink of his soda and started to head for the bathroom.

    He knew better than to wait; for Derrick, waiting very long when he
    needed to go to the bathroom wasn’t such a good idea. Like many chronic
    bedwetters, his bladder didn’t hold a whole lot, and when it was full,
    it was a little unpredictable. This morning, though, he hesitated.

    A few years ago his mom asked him one morning why he hadn’t been to the
    bathroom yet when he came to breakfast. He said that he’d gone in his
    night-diaper before he’d taken it off. She told him that he shouldn’t
    do that, because needing to pee should always be a trip to the
    bathroom. Now at 8 years old, Derrick knew that, but hadn’t seen any
    harm in using an already wet diaper. His mom had spoken out of habit.
    Derrick had been slow to potty train for urine, and from 2 ½ to almost
    3 ½ her mantra had often been “When you feel like you need to pee, you
    have to go to the bathroom”.

    Back in the kitchen Derrick was thinking. He was also absent mindedly
    rocking back and forth to abate his growing need to pee. He was
    thinking “I’m home alone, and I can do anything I want.” A thought
    which could encompass a lot of things, including the harmless rebellion
    of relieving ones self in a soggy youth diaper. Derrick stopped his
    fidgeting, and let go, nearly sighing with relief as he wet warm and
    heavily.

    Perhaps it was prophetic that Derrick’s first official act of summer
    was to wet himself, but it wasn’t what he was thinking as he was
    waddling back to his room to peel off his sagging diaper.

    Derrick was thinking play station. He’d finished the year on the honor
    roll and as a reward his mom had bought him 2 new games to busy himself
    with during the summer. As soon as he was dried and dressed in
    underpants and yellow Starter shorts, he was in his game chair,
    controller in hand, carnage and mayhem flickering before his eyes.

    Chapter Two.

    Derrick, like most boys his age loves video games. His favorites are
    first person shooters, and he could play all day. Usually homework,
    chores, and his mothers concern for all the wasted hours kept his game
    time limited to Saturdays, when he’d often play 4-5 hours or more if
    allowed. Now though, with his mom at work and the house to himself he
    could play all he wanted. 10:00AM. 8 ½ hrs before his mom would be
    home. 8 ½ glorious gaming hours if he chose to use them.

    Derrick’s mom had a dual purpose in periodically interrupting his
    gaming. Of course she was a little concerned that it was all he wanted
    to do, but that was normal. Her big concern was that she knew that
    while her son had a nonstop 4 hour gaming appetite, he had about a 2
    hour bladder. He had always been easily distracted, perhaps a trace of
    ADD, but she wasn’t about to medicate him. He did just fine in school,
    had no behavior problems and was easy to get along with. The games
    though were so engrossing for him that he could easily ignore a full
    bladder when playing.

    From the time she’d bought the play station it had been trouble.
    Derrick, who at the time was 9, and hadn’t had a daytime wetting
    accident in 3 years, wet his pants the very first day he had it.
    Christmas morning and there he was, jumping up from the console
    grabbing himself with a growing wet spot spreading across the front and
    crotch of his pajama pants and bouncing up and down. He ended up
    soaking himself to the ankle cuff of both legs before he regained
    control. He’d almost cried he was so embarrassed. She calmed him, and
    sent him off to change his pants, with the reminder that he needed to
    go to the bathroom as soon as he had to pee. Despite the embarrassment
    he felt after the accident, he’d done it again before Christmas break
    was over.

    The play station was his anathema when it came to keeping his pants
    dry, and it didn’t stop after Christmas break. His mom didn’t like
    reminding him to go to the bathroom, although she sometimes had to.
    Usually she preferred to get his attention away from whatever was
    keeping him from reacting to his full bladder when she noticed him
    looking urgent As soon as he was free from whatever held him
    enthralled, he go straight to the bathroom on his own. After several
    more gaming related accidents she’d even threatened to take it away. He
    did cry then, and sobbed that he hadn’t meant to wet his pants, that he
    couldn’t help it. She believed him. There was something about his
    psyche that allowed him almost trance-like focus when he was really
    interested in something, and his bladder had never been cooperative. In
    the end she didn’t take the game system away, but she did start popping
    in a getting his attention every hour or so while he was playing.

    So long as his mom held her vigil, Derrick and the play station got
    along fine. One Saturday just 2 months ago though she’d been talking to
    the neighbor and cleaning house and forgot to check on Derrick. When
    she finally thought of it she found him in his room, soaking wet blue
    jeans, with a towel, trying to dry his upholstered chair. He got pretty
    upset when she saw him, but she told him it was alright, she knew he
    hadn’t meant to do it, that sometimes accidents happen, and of course,
    that he needed to remember he should always go to the bathroom right
    away when he needed to pee.

    Chapter Three.

    11:45AM. Derrick is on level three already of the first of his newest
    games. He’s got the controls figured out, and he’s really in the
    groove. He hadn’t moved since he’d fired the game up an hour and 45
    minutes ago, except his thumbs of course. The empty Mt. Dew can on the
    desk next to the game system stared mutely at Derrick as he
    unconsciously shifted in his seat and pressed his thighs together as he
    resisted the growing urge to pee. He had not a thought about it though.
    He was completely absorbed in the game in front of him, and only
    remotely felt the nearly desperate urge to relieve himself. His
    posturing to hold his bladder was pure habit and instinct; he wasn’t so
    much trying to hold it, as it was just what he was doing. He wasn’t
    thinking I’ll go when I finish this level. He wasn’t thinking I can
    wait a little longer. He was fully engaged in playing the game and not
    thinking about his bladder at all.

    For 20 long minutes the game flickered in front of him as his bladder
    reach the critical point. Had he been aware that he was doing it, he
    probably couldn’t have waited this long. He was hunched forward over
    his lap, butt and legs clinched tight, chill bumps were visible on his
    arms and legs. When it happened, he wasn’t immediately aware of it.
    When his control gave out the pressure in his straining bladder sent
    hot pee spurting out the tip of his small organ, now contracted closely
    to him with the strain of holding back so hard. His white cotton briefs
    began to absorb the flow, but much too slowly as the wetness ran across
    his flat belly and over his smooth sac. In a few brief seconds his
    underwear was soaked to mid-crotch and urine was already starting to
    pool between his thighs as it soaked though the back of his underwear,
    through his shorts and into the chair. Derrick dropped the controller
    and leapt up grabbing for his crotch. It had taken him 5 full seconds
    to realize he was peeing in his pants. He crossed his legs and leaned
    forward trying to stop wetting, but it was no use. He just couldn’t get
    control and stood helplessly in front of his desk as he continued to
    soak himself. A visible wet spot spread all across the front of his
    shorts, darkening the bright yellow slick material as it absorbed his
    pee. It continued to grow, through the crotch and down the front and
    inside of both legs to the seams. Already the pale yellow fluid was
    pouring from the leg openings of his underwear inside his loose shorts
    and he continued soaking them. 6, 8, 10 full seconds now and he was
    slowing down, dripping from the hems of both legs of his shorts,
    tickled as it ran down his legs and into his ankle socks. He had time
    to be glad he wasn’t wearing shoes, at least they wouldn’t get wet, as
    his bladder finally reached a comfortable level and his control
    returned, stopping the flow.

    Frustrated more than humiliated, Derrick just straightened up and stood
    there dripping. “Darn.” he thought. “I got clean this up!” “At least
    mom isn’t here.” he said out loud. He didn’t like to disappoint her
    like this, and he would be really embarrassed if she found out he’d had
    another accident. His good mood started to improve as he realized he
    had hours to cover his accident up and no one had to know.

    He grabbed the ‘diaper towel’ from the closet and used it to sop his
    shorts to stop the dripping. Then he skinned out of them and his now
    yellowed underwear together and holding them out in one hand he quickly
    dried himself with the towel as best he could. He pulled off his tee
    shirt, it too was wet 4 inches up the front and rolled his wet shorts
    up in it and padded naked to the bathroom and tossed his wet things in
    the tub. There he stripped his damp socks and grabbed a bath towel. He
    went back to his room feeling cold now, nude, with the pee drying on
    his skin. He dried the chair. Luckily it hadn’t gotten too wet, and
    would dry before his mom got home. Now the floor; there was a dark wet
    spot on the medium blue carpet about the size of a basket ball. He
    folded the towel and on his began pressing the still warm wetness from
    the carpet. The cool air on his naked groin reminded him that he still
    hadn’t emptied his bladder as he stood up and rocked on his feet over
    the towel trying to get as much of his urine out of the carpet as he
    could.

    When the towel was about as wet as the carpet still was, he took it
    back to the bathroom with him and flipped up the toilet seat to finish
    what he’d stared in his room a few minutes ago. Nude, he just pointed
    his body toward the commode and let go, sending and arch of golden pee
    into the water. When he was done he addressed his clothes, ringing them
    out in the tub and then taking them and the towel to his room. He hung
    everything in the closet to dry, figuring to slip them into the laundry
    latter.

    He didn’t like sneaking, but he was a little embarrassed by the whole
    thing, and thought it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep it to himself. It
    wasn’t like he was going to lie about any of it.

`More chapters to come soon. Be on the lookout for the next installment, and please, good or bad let me know what you think! < href=”curiousonlooker@live.com”>curiousonlooker@live.com`

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