The AR Story Archive
Stories of Age/Time Transformation
by: | Complete Story | Last updated Oct 25, 2008
I woke up wet the next morning, but Mom didn’t fuss and gripe at me about it. And it was nice to not have to deal with wet sheets, a wet bedspread, wet mattress cover (Mom had put the plastic sheet on my bed when I first started wetting, and never took it off), or wet pajamas. Just a wet GoodNites.
Mom sent me to the bathroom to take the wet GoodNites off, and wash up. I wiped my clammy pee-soaked skin with a rag, then dressed in my boxers and clothes. After breakfast, Jay called to ask if I wanted to go sledding again, since we were out of school for so long and the snow was still good to sled on. I told him I had to ask my Mom, and that I’d call him back.
"Mom, Jay wants to know if I can go to Knob Hill again. May I?"
"Well, I don’t know, Nick. You’ll have to wear your snowsuit, and, well, you know how that goes if you need to pee."
"I’ll go before I leave, Mom, I promise. And if I have to go to the bathroom, I can come home quick, before it gets so bad like it did yesterday. Please, Mom?"
"Nick, it’s a ten minute walk. And besides, if you go, then have to use the bathroom and come back, I’m not going to be having you go in and out all day. Why don’t you just have Jay come over here, and you guys can play in the yard?"
"Cuz we don’t have a hundred foot hill," was my honest answer. "I mean, the yard is fine for snowmen and snowballs, but you can’t sled down a flat yard. I promise, Mom, I won’t wet my pants today."
"I don’t know, doober. I don’t think it’s a good idea."
I was getting angry, and wanted to tell Mom how mean she was being when I had a thought. One I wouldn’t have imagined myself having. After running it around in my head a few times, I decided to ask Mom.
"Mom, what if I wore a GoodNites under my clothes? Could I go sledding then?"
Mom got a look on her face that told me she was thinking about it. Finally, she spoke. "Nick, yesterday, you flipped out because I told you I wanted you to wear protection. And now, you’re asking me to let you wear it?"
"Trust me, Mom, I don’t like it. But if it makes it so I can go with Jay to the Hill, then I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.
"Okay. Go call Jay and tell him you’ll meet him there, then go get a pair on. I’ll get your snowsuit stuff ready."
"It isn’t as cold, Mom, can’t I just wear jeans? I’ll wear two pair of thermals under them." I really didn’t want to wear that babyish snowsuit.
"You’d soak through the jeans in a second, Nick, sledding in the snow. And not from the inside. I mean, you’ll be drenched and cold before you know it. A snowsuit keep the wetness out, and will keep you warm."
I sighed, but really wanted to go sledding, so I ran to my room, and using the phone in my room to call Jay and tell him the good news, and to meet me at the Hill. After that, I tugged my jeans and boxers down, and after a momentary hesitation, I pulled on a fresh pair of GoodNites, the pulled clean thermal pants on, and jeans. I was relieved that no sign of the bedwetting pants. I finished getting ready, putting on the thermal top and a sweatshirt, then my heavy socks. I headed down to the basement, where Mom had my snowsuit ready. Once it was on, she told me to be home by noon or so for lunch. I agreed, and headed off to the Hill.
It wasn’t as much fun that day, since most of the kids there were younger kids. The cool older kids, the middle and high school kids, were in school. Only the preschoolers and the elementary age kids were there. And Jay and I were the only kids from our grade there. Don’t get me wrong. We still went sledding, and had downhill dogfights with each other, but we had to be less rowdy because of the little kids. At about 11:30, I decided to call it a morning, and asked Jay if he wanted to come over for lunch.
"Can’t, dude, my Mom said we’re going to the store later. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yea, sounds good, man. Maybe we’ll go sledding too."
We slapped hands and parted ways, and I headed up my driveway to the house. I got there, and went right to the garage, to the basement door.
"MOM!" I called up the steps. "I’M HOME!"
She called back down and told me to hang my snowsuit up, and come up for lunch. I struggled out of the bulky suit, and kicked my boots off to the side. When I was halfway up the steps, I felt it. A warmth spreading throughout my crotch, the warmth of pee. I was wetting the GoodNites, and I never even felt the need to go. How was I going to explain this to Mom? What I came up with wasn’t the smartest of moves.
Mom asked me when I sat down for lunch how sledding was, and I told her fine. She then asked me if I’d had to use the GoodNites.
"Nope," I lied through my teeth to her. After lunch, she told me to strip my clothes off in the laundry area, that she would start a load.
"Mom, I’d only be in a...you know, a GoodNites," I said. "I’ll go change in my room and bring my dirty stuff down." I must have sounded suspicious.
"Nick, go to the laundry room, and get those dirty clothes off now. I know you. You’ll get up to your room, turn the TV on and forget about what I asked you to do. Or...or are you hiding something from me?"
"No, Mom, I just don’t want to wear only a GoodNites in front of you, okay?"
"You didn’t mind waltzing around down here yesterday in nothing but boxers. If I have to tell you one more time, Nick, to go put your dirty clothes in the washer, I’ll cut your cable off for a week. Understood?"
I nodded, and hoped I could get the jeans and stuff into the washer, and then scoot past Mom before she realized I was soaked. No such luck. She followed me to the laundry area, and readied the rest of the load while I stripped down. When it came time to pull the thermal pants off, I hesitated. It was the last straw for Mom.
"For Pete’s sake, child. Get them off already," she said, sounding annoyed and reaching out for me. When she tugged the pants down, she immediately saw the state of my GoodNites. The race car pattern was gone, having disappeared when I wet. "Nicholas Dunlap, tell me you didn’t wet your pants."
"Um, yea, I did I guess," I said.
"You guess? Well, I don’t guess. I can see you did. Now, tell me when you did pee your pants, because I asked you at lunch if you’d used it, and you told me no. Did you do eating lunch? Before you got home? "
"Um...when I was at the Hill," I said, lying again. "I didn’t want to tell you Mom, because I knew you’d be mad. I was going to come home to go to the bathroom, but Jay talked me into staying. We’d only been there for a little bit, and he didn’t want to leave yet. So I told him I could hold it and just used the GoodNites. I’m sorry, Mom, I really am."
"I see. So you just decided to wet yourself so you could play some more? Nick, I’m disappointed in you. I let you wear the GoodNites to play in to prevent what happened yesterday. Which was, if you recall. having to go, but not getting a thick snowsuit off in time. I didn’t let you wear one to play in so you could use it instead of a toilet. I want you in your room, young man, and no TV. If I hear the TV, you’ll lose it for a month. Now get."
I ran to my room, upset that Mom was mad, and upset that I had lied to her. Once there, I tore the wet GoodNites off and redressed in boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt. I flopped onto my bed, wanting to watch a movie, but afraid I’d make Mom more mad at me. I picked up a comic book, and paged through it, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. I heard Mom downstairs on the phone, but I didn’t know to who.
About an hour later, I was about to go insane with boredom when Mom walked in. She had a sad look on her face, but a stern one as well. I knew the look. One that said "I’m not happy I have to do what I have to do, but I have to do it." I hated that look.
"Nick, honey, we need to talk," she said solemnly. "About why you lied to me."
"I told you Mom, I didn’t tell you when you asked at lunch if I was wet because I knew you’d be all mad at me." I said, digging my hole deeper. I didn’t know I was digging it, but it had just gotten deeper.
"No, Nick, I don’t mean that. You told me Jay talked you into staying longer. That’s the lie I mean, Nick. I spoke to Jay’s Mom. I had her ask Jay if that was accurate. He denies ever saying that. Do you know the tub o’ trouble you’re in, son?"
"Yea, a deep one," I said, silently cursing myself. I wasn’t mad at Jay, I was mad at me. I had lied, and used Jay’s name to do it. In fact, I knew Jay was probably madder than a bull at me for it too. "Is Jay mad?"
"Yes, a little bit, Nick. He wasn’t happy that you lied to me using him to do it. You’ll have to deal with that later. But not until you go back to school. Because yes, son, you are in a deep tub o’ trouble. A very deep one. For starters, you’re grounded for one month. No TV, no going to the Hill to sled, in fact, you won’t leave this house unless it’s to go to school. I’ve arranged for Tiffany to watch you if I go out." That was uncool, I thought. Tiffany is the twelve-year-old girl who lives the next house down from Mom and I.
"Mom, Tiff isn’t old enough to watch me," I protested. "She’s not much older than me!"
"True, but she will babysit you from time to time this month. That’s for lying to me about if you were wet, when I asked at lunch. Now, I’m going to ask you again. When did you wet the GoodNites?"
Realizing how deep I was in trouble, I decided to tell her the truth. I couldn’t get into any more trouble, I thought.
"When I got home. I was halfway up the steps and I felt myself wetting. I didn’t even know I had to go, Mom, or I would have held it, I swear."
"I see. Nick, I’m very disappointed in you. I don’t know what the deal is all of a sudden with you, but you’ve had two inexcusable pants wetting accidents in three days. And this lying! When did you start thinking it was okay to lie to me?"
"I don’t know Mom, I’m real sorry. I just...I just didn’t want you to be mad at me. Or to hate me because I wet myself again."
"Oh Nick," Mom said. "I’ll never hate you. Ever. You could grow up to be a mass murderer, and I won’t hate you. You’re my son, my only child. I would have been less upset if you’d told me the truth at lunch, Nick, less upset than I am now, but I’ll never hate you."
"So what’s my punishment for lying about when I wet my pants?"
"You know what? I think that having Jay mad at you, and being grounded for a month is more than enough. I will say this. If this wetting doesn’t stop, and stop soon, you’ll be going to school in GoodNites. Okay?"
I nodded, crying a little. I had just lost the trust on my Mom, the respect of my best friend, and all in one swoop. Could it get worse? Mom left me laying on my bed, and told me that if I was very well behaved, she might reduce the no TV part of my grounding. I cuddled up with my ancient stuffed monkey, Mr. Wumpus, which I used to sleep with every night until I was six or so, and it became uncool to sleep with a stuffy. I had kept him, though, on my bookcase, and that same sense of nostalgia I had felt touching my GoodNites the night before came back. Mr. Wumpus made me feel safe, that he could take care of any problem for me.
"Please, Wumpus," I whispered to him. "Do like you used to and make things better. Make it so I’m not a baby anymore. Make it so I don’t wet my pants. Make it so Mom isn’t mad at me."
I fell asleep whispering to him and had the oddest dream.
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I am on a boat, in the middle of a lake. I am alone. I have no oars, no motor, no sail. The water is calm. I am afraid. ’Help me, someone help me’ I cry out. ’Please, I can’t swim’ But no one replies to my calls.
For hours, I am stranded on the lake, alone, afraid I am going to die, when suddenly a monkey that has the face of my friend Jay pops out of the water. ’Do you mind?’ he asks irritably. ’I’m tying to sleep here.’
’I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was bothering you.’
’Well you are. Take this boat somewhere else, I don’t need people like you bothering me, ’ the strange Jay-monkey tells me forcefully.
’But how. I have no way of moving it.’
But the monkey is gone. Just then, it begins to rain. I shiver in the cold drizzle, and realize that the boat is moving. Slowly, surely. It is moving.
It is then a mermaid showed up. A mermaid that looks like my Mom. I gape at her. She frowns at me. She seems angry.
’Thanks. It took my years to make it stop, and you bring it all back. Thanks an awful lot.’
’What did I do? What did I bring back?’ But like the monkey, the mermaid was gone, and I was again all alone. The rain picked up, and then I noticed that the boat was moving faster.
I hear a faint roar from the front of the boat, not loud, just persistent. A few minutes later, I see what it is. A waterfall. A huge waterfall.
I am very afraid of the waterfall. If I go over it, will I die? I am just about to jump out of the boat and try to swim away when suddenly Dad appears, in a boat next to me.
’Hey there son,’ he calls to me. ’Looks like you could use a hand.’
’Dad! Yes, I’m going to go over the falls. Help me get to your boat.’
’I’d love to son. Oh, wait, my cell phone.’ He answers and I can hear both him and the person who’s calling. It’s Mona, my step-mother.
’Mike, come home to me. I need you now,’ Mona says.
’Sure thing, darling, I’ll be home soon.’ Dad hangs up and turns to me. ’Sorry, son, but Mona wants me to come home. See ya soon.’
’No, Dad, please don’t leave me,’ I cry out.
But he’s gone, leaving me alone once more, all alone on what has turned into a river. My boat is swiftly moving closer and closer to the falls. I can feel the wind in my hair, the spray of the water coming over the bow of the boat, and the turbulent rocking of the river. The falls loom, and then I am over them. For an eternity, it seems, I am hanging over them, neither moving forward nor downward, just suspended in mid-air as if I am a cartoon character who has stepped off a cliff.
And then, the boat falls. Faster and faster as gravity reclaims its hold on the craft. I hang on for dear life as I plummet to the angry water beneath the falls. I scream. I plead with God. I scream some more. Nothing stops the boat’s fall, however, except the water below.
To my surprise, I am not killed in the crash, merely thrust under water. I struggle to come to the surface, but just as I get nearly to the top, I am crushed back under. Amazingly, I am not struggling to breath, my lungs are not burning. Can I breath underwater? I ask myself. I take a deep breath, and immediately find out that no, I cannot. Water fills my lungs, and I sink further and further away from the surface, into the black depths of the cold water.
I am saved from certain death by the mermaid, who carries me on her wide tail down stream, bringing me to the surface, to the shore on the water’s edge. I cough the water out of my lungs, and ask the mermaid why she saved me.
’I thought you hated me.’ I ask the mermaid.
’No, Nick, I do not. I cannot sit by and allow you to suffer. Now go, I must return to the water.’ I thank her as she swims away and turn. I gasp. What I see makes me very curious.
The forest along the river has changed. It is no longer a forest of trees. It is a bedroom. My bedroom. Only...it’s not my bedroom. It was my bedroom when I was a baby. There’s my old crib, my old changing table, my old rocking horse. I creep slowly into the room, turning back to see not the river, but the wall behind me, and the door to the hallway.
Looking into the crib, I see a kid. But not a baby. I see a boy of about six or so, like I look now. A big kid. The boy is asleep on his back, covered with a blanket, snoring softly. I can see a pacifier laying next to his face, an empty baby bottle next to his head. In his arms is my old monkey, Mr. Wumpus. It’s odd that I can’t make out the boys face. He has no face. It’s just a plain mask of nothing. I reach into the crib, and the boy comes awake, sitting up, screaming. Screaming so loudly. Screaming for his Mom. I hurry away from the crib, afraid the faceless boys mom will come in and kill me for being in her sons bedroom. I have no where to hide. No place to go. No excuses.
Strangely, the mother looks like my Mom. A lot like my Mom. And even stranger, she doesn’t seem to see me. She goes to the boy.
’Nick, wake up, you’re having a nightmare, wake up Nick, Mommy’s here, wake up,’ she says over and over to the boy, lifting him out of the crib, holding him to her chest, rocking him. I could see that all the boy was wearing was a t-shirt and a diaper. That’s strange, I think to myself. His name is Nick too. The boy turns to me, and suddenly, he has a face. I see myself looking right at me.
’Of course we have the same name. I’m you, baby,’ It’s then I let out a loud, reverberating cry.
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"MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY!" I scream, coming fully awake in my bed. Mom is sitting on the bed, her arms around me, rocking me. I am sobbing, totally out of control.
"Shhh, doober, it’s okay, I’m here. You were having a nightmare, honey, that’s all. It’s over now."
She gently rocked me as I cried into her shoulder. The lingering image of the nightmare won’t leave me. Me in a crib. Being lifted up by Mommy. Wearing a diaper.
When I was calm enough to talk, I told Mom all about the dream, before it faded away. I told her about the lake, the waterfall, the nursery, all of it. She listened to it, and then told me that it was only a dream. A bad one, to be sure, but just a dream.
"Mom, I think I’m wet," I said to her.
"Yea, I think so too. Don’t worry about Nick. You had a bad dream. I’m not mad about it. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll take care of the bed. Would you like some pizza for dinner? I bet Dominoes will cheer you up."
"Yea, I guess so," I said, not cheered up. I showered, and went back to my room to dress, not seeing any clean underwear. I only had GoodNites, in the closet, and dirty boxers in my hamper. I decided to just wear the GoodNites, in case I had another accident like when I got home from the Hill, and put clean clothes on. Mom eased off the no TV grounding, and I laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon and evening, unable to shake the last image of the dream.
At about 9:00, I told Mom I was going to bed, and she came up to tuck me in. She told me that I would be fine. She could tell I was afraid to sleep, and she was right. I was terrified to sleep. I didn’t want to have that same nightmare, or any like it. I tossed and turned for an hour or so, before finally drifting off to sleep. Thankfully, I didn’t have any dreams, or none that I remember. I slept the whole night through.
(Note: The dream in this part is a fairly accurate description of an an actual dream/nightmare I had regularly as a kid. In fact, I still have it from time to time even now, as an adult. It has been altered for this story, to fit in with the characters, but is pretty much intact. It may very well be the reason behind my desire to write this story. That dream was a major part on shaping who I am today. Or it’s effects on me were. Either way, this is the first time I’ve ever written the dream done (or typed it down as it were). It’s a very emotional part of me.
And yes, I did have a stuffed monkey named Mr. Wumpus. I still do.)
To Be Continued...
Snow Days and More
by: Anonymous | Complete Story | Last updated Oct 25, 2008
Stories of Age/Time Transformation