A Day at the Park
I woke with a slight groan as a beam of sunlight shined on my face though a gap in the curtains. For a minute, I just lay there as my brain booted up. As I sat up, rubbing my eyes, I felt the slight bulk of my wet DryJams pullup. Many eight-year-old boys would probably be ashamed to wake up after wetting themselves at night, but I found the feeling of my wet DryJam pleasant. It provided a feeling of security. Speaking of pee, I felt a pressure in my bladder. My DryJam was wet, but it could certainly hold more. So, as another part of my morning routine, I stood up and released a stream into my pullup. Afterall, I was expected to have a wet pullup in the morning anyway, so why let any of it go to waste? It saves a trip to the bathroom and a flush of the toilet. My pullup grew warm and began to swell. After I finished, I gave the front of my pullup a pat and sat back down, enjoying the warm, squishy sensation for a few moments. I then, cleaned myself up, put on my day clothes, and went down to breakfast.
I filled a bowl with some milk and Cheery-Oats, poured a glass of orange juice, and watched cartoons while I ate. It was perfect timing; my favorite show, Kit Flash, was just starting. He was one of the few superheroes who was a fox like me. It was a new episode where Kit Flash had to outwit an evil snowshoe air with super speed and ice powers! I was so enthralled that I forgot to eat breakfast except during ads. Before I knew it, the credits were rolling, but I wanted more.
Just as a bit of disappointment started to creep in, Dad walked into the room. ``Hey Riddy, let's get ready to go.''
I looked at him, cocking an ear. ``Go where?''
``Wildeworld! I told you we'd go on the next nice day.''
``Really!? Yes!'' I jumped up and pumped my fists. I hadn't been to the amusement park at all this summer.
``Is that a `Yes I'm ready?'''
``Yes!'' I exclaimed, jumping once more.
``Great! I'll get our lunches together. I just have one special request,'' he finished, a bit hesitantly.
Surely it couldn't be bad. ``What is it?'' I asked, by voice quieting.
``I want you to wear one of your pullups to the park and bring a spare, just in case.''
``But Daaaaad!'' I whined. ``I don't have accidents during the day. I only need them at night!''
``You had an accident at Wildeworld before - ''
``But I was like five!'' I protested. My fists were at my sides.
Dad raised a finger. ``You had some close calls last year and the year before, and we lost our place in line. Today is probably going to be extra crowded; it's the first nice day all week and it's supposed to rain tomorrow too. Besides, we'll be having so much fun, you'll probably forget you're wearing it.''
I shrank back a little. ``But everyone will notice and think I'm a baby.''
``Nobody will notice. I don't even notice at bedtime, when I know you're wearing them. Now,'' he said gently, giving my nose a little boop with his finger, ``I don't want any more buts except your butt in a pullup.''
``Okay,'' I moaned, and trudged up to my room. I took off my pants and underwear and grabbed two DryJams out of the bag; one space-themed and the other sports-themed. I opened the space-themed one and briefly examined it with a bit of apprehension before slipping it on. It actually felt nice to wear my DryJams. I guess wearing them wasn't the problem; I really just feared discovery and ridicule. With that in mind I set about finding the best pants for concealment. I picked a pair of baggy shorts to help hide any bulge, making sure none of my DryJam showed above the waistband, and double-checking that the tail fastener was secure. I headed downstairs with the other DryJam in hand, stopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Dad greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. ``Hey kiddo. You got your pullup on?''
He didn't need to rub it in. ``Yes, Dad.'' I tugged the waistband of my pants, giving him a quick peek.
``Atta boy.'' He ruffled the fur on my head. ``Now remember, these are only for emergencies. Use the bathroom if you can actually get to it in time.''
``Yes, Dad. So, kinda like the TV deal before bedtime?'' I looked up at him.
``Exactly. Now I'll take that,'' he put the other DryJam in a zip lock bag and slipped it into a sack that I presumed had our lunches in it. ``Without further ado, let's get going.''
When we got to Wildeworld, I saw that Dad had been right: I don't remember seeing the lines so long before. As we approached the lines for the entry booths, I felt a slight pressure in my bladder. I look toward the restrooms, but the line there was rather long, too, and one of them appeared to be out of order. It wasn't at all urgent, so my best bet was to hold it until we got inside. I was still a little self-conscious about wearing a DryJam in public. I looked down and shifted my hips experimentally; there was no noticeable bulge. A little wiggle of my tail told me the fastener was secure. It seemed I was safe for the time being. Even the feel wasn't that noticeable; on a warmer day the DryJam might have been sweaty and uncomfortable, but the weather was perfect.
The line advanced slowly and the urge in my bladder begat to build. I wasn't desperate yet, but given our unsatisfactory pace, I was starting to get a little bit nervous. I found myself shifting my weight from one leg to the other. My dad seemed to notice.
``Gotta go?'' he said in my ear.
I nodded.
``Think you can hold out?''
``Not sure. Think so,'' I grunted.
A hedgehog girl in the row next to us, about five or six years old, appeared to be in the same predicament. She was slightly bent over and doing a little ``dance.''
``Mom, I really gotta go!'' she whimpered.
Her mother looked at her watch impatiently. ``Well you'll just have to hold it. I don't want to have wasted these 20 minutes in line.''
The girl whimpered and nodded.
I crouched down next to the barricade. ``Don't worry; you can do it. I gotta go, too. We can both hold it and we can make it through together. Okay?'' I reached through the barricade.
Still squirming, she gave a little smile and shook my paw. ``Okay. I'm Lisa''
``I'm Riddy.''
As soon as I stood up, I felt a twinge in my bladder that made me bend over slightly and cover my crotch, but it faded quickly. Lisa noticed my grimace and gave her own reassurance.
``Don't worry, I know you can make it too.''
I gave a little smile in response. The booths were getting closer and the feeling in by bladder grew more urgent, with occasional pulses of desperation that made me double over a bit. Lisa wasn't faring any better, as her potty dance became increasingly frantic. We were a mere twenty feet from the booths when Lisa crouched slightly and cried out ``Mommy!'' A trickle of pee rand down her legs and made a little puddle formed around her feet. Then came the tears.
``Mommy, I'm sorry.''
Her mother shifted into comfort mode and started stroking Lisa's head. ``Oh, sweetie, it's okay. Accidents happen.''
``Do we have to go home now?'' she sniffled.
``Only if you want to. I brought some spare clothes and we can get you cleaned up as soon as we get in if you want.''
``I want to stay and play.''
``Okay we'll do that.''
Lisa's accident was not exactly encouraging to me. I kept squirming, trying to avoid sharing here fate. I may have had my absorbent underwear, but I would rather avoid using it if there was a risk of a leak.
``You hangin' in there, buddy?'' Dad asked.
``Mmphf,'' was all I could manage as another pulse of urgency rocked my bladder.
We were ten feet from the booth. Five feet. No! The lady in front of us was writing a check! A spasm stronger than the others made be double over, as I just barely avoided having an accident. Dad paid, and we got our wristbands. We were in the park. ``Gotta go!'' I blurted out as I took off forth the bathroom as fast as my paws would allow. I made it to a urinal and another spasm hit me as I fumbled with my pants. I pulled down the front of my shorts and pullup and ah! Sweet relief!
I rejoined Dad, feeling much better.
``You make it okay?'' he asked.
``Yep!'' I replied cheerfully. ``But, I barely made it,'' I blushed.
He whispered in my ear, ``Well, I guess it's a good thing you have the pullup as backup.''
I blushed even more.
Dad sensed my discomfort. ``So, what do you where do you want to go first?''
``The bumper cars!'' I said eagerly. Those were my absolute favorite.
Dad rolled his eyes. ``Of course.''
We made our way to the bumper cars. The announcer gave the typical speech about dodging instead of deliberately bumping into people, but who ever listened to that? Round and round in circles we went. I managed to hit Dad's car a few times, but I couldn't quite make him spin out. Some skunk, who looked about twelve, made me spin out, but I got him back on the second round. We rode the bumper cars several times, as was typical of my Wildeworld visits, and I developed a rivalry with that skunk. We each managed to spin each other out a few times. I was having a terrific time until my stomach started to grumble.
I told Dad I was getting hungry, so we found a table near one of the concessions stands. He pulled tuna sandwiches out of the sack he brought with us.
``I'm going to get us something to drink. What do you want?''
``Fizzy lemonade.''
``Fizzy lemonade what?'' Dad cocked his head.
``I'll have a fizzy lemonade, please.''
``That's better.'' He patted my head.
I started on my sandwich, and Dad was soon back with my lemonade and his iced tea. We ate, drank, and watched the people mill about on this lovely summer day. We were nearly finished when I froze. A yellowjacket was hovering just above our table. ``Dad!'' I shouted.
``It's okay. Just leave it alone and it'll go away.'' But it didn't go away. It started zigzagging toward the remaining bit of my sandwich. I was rooted to the spot. Dad finally decided to save the day, swatting the offending wasp onto the table with the sack and crushing it with is bottle of tea.
I breathed a sigh of relief. ``Thank you, Dad.''
Dad gave me a look. ``You should start acting a little more like a big kid. Other kids aren't so afraid of little bugs.''
``I know.'' I looked down. Some big kid I was, wearing pullups to the park and getting scared by wasps.
I finished my sandwich and we set of toward more rides. I downed the last of my lemonade along the way and threw away the cup. We first went on the drop tower. While I found it a bit fun, the sensation of freefalling was actually rather scary. I don't think I'll be trying that one again any time soon. The lemonade seemed to be working its way through my system, as I felt the pressure begin to build in my bladder once again, but the feeling was mild, so I ignored it. Next, we went on the swing carousel. Now that was fun, watching the ground, the trees, and the buildings whiz by beneath me while the wind blew through my fur. I imagine it was a bit like flying in an open-cockpit airplane. Of course, I was quite dizzy by the time we got off and Dad had to steady me as we went over to the line for the next ride: The Midgard Serpent, a snake-themed roller coaster that circled the entire park. It was a popular ride, so the line ahead of us was long.
As I recovered from my dizziness, I once again noticed the slowly growing pressure in my bladder. But still, it wasn't urgent; I figured we could make it to the ride in time. But progress was slow, and the lemonade was moving through my body pretty quickly. Before long I was fidgeting, and we weren't even halfway there. The urge to go kept growing. My bladder spasmed, and it took an effort to stop myself from having an accident. Bent over a little and doing a bit of a potty dance I hissed in desperation, ``Dad, I gotta pee.'' I felt like such a little kid in that position.
``Why didn't you go before?'' He raised an eyebrow.
``I was distracted, and then I didn't want to lose our place.''
He sighed. ``Okay, well, try to hold it if you can, but you're wearing a pullup, so it's not the end of the world if you can't.''
``Okay, Dad.'' I still didn't want to use the pullup if I could avoid it. What if it leaked? What if it made the bulge noticeable? Another spasm hit me. But my situation was increasingly untenable.
Just then, Lisa walked by on the other side of the barricade, wearing a pink swimsuit. Part of me was glad to see her, but I didn't really want to talk to her in my current condition. The decision was made for me.
``Hi Riddy! How are you doing?''
I leaned against the barricade, clinging tightly to the metal railing. ``Hi, nmf, Lisa. I'm hanging in there, y'know. I see you got cleaned up well.'' My voice was strained.
``Yes,'' she blushed, looking adorable. ``You seem mad. You're not mad I had and accident, are you?''
``No, no. I just oof - '' I could barely contain that last spasm. ``I just really gotta pee.''
She gave me a confused look. ``But didn't you go to the potty already?''
``Yes,'' I said with a strained voice, ``but I gotta go again. I don't know if I can make it this time.'' I grunted with another spasm. This time a little bit of pee escaped, but the absorbent padding quickly wicked it away.
``I'm sure you can make it. You're bigger than me, so you won't have an accident.''
``Thanks, Lisa I - mpf.'' My bladder contracted again, releasing another little squirt of pee. And then another a second later. Finally, my bladder gave out altogether. Warmth spread along the front of my DryJam and it began swell up. I tensed up with embarrassment and curled my tail in front of me. There I was, eight years old, peeing my pants in public like a little toddler. But I also felt greatly relieved to finally release my bladder. I slumped against the railing and let out a sigh of both frustration and relief.
``You okay, Riddy?'' Lisa asked.
``No, well, I guess, um.'' I gestured for her to come closer and whispered in her ear. ``I just had an accident.'' I'm not sure why I was sharing this with her. Maybe I felt a connection because of her accident earlier.
She looked down at my pants. ``No you didn't. Your pants are dry, unless you went poopy.''
``No. I - '' I blushed, ``I'm wearing a pullup.''
``Oh. You don't wear big underwear?''
``It's just for today, but I guess that just means it's okay that you had an accident, if a big kid like me can have one too.''
``Thank you. You're nice.''
At that moment, Lisa's mom showed up. ``There you are Lisa. I told you not to wander off like that.'' She sighed. ``Well, you look tired and it's time to go anyway.''
``Okay, Mom.'' She rubbed her eye as her mother led her away, holding her paw.
Dad put his hand on my shoulder. ``You doing alright, kiddo?''
I turned to face him, still blushing. ``I, um, had an accident.''
He gave a little sigh. ``Well, you did you best, but I guess it was a good idea to wear the pullup. Do you need to go change?''
``No, I don't think so. It can wait until we get home.''
While it had felt like a big accident in the moment, I knew from my many wet mornings that I had only wet my DryJam to about a third of its capacity. The absorbent padding was good at what it did; it wicked the pee away, so I hardly felt any wetness. While I could feel the added bulk between my legs, it wasn't evident looking from the outside. In other words, I had just had a public accident and the people around me were none the wiser. The warm plumpness of the DryJam was a pleasant sensation.
The rest of the trip to the roller coaster was much more tolerable without my bladder crying out and seemed to go much more quickly. When we got to the roller coaster and were being winched up to the top, I became concerned again. I have a little problem with heights, and the roller coaster was a good deal taller than the carousel swings. The initial drop was the scariest part. We went over multiple smaller hills and a series of tight turns as we circled the park. Thankfully there were no loops; I don't think I could have handled those. As we passed more hills, I found them less scary and more fun. I was finally able to let go of the restraint and put my arms in the air. We also got a great view of the park. The ride, it seemed, was over just as I was starting to have fun.
I had to take a moment to steady myself after getting off. After a brief discussion, Dad and I decided that our next ride should be the new 200-foot Ferris wheel. From the base, it was an impressive sight. We got on and, over the course of a few minutes, rose above the trees, the roller coaster, and all the other rides. Soon we were treated to a gorgeous view, as the sunlight reflected off the treetops and sparkled in the nearby river. My dad was even more captivated by the view; he used to go on plane rides with his dad, a pilot, and loved seeing the land from above. As we descended and the view became obscured once more, I started to notice the signals from my bladder again. Apparently, I wasn't quite rid of the lemonade yet. Still, it wasn't a pressing need, so I agreed on another pass around the Ferris wheel when Dad offered. The urge grew stronger as we rose once again. The view was even more spectacular the second time; the sun was starting to get low in the sky, giving the light a more golden hue.
The urge to pee was getting stronger on the second descent but Dad was really into the view and he suggested one more fifteen-minute ride around the wheel, and I agreed. While I could certainly hold it until the end of the ride, I was starting to get uncomfortable on the third trip up. I remembered the relief I felt from my accident earlier, and I figured the view would be more enjoyable without the distraction of my bladder. I glanced over at Dad, leaned against the railing, and released a stream into my DryJam. A satisfying warmth spread through the front of the padding once again, and the DryJam swelled a little bit more and started to get a little heavy. It was a smaller ``accident'' than before, only bringing my pullup to about half capacity. I looked over toward Dad again. He hadn't noticed a thing. Getting away with it was almost fun. The view was most certainly worth it, as the reflected light was even more golden than before. We could even make out a boat in the glistening river. But all too soon the view was over, and we were walking away from the Ferris wheel.
``Okay,'' said Dad. ``I think we have time for one or two more rides before we head home. Where would you like to go?''
I looked around at the various rides before saying, ``The Tunnel of Horror.''
``Okay, kiddo. Let's just hope it isn't too scary for you. You sure you don't need to use the bathroom first?''
``Nope, I'm good,'' I said casually, my mind drifting to my thickened undergarment.
Of course, we hadn't made it very far in the line before I did have to use the bathroom again. But I figured I was in good shape no matter what happened. When we finally got to the ride, it turned out to be... not so scary at all. The impression I got reminded me of those black-and-white sci-fi B movies where you could see the strings holding up the flying saucers. Some of the glow-in-the dark figures were a little bit spooky, but the animatronics were so silly I laughed at some of them. About halfway through, my need for the bathroom intensified. My discomfort seemed to be amplified by the restraints on the ride. So, once again, I let loose, feeling my DryJam become warm once more. A few minutes of laughter later, we emerged from the Tunnel of ``Horror.'' When I got up, I could feel the weight of my wet DryJam. I had gotten some good use out of it.
After leaving the ride I spotted a concession stand selling cotton candy. ``Can we get some, Dad?''
``I don't know, champ. It's getting late and the line looks kinda long.''
``Aw, c'mon. I haven't had cotton candy in years,'' I complained.
``It hasn't been years, you silly goose,'' Dad chuckled. ``But I suppose it has been a while. This will be the last thing before we go.''
I was bouncing in anticipation of getting the cotton candy, but also as the last of the lemonade worked its way into my bladder. I was getting antsy, and the need to pee wasn't helping. My DryJam still had some room in it, so I let loose another warm stream. It swelled and became quite heavy. I could feel it sway slightly with each step I took. It probably couldn't handle much more without leaking. I got a lemon cotton candy and Dad got strawberry. It was delicious! The sweetness. The tartness. It was a lemon-flavored cloud from heaven. I savored every fluffy bite until it was gone.
Finally, it was time to go. ``Anything you need to do before we hit the road?'' Dad asked.
``Well,'' I squirmed a little in embarrassment, ``I think I should change out of this pullup.''
He raised an eyebrow. ``I thought you said it could wait until we got home.''
``Yeah, well, I had a few more accidents.''
``A few? `Accidents,' you say?'' He put his hands on his hips. ``Rid, I thought we had a deal that the pullup was only for emergencies. You are eight, not three.''
``I'm sorry, Dad,'' I croaked.
He put his hand to his forehead and sighed. ``Look, I'm not mad at you, just a little disappointed. But you had fun today, and I guess that's all that really matters.''
``Okay, but can I have the other pullup to change into? I forgot to bring anything else to wear under my pants.''
Dad sighed again. ``Don't want to go commando then?''
I shook my head.
We walked over to the bathroom together, and Dad discretely slipped me the spare DryJam. I changed in the bathroom stall. Even with all that my DryJam had taken, the bulge wasn't very noticeable through my baggy pants. When I took them off, however, I could see how swollen and saggy it was. I let if fall to the floor with a wet ``plop,'' did a quick cleaning with some toilet paper, and slipped on the fresh DryJam. After checking that the coast was clear, I threw the soaked one in the garbage.
With the hours of fun I'd had, I didn't realize how tired I was until I was trudging out of the bathroom. I was definitely ready to go home. Still, all the sugar from the cotton candy had made me extremely thirsty, so I took a good long drink from the water fountain before rejoining Dad. The park was nearly deserted now, aside from the employees and a few other stragglers. A wolf couple walked by, each with a sleeping toddler on one shoulder.
``You ready to head home, kiddo?'' Dad greeted me.
I yawned before responding. ``Yeah.''
It was still a few minutes' walk to the car, and by the time we got there, I was so tired that I just slumped into the booster seat. Dad saw in the rearview mirror that I had not bothered to fasten my seatbelt, so he got back out and strapped me in. In a small part of my mind I was embarrassed to be treated like such a little kid, but I was too exhausted to raise any objections. The sun was near the horizon now. As we pulled out of the nearly empty parking lot, I absentmindedly gazed at the crepuscular rays.
I sat in that state for a while, not sleeping, but not thinking either. After a while, though, it seemed like we should be home by now. I became a bit more alert; we weren't even at the halfway point. The street was jam-packed with cars just inching along. As we rounded a bend in the road, I could see police lights flashing far up ahead. Dad let out an exasperated sigh. ``Looks like there was an accident. Great, just what we need.''
This brought me to more attention. I was a little excited to see the wreck, but a familiar need made itself known before long. ``Are we gonna be home soon? I gotta use the bathroom,'' I mumbled.
``Why didn't you go when you changed your pullup?'' Dad said, clearly annoyed,
``I didn't have to go then.''
He threw up his hands slightly. ``Well Geez, kid. It seems you've been peeing your pants all day. Once more isn't going to hurt.'' After a pause, he finished with ``but seriously, do try to hold it until we get home.''
``Okay, Dad.'' I trailed off and continued to gaze out the window.
Despite the excitement of seeing the accident and the small but growing pressure in my bladder, I struggled to keep my eyes open. I shut them for just a second. Red and blue lights danced in my mind as I felt myself rocked in a boat. A lovely, comforting warmth embraced me. Suddenly my eyes bolted open as Dad was unbuckling me from my booster seat; we were home. The sun had set by now, but the clouds were still tinted orange. There was a warm thickness between my legs. Now I really felt like a little kid, sitting in a wet pullup as my dad got me out of a glorified carseat. ``C'mon,'' Dad said, ``let's go get some dinner and get you to bed.''
We heated up the chicken and rice that Mom had cooked. As tired as I was, I still had an appetite for dinner, and what fox doesn't like chicken? I ate slowly, though, barely paying attention to the TV. It was one of Mom's dumb romance shows, but one of the characters was kind of funny.
Finally, dinner was over, and I headed upstairs. I changed out of my clothes and my third wet DryJam of the day and headed off to the bathroom. The warm, soapy water of my bath washed the day away. It washed away the smells of urine, popcorn, and cotton candy, replacing them with a slight scent of soothing lavender. All cleaned up, I returned to my bedroom and got out my usual summer nightwear of a t-shirt and a fresh DryJam. As I slipped into my ``pajamas,'' I sleepily mused on my day. I had spent nearly all of it wearing my ``nighttime underwear'' and peed more in my pants than in the toilet. Rather babyish behavior, but it wasn't bad at all I hindsight. It had been a good day. I turned out the light and slipped under my sheets. Before drifting off to sleep, I thought: I should wear my DryJams on more outings.
