The time passed slowly. I twiddled my thumbs. Counted to five hundred. Twice. I listened as carefully as I could to any signs that might be coming from my bladder. Nothing. No tingle. No sudden urge to pee. Didn’t even feel any warmth or wetness from any accidents. Nearly an hour had passed, as I’d finished an entire episode of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Still nothing. Then, I reached down and pressed my hand on the bottom of my pull-up near my crotch.
The material was slightly squishy to the touch, and warm as well. How? That couldn’t be. I was paying attention. I should have noticed. I raced out of bed and into the bathroom and slid the pull-up down to my ankles to the unmistakable sight of the small yellow spot where my pee had been absorbed.
