Sorry so long since last episode. I will be going on a hiatus until December, but I had to get the rest of the Freshmen Orientation parts of the story out before then. The hiatus will be unavoidable as I am going to be writing a non-diaper related novel during the next month. Once that is complete (which should only take about a month) I will return to the story of Bridget and the terrorist.
Here are the previous chapters:
Life and Death Choices Made Casually: Chapter Twelve: Freshman Orientation 3
Bridget woke up screaming again and wearing a wet diaper. At least the sheets weren’t twisted around her exposing her diaper to Ami again.
Ami groaned. “I guess I am never going to get my beauty sleep with your nightmares.” She sat up and looked over at Bridget. “Did you have an accident again?”
Bridget sighed. “I have terrible nightmares.”
“Well, we may as well hit the showers,” said Ami. “You probably need one and I want one because it gets hot in here at night.”
Bridget pulled on her robe and went into the closet to get her clothes and toiletries. She chose a pull-up instead of a diaper. She didn’t want to repeat the experience of wetting in the daytime and she was too embarrassed to change or make crinkling noises in the bathroom that could be heard by other girls. She collected her stuff just as Ami collected her own things. “I’m ready.”
She and Ami went to the bathroom and they showered. It was early enough that it was still empty and they had the bathroom to themselves. Bridget dressed quickly and brushed her teeth before Ami came out and started to put on her makeup.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“Just schedules,” Bridget answered. “I hope I get into the classes I want.”
“We both did pretty good on the placement tests,” Ami said.
“Yeah, that’s true only I did well on mine,” Bridget said with a smirk. She ran a brush through her hair and then scowled when it started to tangle.
“Grammar Nazi.” Ami stuck her tongue out. “Serves you right. My hair is always straight and smooth.”
Bridget brushed the tangles out and looked in the mirror. The pretty face that looked back at her was worth a bit of pain. It might not be worth the bedwetting and partial incontinence, but that would take care of its self when she got revenge with the terrorist. “I’m liking the long hair too much.”
“Feel like breakfast now?” asked Bridget.
“Not really.” Ami rubbed her stomach. “I’m still satisfied from that pizza we gorged ourselves on last night.”
“Well, maybe if we go downstairs the pool table will finally be free.” Bridget always had looked at the pool table with longing whenever she was escorted past the recreation area at the prison. They hadn’t let her mix with the other prisoners when she was incarcerated. She had spent most of the twelve years on death row alone.
“Sure, sounds fun, Angela,” Ami said.
They walked to the dorm’s rec room and sure enough, it was empty. The clock on the wall showed six o’clock, so most everyone else was in bed.
Ami put the triangle on the table and began arranging balls. “I haven’t played pool since they dragged us all to some bowling alley after graduation so we couldn’t go to drunken parties.”
“That actually sounds fun,” Bridget said.
“Well you wake up wet no matter if you go to bed drunk or not,” Ami said.
Bridget felt her face flush. She looked around to see if anyone had heard. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.”
“Relax,” said Ami. “No one’s here. I’m not going to let anyone know your secret. Besides, you helped me out with my problem yesterday.”
Bridget chalked her cue and aimed at the cue ball. “Well sorry. I guess I was just paranoid.” She pulled back her cue and broke. She smiled when the balls struck with a resounding crack.
“I guess you’re stripes,” said Ami.
Bridget sent four other balls into the pockets before finally missing the ten ball.
“Thanks for getting your balls out of my way,” said Ami. She took her cue and only manage to get the two and seven balls in. Her third shot missed, but she managed to get the cue ball between the bumper and the eight and five ball.
Bridget scowled. “Thanks for leaving me with a shot.” She had to bank off two different bumpers and didn’t even make the shot she was trying for. The cue ball rolled to a stop right in front of one of Ami’s balls leaving her an easy shot.
Ami tapped the ball in and then tapped in a second and a third ball. She missed the forth ball. "Well at least I am tied with you.
“Until now.” Bridget took aim and sunk the twelve. Her next shot sunk the ten. “Eight in the side.” She aimed at the eight ball, but the cue knocked it just short of the pocket. It rolled back toward the center of the table.
“Man, that was an easy shot, Angela,” gloated Ami. She sunk a ball, but missed her next shot, leaving only the eight ball and one other solid on the table.
“Hey can I play winner?”
Bridget looked back and saw Flower standing behind her.
Ami frowned. “Sure, I guess.”
“Eight in the corner,” said Bridget. She took aim and sent her cue ball into the corner pocket. “Oops,” she said and handed her pool cue to Flower.
“You did that on purpose,” said Ami.
Bridget faced Ami and put a finger on her lips. “No, I didn’t. It was an accident.”
Bridget walked away and sat in front of the TV while Flower and Ami played. She flipped through the channels, but never settled on anything to watch.
After awhile Ami and Flower came over and sat down on either side of her. “Ami didn’t even give me a chance to win,” Flower complained.
“What’s the secret to winning, Ami?” asked Bridget.
“It’s my diet of bacon,” Ami answered. She smiled as Flower made a horrified face.
“She’s just messing with you,” Bridget said.
“So, are you excited about your advising session?” asked Flower. She seemed to be desperate to change the subject.
“A little,” Bridget admitted.
“I already know what classes I want to take,” said Ami.
“Yeah?” asked Flower.
“Well, I want to take the basic math, English, history, and engineering classes, but I think I can fit an art elective in there.”
“I didn’t know you were an artist,” said Bridget.
“Well, I like doing things with my hands,” said Ami.
“The only art I’ve ever done is making protest signs,” said Flower.
“Yeah, you were making protest signs in kindergarten with your finger paints when the rest of us were drawing stick figures,” said Ami with a sarcastic voice.
“That doesn’t count,” said Flower. “I drew stick figures in kindergarten. I just never did any serious art.”
“I think I am taking ballroom dancing instead of art,” said Bridget.
“You dance?” ask Ami. "I like to dance too, but the boys at my high school weren’t really into dancing except for “Soulja Boy.”
“What’s wrong with Soulja Boy?” asked Flower. “I like that dance.”
“We kinda like dancing with boys, not watching them show off,” said Bridget.
“Yeah,” said Ami.
“Oh,” said Flower. “It that how you get boyfriends?”
“Now you are beginning to understand, Flower,” said Ami. “However, you can’t expect a boy to survive on eating grass, so you need to learn how to cook him something good.”
“I’m not going to sacrifice the lives of animals to give a boyfriend an impressive meal.”
“Then bake him a cake. Or cookies.”
“Can’t,” said Bridget. “She’s vegan, so eggs and milk are out. Right Flower?”
She nodded. “But I can make tasty vegan meals. They are just as yummy.”
Ami looked at her watch. “Oh crap. My advising appointment is in ten minutes.”
Flower looked at the clock. “Mine too.”
Bridget checked her schedule and sighed. “Well, see ya. Mine isn’t for another hour.”
She watched as the two girls hurried out of the room and toward the administration building.
Bridget walked around campus for a bit and then walked toward the administration building. She had got turned around a bit on her walk and only managed to arrive a minute before her appointment.
Flower waved and she looked like she was ready to burst with excitement. “Angela, I got great news.”
A mans’s voice called from the advising office, “Angela Murphy.”
“I can’t talk. My appointment is now. Tell me after I get done.” She hurried into the advising office.
“Do you have your schedule picked?” asked the advisor.
“Yeah, I do,” said Bridget.
Bridget laid her schedule on the table.
“Well let’s see how we can fit those classes in.” The man typed her schedule into the computer in frowned. “That section is full.”
“Do I have to pick something else?” asked Bridget.
“Hold on.” He tapped a few buttons and then smiled. He turned his monitor toward Bridget. “How does this look?”
Bridget looked at the screen. The classes where just rearrange so that she was in different sections from what she originally picked. There was only one eight o’clock class and it was on Tuesdays and Thursday’s. “That will be fine,” said Bridget.
He printed out her schedule and handed it to her. “Now that your schedule is decided, are there any concerns or questions about the dorms or living conditions?”
“Um, what do you mean?”
“Do you need some special accommodation or something?” he asked.
Bridget remembered that this was when she was supposed to ask if she could get a roommate that was also a bed wetter. Her mother told her to ask if that was possible and that likely it would be. However, she counted on having a female advisor and she couldn’t bring herself to tell this man that she still wet the bed like a three year old. “No, I don’t have anything like that,” she said.
“Well, I guess we are done. We’ll see you in the Fall.” He stood up and held out his hand.
She stood up and took it.
“Welcome to WSU.”
“Thanks.” She turned in left the room.
Flower and Ami were waiting for her when she returned.
“Guess what?” asked Flower.
“You have news that you are bursting to tell me about,” said Bridget.
“Well yeah,” said Flower. “We’re going to be roommates.”
Bridget just stood there.
Ami mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
“Well that sounds like fun,” said Bridget. She wondered how she could get close to Flower. Although she hadn’t counted on her being so annoying, it was probably the best way she could think of to find out more about this terrorist, especially since Flower would be part of any environmental group among the WSU student organizations.
The three headed back to the dorm to pack. Freshman Orientation was over and in another month classes would begin. She had plenty of time to get her revenge with the terrorist.
Bridget stood in front of her suitcase and stared at the stuff she had brought. She shoved her dirty clothes in her suitcase and then packed everything to go home.
Ami smiled. “We’re taking the elevator down this time, right?”
“We better,” said Bridget.
“Oh, and sorry about you ending up with Flower as a roommate,” said Ami. “She is pretty annoying.”
“I know, but it’s not that bad. Besides, she needs someone to keep an eye on her.” Bridget piled her suitcases together and sighed.
“I hope she is nice about your nighttime problem,” said Ami.
“I wasn’t planning on sharing that little factoid with her,” said Bridget. “Do you think she will find out?”
“It depends on how restless you sleep.” Ami picked up her suitcase and reached for the door.
“Yeah, she is going to blab to everyone.”
“No,” said Ami. “I’ll speak to her about it if she finds out. I’ll put the fear of God into her.”
“You’re a good friend,” said Bridget. “Thanks for being so good about my diapers.”
“No problem,” said Ami. “It’s still gross, but I think that issue is minor compared to your nightmares.” She shivered. “I couldn’t stand nightly nightmares. I’d rather have to wear diapers twenty-four-seven than go through what you go through every night.”
“Now that you put it that way,” said Bridget, “the bedwetting doesn’t seem as big a deal as I thought.”
“Well, we better go downstairs. My mother will probably notice me since I was gone for three days.”
“I hope that straightens itself out,” Bridget said.
“I’m not betting on it,” said Ami.
Bridget followed Ami out to the parking lot. They started packing their cars. Ami got in her car and drove away. Bridget waved.
“Bye, Angela,” she heard. She turned and looked. Flower and her uncle were walking across the parking lot toward the terrorist’s Prius. Bridget felt the crotch of her pull-up get warm. She was peeing uncontrollably. She felt frozen in place until her bladder was empty.
“Bye, Flower,” she said when she regained control of her voice. The pull-up caught most of the urine, but there was wetness seeping down the back of her legs. She looked down, but she seemed to be dry from the front. “I’ll see you in the Fall.”
She waited until Flower in her uncle drove away in their Prius before she reached into her glove box for a trash bag and put it on the seat. She got into her car and drove away feeling soggy. That had not gone well. She looked at her gas gauge. At least she had enough gas to get home. Something had gone right. She imagined having to get out of her car, pump gas, and pay all while showing a pee stain in the back of her pants. She would have to make sure her bladder was more empty during the day if she ever expect to fight the terrorist.