From College to Crib

Chapter Description: Alice has a growing problem and is finding it difficult to conceal from an overbearing mother who is quick to start exerting control in her daughter's life.

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When my consciousness returned something felt strangely off. I opened my eyes to see that the sun hadn’t fully risen and there was a little chill in the room. To be more specific there was a chill towards the centre of the bed around my legs and my sleep addled brain thought I must’ve kicked my cover off in the night. It was only as I moved and realised that the cover was right where it should be that I woke up fully.

“Oh no… Oh no, no, no…” I moaned as I sat up and looked down.

I had felt this strange coldness in my bed before. I had felt it whilst stressing about my exams. I slowly pushed my cover away from me to have my worst fear confirmed. A large wet spot concentrated between my legs but spread out over a lot of the sheet could only mean one thing. I had wet the bed!

As if the wetness was somehow infectious, I scrambled out of bed and on to the bedroom floor. I landed with a thump and started trying to work out what to do. I was panicking but I knew I had to hide what had happened, there was no way I could let mom find out about this. I quickly put on a pair of pants and a shirt as I stripped the sheets off my bed. I balled everything up and slowly opened my bedroom door to see that the landing was empty, it sounded like mom hadn’t got up yet. That was a small mercy.

I tip-toed down the landing with my urine-stained sheets in my hands. I could smell my own pee as I slowly descended the stairs and went to the kitchen. The washing machine was next to the sink, and I quickly shoved everything in there and turned the machine on. I took a deep shuddering breath as I tried to calm down.

“Doing some early morning washing?” Mom’s voice came from behind me and I nearly had a heart attack.

I spun around to see mom stood in the doorway. I had no idea where she could possibly have been hiding but she was now looking at me with her piercing eyes as if she could see right into my mind. I swallowed and tried not to let it show that I was freaking out so much.

“Erm, yeah.” I replied with the best smile I could muster. It wasn’t like I could deny the obvious, the washing machine was already whirring away right behind me.

“Washing the sheets?” Mom said as she pursed her lips.

“Yeah, they weren’t too comfortable last night.” I lied.

“Really? Because I washed them and placed them on your bed yesterday morning.” Mom said, “Shortly before you arrived.”

I swallowed nervously. I couldn’t hold mom’s searching glare. I was a terrible liar at the best of times but under my mother’s scrutiny I wilted like an under-watered flower. Eventually she turned away and went over to the cabinets to start making some breakfast. I used the opportunity to hurry out of the kitchen and back upstairs.

When I got back to my room I immediately flipped over the mattress and then sat down. I put my head in my hands as I tried to calm down. I had thought my wetting accidents ended when my exams were over, I hadn’t wet the bed for the last week of college before coming home after all, and yet my first night home and I was waking up in a wet bed again.

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Mom watched me closely that day. I could feel her stare boring into me every time we were in the same room. It was enough to make me very paranoid. I kept to myself as much as possible and when I went to bed that night, I was praying that I would wake up to a dry bed. I got lucky with my excuse once, but I don’t think it would work a second time, not with mom breathing down my neck.

Sure enough I was rudely awakened the next morning by the cold wetness against my skin. I sat up and covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me, I hadn’t been a bed wetter since I was a small child and now it was happening consistently.

“Pull yourself together, Alice.” I whispered to myself.

I took a second to calm down and then stood up. For the second morning in a row, I stripped my bed of its sheets and hurried out of my room. I tip-toed down the landing and past mom’s bedroom and then went downstairs. I slowly made my way into the kitchen where I saw the washing machine ready and waiting for me…

“More washing?” Mom’s voice came from the kitchen table and stopped me in my tracks.

I closed my eyes and froze up. The kitchen table was conveniently out of eye-line from the doorway, and I hadn’t looked to see mom already at the table drinking her morning coffee. I turned my head slowly to see her sipping on her coffee casually and looking up from the magazine she had been reading. I swallowed my nerves and tried to smile though my lips barely twitched.

“Y-Yeah.” I tried to muster all the confidence I could, “I spilt a drink on the bed.”

“Is that right?” Mom said with a small tilt of her head.

The silence of the kitchen was broken as she suddenly pushed her chair backwards causing it to scrape loudly on the floor. She slowly started walking around to me, almost subconsciously I took a couple of small steps backwards and away from her. She marched right up to me, and I felt very small indeed, my head only coming up to her breasts in height. She grabbed a handful of the sheets and pulled them up towards her face. She sniffed loudly.

“That doesn’t smell like a drink.” Mom said stonily, “It smells like-”

“It’s just a drink!” I quickly interrupted as my cheeks blazed.

“Uh huh.” Mom grunted with tight lips. It was obvious she didn’t believe me, and I could hardly blame her for that.

Before mom could say anything else I pulled the sheets back out of her grasp and hurried past her to the washing machine. I shoved the sheets in and turned the machine on. I leaned on the appliance as it hummed to life, and I heard water filling the drum.

“Are you sure you have nothing you want to tell me?” Mom asked with her arms across her chest.

“Yes.” I replied in exasperation as I turned away from the washing machine. I felt as if I had “Liar” written across my forehead.

“Good, then you won’t mind accompanying me today.” Mom said, “You had better get dressed though. We’ll need to leave soon.”

“What? Where are we going?” I asked with a frown.

“It’s Sunday.” Mom said as if the answer was obvious, “We’re going to church.”

“Mom…” I tried to be tentative in my approach here because I knew it was a sore subject for her, “You know I’m atheist.”

“If you want to stay here without paying rent you’ll be doing as I say.” Mom said with a finality that suggested she wasn’t to be swayed, “And I say we are going to church. If you aren’t coming with me you can pack your things and be out of the house by the time I get home.”

Mom walked out of the room before I could say anything more and I was left shaking my head. She had to know that she wasn’t going to “convert” me or anything so I didn’t see the point. This was just a small annoyance though. I didn’t want to burn my bridges on such a minor thing when I foresaw bigger battles in the future.

I made my way back up to my room and was greeted by the big wet spot on my mattress. I tentatively lifted the edge and looked on the underside, thankfully the area that had been wet on that side was dry though a large stain remained. There wouldn’t be any getting rid of that without throwing the whole thing out.

“Wear that dress you used to wear to church when you were a teenager.” Mom called up from downstairs.

My shoulders slumped as I looked at the wardrobe. I walked over and opened the doors to see a bunch of my old clothes. They almost felt like they belonged to a different person now. I certainly didn’t feel like the person who used to wear these things, the one who always did her best to make mom happy. It was a reminder of how much I had grown at college.

As a teenager I was very much under my mother’s thumb and that was reflected in my clothing. Even as an older teenager I wore clothes that would’ve been more appropriate for someone a few years younger. Whilst the other girls in my class developed their own styles and wore trendy clothing, I was still wearing pastel colours and the like. It was one of the reasons I hadn’t really had any friends till I got to college, and I suspected my mom liked it that way. It left me more dependent on her.

I found the dress my mom wanted and pulled it out of the closet. I held it out in front of me and cringed. It was too frilly to be worn by an adult seriously, I remember being embarrassed to wear it as a teenager since people had started talking about it looking odd on me. I remember being in Sunday school and whilst I was with people my own age I looked more like someone in the nursery class.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late!” Mom shouted impatiently.

“You don’t…” I muttered under my breath, “I would prefer it if we never arrived.”

There was no way to put things off though and despite my internal disgust I was soon pulling the dress over my head. Annoyingly it still fit so I couldn’t use it being too small as an excuse. I looked in the mirror and wondered if there was any way to salvage it. The frilly cuffs and hemline were prominent and sure to attract attention, the pink and white Lolita look made me seem more like a porcelain doll than anything else.

I sighed as I pulled on some socks and panties then made my way out of the bedroom. I hated the way the ruffles and frills seemed to bounce and sway with each of my steps. I saw mom waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and when she saw me, she broke into a wide wolfish smile.

“Don’t you look just absolutely precious?” Mom said happily as I reached the bottom of the steps and let her pull and twist various bits of the dress to adjust the fit.

“Please, can I at least just wear my own clothes?” I asked though I knew my words would fall on deaf ears.

“Don’t be silly. These are your clothes.” Mom replied tersely as she pulled on her thin gloves and put on her best hat.

“I meant ones that I had actually bought…” I replied quietly.

“Come on.” Mom said. She completely ignored me as she opened the front door and led the way outside.

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