✅ A Dose of Humiliation

22. Punishment

Author's Note: It looks like there might be some mature content sneaking in in the next few chapters. Is there anyone reading who doesn't have access to mature books and would prefer I try to keep this one non-explicit?

This chapter is dedicated to Andreas, my newest supporter on Patreon; so everybody gets one more chapter today. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you Andreas!

The party was lively, and that was saying something. The second time I'd been out with the cool kids, and I was starting to feel in my element now. I could dance without inhibitions, because I knew they cared more about confidence than grace, and just a couple of drinks took all my worries away. I could do what I wanted without worrying, and a couple more drinks ensured that I didn't even know what I wanted. There was a voice in the back of my mind yelling that this wasn't a good idea, but I didn't seem to be listening. My parents hated me, so I didn't have to follow their rules anymore.

I opened my eyes and groaned, wondering where I'd woken up this time. But my clock was right there in front of me, and I started a mental reshuffle, trying to sort out how much of the stuff in my mind's eye had been a dream. I hadn't gone to the party; I'd been to visit Serena, and on the way we'd seen kids unloading a dozen kegs from the back of a truck. Two kids at our school had apartments in the same luxury townhouse, convenient for everywhere, and right now both of their parents were out of town so they could fill the building's communal spaces.

I wasn't at a party, that had all been a dream. The pounding bass that had penetrated my dreams was coming from our neighbours' garage, where their son Boson had invited his band to practise. The sweet fruity flavour in my mouth was from syrupy shots of unfamiliar liqueurs. It was just the cheap grape soda I'd been mainlining for most of last night; having the bottle in my room so I didn't have to go down to the kitchen had led me to consume a lot more than I normally would have done. I hadn't done anything stupid with a guy whose name I didn't even know; that had all been in my sleeping imagination. I hadn't passed out from alcoholic exhaustion, I'd just pushed myself too hard to finish homework before bed, and been up past midnight. And I hadn't...

I froze, unable to believe my senses. I looked down, and my eyes confirmed what my legs said they felt. My nose volunteered a little extra confirmation, but that could just have been my imagination. I was lying on pee-soaked sheets for the second time this week.

I dragged myself out of bed, and looked at the clock again. Still early, maybe just early enough. I'd barely gotten any sleep; the clammy feeling on my skin must have woken me. I stripped my bed, and tipped a whole bunch of dirty laundry out onto the puddle on the mattress. If all those clothes could soak up some of it, I could put everything in the wash together. I knew Elspeth swore by a product called Wizard Clean for getting dog pee out of carpets; that would be good enough to deal with the remaining damp patch.

I rushed a shower, and hot steam left me feeling clean. While I washed my body, I tried to sort out my mind as well. What had happened? Had I wet the bed because I was dreaming about Monday's party, or had the feeling on my skin penetrated my dream to remind me of the party? Was this happening because I'd drunk a whole bottle of soda right before bed, or because I'd stayed up way later than usual? I even considered the possibility that this was my punishment; but it seemed unlikely. Bedwetting was something a smaller kid would get laughed at for, but at my age nobody would ever know outside my family. Unless I was at a party, of course.

Once I was clean I took a look at my room. I bundled up the sheets, and the clothes that had been soaking up the puddle from the mattress. I took them all downstairs and loaded the washing machine, which pretty much made a full load. I put it on hot, and set it running. Then I went back to my room, and looked on the Internet. What causes bedwetting? UTIs, apparently. It was hard to find anything conclusive, but it could entirely have been some infection following on from sleeping in wet, dirty clothes on Monday night. Or it could be a sign of some sexually transmitted infections; and some girls might have this problem after becoming sexually active because... they were using their pelvic floor muscles in a new way? I didn't understand why that could be a thing, but it seemed a lot of people believed it.

But there was a support forum for victims of the Punishment Pill, as well. And there I found confirmation that one of the drugs they used – with the brand name Floodgate – was designed to cause bedwetting. And now I had a problem, because I didn't know if that was what they had given me or not. If it was, I just needed to deal with this for a couple of months. Eight to ten weeks was the usual duration, according to the leaflets that Becker had given my parents. And they had given me a booster already to add another two weeks to that. That was something I could live with. But I couldn't bear to tell them, and find out that it was all because I'd been so stupid at Lin's party. How would I know the difference?

I decided not to say anything yet. I put a towel on my mattress and flipped the whole thing over. I could get some of the Wizard stuff on the way home from school, and I could clean it when I got back. If my parents didn't know, then I could somehow get to see a doctor without them realising, and I'd be able to hide just how stupid I had been on monday night. If they did know, on the other hand, I was sure that I would be able to find some suitable cleaning supplies somewhere in the house, maybe some of the absorbent pads I'd seen advertised for bedwetting kids, or at least a plastic mattress protector. That stuff would take up a lot of space; just like Serena had described. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became about what they had done to me. But I still didn't want to accept it.

I did some more chores around the house; whatever I could do without waking my parents. That way, if this wasn't their way to torture me, they wouldn't be particularly confused to find the washing machine running.

I was just in time to have gotten some sunrise pictures today, if I'd decided to walk in the right direction. But I went down to the waterfront instead, and watched Clint trying to master his skateboard. He wasn't particularly coordinated or athletic, but he just didn't want to give up. He kept on making the same small jumps, and seemed a little more in control of his board each time. That perseverance made me think that he was the kind of person you could rely on. He knew what he wanted, set his sights on it, and then did what it took even if it wasn't glamorous. And he was getting better. He made a jump and the board stayed on his feet as if it was glued there. When he took a little break, we watched more tutorial videos from the Internet, and then he tried to do some of the things they suggested. It was slow, but it was clear that he wanted this. And the way he smiled, I could tell that it was easier for him when I was here watchbing. To keep him company and to lend moral support, I guessed, as well as a little reassurance that he wouldn't be here alone if Todd's boys decided to wake up on the right side of dawn for once.

I was still sitting there when I got a text message from Serena, to let me know that Todd wasn't happy. One of his friends had called the cops to report that she attacked him, which had at least gotten him some first aid. But she'd heard from a friend of the family in the police department that he'd already been desperate enough to consider that I might be telling the truth about peeing on himself to neutralise pepper spray. The cops who showed up on the scene had met Todd before, and knew him as a loud-mouthed jerk who refused to accept a girl saying 'no'. He'd cursed them out continuously, and told them that their chief's niece had attacked him completely without provocation, so of course they didn't believe a word he said. He'd got basic first aid, but hadn't had a chance to get pee-free clothes before spending a night in the cells.

Serena was more than happy to relate this story, and I couldn't help smiling too. It didn't seem fair, really. Simply being rich shouldn't decide if you were guilty or innocent, but when the power of wealth came down heavily on a genuinely horrible person, I couldn't hold back my laughter.

"Good news?" Clint asked. Of course, he had no idea what I was smirking at.

"I shouldn't laugh. But Todd got hurt, and then got to spend the night in a police cell. His dad won't be happy."

"Wow. I thought that family had enough political connections to get away with anything. He actually gets justice?"

"Not so much. This time he hadn't actually broken the law, and if it was about justice he'd win. But I guess the cops know what he's like, so when it's between him and a family with even more influence they didn't want to miss a chance."

"It would be better if somebody could stop what he's done to you," he answered after a few moments, and I just nodded. This punishment pill wasn't fair, and whatever my parents said I knew that it was the Beckers' way of getting revenge. Even if I wasn't sure what it was going to do to me... but then I knew,

"Oh, hell," I muttered. "Todd's been teasing me about it. His dad told him which option I got for that injection, and he's been telling everyone before I even knew myself. It's taken this long for me to notice. But at least I know now, and I think it shouldn't be too hard to keep it to myself.