Timothy sped through the halls with his books clutched to his chest. He was almost late for his final class of the day, and he had just enough time to get there before the tardy bell rang. His face was flushed from walking so fast, and he was almost out of breath by the time he reached the classroom door. Quickly, he opened it and slipped inside just as he heard the bell.

"Good afternoon," said Mrs. Post as she stood at her desk at the front of the room. "Please take your seat, Timothy. It's not like you to be this late... Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Timothy smiled sheepishly. "I'm fine, Mrs. Post. Just had to stop at the restroom."

She nodded and turned back around to start giving instructions for the day's lesson. "Barring any further delays, please open your textbooks to page....."

Her lesson faded into background noise as Timothy was nudged in the back by the student sitting behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, frowning in annoyance. A moment later, however, he spied a slip of paper in the student's hand which could have only come from further back in the row of desks. It was a note from his friend David.

Taking the slip from the uninterested classmate, Timothy opened it up and read it silently.

"Hey, we should discuss the decor for the chess tournament. Think about some ideas before school is over so we can talk on the bus ride home."

Timothy's eyes widened. The tournament was coming up soon, and he hadn't yet thought about what they were going to do. As much as he enjoyed playing chess, he was also engrossed in his studies so close to exam season. He lamented the day that he had been appointed president of the club, and of course how busy it made him all the time.

"Decor... Bah. It'll just be the same old tired black and white check pattern on everything and the same old boring royal blue tablecloths they had used last year." He thought to himself. He refused to let the bureaucracy get in the way of his enjoyment of the game. He crumpled the note and shoved it in his pocket to dispose of later.

The rest of the class went by very slowly, and Timothy found himself glancing at the clock several times throughout the period. It was increasingly urgent that he go to the bathroom again despite having gone before class. He tried to ignore the growing pressure in his bladder and focus on the lesson, but every time he managed to calm himself, another wave of urgency would strike.

Lately, for some unknown reason, he had been having trouble keeping his bladder in check. Every day, he was forced to contend with the anxiety-inducing sensation that he was right on the verge of having an accident.

Timothy was squirming in his seat by the end of the period. Sweat was beading on his forehead and under his arms. He felt terribly exposed, like everyone could sense his discomfort. He didn't want to ask Mrs. Post for permission to leave class early. Not after clearly stating that he had gone before class. He'd be called a liar.

Finally, when the bell rang and Mrs. Post dismissed them, Timothy was able to escape without incident. With great relief, he rushed down the hall toward the restroom. Just as he turned the last corner before his destination, he bumped into another student causing them both to recoil.

"Uh! Sorry..." brayed the other boy, a chubby, blond-haired kid who looked rather unkempt.

"Excuse me!" Timothy replied as he shook himself off and continued into the bathroom. He recognized the other boy as Max. A student with special needs which he had taken under his wing as a tutor.

He slammed the stall door open, and blushed as he relieved himself, wondering if anyone had seen him so desperate to piss that he nearly knocked another student over.

When he finished, he peered down at his tightey whiteys and grimaced at the small wet patch in the front. He wiped it away with toilet paper and thanked goodness that it hadn't shown through on his khaki shorts.

He quit the bathroom and made his way to the exit doors of the school. Suddenly, he felt someone tugging on his arm. In surprise, he turned around to see the same boy from earlier, Max. He was waiting indoors for his bus, which arrived well after the majority of the rest.

"Timmy..." Max whined.

"Oh, Max... I'm sorry about before. I was a little distracted... I hope you're not hurt." Timothy said apologetically.

Max smiled at the apology and pulled him into a long, tight hug. The boy liked it when he got to hug his friend. Not that Timothy was even physically strong enough to resist the advances of the other boy if he wanted to.

"Is okay!" Max replied. He buried his face in Timothy's shoulder and nuzzled him affectionately.

Timothy returned the hug, and as he did, he felt something warm and soft squish against his shoulder. Looking down, he saw that Max had wiped a trail of snot on him, leaving a sticky wet spot after they pulled away from each other. 

Timothy blushed and stepped back. He studied Max's face, which was bright and carefree, albeit with a bit of snot still hanging from his nostril. He looked so happy.

All that Timothy could do was chuckle and wipe away the booger from his charge's smiling face with a napkin. "Hold still, now. If I don't get it all..."

With that, he wiped the remaining glob of mucus from Max's nose. "There. All better."

Max beamed at his tutor and glomped him into another lengthy hug. Timothy was powerless to wrench himself from the tightening bear hug. He couldn't help but smile at the endearing display of affection; but suddenly, he jolted with realization that he was about to miss the bus! His stomach dropped, and a knot of dread manifested in his gut.

His eyes darted frantically as he tried to free himself from the grasp of the giggling, snorting boy.

"I have to go now, Max, or I'll be late for my bus!!" he pleaded.

Max released his hold on him, but as he pivoted to leave the building, he could see the buses beginning to leave without him. It was too late. Just then, Mr. Avery, the Special Education teacher, approached the pair.

"Hi there, Timmy, I couldn't help but notice that you were waylaid by Maxie here." he said sweetly. 

Timothy couldn't help but blush furiously as he bowed his head. "It seems that way..."

"No need to fret now, kiddo. I'll ask Maxie's bus driver if you can ride along with them today to save your dad a trip." The cheery teacher suggested.

It wasn't an idea without some merit, Timothy recognized. He accepted the offer and made a quick phone call to his father on his cell phone. "... I'll be a little late getting home. I missed my bus and I'm gonna have to take the sh... uhm... I'm riding back on Max's bus with him."

"Timmy's in good hands!" Mr. Avery interjected at the last second.

Again, Timothy blushed hotly at the infantilizing nickname he'd been saddled with. "Thanks, Mr. Avery." He stammered quietly aside. "See you soon, dad."

With his course of action decided, he waited among the Special Ed students for his ride home. Over the long minutes, Max wanted to play around with him, but Timothy tried to keep him calm by showing him Barney videos on his phone.

When the bus finally arrived, Timothy helped Max into his seat and buckled him into the five-point harness. After which, he begrudgingly secured his own harness. There were no exceptions in the rules even for temporary riders, Mr. Avery reminded him. Once he was seated, he pulled out his phone again and entertained himself during the long ride.

Ten minutes, then Twenty, then Forty. The ride home was significantly longer than he could have ever realized, and the nagging pressure in his bladder had reared its ugly head once again.  At first, it was a manageable pressure, but soon he was frantically looking out the window hoping his stop would be soon.

By this point, Max had successfully pressured Timothy into letting him watch more Barney. With each passing sing-along and every patronizing scene, Timothy felt his urgency increasing. He crossed his legs and slowed his breathing, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

The cacophony of Barney songs mixed with the chattering kids around him was almost unbearable, though. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, and his bladder was screaming at him to relieve it. 

Finally, after another twenty minutes, the bus came to a stop at the corner of Max's and Timothy's street. The boy was dribbling small beads of liquid into his shorts now.

Frantically, he struggled with his seat restraints, but his desperation catastrophically affected his dexterity. It was as if he had never unbuckled a stupid seat belt before in his life! His heart pounded and his thoughts raced. But just when he thought it was hopeless, he noticed Mr. Avery approaching.

"Mr. Avery! It's stuck!" He managed to blurt out before the man could speak.

"Just one moment, Timmy. I'm helping Maxie here." He responded nonchalantly.

"But I - I can't hold it anymore!" Timothy sobbed. His voice was barely audible as he clenched his eyes shut and began to tear up.

The teacher had finally released Max from his harness and was just moving to help Timothy with his, when the deluge of urine began to spread itself all across the honor student's lap. His legs quivered and he covered his face with his hands as Mr. Avery looked on in shock. "Oh no, Timmy..."

Max remained seated next to him, and couldn't help but giggle at Timothy's predicament. "Uh oh!" He covered his mouth as he feigned trying to control his laughter.

Between sobs and sniffles, Timothy was carefully unbuckled and cleaned up by Mr. Avery with a roll of paper towels. It wasn't uncommon for such accidents to occur on the short bus. But the fact that it happened to Timothy so close to being home, and while he was in the company of special ed kids, was especially embarrassing for him.

"I'm sorry..." He murmured with a red-faced expression.

"It's ok, Timmy. Accidents happen sometimes. But maybe it would be best if I had a short talk with your dad about this." he suggested.

Timothy nodded his head weakly and followed the teacher to the front of the bus where he stepped out of the vehicle, after which he was led by the hand to his home's front door. Upon giving the door a few raps, it opened to reveal his father's perplexed expression.

With a sniffle, Timothy pushed past his dad and set about getting ready for a bath as the two adults remained to speak on the matter.

"Mister... hmm... Avery, right? What happened?"

Mr Avery explained the whole situation as best as he could, in the most sweet, understanding, yet somehow patronizing way. Timothy's dad listened closely, nodding his head in agreement until the teacher finally finished. "So altogether, it might be worth me keeping an eye on Timmy's bathroom habits while he's at school. I fear he may be overworking himself and neglecting to take a little break when he needs it."

Timothy's father agreed to the proposition and they parted ways. 

***

The following day at school was a Friday. Timothy entered the building and was immediately beset by David, his friend in the chess club. "Timothy! Where were you on the bus yesterday? We were supposed to talk about the tournament!"

Timothy sighed internally, not wanting to get into that sort of conversation. "I had a lot of homework, David. And I missed my bus." He told a half-truth.

David frowned and scoffed. "Really? Well damn. We have to figure this stuff out by the end of the day, though. We need to buy the decorations after school today!"

"Fine." Timothy sighed as he gave him a curt nod and stepped away.

Then, as if on cue, Max stepped up to his side and tugged his sleeve. "Timmy okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Timothy muttered in reply, remembering the humiliation ever so keenly.

"Okay!" Max smiled his typical carefree smile then buried his head in Timothy's chest in a friendly hug. Timothy, for some reason, felt much better for the embrace. Perhaps he just needed a hug in general after his bad luck yesterday.

Most of the school day afterward passed without incident. During lunch, he begrudgingly planned out the decorations for the chess tournament with David. Checker patterns and blue tablecloths, just as he had arbitrarily decided the day before. 

Several minutes before the bell rang to signify the end of lunch, Timothy looked to his left and noticed the unmistakable sight of Mr. Avery disappearing around a corner. He didn't think much of it though, and he dumped his lunch tray before heading to the bathroom for some much needed relief before his next class.

As he walked down the hall to the boys room, he heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. "Timmy!"

He turned and was greeted by Max toddling toward him, something grasped between his hands. Upon closer inspection, his eyes grew wide as he recognized it for what it was. A teen-sized diaper.

"What are you doing with that?" Timothy squeaked.

"For you!" Max giggled at him as he tried to press the crinkling garment into Timothy's hands.

He was mortified. Did Max think that he was nothing more than a pants-wetting fool now? What if someone saw him holding a diaper? He wanted to throw it as far away from him as possible, but he knew that would be impolite and childish. Instead, he simply took it from the boy and stared at it in disgust.

"Max, did you take this from your classroom? Where's Mr. Avery?" He tried to retain his composure.

Max's expression dulled as he tried to think. "Mm... Mister A... very... look you... all day!"

"What are you saying? He's watching me? Is that how you managed to slip away?" Timothy asked incredulously.

"Ye!" Max grinned. His toothy smile showing his pride at his prior verbal articulation.

Timothy was dumbfounded. If this was true, then why hadn't Mr. Avery said anything? So many questions racing in his mind. Perhaps it would be better to get answers straight from the source. He grabbed Max by the hand and led him down the hall to the Special Ed classroom.

Upon entering, Timothy immediately felt a miasma enter his nostrils. Not unlike that of a nursery. A dirty diaper smell permeated the air. He looked around the room and saw several other kids sitting around, mindlessly toying with activity books and watching educational TV. In the center of the classroom sat Mr. Avery, who was currently engaged in a game of Connect Four with a young girl.

"Mr. Avery! Please excuse us!" Timothy called out, not bothering to hide the urgency in his tone.

"Uh oh, did Maxie wander off again? Thank you for bringing him back, Timmy!" He excused himself from his current game in order to address the boy.

When he turned his attention to Timothy, he recognized the sour expression staring at him. "What's wrong, Timmy?"

"Max said that you were... keeping an eye on me. Is that true?"

Mr. Avery's smile faltered a bit as he scratched his head and gave Timothy a sideways glance. "Timmy... I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright after your accident yesterday, is all. You don't have to worry so much..."

Timothy could tell that Mr. Avery was hiding something. The teacher wouldn't lie to him outright, but he sensed a degree of embarrassment or shame behind the words.

"Well, alright. And... Here. Max had this with him." Timothy held out the large diaper with one hand.

"Maxie..." The teacher grabbed the diaper and shot Max a look as if to say that he was being naughty... or silly? "We don't take things like this into the halls. The janitors will give us trouble!"

"Timmy diaper..." Max replied with a sad expression while pointing at his friend.

Timothy's eyes widened and Mr. Avery stepped in to settle things down. "Timmy, I'm not really supposed to talk about things concerning Maxie, but since you're so close with him... He had an accident yesterday, too. It was his third day in a row... And his parents decided that it was time to go back to these for a while." He held up the diaper and sighed.

"Uh oh." Max giggled to himself.

Mr Avery continued. "I think you should be heading to class now, though. Right? Try to relax a little! Say bye-bye to Timmy now, Maxie!"

"Bye Timmy!" Max exclaimed and reached out for a big hug.

In the instant that Max made contact with him, Timothy felt his bathroom urgency return one-hundredfold. He had never had to piss so badly before in his life, and he was about to have another accident. But this time, in front of an entire Special Ed class.

"N-no... wait..." Timothy grunted and frantically tried to get away from the boy, but to no avail. As Max wrapped his arms around his best friend, Timothy tried desperately to keep his pee contained. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as he struggled to fight against his bladder.

With one final squeeze from his special friend, a desperate moan escaped his lips and the wet spot began forming on the front of his shorts. The warm liquid pooled around him, and some even got in his socks and shoes.

"Uh oh!" Max brayed, mouth hanging open as he looked down at his best friend's accident.

Mr. Avery, seeing the situation, covered his mouth in surprise. His concern was plain to see writ on his face. "Timmy..."

Timothy couldn't remain quiet as he erupted into tears. "No..." he wailed.

"D-Don't cwyyyyy..." Max whined.

All eyes in the room were on him as he collapsed into the puddle beneath him. Timothy was distraught and totally unable to form clear thoughts. His shaky breath and sobs were all that he could muster.

Soon after, the nurse was notified about Timothy's second accident. And soon after that he was ordered by the nurse to wear pull-ups to school until further notice. They simply couldn't risk him ruining any furniture, and it was better for his dignity. Or so they told him. As if his humiliation couldn't get any worse.

***

All his anger and fury came out that night. "What the fuck is wrong with me!? Am I just a retard pretending to be smart? Does everyone but me know that I'm a fraud?" He screamed to himself internally.

Sleep wouldn't come. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about how unfair it all was. He was set up to go to a prestigious university. He had perfect grades. He was the president of the chess club. But now? Now he was no better than Max...

Max...

It was all his fault. If he hadn't held him up and made him miss the bus... If he hadn't escaped into the hall with that damned diaper... Neither of his accidents would have happened! He was going to go straight to the principle with his concerns. Max was out. No more Special Ed tutoring. No more special anything. He was done!

Eventually, his anger wore him out, and he finally found unconsciousness. His dreams, however, were horrid. Over and over again, he was forced to endure that scene. And each time, a new humiliating twist was added.

In one version, he was completely naked pissing into the breeze. In another, he was sucking his thumb and engrossed in watching some asinine TV show completely aware that he was wetting his thick babyish diapers on purpose!

And in every single torturous dream, Max was there. Laughing and smiling and encouraging him to just let go...

The following morning, Timothy knew that he had to pull himself out of bed despite his horrible night.. He didn't want to, but the alternative was missing the chess tournament. The very thing he'd looked forward to for weeks prior.

Despite his reluctance, somehow and some way, he found himself sitting in the back seat of the family car bound for the tournament. The rainy morning reflected his dreary mood as he peered out the window.

He felt diminished. Something inside of him was different. He ran his hands up and down his thighs trying to shake the strange feeling. Each time he did, however, he was reminded of his crinkly undergarment.

Yes, even during extracurricular events on school grounds, he would be required to wear the stupid pull-ups. The thought alone dragged him further and further down into his prison of self-doubt.

Once he arrived at the venue, he was greeted by his friends who all wanted to get into setting up the decor as soon as possible. Not wishing to be around others for too long, he swiftly delegated the decoration duties and went himself to hide in some dark corner away from anyone who might notice his cushy underpants.

Timothy sat in utter silence, lost in his own thoughts. There had been a couple of times when he'd nearly cried and gave up on the chess club, but he was able to stifle it. Only an absolute failure would throw away his prospects over something so emotional. He needed to get himself together, and fast.

Failing to see any way out, other than facing things head-on, Timothy resolved to make the best of his situation.

A few hours later, it seemed nobody was the wiser that he was wearing pull-ups. He was able to socialize and help with the final decorations, after which he noticed the first of the spectators shuffle in. Among them were Mr. Avery... And Max...

Timothy's mood soured again upon seeing the boy. There was nothing he wished to do more than give him a piece of his mind. 'If only he could understand the strife he'd put me through!' He thought to himself.

But the hour was upon him. The tournament was about to begin, and Timothy was to officiate as the referee, he would need to be present for the entire thing. One quick trip to the bathroom later, he felt that his bladder would hold until the end of the games.

The first match got underway immediately after he returned. David versus a young newcomer named Erik. In just twenty seven moves, the victor was declared, and David advanced to the next round. The second match, and then the third and fourth. Each went by without incident. But, for some strange reason, throughout the whole event, Timothy noticed himself staring over at Max...

Shaking himself free from distractions though, it was Timothy's turn to play, and the match was to be refereed by the club's vice president, David.

The crowd was silent and the air was heavy with anticipation. Timothy was a known chess prodigy, and the audience was ready for a show of genius strategy. Timothy himself, however, was less enthused. He was to face off against the newest member of the chess club; a middle-schooler who displayed above average play for his age group, yet still posed little challenge against one so skilled as Timothy.

He felt as though this match was engineered to give the young player a taste of humility. To demonstrate that he was still at the bottom despite his apparent skill.

Timothy let out a sigh as he took his seat. "May the best mind win."

The young player responded in kind and the match began. Each player moved their beginning piece, taking the measure of any potential strategies the other may try to employ. Timothy moved his white F2 pawn forward one square. The Barnes Opening...

His opponent, the younger player, moved his black E7 pawn forward two squares. Back and forth, the two battled for dominance, until finally, despite his poor opening moves, Timothy found the perfect time to strike and claimed a checkmate for himself.

The crowd cheered wildly for his victory. However, what they didn't realize was that Timothy had been shaken to the core. It was the most difficult and stressful game of chess he'd ever played. 

The pressure. The anxiety... 

'What's wrong with me? Just tired... Just need to sleep better tonight...' He told himself.

His hands shook slightly, but uncontrollably as he stood to resume officiating. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. His odd feeling earlier wasn't just anxiety. Compared to the day prior, even, he felt noticeably dumber. Less sure of everything. He kept looking over at Max...

A haze washed over his mind as he observed the next two matches. He was unsure about the rules at times, and let some things slide simply because he couldn't remember them. His legs were shaking, too, and struggled to stand still. Despite his issues, the tournament was progressing.

Soon it was Timothy's turn to play again, and his stomach was even more upset than before. This match was to be against David, and the winner would go on to play in the championship round.

At the start of the match, he realized that he was in serious trouble. He sat across from David, who offered, "May the best mind win.", which Timothy absentmindedly repeated back to him. He was too focused on fighting through the fogginess that plagued his mind. 

He was too focused on... Max...

'So dizzy... I'm on the black side, so I go first, right?'

Timothy picked up his knight and moved it forward four squares. This elicited a chuckle from the crowd and a raised eyebrow from David, who was less amused by his opponent's japes.

David must have felt that Timothy was mocking him. Before long, the young man's mood worsened, and he found himself growing angrier and more frustrated as he watched his opponent move his pieces like a child. Almost every single turn, there needed to be a do-over due to the horrid play on Timothy's part.

It all came to a head in the final moments of their match. With only moments left in the game, and Timothy in check, David was sure to finally beat his longtime rival.

Timothy, however, was having real trouble remembering the rules, and his head was spinning in circles. His stomach... His... head... He couldn't take it anymore... 

His clumsy hand moved his bishop three spaces to the right, then leaned forward to hit the clock and end his turn. When he did, though, a raunchy grunt escaped his throat, a loud fart echoed throughout the chamber, and his stomach felt a lot better!

Then, his body froze. A chill ran up his spine, and he realized what had just happened. Even through his foggy mind, he was mortified. Even worse, though, was the reaction of the crowd around him.

Visible disgust. Confusion and disbelief. They all knew that he'd just pooped himself, but nobody wanted to say anything. It was as if time itself had stopped.

Timothy was able to regain some measure of composure after a few moments, but he was still sweating, and his heart was racing. The crowd's murmurs were deafening.

He glanced up at David. His opponent's mouth was contorted into a frown and his nose was crinkled up in repulsion. The thought of facing his friend after such a display was utterly unbearable.

Timothy could barely bring himself to look at him. Instead, he looked down into his lap and laughed out loud. He felt silly, and was sure that his face was beet red. Even more certain was that the smell was now wafting off of him in earnest. He could smell his shame in all its glory.

Rather than continue in such a farce, David stood and left the room in silence, utterly disappointed in his so-called friend's insulting display. 

As his former rival stomped away, Timothy's gaze was again drawn back to Max. This time though, he couldn't look away no matter how hard his conscious mind fought.

'Maxie!' He cheered to himself. Everything would be ok!

His best friend was beaming at him with a big smile, and Timothy smiled right back at him. He was embarrassed because of his public accident, but he knew that Max would never judge him. That's why he loved spending time with him!

Timothy remained seated in the middle of the room playing with the chess pieces childishly until he was finally removed due to the overwhelming smell. The tournament had ended with no victor.

***

The adults around Timothy had invented all sorts of speculation around what had happened that day. Too much stress, perhaps. Or maybe some latent disease that caused him to have a mental breakdown. It was meaningless to try and make sense of it.

Because now, the boy known as Timothy was gone forever. He who at one time was a young genius, was now completely unaware every time he soiled his thick, teen-sized diapers. His former grandeur was eventually forgotten by most. 

In the days after the incident, he spent his time at school under the watchful and playful protection of Mr. Avery. Day in and day out, he watched Barney and colored fun pictures to share with his classmates.

At all other times, at school or home, he was inseparable from his best friend in the whole wide world, Max.

In Timothy's place... was Timmy. And he was finally, truly content.