Prep— BEDWETTING

Prep groaned, flipping another page of his organic chemistry textbook. He’d been at this for hours. Nerd, bless his studious heart, had stuck it out until 1 AM, diligently highlighting and annotating before finally succumbing to sleep. Now, it was nearing 3 AM, and Prep felt like his brain was actively rebelling against the onslaught of information.

He finally called it quits, slamming the book shut with a weary sigh. A quick gulp of water – just to quench the dry study-induced thirst – and he was off to bed. The sheets felt blissfully cool against his skin. He was asleep almost instantly.

His dreams were… fragmented. Snippets of molecular diagrams dissolving into dancing cheeseburgers, Professor McMillan's stern face morphing into a winking smiley emoji. It was the kind of weirdness that only sleep deprivation could conjure.

Then came the cramping. A dull ache deep in his abdomen, steadily intensifying. He vaguely registered the discomfort, attributing it to maybe too much coffee earlier in the day. He tried to ignore it, willing himself back to sleep.

But the cramping persisted, escalating into a sharp, insistent pressure. He tossed and turned, a silent whimper escaping his lips. What IS going on?

Suddenly, a jarring realization slammed into him. His bladder. It felt like it was about to burst.

He jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest, sheets damp and cold beneath him. The room swam into focus, illuminated by the faint glow of the digital clock on Nerd's nightstand. 3:47 AM.

He was lying in a puddle. A sizable, incredibly uncomfortable puddle.

A wave of mortification washed over him. He, Prep, the meticulously groomed, always-in-control member of the polycule, had just wet the bed.

He carefully extracted himself from the soaked sheets, cringing at the clammy sensation. He spared a glance at Nerd, who was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the aquatic disaster unfolding mere inches away. He crept out of bed, gathering the sodden linen as quietly as possible.

Down the hall, he could hear Goth's soft, rhythmic snoring. He knew Jock was probably sprawled out in some ridiculous position, taking up the entire bed. Thank goodness none of them were involved in this mess.