One day during the summer I turned 12, I was hanging out at my best friend Annie’s house, listening to music and giggling. I started to feel the need to go to the bathroom for a number two – but at that age I was extremely shy about such matters, even in front of a close friend like Annie.
I decided to wait, but eventually I couldn’t wait any longer. I then decided to just ride my bike home, a journey of less than three minutes. However, as I prepared to leave another of our friends arrived on her own bicycle. I didn’t want to rush off so I stayed on for about 45 more minutes. By this time my need to poop was becoming very urgent indeed, and I finally managed to pull myself away. I waddled over to my bike, my butt cheeks clenched tight, and began to pedal home.
While I was sitting on the bike seat I was OK but as soon as I arrived home and dismounted, it was all over. My stomach cramped up, I bent over in pain and I lost the fight and completely pooped my pants. It was an enormous soft mess and it spread up my bum crack to the waistband of my panties and smooshed everywhere. It was totally disgusting.
When this happened, I also lost control of my bladder and peed my pants. Pee flooded my shorts and streamed down both legs. I was absolutely humiliated and began to cry. This was a big problem – not just the embarrassing humiliation that I, a mature 12-year-old, had just soiled herself like a toddler, but the fact that this accident absolutely had to be hidden from my mother.
I’m not sure why, but bathroom accidents absolutely enraged my mother, which was a problem for me because I was a bit accident-prone. Even if it was a genuine accident, like from laughing too hard, my mom would belittle and shame me. But if it was an accident that resulted from being irresponsible or lazy, like this one, there would be hell to pay.
I decided I had to hide it from her somehow – but it was no use. I gingerly opened and tried to get upstairs to the bathroom. Unfortunately, Mom had chosen that moment to head upstairs herself a laundry basket. She took one look (and smell!) at me, and she was furious.
“What have you done?” she thundered, although it seemed pretty obvious to me. “You disgusting child! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” I was of course, but she kept repeating this over and over again. Just a note for any parents out there – if your adolescent child poops their pants, they’re already mortified and do not need to be told to be ashamed over and over again. I couldn’t even say a word in my defence because I knew that it would make Mom even angrier.
She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to my room, the mess in my pants smushing all the way. Once in my room, she threw a towel on the floor in the corner and I was ordered to stand on it. Then she whisked down my underwear and shorts, handing them to me – I was told to hold them and think about what I had done.
Then she stomped off, leaving me naked from the waist down with poop smeared all over my butt and holding my wet and dirty clothes. I knew what I had done – I don’t think I needed more time to think about it.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my nine-year-old sister showed up to see what all of the commotion was about and began to laugh hysterically. This would be awful under any circumstances but it was more so because even though she was my little sister, she never had any accidents – and the fact that I, her big sister, did gave her endless joy. When she saw me in that state, she began to tease me by calling me about a million variations of ‘Miss Poopy Pants’ and making fake fart noises by blowing into her hand. I know my mom knew this was happening but she wanted me teased.
Finally my mother returned and chased my sister off. My mom threw an old blanket over the bed and then made me lie down on it on my back. Then I was ordered to lift my legs in the air and she began to wipe my butt like a little baby with a wet paper towel.
I would have given anything to just be allowed to shower. I had recently started puberty and already had pubic hair on my vulva. I thought it made me a mature woman, and I was quite proud of it. When my mom lifted up my legs to wipe me, I could see the hair and the ridiculous juxtaposition of a womanly body paired with the babyish diaper treatment made me feel even more humiliated.
Finally, now that she had a nice clean target, Mom decided to paddle me. She sat on the bed and I was hauled over her lap. She had a ping pong paddle with her rather than her big leather strap. At first, I thought that meant the spanking was not going to be that bad – but I was wrong.
Mom spanked me over and over again with that paddle, but I was so mad at her that I refused to cry. I bit my lip and tried to be tough as the paddle rained down again and again on my upturned heiney. I held out for about 30 spanks, the longest I ever had. But eventually I began to sob – though my mother did not relent. She continued to thrash me all over my bottom, on my ‘sit spots’ and the tops of my thighs. It was one of the worst spankings I had ever been given. Finally, she pushed me off of her lap and left me alone to sob.
My embarrassment was not quite complete, though. About an hour later, I heard the doorbell ring and I remembered to my horror that Annie was supposed to stop by later.
Of course, Mom couldn’t just tell my friend that I was in trouble and couldn’t come out to play. Oh no – she had to tell her that I had been spanked for pooping my pants. I had some serious explaining to do to Annie the next time I saw her.
The only bright spot of this whole awful affair was that it got me over my fear of using the bathroom outside my home. I decided quickly that anything was better than the alternative!
Contributor: Nina