The Middle School Meanie Part 2

The bell rang and Chelsea sat there, defeated, in a puddle of her own urine. Her head was down on her desk, covered by the sleeves of her knit sweater. She was shaking with fear and embarrassment. As everyone got up and awkwardly left the classroom, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Ms. Sandberg,” Mr. Sorensen said, “Class is over. I suggest you change before getting the bus home.”

Chelsea sniffled and got up slowly, feeling her pants stick to her legs. She pulled the sweater down as far as it would go. “I-I’m so sorry…” she stuttered.

Mr. Sorensen said nothing and watched her shuffle away in shame.

Chelsea headed to her locker and grabbed her gym bag before heading to the bathroom. She had a pair of sweat pants that she could probably get away with wearing for the rest of the day. When she got to the bathroom, she heard giggling from inside. She opened the door to find it was Megan and her friends, Sara-Beth and Rhiannon.

Chelsea turned around quickly, but Megan called after her, “Hey Chelsea! Do you need a diaper?!” Megan threw a maxipad and hit Chelsea in the back of the head.

Chelsea said nothing and kept walking with Megan shouting behind, “I hope you don’t have to go to the bathroom… cause this one’s occupied!”

Chelsea pulled her sweater down and awkwardly ran down the hall to the other bathroom.

There were three other girls waiting in line to use the toilets. Chelsea recognized them as ninth graders. She was too shy to acknowledge any of them and stared down at her shoes, hoping they wouldn’t notice her.

“Ugh, I really need to go…” said the girl in front of Chelsea. She stroked her hand through her braids and did a less-than-desperate pee-pee dance. “I can’t believe there are only two girls’ bathrooms in this whole school!” The other girl turned to Chelsea, “Can you believe it?”

Chelsea shook her head.

The other girl looked down at Chelsea’s wet pants and giggled, “Oh my gosh.” She tapped her friend on the shoulder, “Oh my gosh, Jenny, that girl actually peed her pants.” The second girl in line burst out laughing.

“What is she, in kindergarten?” Jenny giggled.

The first girl in line turned around to see what the other two were laughing about and took notice of Chelsea’s accident.

Chelsea suppressed the urge to head back to the other bathroom. At least the ninth graders weren’t throwing pads at her.

The girl with braids turned around to get another look at Chelsea, “Oh my gosh, maybe she’s retarded?”

“She’s not retarded, don’t be so rude,” Jenny replied, “She’s obviously just embarrassed.”

Chelsea didn’t want to say anything; she didn’t even feel like defending herself. She wished she were invisible and wiped another tear from her cheek. She wondered what her parents would say when she came home with a bag of wet clothes.

Three stalls opened up and the three girls in front of her went in. Chelsea checked her watch. It was already 3:15. The last school bus heading to her block left in five minutes. She knew she couldn’t wait until the ninth graders were finished – she quickly pulled off her fuchsia stirrup pants and underwear and put on her gray sixth grade volleyball team sweatpants from her last school.

Chelsea shoved her wet clothes into her Jansport backpack and ran to the bus. She barely made it on. Chelsea sat down next to one of the girls from her English class, Elisa. She smiled at Chelsea and then went back to her book. Elisa loved to read and wasn’t big on socializing, which meant Chelsea could relax and not worry about saying anything stupid or awkward on her way home. She sighed deeply and sat back in her seat, thanking God she had gotten the bus. Chelsea’s parents were rarely home from work in time to get her from school, so she would have to wait until after five for them to pick her up. They also saw this as a burden.

Chelsea hugged her backpack close to her and thought about the day and how mean it was of Mr. Sorensen to not let her pee. She wondered if his teachers did that to him when he was in school. It made Chelsea angry. She looked at her watch, realizing it would take at least another fifteen minutes to get home. The time frame and after school traffic made her regret not going pee before leaving the school. The bus ride was pretty bumpy and Chelsea had been in more desperate situations before. She barely had to go, but knew it would only get worse here on in. Chelsea reached into her backpack, hoping there was a book she could read to get her mind off of her situation, but she had forgotten to throw in her Babysitter’s Club book. Chelsea sighed.

Elisa looked over, “You forget something?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, my book. I don’t have anything to read…” Chelsea replied, fidgeting slightly.

“What book are you reading?”

“Um, Babysitter’s Club…”

“Oh, which one?!” Elisa put down her book, “I’ve read all ten of them!”

“Number 8, Boy-Crazy Stacey. I’m only half way through, though… It’s on my nightstand; I forgot to throw it in my backpack.” Chelsea adjusted herself. She could feel herself getting more desperate by the second. The bus went over another bump and she squeezed her legs together. She looked out the window for a second to see where they were – Adams Rd. – almost home.

“I loved that one! I mean, I liked all of them,” Elisa blabbed, “Have you read Chain Letter?!”

Chelsea shook her head, jiggling her legs.

Elisa passed Chelsea the book, “It’s like a creepy story about this girl who gets this weird letter…”
Chelsea wasn’t listening. She held the book in one hand and held onto her privates with the other. She was starting to get worried that she wouldn’t make it. “Mmm-hmm…” She squeezed her legs together as Elisa explained the first half of the book.

The bus came to a halt and Chelsea felt a gush of urine splash out onto her clean sweatpants. She looked out the window. Just one more stop. She could make it… she hoped.

Elisa broke out of her excited whirlwind one-sided conversation on literary synopsis and stared at Chelsea. “Are… are you alright?” She noticed Chelsea’s obvious discomfort.

Chelsea nodded weakly and handed the book back to Elisa, “I, um… I just really have to go pee.”

“Why didn’t you just go at school?” Elisa asked matter-of-factly.

“Long story,” Chelsea whispered, gritting her teeth. She hoped Megan and her goons weren’t on this bus. They got off at the same stop she did. Chelsea crossed one leg over the other and held herself with both hands.

“You can make it,” Elisa cheered her on, quietly, “We’re almost there.”

The bus took off; with each bump Chelsea could feel her bladder bursting. She could see the stop and her house. Not much longer…

The bus came to a halt and Chelsea felt another gush of urine escape her urethra. Chelsea grimaced; this was her stop! As she got up, the urge only got worse. “Bye… Elisa…” she waved with one hand, holding herself with the other. Chelsea slowly made her way off the bus, gently stepping as if with each stride she ran the risk of horrible embarrassment. She made it off the bus safely and saw Megan, Sara-Beth, and Rhiannon waiting for her. She fumbled through her backpack for her keys, pee-pee dancing desperately. She could feel herself losing the battle for the second time today.

“Looks like you need another diaper!” Megan called, throwing another pad at desperate Chelsea.

“Oh my god, she wet her pants again!” Sara-Beth exclaimed, pointing at the barely visible wet lines in the crotch of Chelsea’s gray sweatpants.

Chelsea found the keys at the bottom of her bag and decided to make a run for it. She held herself and made a desperate scramble for her door. She struggled to get the keys in the door, dancing from foot to foot, but finally managed to. As she stepped inside, she felt another, larger, gush of urine drench her leg. She stuck her hand down her pants and held on for dear life as she ran to the bathroom.

When she got to the toilet, she was too desperate to pull down her sweatpants. She sat there on the toilet and pulled them down, but not enough. She soaked herself in a moment of bliss as she opened the nearly broken flood gates.


The Middle School Meanie Part 1

It was Monday between fourth and fifth period at Dennis Brigham Middle School and Chelsea Sandberg was on her third trip to the bathroom. She always went pee between classes to minimize interactions between her and the teacher. It was just how Chelsea managed her shyness. She slipped into the middle stall and took down her fuchsia stirrup pants and sat down.

“Can somebody pass me some toilet paper?!” pleaded Megan Lewis-Taggart from the stall next to Chelsea, “Please! There’s nothing left in this one…”

Chelsea hated Megan Lewis-Taggart so much that she couldn’t bear to even speak to her. She lifted her legs so Megan couldn’t see anyone was in the stall next to her. Chelsea was still fuming mad about the time Megan asked Cory Nesmith to the winter dance before she had the chance. She hated that Megan was so pretty with her ginger curls and cute freckles across her nose. She hated that Megan had perfect vision and no big ugly glasses covered her perfect face. She hated that Megan was a popular gymnast and every boy in seventh grade’s wet dream.

“Someone? Help?” Megan cried out one last time.

Chelsea held her breath so Megan couldn’t hear that she was still there.

“I know you’re in that stall. Come on; help a sister out!”

Chelsea remained quiet and waited for Megan to leave the bathroom before she even started to go. But Megan didn’t leave. Chelsea didn’t have to go too badly, but she worried she wouldn’t make it a whole hour through math class. The bell rang and she heard Megan leave. That meant she only had seconds to get to class. Chelsea got up and pulled her underwear and stirrup pants back on, feeling instant regret. She definitely had to pee now, but it was too late. There was nothing more embarrassing than being late for Mr. Sorensen’s math class; he forced latecomers to stand up for the entirety of the class and called on them constantly for answers. It was far more torturous than Ms. van der Beake’s forced karaoke for latecomers to seventh grade English.

Chelsea ran down the hall to room 104; she could feel her bladder expanding as she ran and felt incredibly uncomfortable. When she got to class, Mr. Sorensen gave her a skeptical death stare. “Ms. Sandberg, you’re late.”

Chelsea’s face went bright red. “P-please…”

Mr. Sorensen gave her an evil half-smile. “You know what this means.”

Chelsea stared down at her white Nike high tops and pulled her long, kit sweater down over her bum. She shuffled quickly to her seat and put down her books on the desk, but continued standing. She felt pressure building. She really needed to pee now. She wished she had just given Megan the toilet paper and gone earlier. Chelsea bit her lip and tried to listen to Mr. Sorensen’s lesson on polynomials, but she just couldn’t concentrate. She shifted her weight between feet, trying not to draw attention to herself. She squeezed her legs together tightly, hoping to stop the inevitable.

“Ms. Sandberg! What did you come up with for number four on last night’s homework?”

Chelsea gulped. Her book wasn’t even open to last night’s homework; she was too focused on not peeing her pants. She fumbled through her workbook, crossing one leg over the other, desperately holding on. “Um… I, uh… I…” Chelsea stuttered. It was now or never. Her face was turning bright red. “Mr. Sorensen, c-can I please go to the restroom?” Chelsea was shaking.

Mr. Sorensen rolled his eyes. “If you must.”

Chelsea adjusted herself and weakly smiled, making her way slowly out of the classroom.

Megan raised her hand and shot Chelsea a mean stare.

“Yes Megan?” Mr. Sorensen called.

“Sir, I saw Chelsea in the bathroom before class. I don’t think she needs to go. I think she’s up to something.”

Chelsea froze; cold sweat dripped down her back, invisible to her classmates due to her over-sized sweater.

“Is this true, Ms. Sandberg?”

Chelsea’s eyes widened. She couldn’t tell a lie, for fear it would go horribly wrong. “Yes sir, but I couldn’t…”

“Don’t lie to me, Ms. Sandberg. Please sit down and find your homework. Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Lewis-Taggart.”

Chelsea shuffled back to her seat. The ache in her privates was growing and growing. She was sure she wouldn’t make it through class. She leafed through her workbook and found the homework, but was still unable to concentrate.

“The answer you got for number four was….?”

“Um, XY equals…” Chelsea grabbed her throbbing crotch and adjusted her legs, “3X minus 2 plus Y to the power of three times four…”

“Perfect,” Mr. Sorensen smiled. “Mr. Nesmith, what did you get for number five?”

Chelsea usually daydreamed about Cory when he spoke, but today her focus lay elsewhere as she scrunched her legs together, trying so hard not to draw more attention than she already had. She started dancing from foot to foot, lightly. She could feel herself losing the battle.

“Ms. Sandberg, number six?”

“S-sir, please…” begged Chelsea, “I really need to use the restroom…” Her hands were safely between her legs, trying to keep the pee at bay.

“Class is nearly over. What was your answer to number six?”

“P-p-please!” Chelsea cried. She couldn’t hold it any longer. A stream of urine drenched her right leg, soaking right through her pants. And with that, another dark stream followed, and another. Chelsea’s hands fell to her sides. She went silent, looking at all the other kids in her class. Then came the laughter. She slunk down into her chair and pulled her sweater over her wet pants and began to cry.