The Babysitter, Part 57

Passing gas on purpose was already a tall order when I was in such a precarious state, and that was only compounded by the fact that Paige specified that she wanted it to be ‘better’ than the previous one. I wasn’t even sure what she meant. Louder? Longer? She and her friends were the crass ones that acted like boys sometimes, not me. All I could do was awkwardly attempt to flex the appropriate muscles while in a position that didn’t feel nearly as natural or as controlled as when I was standing.

I couldn’t do it. After a few seconds of trying, all managed to do was make the pressure in my backside so much worse. Now that I knew that Paige had put something in my drink to relax my bowels, it was imperative that I make it to the bathroom as soon as humanly possible. “Paige. I can’t.” But also, I couldn’t get up with how she was right in front of me and making sure my squat was as wide and deep as possible.

“Sure, you can,” Paige said, with an amused smile. She wasn’t taking this nearly as seriously as I was, or perhaps was enjoying the fact that her little trick from earlier was paying off. Did she seriously want me to have that kind of an accident in the pull-ups I was stuck in? “I’m pretty sure Alyssa can do anything she puts her mind towards. Or are you more of a Miley, who’s all lazy and difficult?”

I knew she was baiting me, yet it was effective nonetheless. “I’m Alyssa!” I snapped, “Paige-”

“Inside voices,” she cut me off, “If Noelle hears you lying about that ‘Alyssa’ nonsense again, you’ll be in big trouble. Now, come on. You’re not getting up until you show me that you’re not always a stuck up control freak.”

She said all of it so casually. A warning, an insult, and an insistence about following through on the immature task she had given me. “But-”

“Ah, ah.” Giving a pointed push to my thighs, not that it was really possible for me to squat more than I already was, she demanded, “Try, Miley. Or I’ll make sure that Noelle gives you another spanking. Last chance, little sis. Three . . . two . . . ”

I hated that she was counting down like I was a child, and hated even more that it worked. “Okay, okay!” Between wanting to avoid another mortifying scene like what Paige witnessed yesterday, and desperately needing to get my bratty sister out of my personal space, I did my very best to tense in a way that would recreate what I did a minute or two ago. Only better, somehow.

Within seconds, I realized that I had made a horrible mistake. And, in retrospect, had done exactly what Paige had been setting me up to do. By pushing, rather than resisting, I was inadvertently signaling my body that it was time to let go. There was no stopping it, either.

Before I knew it, a solid log was escaping my body. It all happened so quickly. I hadn’t gone since before ballet yesterday, and the combination of whatever Paige had given me as well as the fact that my cheeks were spread made it impossible to hold anything back. The mess momentarily pushed against the back of the pull-ups before gravity took over and caused it to drop down into the padding below. Then, belatedly doing what Paige wanted in a way that was completely out of my control, I let out a long fart that I would normally never in a million years be caught doing in front of anyone else.

“Oh my God, Miley!” she exclaimed, her tone and expression a unique combination of judgment and amusement, “Did you just-” She somewhat cut herself off as she caught a whiff of what was definitely more than just a bit of gas; it wasn’t as if she needed to actually say it out loud, anyway.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t done. If anything, it was as if the first wave was like a cork that had popped. After another cramp that hit me like a truck, I pushed without really meaning to as a rush of much less solid mess began forcing itself out of me and into the pull-ups.

I was absolutely horrified as I felt the disgusting mush searching for space in the snug padding, most of which was found underneath me as gravity continued to work as I emptied myself completely. As if the volume wasn’t bad enough, the smell was painfully indicative of what I was doing. And, though I had been against the second layer earlier, I found myself immensely grateful for the doubling Noelle had used as a punishment/deterrent for future bad behavior. Even with two pull-ups on, I was a little bit worried about how heavily they were sagging between my thighs.

“You-” This was undeniably Paige’s fault, yet she would so easily be able to deny it to Noelle. I was slightly in shock, which in turn left me at a total loss for words. Eighteen years old, and I just- I just did that in protective padding. Even in my own head, I couldn’t bring myself to think of any specific words.

Paige, however, had no such hang-ups. “I can’t believe it worked,” she giggled, “And I think this officially makes you my little sister, Miley. Mature girls don’t shit their diapers.”

It was the second time she had called them ‘diapers,’ rather than ‘pull-ups.’ At the moment, however, I had much more important things to worry about than correcting something that wasn’t much better the other way.

Getting up was now a concern for a completely different reason. I really didn’t want the mess beneath me to touch more of my bare skin than it already had. And though Paige had caused this–she had literally just admitted as much–I needed her help in keeping this a secret.

Noelle could not find out.