Upsetting Mr Ziffel
As I think I've mentioned before, I like to play all sorts of little fantasy games around the whole business of having toilet accidents in my knickers. Although I usually like to place the emphasis on doing it when, where and how I want to, from time to time I have tried the odd little 'desperation' game. Reading through some of the 'school' posts reminded me of my own schoolday adventures (one or two of which I mentioned in 'Schoolday Comforts) - although my case was a bit different, as none of them took place in school! I'm not sure quite what I, as a girl, make of Arnold's 'Toilet Violations Punishment Committee' - other than that it's very American. Things just weren't like that at the sort of prim-and-proper English girl's school I went to! That said, it's an engaging fantasy, and Arnold makes no secret of the fact that that's exactly what it is! I've tried imagining what it might be like to be caught in school with mucky pants and be sent to explain your misdeed to such an unsympathetic committee.
And what would it be like to be on 'Toilet Suspension', not able to use the facilities even if you wanted or needed to? I decided to find out the other Wednesday, when I had a nice quiet afternoon to myself. I'd saved my BM from the day before and right through the morning, although it meant I had a rather uncomfortable tutorial just before lunch. The need was getting quite pressing even then. By the time I had walked the mile or so from the main university campus to my flat, got myself some lunch, sat down and eaten it and washed it down with a nice big glass of Coke (I'm not much of an America-o-phile, but Coca-Cola does get my vote; it tastes nice, gives you a bit of 'zip', and keeps your bladder nicely busy), I was getting on for desperate. That's a rare state for me - usually, I can't wait to help my big jobs on their way out - usually into my pants.
But today I was intent on acting out my little fantasy. I went into my bedroom and got changed - into my old school uniform. White ankle socks, short grey pleated skirt, Aertex shirt and V-neck pullover in yuk green with a badge on it. Underneath I had on a pair of best English regulation schoolgirl knickers - nearly-waist-high briefs in thick white cotton, with a double gusset and non-elasticated legbands. Generations of British schoolgirls will be familiar with them, I'm sure...
In my studio living room - which, fortunately, has a cork-tiled floor - I have a table I use as a desk, and a plain wooden chair that is almost exactly like the ones we used to sit on in class. So I sat down on my chair, and spread some course books out on the table. Now it was just as it would have been back in my schooldays, except that the books were a bit more advanced. I sat there, trying to read, and imagining I was in class surrounded by other girls, feeling the need to both pee and have a BM get stronger and stronger. I should ask to go out of class, I knew - but there was no point; I had transgressed (How? A previous panty-accident? Or probably several previous panty-accidents - 'doubleheaders', doubtless) and I was on toilet suspension. Hold it or go in your pants was the rule...
I stuck it out for about twenty minutes, by which time my bladder was bursting. For the first time in a very long time I actually had a genuine knicker accident, and lost control as a long spurt of pee hissed into my pants. I clenched up and managed to stop the flow for a few seconds, but then I felt my BM starting to try and escape. I made an effort to stop that, by now in an exquisite agony of need, but as soon as I concentrated on keeping my big jobs from escaping, I felt my pee gushing out uncontrollably. Instinctively, I tried to pull my skirt out of the way, bunching it up behind me on the chair; in a few seconds I had soaked my pants as well as part of the hem of my skirt, and my pee was splashing noisily into a puddle under my chair. And on top of that I was desperate to do a poo.
Well, it doesn't really matter how desperate you are, it's very difficult to do your big jobs sitting down square on a hard chair. I felt myself loose control of my bowels and the first lump started to push out. But as soon as it hit the inside of my knickers where they lay on the hard wooden surface of the chair, it couldn't go any further. It sort of spread sideways and up a bit until it took up the space between the cheeks of my bottom, but there it stopped, leaving me very uncomfortable and desperate for relief. So I fidgeted a bit in my chair, imagining the eyes of the rest of the class and the teacher on me, until I was sort of sitting over on the left side of my bottom, with my weight on my flank and a little more space underneath my back passage.
That did it. There was a long, loud sticky noise, and I felt the right-hand side of my pants filling quickly with soft, warm, sticky poo, a lot of it going down under the back of my right leg. There was quite a lot of it, and I hadn't even finished yet - there was still more poo trying to push out. I fidgeted some more, moving my weight across to the right side of my bottom, feeling the poo I'd just done squidge out underneath me. That made a bit more room, and next moment another rich, sticky noise gave away the fact that I was still filling my knickers. I had to push a bit to get the rest of it out, and I found myself slightly red-faced and grunting quietly as I forced the last big, soft lump out into my well-packed seat. Then I relaxed, and let myself sit back normally on the chair. Well, as normally as was possible with such a generous BM as that in my pee-soaked pants.
I was in an awful mess. My BM was spread right across both cheeks of my bottom inside my pants, and I could feel that it was escaping at the loose legbands of my schoolgirl knickers down both my legs. I had no doubt at all that there would be two small, sticky piles on the seat of my chair when I got up, while the stain on the back of my knickers must rapidly be growing. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, there would be another visit to Mr Arnold Ziffel's stern-hearted committee, while I could just imagine the reaction of a class-full of fourth-formers if one of their number had wet and messed her pants as obviously as I had just done!
Fortunately, of course, in reality I had none of those things to worry about, so I was able to sit there and enjoy the sensations of a spectacularly full pair of knickers until the Coke caught up with me again. I already had enough clearing up to do, so I took myself off to the bathroom (and yes, there were two very obvious golden-brown smears on the seat of the chair when I got up) and stood in the shower tray while I peed my knickers again, enjoying the feel of the hot wetness running down the insides of my thighs. I'm quite sure none of Arnold's imaginary toilet transgressors ever 'arrived home' in a bigger mess than I was in last Wednesday afternoon. And yes, Mr Ziffel, I know it's not my first offence...
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