Hey there, anyone who reads this. First, I’d just like to thank you for giving this story a chance. I’ve always wanted to write an ABDL story, but for various reasons, I’ve never gotten around to it. Today, I decided to change that, and I’m excited about what I have so far. Any and all feedback/criticism is welcome. As for the tags, I tagged this story with what I think there’s a reasonable chance of including, but my outline for this is very basic, so I might have to adjust tags as I go.
Kate sat there at her desk, the small, pathetic thing they’d given her that looked like it had been dragged straight over from an elementary school. She bounced her leg up and down in her stonewashed skinny jeans, tapping her foot into a repetitive rhythm of rubber soles pitter-pattering against thin sheets of old carpet, carpet that had been in this classroom probably longer than she’d been on this Earth. Looking around the room, her eyes met several annoyed onlookers, distracted by her fidgeting. Most of them were older than her, some by just a few years, and others by decades. But they all sat there in the GED testing room, adults who’d failed to make it through even the most basic of society’s rights of passage.
Kate was finished with her test. She’d been finished for going on ten minutes. The others were all still working on theirs. She would have gotten up and left, had the instructor not informed them prior to the test that leaving the room for any reason amounted to failing. If there was one thing she refused to do, it was fail this asinine test.
It was insultingly easy. America’s version of a high school equivalency test included basic math involving no more than two-digit numbers, and five-paragraph-long essays that required little more than basic memorization to recall when it came time to answer their associated series of questions. But the fact that it was so easy made it worse. And seeing that the others were still struggling with it filled her with senses of both superiority and disgust, at them and at herself for being so judgmental. After all, she was right there with them, no better than anyone else. And maybe that’s what made it so horrible.
But all those thoughts rushing through her head paled in comparison to the intensity of the pain swelling in her bladder. Bouncing her leg only helped so much, and the pressure build-up was worsening by the second. The moment the instructor came back in through the classroom door, she was handing in that test and on her way out of there. But as the minutes flowed by, the door didn’t open. And by that time, she had her hands folded in her lap and was bouncing both legs, squeezing them together tight and biting her lower lip. “This is getting fucking ridiculous,” she thought, looking up at the old analog clock hanging above the door.
It was 8:25, which meant five more minutes of suffering. Peeing her pants was not on the list of her plans today, so she held on while she rocked back and forth, feeling little droplets flow out into her panties at random intervals. If she’d known this was going to be a problem, she would have worn a pad. But what kind of testing center doesn’t let its participants use the bathroom?
She deserved partial blame, though, and she knew it. Drinking all those Red Bulls and forcing herself to stay up the night before was no one’s fault but her own. She hadn’t been able to sleep, the usual insomnia taking its toll. And by 4:00 AM, she knew that if she fell asleep, she wouldn’t be waking up in time to take her test. Such was the way she lived, consumed by the omnipresent anxiety that kept her awake all through the night, and then left to fend for herself when it came to keeping her body functioning. Her current predicament was the consequence of her lifestyle, though it was not one for which she was totally to blame.
She was anxious all leading up to the test and during it, but to her surprise, she wasn’t anxious anymore. The moment the need to pee swelled up inside her, it consumed every thought, to the point where any hints of anxiety were nowhere to be found. They’d gone off and disappeared for the silliest reason. Finally, she gets some semblance of relief from the constant wave of thoughts crashing through her mind, only for it to come at the cost of her poor bladder. She didn’t know if that qualified as ironic, but she was certain it was obnoxious, and just her luck.
She watched the smallest hand on the clock tick by at each second, counting them up to sixty and then starting from the beginning again. This wasn’t helping, but trying to focus on anything else had proven useless as well. There was nothing else to focus on. She couldn’t focus on the other students, since she could be accused of copying someone’s work. And focusing on her desperate need to pee would only serve to worsen the issue at hand. So she watched the clock with ferocious intensity, eyeing it like a hunter waiting for its target to open itself up.
Finally, the little red hand approached its destination, nearing completion of its full trip around the clock’s circumference. Each tick of the clock coincided with a growing sense of urgency welling up in her chest and throat. The anticipation was killing her. She was so focused she’d even stopped bouncing her legs, instead holding them tighter together and readying herself to spring up out of the room. The clock hit 8:30, and she twitched. The door didn’t open. Another few seconds. Oh God, the door didn’t open.
At this point, she was at a total loss as to what to do. If she sat there any longer, she was going to piss herself in front of a bunch of random strangers, who had already been staring at and judging her. But if she got up and left, she would fail. Weighing those options, she didn’t think she had any real choice. She could not fail this test. She couldn’t handle it. Working up the courage to even make the appointment had taken months of work between her and her therapist. Failing would mean the end of things. There was no way she would ever recover from the sheer embarrassment. It was one thing to flunk out of high school, she could make excuses for that. But to fail a test that had the audacity to ask her what 27 + 84 was, that would just be too much.
So she closed her eyes and bit her lip harder, nearly bringing it to a bleed. She tapped her feet again, trying her best to stay calm and composed. She breathed in slowly, through her nose, and then out through her mouth, careful to control the flow by pursing her lips. A technique her therapist had taught her. She imagined the air coming in through her nose as a light blue, unthreatening and calm. And as she let go of the air she was holding onto, she saw it as a harsh, yellow-orange color that represented all of her fears and obsessive worries. Then, she heard the door creak open.
She shot her eyes open and almost fell out of her desk, which was attached to her seat. She fumbled to grab the test, sprinting up to be the first in line to hand it in. But she underestimated how much sitting had helped her maintain control, and the sudden burst of movement was enough to knock off the delicate balance she’d been struggling to manage. As soon as she stood, she froze. She felt a warm trickle running down her legs and pooling in the seat of her jeans, spreading out through the material.
She stood there, in front of everyone, holding her test out for the instructor to take while peeing her pants like a toddler. Her cheeks burned red, and she felt like she could faint. The classroom was silent, and in some ways, that was worse. She could feel their eyes behind her, watching her flood her pants, seeing the damp spot grow. Her face felt so hot. She needed to get out of there, now.
She slammed the test down on the instructor’s desk at the front of the room and ran out the door, not thinking about what she was doing. In her rush to get to her car, it hadn’t occurred to her that the testing center was on campus. So as she strolled through the halls in her soaked pants, dozens of college students walked past her, several stopping and taking notice of her predicament. This time, people laughed. She was wrong, the silence was better.
By the time she made it to her car, her emotional battery was drained. She opened the front door and sat in the driver’s seat, not considering the squish that would come with it. That was the tipping point. Feeling the mess she’d made of her jeans squish below her and seep into the seat, that was just too much to handle. The tears that she’d been refusing to let swell up in her eyes could no longer be fought back. They streamed down her face, feeling hot and gross at the same time. And once the tears started flowing, her composure crumbled. Now, she was sobbing in wet pants on a wet car seat, in the parking lot of her local community college. Whatever she’d done to deserve this, she was so, so sorry for.
The drive home was made in silence and shame. She didn’t even turn on the radio. She just sat there, meandering through traffic, with tear-stained eyes drying into an irritating crust that she didn’t bother to wipe away. In a way, it was like she was punishing herself, and maybe she deserved it.
When she reached home, another problem presented itself. Her mother’s car was gone, but her sister was certain to be home. And that was an encounter she couldn’t bear to have in her current state. She sat in the driveway, wondering what to do. There weren’t many options. If she was lucky, her sister was still asleep, and she could sneak in undetected. But if she was awake, there was little she could do to avoid being seen. She considered calling her phone to see if she picked up, but didn’t want to risk that being the thing that woke her.
There was one thing she thought to do. She could drive far, out of town even, and find an unfamiliar store. Then, she could walk in with her piss-stained pants on display for all to see, where she’d be able to find another pair and buy it. That way, she could walk inside her own home without fear of being discovered. But that left the issue of what to do with her pissy jeans. She really liked these jeans, and they were maybe still salvageable. But then again, maybe not. Wearing them would just remind her of this little incident, and it was something she very much wished to put behind her as soon as possible.
In all her deliberation, Kate failed to notice the front door opening until it was too late. Her sister’s head appeared around the corner, her eyes marking her surprise to see Kate sitting there. She wandered over to the car and motioned for Kate to roll down the window. She took a deep breath to stifle the pounding in her chest, then followed her sister’s wishes.
Emily was two years older than Kate, a fact which the former relished in. Kate being nineteen now didn’t matter. Emily was off at college, drinking and partying with her friends, getting decent and sometimes even good grades. She was home for the summer, much to Kate’s dismay, not that there was anything she could do about it. In truth, she didn’t hate her sister, she just hated the way she felt around her, and that wasn’t even her fault.
“What are you doing out here in the car?” Emily had a trash bag in one arm and a small recycling bin in the other. It was trash day, a thought that hadn’t occurred to Kate until now.
“I had my test today.”
“Oh! How did it go?” Emily’s enthusiasm was genuine, but grating all the same. Still, Kate managed to muster up enough of a similar tone to appease her sensibilities.
“It went well! Honestly Em, it was super easy. I just had to actually get there and do it.”
“Aww, well I’m so happy for you hun. I knew you had it in you! You just needed to work up the courage, is all.”
Emily gave her a sickeningly sweet wink. It took all of Kate’s fortitude to hold back a groan, but she managed to choke it down with a closed-lip smile.
“I’m just taking the trash down,” Emily continued. “After that, I’m off to hang out with Liz. But I should be home tonight for dinner!”
“That sounds fun! Have a good time, and tell Liz I said hi.”
These basic pleasantries were most of how the sisters interacted. Kate wished things were different, but at the same time, she was glad she didn’t have to deal with actual conversations. She hated small talk, but it would do if it got her sister out of the way faster.
She watched Emily finish taking the trash down to the curb, then hop in her car, much nicer than the one Kate was driving, and head off. Before she left, Emily gave a small wave goodbye, one which Kate forced herself to return with another half-hearted smile. Once the coast was clear, Kate let out a long sigh of relief and stepped out of her car.
She looked down at her seat to assess the damage. It was soaked, she’d need to do a thorough cleaning to get the stain out. The same could be said for her pants. Before any neighbors had a chance to wander outside, Kate marched into her home, the home she’d spent her whole life in, and headed up the stairs for her bedroom, the one place of solace she had in this world.
Her bedroom was her domain. No one came in without her permission, and no one bothered her while she was just vibing in her room. Even her mom knew enough to leave her alone when she was holed up in there. With the door closed and the rest of the world shut out, Kate stripped off her wet clothes and threw them onto a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. She pulled out some baggy sweats and one of her dad’s old T-shirts. Her dad was a big guy, so his shirts hung off her and came down almost to her knees. Wearing them made her feel safe, like she was centered and connected to the world around her. She needed that right now.
Once she was all comfy, she headed back downstairs and poured herself a bowl of cereal. She hadn’t eaten anything that morning, and her stomach was desperate for some sustenance. As she was pouring the milk into the bowl, she heard her phone buzz against the kitchen counter. She’d left it there on her way inside.
She reached over and grabbed it, pulling the screen up to meet her eyes. It flickered on and showed one new notification, grayed out until she entered her passcode. Once she did, she saw it. Test results in. Suddenly, all the panic that had disappeared earlier rushed back into her head, and she felt lightheaded again. She leaned against the counter and forced herself to breathe, slowing down her heart rate until she was calm enough to compose herself.
She stared at the email, hesitating to open it. There was nothing to be so afraid of. The test was easy, and for all the embarrassment it cost her, at least it was over with now. She could put this chapter of her life behind her. She clicked open the message and logged into the GED site. There, in bold red letters, it said FAILED.