Story #19: Photo Bomb

Story #19: Photo Bomb He'd already been waiting in line for what felt like forever, and at a certain point, the cramps in his belly had gone from silly pre-Santa jitters, to a full blown urgency to void his bowels. There was no getting out of line now though, because he knew that his older brother wouldn't allow for it. Their mother had been quite insistent that he get his picture taken on Santa's lap, even though he'd whined and argued about how he was too big for such a thing. It would no doubt be one of the pictures that was front and center for the Christmas cards that would get sent out. How humiliating! Blake pursed his lips, the gastrointestinal discontent sending a cold shiver down his spine as the bubbling within continued. Just a few more kids, and it'd be his turn to grovel at the altar of Santa. He was definitely too old for it, or it at least seemed that way by looking at the tops of the heads that lined up beyond him. He'd turned ten this year, and most of these kids were half that, give or take a few years on both ends. Though, that only brought up another unpleasant point. He might have been the 'big kid' here, but because of how far away the mall had been, his older brother had been quite insistent that he wear his 'nighttime pants' for the trip. His brother cherished his new car, as beat up as it was, and he wasn't willing to give a bedwetter any reprieve; the teen only pointed out that Blake might fall asleep on the trip there or back, and that he wasn't going to let him ruin his upholstery. That had been a caveat that Blake might not agree too, but one that their mother saw as perfectly reasonable. Besides, it was the evening, and she plainly mentioned that it was only a couple of hours earlier than he would normally be putting them on anyways. So he was padded underneath his sweatpants; something he probably only shared with the toddlers in line. More embarrassingly, he'd already dribbled a bit in the garment during this long wait, and now with the urgency in his lower gut... Blake let out a soft groan, which his brother took as a sign of his impatience manifesting into irritation. He turned his head and looked behind, seeing just how far the line stretched back. He could make it. Just one quick photo with Santa, and then he could make a beeline for the bathrooms. "Pay attention, Blake. Its your turn." Blake snapped back to the front and realized his brother was right; it was finally his time to go! The boy tensed up and started to walk toward the chair. A cold sweat broke on his forehead; the movement was increasing the volatile pressure by agonizing measures. "Ho, ho, ho! Hello little boy, ready to tell Santa what you want?" Blake normally would have shot off a dirty look for the condescending tone he was being given, but he just glossed over it and instead climbed up on the mall Santa's lap. His damp padding was probably pretty obvious as he did, but the man fortunately didn't call him out on it. "Uhh...Yeah, I, umm.." Blake awkwardly stammered, his focus disrupted by the overwhelming need to poop. "Have you been a good boy this year?" Blake simply nodded, knowing he needed to just speed through this scripted charade. The bearded man took his silence for being shy and chuckled, giving Blake a pat on the back. "Go ahead and tell me what you want, and I'll make sure to check my list twice on Christmas eve..." "Well, I...I guess umm, the new Nintendo, and umm, s-some games..." Gas blew into the bottom of his padding, warming his rump and causing a rumble. His face started to turn red, and before Santa could comment on his shameless expulsion, Blake was finally being forced to let go. "..Mmphh...Ughhhh..!" The boy helplessly grunted, though softly and without self-control. Magmatic mush began to pour out into the bedwetter pants, like a deluge of boiling, bubbling mud. Time froze in that moment, and while he and Santa knew what was happening, his brother and the 'elf' helper were oblivious. Here he was, now a double-digits big boy, and the photo being taken of him, was while he was in the middle of an enormous dump in his pants. "..Uh-oh! Looks like Santa might need to put some pottytraining tapes underneath the tree instead.." The man quipped, briefly breaking character to chastise the boy for soiling himself upon his lap. Blake felt the flood finally ebb, leaving his bottom fully coated in a mucky bog of filth, and with his pungent fumes beginning to waft up from his bloated sweatpants. He was speechless, and instead, tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. By this point, his brother had realized something was wrong and had approached to get to the bottom of it. Imagine his surprise when Santa told him that Blake had just pooed his pants during the picture. The only question now would be whether the Christmas cards would go out with a caption, explaining his rosy, straining cheeks and Santa's befuddled expression. He had thought he was too old to still be doing this, but had only proven that he wasn't old enough to keep his pants clean.