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I'm a twenty year old woman writing to your bulletin board for the first time. Seeing some letters on the subject, reminded me of the time when I was 17 and went to the bathroom in my pants. When I was in high school, I spent a good deal of time in the detention room. Between regular detentions (1 hour after school), double detentions (2 hours) and full day in-school suspensions, Room 106 was like my second home. It was there that I went in my pants All things considered, spending time in the detention room was not as bad as it sounds. Mostly, it was staffed by nice teachers who didn't mind if you put your head down and slept so long as you didn't bother them or anyone else in the room. Don't get me wrong, nobody really liked getting detention, but they were just like study halls for me. In spite of my be- havioral problems, I was a good student and instead of spending the time studying at home, I would just study at school during detention. As for the all-day in-school suspensions, they were more like vacations from school than punishments. What time I didn't spend catching up on my sleep, I spent getting ahead in my homework. Spending the entire day in there was tedious, but the 106ers (as we called ourselves) knew little tricks to beat the boredom. My favorite trick and that of many others, we called the "small bladder syndrome." "Teacher, please, I have to go, its an emergency," we would say and the teachers always seemed to be suckers for such lines. I used to get out five and sometimes six times a day for lavatory purposes, and that doesn't even include getting out for lunch period each day. This way whenever it got really boring, I could go out and stretch my legs, talk to friends and on rare occasions even use the girls' room. I think it was only twice in my first three years of high school that I got extra detention for wandering in the halls or loitering in the girls' room. By the time I became a senior, however, this all change drastically. Apparently, they finally realized what was going on and grew tired of us taking advantage. They were determined to make visits to detention and in-school suspension a much more unpleasant experience. To say the least, they succeeded. When I got back from summer vacation for my senior year, one thing was obvious. Room 106 had been divided into 106A (the boys' detention room) and 106B (the girls' detention room). At first, this change hardly seemed worth the effort, but three weeks into the semester when I got my first detention (for loitering in the girls' room) I quickly found our why they had ended co-ed detention. When I first walked in, I saw that they had installed a toilet in the back of the room. No stall, no door, not even a toilet seat to sit on or a sink to wash your hands. It was a plain and simple toilet sticking out from the wall in plain view of everyone in the room. With a toilet in the room, the old "small bladder syndrome" trick could no longer work and you were stuck in there all day. I could not believe they expected us to use a toilet with no privacy, but they certainly did. I was thankful that I only had to stay in there for an hour that afternoon and that I had just been to the girls' room an hour before. But that day in detention there was another girl in there, obviously not sober (this was the reason they had sent her here) and obviously in much distress from a very full bladder. She begged for permission to go to the girls' room down the hall, but the teacher was not even acknowledging her request and just pointed to that open john in the back of the room. Apparently, that poor girl had been here since lunchtime when she came back to school drunk and was now facing the moment of truth that it was either use the available toilet or flood her jeans. Reluctantly, and teary-eyed, she then proceeded to get up from her desk and get a wad of toilet paper from the roll that was kept on the teacher's desk. With about a dozen other girls watching, she quickly walked back to the toilet, tugged down her jeans and panties, squatted over the bowl, closed her eyes and got relief. She seemed to pee forever and splashed loudly throughout -- I couldn't believe that a girl could hold so much. She was obviously embarrassed by her volume and the loudness of her stream, but there was obviously nothing else she could do. When she was finished she didn't even bother to dry herself and sat back down at her desk, burying her head in her hands too ashamed to look at anyone. It was at that moment that I realized that detention and worse yet, in-school suspension were no longer a joke but serious punishment indeed. With visions of that toilet in my mind and thoughts of having to use it, I resolved to behave myself this year and avoid in-school suspension at all costs. Detention would not be so bad because I could easily hold it in for one or two hours, but for an all-day in-school suspension, I doubted that that was the case. I did behave better than before, but old habits are hard to break. Within a month of the aforementioned detention, I wound up with a day of in-school suspension for swearing (yes, the big one!) at another girl who cut in line ahead of me in the girls' room. When my suspension day arrived, I wore loose fitting clothes because I thought it would be more comfortable when I was holding it in. I also spent a good deal of time on the toilet that morning trying to make sure everything was empty before reporting to 106B. I was really worried about what would happen if I had to go and couldn't hold it in. My worries were indeed genuine. As the morning progressed, I knew my bladder was filling up. I could feel the pressure starting to build and I could tell that I'd definitely need to go before the 3:00 dismissal time. It was getting worse and worse and was taking more and more effort to hold it in. My one last hope was lunchtime and hoping we'd be excused for lunch and I'd be able to visit the regular girls' room then. But that was the old system and this was the new regime. Soon we (there were two other girls in there with me -- neither of whom had yet used the toilet, either) had our lunch brought in, and I know that I faced the same awful choice as that girl that day in detention -- that being, go in the toilet, or go in my pants. Believe it or not, it was a hard decision to make at the time. Then suddenly one of the other girls in there with me that day, suddenly got up and took care of her business. She went to the toilet and peed. She had done so matter-of-factly and without incident and seeing her made me realize that I had no choice but to follow suit. It was unpleasant to say the least, but there were only two other girls in there (neither of whom even turned to look at me) so I was able to get done what I obviously needed to do. I didn't bother to dry myself, though, as I figured the less time squatting with my pants down the better and I didn't want to make a scene going up to the teacher's desk to get toilet paper. At this point, I thought that all my troubles were over. A short time later, I began feeling the need to move my bowels. Peeing in that toilet was bad enough, I thought, but this was a whole lot worse. No way could I do number 2 on a toilet completely devoid of any privacy. I convinced myself that no matter how bad it got, I would just hold it in. But the need to go got bad really fast. As the afternoon wore on, I was in much distress and great discomfort. The teacher apparently saw me sitting there in my struggle to hold it in, because she told me to go use the toilet. She said that I'd have to go sooner or later, especially if it was such an emergency, so it was stupid of me to fight my needs and be so uncomfortable. But foolishly I did not listen to her or the growing, desperate need in my bowels. A short time later, I suffered the consequences of my foolish decision. At about 2:00, just an hour or so before I'd be getting out of in-school suspension, there a massive rumbling in my stomach and a big load of messy shit thundered uncontrollably out of my bowels and into my panties. At first, I was just totally stunned because it happened so fast. But when it finally started to sink in (so to speak!) I felt really disgusted and ashamed of what I'd done. I was so ashamed, in fact, that I ran from the room crying into the girls' room down the hall. I went into a stall and after crying some, tried as best I could to clean up some of the mess. But using only toilet paper I really wasn't making much progress as it was a really bad mess that was smeared all over me. After about 10 minutes of so of this, the teacher was banging on the stall door, yelling at me for leaving the detention room without permission. In tears from my shame, I begged her that under the circumstances to please let me stay here and try to clean it up some. No way did I want to face the other girls in in-school suspension, which now numbered six. She just ordered me back to the detention room. She said that the circumstances that brought me to this point were my own fault and if messing in my underpants was embarrassing, then I should have used the toilet when she told me to. She further told me that girls on in-school suspension can only use the toilet in the detention room and that if I wanted to clean myself up, thats where I'd have to do it. She led me back there and I could tell that the other girls knew that I'd had an accident and were having a hard time not laughing at me. When I sat down at my desk, I could feel the messy load spread worse all through my panties. As disgusted as I was, though, there was no way I was using that toilet to clean up. The teacher then ordered me to take out some paper and ordered me to write out, "I promise never to mess in my panties in the detention room again," 500 times. She said that if I didn't do it by Friday (and it was already Tuesday) she'd report me to the office for leaving the detention room without permission. I reluctantly agreed to do the writing when she assured me that the punishment for such was 5 more days of in-school suspension. As bad as writing those sentences promised to be, 5 more days of in-school suspension and using that toilet was worse. I took out a pen and began writing my punishment lines. It took me a long time to write the punishment, having to stay up late two nights to finish it on time and it gave me a terrible writer's cramp, but the fear of facing that awful toilet for 5 more days gave me the strength to finish it. My mother wasn't too happy about my mess, either. I hadn't cleaned up anymore in school that day so when I walked into the door at home, she could tell immediately what I'd done. She humiliated me even further and ordered me immediately into the bathroom to clean up. I wanted just to take a shower and flush the panties down the toilet, but my mother wouldn't hear of it. She said that I'd never learn my lesson unless I had to clean it up. I learned my lesson all right, because cleaning it up this way is really disgusting and if I wasn't being pun- ished enough already, she grounded me for three weeks. Of course, that was on top of having to spend the better part of two evenings writing out my punishment lines for school. To give you some idea of exactly how well I learned my lesson, I never messed or even wet in my pants again. I only spent 6 more days on in-school suspension that year (down from 11 days my junior year). I peed in that open toilet on all six of those occasions and even once during a double detention that I had to serve when I forget to go to the girls' room before. As for my bowel movements on those days, I was able to hold it in on four of those days, I didn't have to go during one of them, but on one fateful day in April, I did move my bowels in that detention room toilet. I had learned my lesson - as bad as that toilet was, anything was better than doing another accident in my pants. Anything is better than going in your pants