Maddie, a schoolgirl who turns 18 today

A soft breeze caresses your skin as you wake up. After your brain starts to dispel the haze of that strange dream and you return to the real world, suddenly it hits you: today’s your eighteenth birthday! You’re a woman now. Or you will officially be one anyway, tonight, at your birthday party.

You think about your school besties: Chloe, Jessie, Millie, Beth. Everyone’s going to be there! You remember Millie’s epic party from two months ago, the kind of celebration everyone will be talking about for years.

You also think about Ryan. He always springs to mind before any of your other guy friends. Of course he does: he’s smart and funny, he’s cute as hell, and most important, he really gets you. You had to made sure he could make it tonight. Without him, the whole thing is pointless.

You jump out of bed, hit the shower and head over to your closet with a spring in your step. You can’t help having to wear the school uniform, but you put on a fancy set of lacy black bra and panties just to feel sexy throughout the day, as your first gift to yourself.

After some more preparations, you go down the stairs to the kitchen to greet your mom and pick up your breakfast. Your mom notices you and says, “Here comes the birthday girrrl! Happy birthday, Maddie!”

“Morning, Mom!” You greet her with a kiss on her cheek. After you pull apart, you notice something odd. She’s put on a sweater, an apron, and... “Wait, why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“Morning, sweetie. What do you mean?” she asks, still focused on making breakfast. “I was in a bottomless kind of mood today, that’s all.”

“What? But, like, aren’t you going to the office today?” you ask, mystified.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she insists. She hands you a plate. “The waffles are almost done. Have the bacon and eggs first. I made them extra yummy for you!”

Despite your shower, you figure you must still be a little hazy from that last bizarre dream you were having before you woke up. You grab the plate off your mom’s hand, go around the counter, sit down at the table and dig into it.

After a couple of minutes, you hear a sound. Something like... water drops? From your position, you can barely see the kitchen tap, but nothing appears to come out of it. Maybe it’s a pipe leak?

“Mom, do you hear that?” you ask. You look around quickly, but can’t find anything that looks like water.

“What, sweetie?” she asks in return, turning to face you. The leak seems to be growing more intense now, like a tap slowly being turned on.

“I think it’s coming from your side,” you say. You immediately get up, walk around the counter... and stop dead in your tracks. You see (or you think you see) your mom, wearing no pants, legs just slightly apart and hips just slightly forward, with yellowish-clear pee coming out of her vagina in a low arc, to absolutely no reaction on her part but her usual pleasant smile. Could it possibly...? Before you can stop yourself, you yell, “Whoa, what the fuck? Are you peeing on the floor?!”

“Madison! I’m not a prude or anything, but is that kind of language necessary?” your mom scolds you. Meanwhile, the arc of piss emanating from her urethra grows, jutting forth and splashing the linoleum like a small hose. “Especially over nothing. What do you mean ‘am I peeing on the floor’? Are you that distracted by your birthday?”

“I... No... Well, maybe? But...” Then it hits you: either you’re still dreaming, or that crazy-ass dream must, somehow, actually be real. There’s no way, is there? You decide to go for broke and put your hand under the stream, figuring something so crazy should help you wake up. “AAAHHHH! What the hell?” you yell as your mom’s piss briefly splashes your hand and forearm, with a few tiny droplets hitting your face. You instantly reel in your now-piss-drenched hand in absolute shock. It felt extremely real. Could it be?

“Maddie. Look at me. Are you okay?” your mom asks, in an attempt to soothe you. Her stream of piss is finally starting to die down. She offers, “Do you need a hug? A pee, a poop? Did you go in your bedroom?” You stand there, mouth agape and speechless, still unsure that you’re hearing her correctly, when she says, “Here, I’ll join you.”

She changes her stance slightly, rotating her hips backward and lifting her ass, the last of her urine fizzling out and running down her legs. She inhales deeply, holding her breath, and a second later you hear, loud and clear, a fully resonant, growling fart. She softly exhales, then inhales again. A second, very brief toot rings out, and she stands there motionless as you see, peeking out from under her vagina, a hard brown lump. “Come on, honey! Let go!” she encourages you, as the lump grows longer and longer, until it splits under its own weight and hits the linoleum with a loud, reverberating slap. She exhales and inhales once more. “Are you doing it? Let loose those sphincters, just like we talked about!” she says excitedly, as another, softer turd slides out from under her pussy and falls, landing on top of the first with a damp thud.

This whole spectacle is beyond you, and you can’t do anything except watch in awe as your own mother, after unbelievably pissing all over her own kitchen floor, takes a standing shit, as if it was the most normal thing in the world and not a fucking strange, gross thing to do. This is it. The dream is real.

After a few smaller and smaller pieces of shit fall from behind her, adding to the pile on the formerly pristine floor, your mom says, “I know it’s difficult when you first start, but I wanted to share a special moment with you, woman to woman. It’s okay, we’ll have every opportunity to enjoy a pee and poop together. You’re gonna make an amazing woman, Maddie.” Somehow, in some twisted way, your mother’s attitude right now is so supportive and heartwarming that you genuinely feel loved. “Tell you what, why don’t you save your first pee and poop for your birthday party tonight? I’m sure your friends will love to share it with you. Maybe you can ask Millie how she felt at hers.”

Throwing common sense to the wind, you walk across her piss puddle and give her a strong hug. Maybe she has a point. This insane new reality hasn’t changed who you, or your mother, or your friends are. Maybe you should learn to enjoy your new toilet-free life, starting today.