Mia refuses to use the potty

Mia stood frozen in the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes locked on the row of tiny, doorless toilets, her legs pressed together with determination. The assistant waited patiently beside her, hands folded in front of her apron, as if this happened every day.

And maybe it did.

Mia’s cheeks burned. She took a slow breath and whispered, “I… I can’t.”

The assistant blinked. “It’s alright, honey. They’re just toilets.”

But they weren’t. Not to Mia. Not when they looked like they belonged in a daycare, not when the classroom door was open just wide enough that anyone who turned their head might see everything.

“I’ll wait,” Mia said, forcing the words out past the growing ache in her belly.

The assistant gave her a sympathetic look. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

A moment later, Mia was walking stiffly back into the classroom, her face flushed, the pressure mounting with every careful step. She slid back into her seat, her drawing still sitting there—unfinished, forgotten.

She clenched her thighs, held her breath, focused on anything else.

But the ache was growing sharp now. Insistent.

She glanced at the clock. How long until the next break?

How long until she could ask again?

How long until—

A sharp spasm hit her bladder. Mia gasped softly, her hand darting under the desk to press between her legs. Too late.

The first burst was quick, just a second—but it was enough to make her gasp.

Then came another.

Hot. Wet. Spreading.

Mia’s eyes widened as she felt it soak through her cotton panties, pooling against the seat of her chair before trickling down her thighs. She tried to stop it, but her body had made the choice for her.

A soft splatter echoed under her desk.

Someone turned. Caiden. His eyes went wide.

The teacher looked up instantly, rising from her seat. “Mia?”

Mia sat frozen, her face drained of all color. She felt the final warmth trickle into the seat beneath her, the fabric of her skirt now clinging damply to her skin.

The teacher sighed, but her tone was almost gentle. “Oh, Mia. You should’ve gone when you had the chance.”

The assistant appeared at her side again, this time holding a tote bag. Mia didn’t need to ask what was inside.

As she stood slowly, cheeks burning, she could feel the cold cling of her soaked underwear and the way her socks had absorbed some of the runoff.

She was led once more to the back.

This time, there’d be no offer to try the potty again.

This time, she would be changed.