wet Jessie

18th birthday

Mrs. Smith took one look at her and knew something was wrong. "What happened?" she asked as Jessie collapsed into the passenger seat, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

"Another accident," Jessie whispered, her voice barely above a sob.

Her mother's expression softened, and she reached over to squeeze her hand.

The drive home was filled with the uncomfortable silence that comes from shared embarrassment and fear of the unknown. Jessie's mind was racing, thinking of the whispers and giggles she'd have to face tomorrow. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her mother's hand in hers.

When they arrived home, Mrs. Smith helped Jessie out of the car, taking the plastic bag filled with her wet clothes. Inside the house, the scent of dinner wafted through the air, the smell of roast chicken and potatoes a stark contrast to the odor that clung to Jessie. She felt the pad between her legs, a constant reminder of her failure.

Annabelle was sitting at the dinner table, her own plate of food untouched. "Jessie!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. But her smile faltered when she saw Jessie's tear-stained face. Jessie forced a smile, trying to keep her emotions in check.

Mrs. Smith helped Jessie into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her at the dinner table. "Let's eat," she said, her voice gentle. "We'll talk about this after dinner."

But fate had other plans. As they sat down to eat, Annabelle began to fidget in her chair,

Mrs. Smith's nose wrinkled, and she looked at Jessie. "Did you have another accident?" she asked, her voice tight with accusation.

Jessie felt her cheeks burn. "No, Mom," she said quickly. "It's Annabelle."

Her mom's gaze swept over her, and Jessie could see the doubt in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Jessie nodded, her heart racing. "It's definitely not me," she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

Mrs. Smith sighed, her expression a mix of skepticism and resignation. She walked over to Annabelle and knelt beside her chair. "Let's take a look, sweetie," she said, her voice gentle.

Annabelle looked up at her sister, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Jessie felt a pang of guilt

Mrs. Smith carefully pulled back the waistband of Annabelle's shorts, revealing the crinkly white pad of her pull-up. , it was dry and clean. But she could see the suspicion in her mother's eyes. "It's okay, honey," Mrs. Smith said, giving Annabelle's leg a reassuring pat. "It looks like you're fine."

Jessie took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. But the relief was short-lived as Mrs. Smith turned her gaze back to her. "But what about you?" she asked, her voice firm.

Jessie felt the color drain from her face. She knew she couldn't lie anymore. Her mom was too smart, and the evidence was too obvious. , she reached down to the back of her waistband, her fingertips grazing the soft fabric of the pad. She took a deep breath and pulled it back,

Her mother's eyes widened as she saw the dark patch that had begun to form and saw the unmistakable lump of poop in Jessie's pants. "Jessie," she said, her voice a mix of disappointment and concern. "You promised you'd tell me."

Jessie's eyes filled with tears as she nodded. "I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Smith's expression softened as she took in her daughter's misery. She knew this wasn't a situation to be handled with anger. Instead, she took a deep breath and stood up, her hand reaching out to help Jessie to her feet. "Come on," she said, her voice gentle. "Let's get you changed and then we'll talk."