Debbie’s Pharmacy

Chapter 4

In which the evening ends with messy embarrassment

Nala was first to grab me around the shoulders followed just seconds later by her mother snaking an arm around my waist. Their arms kept me from falling, two strong women supporting a suddenly helpless man as he fought against what his body was doing to him.

“Are you all right, Michael?” Debbie asked. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Michael, what’s wrong?” Nala asked, then, speaking to her mother, “Let’s get him to the bathroom just in case.”

Mother and daughter moved me out of the living room, down the hall, and then nearly carried me into the oversized bathroom. After sitting me on the toilet, Nala continued to hold me up and Debbie left the room.

“Feeling better, Mike?” Nala asked.

“I think so,” started to say, but as soon as the first word was out of my mouth it was chased by a belch that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!”

Nala took it in stride, even rubbed my stomach, and said, “That’s OK, baby. But you did have us worried for a minute.”

I wiped my forehead then my face to keep the sweat from getting in my eyes. Feeling more and more normal, I started to wonder about both women calling me baby. What’s that all about?

“I think I’d better head for home,” I said standing up.

A surge of dizziness ran in then out, and I reached out to steady myself. Nala wrapped an arm around my waist and held me up until I could stand on my own.

“Are you sure? Would you like to lie down for a few minutes? You look awfully pale.”

Nala smelled so nice, but I turned my head away because the taste of that burp was nasty and I didn’t want to put Nala through the torture of smelling it.

“I’m sure. I’m fine now. A good night’s sleep should fix whatever it was.” Followed by another rumble through my belly. “And the sooner, the better, I think.”

Debbie walked in holding a bottle already open. Her dark face showed real concern, whether for my health or for the possibility of me making a mess in her immaculate bathroom I did not know. Didn’t much care at the moment, either. I was just grateful for all the support during this mini crisis.

“Here, Michael, take one of these antacids. It will reduce the gas in your tummy and settle it down considerably.” She held the pastel colored pill to my lips, I opened my mouth and she slid it onto my tongue. “Don’t swallow, baby, just chew it up and then swallow.”

I did as instructed expecting a bitter taste, but it was a gritty fruity flavor. I chewed and swallowed. In very short order my stomach did feel calmer, but the rumbling in my belly increased. The sudden pressure in my behind opened my eyes with the surprise, and I clenched behind and sphincter.

Nala had stopped supporting me and was rubbing my lower back. I closed my eyes for just a second and took two deep breaths letting out each one slowly. The world was returning to normal except for that urge to move my bowels. Past time to get home to do my business.

“Thank you both for the wonderful dinner, and the help for the unexpected gas attack, but I need to get home.” One step towards the open door and I wanted to cry.

When I took that step, my control over my sphincter relaxed and whatever was inside me trickled out reminding me I was still wearing a diaper. I stopped, clenched again, and the urge passed. Another step and whatever was going on inside me repeated, and this time the flow was thicker and hotter.

Reaching out to steady myself, both women moved closer and wrapped arms around me. Tears were welling up blurring my vision and, when I blinked, the warm drops dribbled down my face. I couldn’t stop, not the tears or the trickle out of my rectum. I looked first at Debbie, then at Nala, so embarrassed I wanted to disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered hoping they would disappear, hoping I would never have to face them again.

Then I wet myself and finally gave up the fight to stop the shit. Yes, the shit, sloppy, mushy, stinking, shit. It wasn’t an explosion, just an unstoppable flow, as though I’d lost control of everything below my waist. My knees buckled again, and I was set on the toilet again. The lid was flat and forced the crap in my diaper move like hot lava up the crevices between thighs and pelvis. The heat covered my testicles, and I bawled like a starving lost calf.

Completely humiliated, I kept my eyes clamped shut. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled over and over.

“It’s OK, baby. It was just an accident. It’s OK,” Nala whispered and stroked my now sweaty hair, and then tenderly pulled my face against her flat stomach.

After several minutes of crying and filling my diaper and wanting to die, I calmed down enough that Nala eased my head back. I opened my eyes and looked up. Nala was looking down at me with the sweetest expression I’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why that happened. It, it, just,” I hiccupped repeatedly trying to catch my breath.

Debbie returned to the bathroom and said, “Let’s get you in the tub, Michael, before you spread the mess around any further than its already gotten.”

Awareness was beginning to return and I looked around to see what Debbie was talking about. That’s when the quickly cooling mess in my left pant leg made itself known. Looking down I saw flecks and even a couple of lumps of my feces on the floor. I froze where I stood truly afraid more shit would desecrate the floor. But Nala was having none of it.

“Come on, Mikie, into the tub so we can get you out of those nasty clothes and cleaned up.” She pushed against me forcing me towards the over-sized bathtub. “That’s it, baby, lift your foot.”

Returning to the fogginess that kept me from collapsing, I obediently stepped into the tub then just stood there, uncertain what to do next. Short-lived, my indecision.

“lift your feet, one at a time, baby, so I can get those shoes and socks off you,” Nala said kneeling beside the tub. For the first time I saw the top of her head then giggled.

“And just what do you find so funny, young man?” Debbie demanded. She was helping me stand upright and didn’t appreciate the joke.

“Umm, I’m looking at the top of Nala’s head?” I made it a question because my embarrassment controlled my lack of decorum. I mean, who wouldn’t find hilarious a pasty white dude in a bathtub looking at a gorgeous black woman kneeling on the floor? Oh, god, I hope I didn’t say that out loud. Please don’t let me have said that.

“Is there something wrong with the top of my head, baby?” Nala looked up as she pulled my shoe and sock off. Those big brown eyes were like tentacles preventing me from speaking or moving.

“Well?” Nala asked.

The wooden bath brush struck my ass hard enough that I would have fallen over if Debbie hadn’t held me steady. I didn’t know what it was, but it hurt like hell, and I squealed like a pig. Only when Debbie shook the brush in my face with her free hand did I connect the pain with it.

“When my daughter asks you a question, young man, you answer it on the double and without any smart-ass remarks.” Debbie was, obviously, upset with me. Before I could figure out how to remedy the situation Nala came to my rescue.

“oh, Mama, don’t be so dramatic. The baby had an accident and is, rightfully, embarrassed by it. Besides, he’s probably drunk, too.

“Lift your other foot, baby,” I was quick to obey, then Nala said, “So, is there something wrong with the top of my head?” My shoe and sock disappeared as quickly as the left.

“Oh, no, no, it’s a beautiful head. Matches the woman beneath it.” Wow, what a smooth-tongued devil I am. Wait, probably drunk? All I had was two glasses of wine and one sip of sherry.

Debbie playfully swatted Nala’s behind with the brush, never letting me stand on my own. “Hush, girl, don’t be giving away our secrets.”

Nala stood up and I gasped. I wasn’t so drunk I couldn’t see she had, when I wasn’t looking, stripped down to her bra and panties. Why was I drunk?

“Hold him still, Nala,” Debbie said. She tugged at the hem of shirt then tried to pull it over my head. “Damn, boy, are you slow or just plain stupid? Raise those arms.” Up my arms went.

Why does she sound so mad?

My shirt disappeared up my arms. What happened to my shoes?

“Arms down, baby.” It was Nala. She wasn’t angry. Was she? I dropped my arms and stood still. Debbie steadied me again. Her hands were warm and gentle, but I didn’t forget the bath brush or the steel in her voice when she applied it.

Nala busied herself with unfastening my belt and my trousers, which she promptly tugged down past my hips and all the way down until they passed my knees and finally dropped on the ceramic floor of the enormous tub. They made a wet, sort of mushy sound when they dropped. I wasn’t so drunk I couldn't smell it. Oh, Lord, did I stink!

Nala’s fingers stroked my thigh, not where the feces had smeared, but to the outside of my leg.

“It’s OK, baby doll. We’ll get you cleaned up, into a nice, puffy, clean diaper, then into bed for a good night's sleep.” Sounded good to me.