Chapter 75: La Piscine des Souillures
The chlorine smell hit first, sharp and chemical, coating the back of Agathe's throat as she stepped through the heavy glass doors. The pool room echoed with splashes and the high-pitched chatter of twenty girls in swimsuits. Bright white light bounced off the blue tiles and the still surface of the Olympic basin, making Agathe squint.
She adjusted the strap of her one-piece, a dark navy thing that clung to her hips. Her stomach churned. She had felt it building since breakfast, that familiar low pressure, the kind that meant she would not make it through the lesson without a scene.
Chloé appeared beside her, already in a bright red bikini that left little to the imagination. She twirled a strand of her short dyed hair around a finger and grinned.
"Looking tense, Agathe. You got something cooking in there?"
Agathe forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit." Chloé flicked her shoulder. "Your face is doing that thing. The constipated thing."
Léa shuffled up behind them, wrapped in a towel despite the humid heat. Her green eyes flicked between them, nervous. "Maybe we should get in the water before the teacher starts."
"Relax, Léa." Chloé waved a hand. "It's just swimming. What's the worst that can happen?"
Agathe knew exactly what the worst that could happen was. She had felt the cramp tighten twice already, a dull insistence that made her clench her thighs together. They had eaten bowls of pasta and fiber-rich vegetables at dinner the night before, and her body had been stubbornly holding everything in.
Mme Marchal blew her whistle from the far end of the pool. The sound cut through the echo.
"Allez les filles! Tout le monde à l'eau! On commence par deux longueurs de crawl."
The girls scattered toward their assigned lanes. Agathe moved slowly, her bare feet slapping on the wet tiles. Each step sent a small jolt through her abdomen. She stopped at the edge of lane three, where a starting block rose from the deck.
Chloé took lane four beside her, doing a dramatic stretch that arched her back. Léa was in lane two, already dipping a toe in the water.
"You going to jump in or just stand there dreaming?" Chloé called out.
Agathe gripped the edge of the starting block. The cramp came again, sharper this time. A hot knot twisted low in her gut, and she knew with sudden, absolute certainty that she had maybe a minute before her body forced the issue.
She could hold it. She had held it before.
The pressure spiked. She gasped, her hand flying to her stomach.
Chloé's eyes widened. "Oh shit. You're not going to make it, are you?"
"Just... give me a second."
The cramp rolled through her like a wave, building and building, and she felt the first involuntary clench of her sphincter. No. No, not yet. She squeezed her thighs together and bent slightly at the waist, hoping the position would help.
"You're doing the squat thing," Chloé said, her voice laced with amusement. "The almost-shitting thing."
Léa had climbed out of the water and was watching with wide eyes. "Agathe, you look really pale."
The whistle blew again. "Mesdemoiselles! Dans l'eau, maintenant!"
Agathe knew she had no choice. She straightened, stepped onto the block, and looked down at the clear blue water. If she could just get in, maybe the cold would help. Maybe she could make it to the bathroom cabins at the far end.
The cramp hit her like a fist.
Her body convulsed, and she felt the unstoppable pressure surge through her like a tide. She grasped for control and found none. Her muscles betrayed her, and she pushed, a deep, primal push that came from somewhere beyond her will.
Warmth flooded her swimsuit. Thick. Heavy. She gasped as the mass forced its way out of her, filling the tight fabric of her one-piece with a heavy, solid weight that pressed against her lower back.
"Oh my God," Chloé breathed, her voice almost reverent.
Agathe's cheeks burned. The bulge pushed the fabric of her swimsuit down, making an obscene round shape beneath her. She could feel the heat of it, the sheer mass, and a strand of something liquid and brown slid down the inside of her thigh.
"Do it in the water," Chloé urged quietly. "Just get in the water."
Agathe took one step, then another. The weight in her suit swung with each movement. She reached the edge and plunged forward into the pool.
The cold water hit her like a shock. She sank for a moment, bubbles streaming past her face, and then the pressure of the water squeezed her suit. The now-soft contents of her swimsuit broke free, releasing into the water in a sudden cloud of brown that dissolved into murky streaks around her.
She surfaced with a gasp. Behind her, floating at the surface, a large, dark mass bobbed gently on the water. It was impossibly big, a solid shape that refused to break apart despite the water, hanging in the current like some grotesque buoy.
"Holy fucking shit," Chloé shouted. Her voice carried across the pool and heads turned.
The mass drifted. Water spread around it in a faint brown halo.
Then Agathe felt another cramp. And behind her, in lane five, a girl named Camille let out a surprised squeak as her own body gave way in a wet, muffled release that stained the water around her thighs.
The chaos had begun.