Kameyo Kudo

Kameyo spent the rest of the walk home with her head hung in abject shame. Though in truth they paid little attention to the young schoolgirl, it seemed to her that the various commuters she passed fixed her with accusing, belittling stares.

“How old are you,” they mocked. “Certainly old enough to hold your waste until you get home!”

A soft breeze ruffled her long, pink hair and she raised her head to let the air cool her flushing face. The area around her served as Gumma's small business district. Buildings lined the sidewalks, most of them small and family owned but a few stood several stories and toted the name of a well known company. The wide street was busy. A handful of trees offered shade to the walkers and every hundred yards or so there was a plain trash bin.

At this time of day, the sidewalk serviced people from all walks of life. Kameyo saw regal looking business men striding confidently down the sidewalk, talking furiously into their cell phones as if the conversation could decide the fate of their very souls. A family of three offered standard “excuse me”s as they pushed past her. Across the street, a knot of middle schoolers, many of whom she recognized, turned into one of the various ice cream shops. The smell of bar-b-que had by and large been replaced by a bland, odorless scent, though she could still faintly pick-up the mouth-watering aroma.

The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, but the strong wind helped stave off the summer heat. The breeze had blown Kameyo's hair wild and she smoothed over the tresses with her hand. She reached her intersection, 4th and U, and turned left. Ahead, she could clearly see the various houses and apartments that comprised the residential area in which she lived. From there she hurried home, anxious to get inside and away from the imagined stares.

Her house, while nice, was fairly standard. A small, white two story building that seemed inspired by western Victorian architects. The yard was neat and trimmed. A small flower garden that she and her mother zealously labored on all summer seemed to glow in the sunlight. A paved walk lead to the porch and across the steps leading to the front door, printed in bold black letters, read “320”.

Kameyo hurried inside and shut the door. The hall way was not large by any means, a flight of stairs led to the second floor and off to her left was a standard kitchen equipped with a stove, dining table and freezer. This is where she went first.

As expected, sitting on the table, was a note from her mother. Kameyo picked it up and read it quickly.

“Hello honey,

How was your first day back to school? I hope everything went well! If you don't have a lot of homework, could you please take care of the laundry for me? Also, the den needs dusting and vacuumed and the breakfast dishes need to be washed and put away. I know I said I'd get them this morning, but the bank called me. I'm sorry.

I'll be home around eight tonight if you want to wait for me we'll find something to eat together. There are some apples and oranges in the ice box if you get hungry before that. Well, I gotta get going. I love you and I'll see you when I get home.

Love Mom.”

Kameyo put the note down and smiled, the terrible incident from earlier already forgotten. She rarely got to eat with, or even see, her mother these past few years and the opportunity to spend a few hours with her always cheered the young girl up.

She tossed her bag on the table and started filling the kitchen sink with hot water. She did have homework tonight, but not much and she could easily take care of her mom's chores and the few assignments before eight.

Once the dishwater had been prepared, she dropped this morning's dishes in it to let them soak awhile. Then she walked upstairs to change into something a bit more comfortable.

Her room was small but adequate. A queen sized bed sat against the north wall just underneath a large window that over looked much of her neighborhood. Cats decored the thick quilt that was pulled tightly over the mattress.

The wallpaper matched her hair and the white dresser was decorated with a few stuffed cats and turtles as well as a small CD player. A CD tower, filled mostly with American artists (she loved Bruce Springsteen) hugged the side of the dresser. A sprawling, beige rug covered much of the hardwood floor and a closet which contained her nicer linens stood open on the wall opposite her bed. A full body mirror hung on the wall just left of the dresser. A small bookshelf stood just to her left as she entered the room. To her right, a hamper for soiled clothes.

Kameyo kept her room sparkling clean and tidy. Everything was arranged orderly and to her liking, except for the volumes on her bookcase which was far to small for all her books.

Kameyo began disrobing immediately, yanking the white polo shirt off and tossing it in the half-full hamper. She unbuttoned the knee length, plaid skirt next and let it drop in a heap on the floor. As she bent to pick it up she caught sight of her little bottom in the mirror. A long, brown streak stained her pink Hello Kittys. She frowned, stripping the dirty panties off and tossing them into the hamper as well. Apparently, the wet wipes hadn't cleaned her as throughly as she'd thought.

The panties were replaced with a pair of clean white ones and the shirt and skirt with a green tee and loose, dark jeans. Now much more comfortable, she grabbed the hamper and carried it to the basement laundry room.

The basement was small, but large enough to serve as the laundry room. The floor was carpeted and the single, naked bulb illuminated the whole room. Kameyo hated the way it smelled in there though, an odd mixture of mildew and detergent.

She reached the bottom of the short stairwell and was relieved to see that the rest of the hampers had already been taken downstairs. Kameyo was frail, and even the half full hamper seemed heavy to her. She dropped it next to the others, quickly sorted the clothes and started the first load washing.

She climbed the stairs and went to work on the dishes. This was not unusual for her. She came home from school everyday expecting to have a list of chores to take care of for her mother. Some of her closer friends knew about her routine and were quick to confirm that they would never do it. But Kameyo didn't mind, more than that she actually like helping her mother around the house.

When her father had died two years ago in a senseless car accident, she and her mother had been left to fend for themselves. And it was hard. At first. The two or three moths that proceeded her father's death were ones that both she and her mother tried to forget. They were filled with tears and sorrow and anger. Somehow, the two had bonded and found a way to get each other through the emotional grief.

They had to leave their home in favor of a more economical one and even then Kameyo's mom had been forced to take two jobs to support them. As a result, she never had time to maintain the house and had turned to Kameyo, who was mature and independent enough even at her young age to stay home alone, for help. She'd responded, shouldering most of the household duties while her mother paid the bills. They had been a team ever since. Her mom sometimes called them “the best mother-daughter team in the world.” It was a title that Kameyo liked and she was proud that her mother held so much respect for her.

The dishes were quickly washed, rinsed and put away. A loud buzz sounded from the basement, indicating that the first load of laundry was finished washing. After drying her hands, she headed to the basement to attend to it.

Luckily, Kameyo hadn't needed to change schools. The move actually put her within walking distance of Gumma Middle School. Her weak social life had been hurt, however, since the already reclusive girl had been forced to draw away from her friends even more. Every one of her peers certainly liked her, but Emi Suzuki, her best friend for as long as either of them could remember, was the only one she spent any time with.

When the first load of laundry was in the drier and the second was in the washer. Kameyo headed back upstairs to take care of the den.

It took considerably longer than she had anticipated to get it clean. After dusting the mantle and various knick-knacks, running to the basement to take care of the laundry and put it away, vacuuming and taking a brief break for an apple and an orange in between the clock read six thirty. A little later than she had expected, but still plenty of time to have her homework wrapped up before her mom got home.

She was at the kitchen table and just getting into the math assignment, which was little more than a review of what she'd learned last year in pre-algebra, when the wall phone rang. She looked up from her work and the phone rang a second time.

“One. Two. Three...” she began counting the seconds and when she reached ten, the phone rang again. It was the code her mother had insisted on using to let Kameyo know who was calling. Smiling, the pink haired girl hurried to the phone and lifted the receiver.

“Hi, mom,” she greeted.

“Hi, honey, how was your day,” her mother responded. Her voice was kind and gentle, but carried a hint of guilt that unsettled Kameyo a little.

“Fine,” she replied. Not a lie, if you excluded a certain incident in City Park several hours earlier. “I took care of the dishes, the laundry and the den and I'm working on my homework now,” she reported, even though her mother already knew those tasks would be taken care of.

“How was the first day back in school?”

“Good. How was work?”

Her mother sighed. “Busy. The store's been flooded and some of my help called in. But we got through it.” One of her mom's jobs was that of a manager at a small convince store. She didn't like doing it, but kept to it to keep the lights on.

“Are you still going to be home at eight,” Kameyo asked hopefully.

“Well, about that,” Kameyo's heart sank, “Tadao stopped by and wanted me to go out with him when I leave. I told him I have plans with you, but ... you don't mind do you, Kameyo?”

“No,” she croaked, trying desperately to mask the hurt in her voice. “I'll just cook something simple here.”

Kameyo's mother hesitated a moment before continuing. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Have fun.”

Again there was a pause on the other end of the line. “Okay, hun. I'll make this up to you. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“See you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, bye.” There was a click as her mother hung up and Kameyo fiercely blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. Her mother had met Tadao Sato a few months earlier at her banking job. The two had hit it off and had been seeing each other ever since.

Kameyo was happy for her mother and she genuinely liked Tadao and he liked her, too. But, between her jobs, her boyfriend and her daughter, Mari Kudo didn't have enough time in the day. Kameyo understood that her mother's time was strictly rationed and that it would do her mother good to have another man in her life. If nothing else it would mean she could quit that job at the convenience store but, despite her best efforts, Kameyo couldn't help but feel a little neglected from time to time. This was one such time.

Still fighting off the sadness, she prepared a large bowl of noodles and vegetables and ate it while polishing off her school work. When she finished it was just a little past seven and she decided to kill an hour browsing on their old computer. At around eight-thirty, she decided to take a shower and get ready for bed.

She headed for the bathroom. The bathroom was inconveniently located, way back behind the kitchen in the furthest edges of the house. The distance between the toilet and her bedroom, along with a case of diarrhea, had been responsible for her only accident.

Both she and her mother wanted the bathroom moved, but that was beyond her mother's budget . So, they made do.

Kameyo flicked the switch and squinted against the glare of the light against the shiny white tile. The modest restroom was only equipped with a small sink, a medicine cabined, a shower and a western style toilet nestled in a small cubby toward the back, but it served it's purpose.

Kameyo undressed quickly, looking forward to one of her favorite parts of the day; a hot shower. As she dropped the her final article of clothing, the small bra, she became aware of a stirring in her bowels. Frowning, she started to the toilet. Business before pleasure, she supposed.

She settled comfortably on the cool porcelain seat and relaxed. Pee dribbled slowly between her legs, gradually built pressure and became a hissing stream flooding nosily into the pool below. Kameyo sighed as her bladder emptied. Sometimes it seemed that she didn't realize how badly she needed to go until she had actually gone. The river ebbed and she could feel the payload in her colon pushing against her puckered anus.


She leaned forward and, with a grunt, pushed the log from her system. It crackled audibly as it poured from between her cheeks. It broke off quickly, splashing loudly in the water.

Another log followed, this one thicker. Several times, Kameyo had to help it along with little pushes and grunts, but for the most part the monster inched its way out without intervention. It snapped off half way to join the other mess in the pool, but the rest clung stubbornly to Kameyo's bottom.

She wriggled and clenched her anus tightly until, finally, the monster dislodged itself and splashed into the toilet. Kameyo pulled free several squares of toilet paper and cleaned her bottom before flushing the toilet and heading to the shower.

After cleaning up, Kameyo slipped into her pajamas, a long baggy shirt that had once been her dad's and a fresh pair of panties, and slipped into bed.

The clock only read a little past nine and darkness still hadn't completely chased away the final rays of the sun. But, for Kameyo that didn't matter. The day's chores had left her exhausted and her eyelids became heavy almost as soon as she tucked herself in. One of her last thoughts was the memory of squatting in the bushes in City Park, voiding her bowels in public. She vowed that it would not happen again tomorrow.

Then, she was asleep.