Mr. Rotter didn't give A's... or bathroom passes. The second rule went double during tests, which usually lasted about two hours. Only one monster was having a problem with that-the blue skinned DJ sitting next to Heath Burns. The young fire elemental nudged Holt making him jump and press his legs together. "W-what?" "Are you, uh, okay? Cause from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're about to piss yourself." Holt glared at him. "I'm fine. How much longer is this damn test?" "Hour and a half." The music lover groaned and crossed his legs. Heath snickered behind his hand. "Maybe Rotter'll give you a pass when he sees how bad you gotta go!" "Shut up! I'm a big boy, I can hold it," Holt said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Heath grinned at his cousin. Whatever you say, he thought, but kept glancing at the DJ every few seconds.
It hadn't even been ten minutes when Holt raised a trembling hand. Heath gave him a knowing smirk and got a poisonous glare in return, but he blatantly stared at Holt as the younger elemental nervously asked Mr. Rotter for a bathroom pass. The phantom teacher raised an eyebrow and snapped, "You're old enough to wait, Mister Hyde. Rules are rules... even for our resident, er, musician." Holt looked down at his paper, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He would have given anything to jump up and punch that derisive smirk off his teacher's face, or better yet, run to a bathroom. Instead, he jiggled his leg and tried to stave off the inevitable just a bit longer. Heath watched quietly, test forgotten, hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that Holt would lose control.
He did, of course. Heath watched with barely concealed arousal as Holt squirmed more and more shamelessly, eventually grabbing himself like a child. His desperation would have been obvious to anyone else looking, but the other students were all focused on their tests-Mr. Rotter was known for writing impossible questions and taking off for the slightest mistake, so everyone paid insanely close attention to assignments. With eleven minutes to go, Holt bit back a yelp and held himself with both hands, squeezing his legs together so hard it was painful, then muttered "nonononono-" under his breath, panting. Heath leaned slightly closer and blushed as a dark stain grew on Holt's pants. The DJ gave up on trying to control his bladder, and moved his already wet hands away from his crotch, fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he watched a puddle collect around his thighs. Urine dripped to the floor, and Holt blinked back tears, more humiliated that he'd ever been.
Heath gasped a little, alerting Holt to his presence. The blue skinned boy narrowed his eyes and tried to look intimidating, despite the tears drying on his cheeks and the pee drying on his legs. "Heath Burns, if you tell anyone, I swear-" "Hey, man, people are gonna notice without me telling them." Holt considered this, then smirked to himself. "I guess you're right..." Without another word, he pulled his iCoffin from his pocket and turned his music off. Before Heath could blink, Holt was engulfed in fire, and Jackson Jekyll was sitting in his place. The normie looked around, confused, then noticed the wetness on his legs. "What the-?"
A/N: Don't judge me, y'all. I recently got back into Monster High, and this idea was in my head for the past few days. The ending just kind of came to me-I imagine it won't help Jackson's social standing any. Please don't yell at me.