Scaffolder Danny Wets Himself

[Lee]

We were supposed to be standing watching the summer’s parade organised by the local community centre but at the back of the assembled crowd my attention was drawn to the noise coming from the building behind us. It had been closed for a number of years but now about to undergo a major renovation, the scaffolders were busy at work erecting the complex boarding structure.

Their lorry was parked on the corner of the street and there were around half a dozen guys working and constantly yelling and shouting down and across to each other whilst the clatter of iron-on-iron boomed out every so often. Much of the noisy shouting was friendly banter although the majority of them seemed incapable of communicating in anything other than loud voices.

One of the scaffolders in particular had caught my eye about 15 minutes earlier. He was a lad around 24’ish, not especially large in build but with the muscular and powerful upper body and arms that you would associate with that type of heavy work. The lifting work had obviously helped him develop well as even his legs looked muscular, strong and sturdy. He was wearing just a skimpy yellow, hi-visibility waistcoat, which was wide open at the front and with no vest or undershirt, showing off his tanned smooth chest. He had on a pair of light grey track-suit shorts with the waist cord dangling loosely undone, meaning that his shorts rested low on his hips showing the top of a pair of white underpants with a black waistband displaying the Calvin Klein branding.

Lower down, at the bottom of his tanned bare legs, his feet and ankles were encased in a pair of black crumpled down sports socks showing above the tops of his dirty, beige caterpillar boots. He was one of the noisier ones, seemingly ‘larking around’ constantly but it was neither his appearance nor his demeanour that had attracted my attention.

Whilst half-watching the parade I had glanced to my left to see this lad walking away from the building and peering up and down the street a couple of times. The subject of his searching looks became quickly obvious to me when he touched the crotch of his shorts a couple of times and then gave himself a 2-3 second squeeze, scrunching up the material of his shorts in his fist with a couple of brief massaging holds.

He began to walk back to the building and suddenly stopped, looking furtively around him before heading towards a walled alleyway and I could see the back of his body as he was clearly fumbling with the cord of his shorts and then I saw his shorts drop slightly as he opened his legs apart, almost face-to-face with the brickwork.

Suddenly, a voice bellowed out, “Where the bloody hell are you, Danny?”

Quickly adjusting his shorts and stepping back, he yelled back, “I’m here! I’m here!”

He began to walk back towards the building, pulling at the crotch of the grey material a couple of times before shouting out, “Where’s the fire, then?”

“Get your arse over here, you lazy git!” someone called out from the scaffold, followed by a couple more snappy instructions.

Danny walked over to the bottom of the ladder where his mate had shouted down from and began to comically dance from foot to foot with his arms in the air and ‘flicking’ V-signs at the other bloke. There was a lot of laughter and shouting and Danny started to walk away, stopping after a few yards and bending forwards, dropping his shorts at the back and ‘mooning’ at the others before skipping off in a child-like fashion.

During the next 15 minutes or so I kept glancing over to see if he was going to make another bid to find a discreet place to do what he’d obviously badly needed to earlier but he carried on working and seemed to spend equally as much time messing around. He was exchanging banter with the others, sometimes singing loudly and badly, at the top of his voice and dancing around in what he clearly thought was an amusing fashion.

All of the other scaffolders were high up on the structure and he was the only one left on the ground and I watched as he walked back to the lorry, stood and mopped his brow in the scorching hot sunshine and took a lengthy swig from a plastic water bottle. Then, from off the back of the lorry he began to haul a seemingly never-ending ladder-like scaffold from the back. It must have been around 30 feet tall and looked incredibly heavy. He struggled to pull it right off the lorry and holding it horizontally, he wrapped his arm around the middle of it and carried it towards the building. As he got close, he stopped, dropped one end onto the ground and began to lift the whole ladder into a vertical position and with the bottom of the structure almost at waist height, he levered the top of it against one of the high scaffolds.

All of a sudden, there was loud shout as people in the crowd began to turn to see what the commotion was and most of the noise was coming from Danny himself, as he staggered slightly whilst trying to keep the structure upright. It was immediately apparent that the top end had slipped from resting against the scaffold and Danny was taking the whole weight in his arms. It looked a miracle that he was managing to hold it in a vertical position and he was shouting, almost hysterically as he staggered from foot to foot. Further up the scaffold, the others were running and scrambling to try and get down and help him but they had to descend the series of ladders and they were also yelling and frantically falling over themselves to try and get down as quickly as they could.

Back on the ground, Danny was valiantly keeping the massive ladder upright. As I looked at him, the physical effects of his strenuous efforts were apparent. Even from a short distance away I could see the muscles bulging out from his heavily tattooed arms, creating almost a ‘Popeye’ effect, whilst his face was so red I could virtually see the veins standing out on his forehead. His legs were close to buckling as he looked like a drunk man, staggering from one foot to the other and I could see that his arms were trembling violently as he desperately held on to what must have been a tremendous weight.

There were a few gasps and cries of panic from those in the crowd but all eyes were on the young scaffolder as he was doing everything in his power to avert what could have been a disastrous incident.

I could see the sweat glistening on his chest and all of a sudden, I saw something else that made my heart miss a couple of beats…

… the front of his grey track-suit shorts suddenly began to darken and the dark stain rapidly spread out to cover almost the entirety of the front area. As everyone stood transfixed, the paving stones on which he was standing also began to darken between his boots as an intermittent trickle from his shorts turned into a little stream, hitting the pavement and pooling out around both of his feet. There were little trickles running down the insides of both of his legs, weaving their way from above his knees right down to the tops of his ankles and being absorbed into his socks and boots.

By this stage, his mates had all arrived, almost all at the same time and between them, they took the weight of the ladder and managed to get it to rest against the wall of the building. Back on the pavement, Danny was still standing there, motionless and expressionless, but the trickle from his shorts hadn’t stopped. Instead the opposite was happening and he was urinating forcibly, with the powerful jet firing through his sodden and discoloured shorts and streaming noticeably all down his legs, glistening in the sunlight with his tan coloured boots streaked with wetness. The puddle was huge, spreading around both of his feet with little trickles dribbling across the pavement and running into the paving stone cracks.
His mates were all glancing at each other in an embarrassed silence and around me in the crowd I could hear a few muttered comments,

“Oh he’s wet himself!”
“He’s going in his shorts!”
“Look, he’s done it in his pants!”

As Danny stood there with urine dripping from the cuffs of the shorts, his mates began to gather round him although the conversation was inaudible. After a few seconds, with a couple of the guys holding each of his arms, they began to walk him away towards their lorry. The pool was glistening and glimmering in the bright sunshine and Danny left wet footprints in his wake as he waddled awkwardly away, with his bow-legged steps revealing the heaviness of his sopping wet and sagging grey shorts. There was a buzz amongst the crowd with startled onlookers revealing their astonishment at what they had just witnessed.

As the parade which everyone had supposed to have been watching finally came to an end, I walked back and as I passed the lorry, the guys who had not resumed work, were milling around. Through the front windscreen of the lorry I could see a bare-chested Danny sitting with a mug of tea, sipping away from the large mug, with his tan boots lying side-by-side on the kerb.

On the temporary metal fence alongside the vehicle, his grey shorts, now almost entirely dark-coloured, were spread out on the top of the rail for everyone to embarrassingly see. A little further along was a pair of white Calvin Klein pants, the tight-fitting boxer-briefs-style, with a black waistband, and clearly absolutely saturated and alongside the underpants were two very well-worn black socks, each with a small white Adidas emblem on the ankle.

What Danny was wearing in the front of the lorry however, remained undiscovered – for now!

Home After Work

It was around 3:00pm when Danny arrived back his home and let himself through the front door. In the kitchen, his mum heard the door open and instinctively called out “Is that you Danny? Take those boots off before you come in.” She had almost a daily gripe about her son walking through the house in often dirty boots and she now issued a regular reminder almost without thinking.

There was inevitably no answer but around 30 seconds later, Danny walked through the lounge and into the kitchen. His boots were dangling by the laces in his right hand but he was also bare-footed and his mum glanced puzzlingly at his feet before also looking at the blue-striped shorts he was wearing. They looked like underwear boxer-shorts and were badly ripped at the top of the leg and she had not seen them before. Before she could say anything Danny had noisily dropped his boots onto the conservatory floor and he raised the plastic carrier bag he was also holding,

“These need to go in the wash, where shall I put them? Leave them in the bag, though.”

His mum took the bag from his hand before he could say anything else. “What do you mean ‘leave them in the bag’? They’re not your shorts you’re wearing, are they? And where are your socks?”

She opened the bag, went to peer inside and immediately recoiled as if hit by an unpleasant smell. As she put her hand into the bag, she spoke at the same time as she carefully pulled out a pair of white underpants, holding them between her finger and thumb as one of Danny’s socks also hung loosely, caught up in the pants,

“Oh Danny! You haven’t? Not again!”

“What do you mean ‘not again’? Danny snapped angrily.

“You haven’t wet yourself Danny, have you? Not at work, surely?”

Danny scowled in furious fashion. “I asked you to wash them, not to conduct an enquiry.”

By this stage, his mum had let the briefs drop back into the bag and instead she was holding the cord of his grey track-suit shorts, stained almost entirely dark-coloured, with just a few patches of the original lighter colouring still showing. “Whatever happened? These are all saturated. You weren’t drinking at work, surely?”

Danny threw his hands up in despair, “Oh yeah, course I was. I was up and down the ladders with a can of beer in one hand, don’t be so daft.”

“So what happened? Danny, you’ve come home from work with your shorts in a bag after wetting your pants, something must have happened.”

Danny stepped back, sat down on a kitchen stool and began to recount the story.

“…there weren’t no toilets available anywhere…”
“…I was busting to go but there was people everywhere…”
“…I was just about to say I was going to take the lorry into town to find a toilet…”
“…I picked up a side frame but it slipped and I had to take all the weight myself…”
“…I was straining every muscle so much to hold it, I wet myself…”
“…my bladder just started emptying, I didn’t even realise ‘till I felt it running down me legs…”
“…I had to go such bad I couldn’t stop once I started and I just did it in my pants…”
“…it was nothing like last time…”

As Danny made himself a coffee and his mum began the task of washing her 24-year old son’s shorts, pants and socks both he and her momentarily cast their minds back to just under a year ago…

Ten or so minutes later, Danny was sitting on the edge of the bath about to get in and give himself a much-needed long soak, to wash away the memory of the earlier incident as much as to rid himself of the grime and sweat that had accumulated during the hot day’s work. As he slipped off the blue-stripped boxer shorts he realised just how thin and flimsy they were and yet he’d been out in public wearing them.

Shortly after his accident, he had been sitting down on the steps of the cab of the lorry when Jay came over to him, “What are you going to do, mate? About your wet togs I mean. You can’t sit about in those pissy things, you’ll stink after a while.”

Danny shrugged unknowingly, “I know, but I can’t change until I get home, I’ve got nothing to put on.”

“Hey look, mate” Jay suggested, “Why don’t you borrow my pants? I don’t need ‘em, I can easily go commando. Let me jump in the cab, whip me pants off and then you get in and strip all your stuff off? It’ll be better than trying to keep your wet ones on and then ponging later.”

Danny just raised his eyebrows and shrugged again as Jay patted him on the shoulder and before he knew it, Jay was into the cab and shutting the door. He emerged again no more than 30 seconds later, tying the cord-string on his shorts and held the door open for Danny to climb in. On the seat was lying a pair of pale blue stripped boxer shorts, a bit tatty-looking but dry at least! Danny had nothing to clean or dry himself off with, but he took off his sodden shorts and peeled his white briefs down his legs, quickly replacing them with Jay’s still slightly warm underwear. He swung open the door and Jay was still there.

“Better, surely?”

“Yeah, cheers mate,” nodded Danny, although he was still feeling grimy and sticky.

“Give us ‘em ‘ere then” said Jay, and he leant into the cab, picked up Danny’s pants and shorts from the floor and laid them out on top of the nearby railing.

“Maybe the sun’ll dry ‘em off a bit anyway” he suggested, “Give us your socks as well, we may as well try and dry the whole lot if we can.”
Danny obliged almost without thought, tugging off his already unlaced boots and handing Jay his damp and sweaty black sports socks.


ELEVEN MONTHS EARLIER…

Back in the bathroom, Danny sunk into the warm soapy water and laid back. ‘What a day, I can’t believe I’m going to have to go through all this again…’ He closed his eyes and the entire affair of eleven months previous played out in his mind like a video recording…

…It had been around May time when Danny’s mum had called him one evening and asked him to pop into the lounge where she was sitting with his dad. They explained that as it was to be their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in August, they were going to go for a week’s holiday in Portugal and they wondered whether, to celebrate as a family, Danny and his girlfriend Dawn would like to come along with them?

“I’d love to, but I’m skint, I don’t have the cash I’m afraid” Danny explained.

“We’re paying for the flights and hotel, all you’ve got to do in bring along yourselves and some spending money” his mum told him.

Danny didn’t need asking twice and having given Dawn the good news, August couldn’t come quickly enough and it was time to book annual leave at work.

On the day of the flight, they all arrived at London Heathrow airport. His parents, Doug and Angela, were relaxed and looking forward to their seven-day break. Dawn was as excited as a teenager and Danny was his brash, confident 23-year old self. In readiness for sunshine and leisure, he was dressed in a singlet-like vest, cut-off pale blue jeans ending at the tops of his calves, white football socks rolled down low around his ankles and a pair of white Nike trainers. His mum had rolled her eyes with a smile when she first saw him.

Their ridiculously early arrival at the airport gave them ages to spare and, of course, Danny started the holiday in typical fashion by heading straight for bar. His parents both had a coffee and Dawn sipped a glass of orange juice but before any of them had finished, Danny had slurped down a cool pint of lager. He disappeared to the bar and returned with another pint, knocking it back as quickly as he had done the first one.

When their flight was eventually called and they all got up to make their way to the gate, his mum said “Anyone need the loo before we go?” Danny was in holiday hilarity mood, “Me, me, me, mum, me!” he whimpered, standing up and crossing his legs like a little boy, before laughing out loud, “Blimey mum, you haven’t asked me that since I was six years old!”

Well go on then, quick” she said.

“Nah, I’m joking, I’m alright” he replied, “Its ‘oldies’ like you who should worry about stuff like that!”

The boarding was speedy and virtually on the designated departure time, they took off. Danny and Dawn were sitting in the row directly in front of Doug and Angela and after spending time reading, listening to music and with Danny enjoying a duty-free beer, Dawn had eventually rested her head on her boyfriend’s chest and was sleeping peacefully. They were well into their second hour of the flight when he carefully lifted her head and whispered,

“Sorry love, I’ve got to disturb you, I need the loo.”

Dawn sat up and swivelled round so that Danny could squeeze past her and as she raised her arms into the air in a stretch, she looked down the aisle to see Danny standing patiently in a short queue waiting for the toilet to become vacant.

After he’d returned and they’d chatted for a while, she asked ‘How long before we land?”

He looked at his watch and said “Around 45 minutes I reckon. I’m gonna have to go for a wee again, I’ve broken the seal now”. No sooner had he uttered the words than the seat-belt signs flashed on. “Oh Shit! What’s that all about? We’re not ready to land yet, surely?”

His answer came with an announcement over the tannoy “Ladies and Gentlemen, we may be entering a period of turbulence, please remain in your seats.”

Danny grimaced, “It’d better be over quick so I can get to the toilet”.

Twenty minutes later, having been shaken about unpleasantly by the predicted turbulent conditions, Danny was sitting there jigging his legs around, "Come on, Come on, when are they gonna open the toilets again, I’m busting here.”

Dawn looked along the aisle, “There’s no sign of any movement from anyone.”

“Call her, call the stewardess” Danny asked her, “Call her for me and find out. Go on please, I’m absolutely gagging to go.”

“No I can’t do that” Dawn said.

“Please, just give her a shout. I can’t last out ‘til we land. I’m going to have to go in a minute!”

Dawn was looking anxiously from her obviously desperate boyfriend to the un-attentive stewardess and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Danny’s knees constantly knocking together.

Suddenly, there was another announcement, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope the turbulence did not cause you too many problems and I believe that we are now through the worst of it. However, as we shall shortly be beginning our descent into Faro airport, the seat-belt signs will remain on until we have landed. The toilets will stay locked for the remainder of the flight. Thank you.”

Dawn swung her head around to look at Danny who had an expression of horror on his face. “I don’t believe this, I’m not going to be able to wait! What am I gonna do?”

“What’s the matter?” his mum leaned forward and whispered from the seat behind.

“Danny’s dying to go to the toilet” whispered back Dawn.

“He’s been once” said his dad.

“I know, he’s got to go again, he’s bursting.” Dawn replied.

“That’s what you get for drinking pints” his dad said unsympathetically.

“He’ll have to wait now, there’s nothing else he can do” was the unhelpful advice offered by his mum.

Dawn leaned towards Danny and gripped his hand, “Are you going to be alright?”

“No” Danny scowled, “I’m bloody not. I’m bursting, there’s no way I’m going to survive until we get off, no way at all, not a hope.”

“Well, what are you going to do?” asked Dawn.

“Do it in my jeans if I sit here any longer, that’s what!” he snapped back irritably and before she knew it, he’d reached up and pressed the assistance button. With no immediate response, he began to wave his hand in the air and a few seconds later, a male member of the cabin crew walked down the aisle to their seats.

“What is it, sir?” he asked.

“I’ve got to go to the toilet”

“I’m sorry Sir, the toilets are closed for the rest of the flight”

“I don’t care, I’m desperate. I’ve got to go! Can you open one for me?”

The steward was firm in his reply “No. The toilets will not be opened. You’ll have to wait I’m afraid”.

Danny was in despair, “I can’t wait. I’m dying to go. I really can’t hold on!”

“You’ll have to wait until we land, sir” replied the steward in a quiet, calm voice.

Danny’s tone was the complete opposite and his words caused his girlfriend to blush in embarrassment.

“I’m gonna wet meself if I sit here, don’t you understand? I’m seriously gonna wet myself!”

His raised voice was loud enough to cause a few heads to turn and from the seat behind and having heard his son's pleading, his dad leaned forwards.

“Danny!” he spoke sternly, “You’ve heard what he said, there’s nothing can be done. You have to wait”.

“I can’t wait!” Danny spoke more quietly than before, “I’m almost doing it!”

The steward had heard enough and turned and walked back to the front of the plane.

In the row behind, his mum turned to his dad, “Is he going to be alright do you think? What if he really isn’t able to wait?”

His dad shrugged, “He’ll have to do it in his trousers, won’t he? No, he’ll be alright, he just needs to calm down a bit and sit tight. He’ll be okay, trust me.”

Dawn ran her fingers down Danny’s bare arm and stroked his hand, “Just try and relax”

Danny tilted his head back and put his right hand across his forehead, “I’ve never ever had to go this bad, never like this.”

“You’re just panicking because you can’t go. You’ll be okay if you try not to panic.”

He shook his head, “No. I won’t. I keep thinking I’ll do it in my pants any minute.”

“Don't be silly, you won’t!” Dawn said firmly, “just calm down.”


During the next 15 minutes Danny’s agony was as painful to watch as it must have been for him to experience. He was fidgeting around, shifting from one buttock to the other and raising himself from the chair and then sitting firmly again. His legs were frantically jigging around and he kept clasping his knees tightly together, then splaying his legs wide open again. His right hand was buried into his crotch and every so often he was clasping his fist open and closed, kneading himself whilst his left palm was pressing down hard on the arm of the seat, occasionally banging the arm rest in frustration.

Dawn could hardly take her eyes off him and in the row behind, his mum kept peering through the gap in the seats to check that her son was okay. As the plane hit the runway and everyone bounced slightly in their seats, Danny let out a loud groan and squeezed his legs together tightly.

“When we can go, just get off” said Dawn, “don’t worry about anyone else or your bag, we'll sort all that. Just get off and find a toilet, okay?”

Danny nodded, almost unable to speak as the next few minutes became agonising beyond belief. The delay before anyone moved was excruciating and he was sitting with his head bowed muttering to himself “come on, come on, hold it, hold it, come on, just hold it”.

As the seat belt lights finally went off and people started to move, Danny scarcely knew whether to lift himself out of the seat, terrified that when he moved he’d start to pee himself uncontrollably. Other passengers were bustling around, moving into the aisles and starting to get luggage from the overhead compartments, although Doug and Angela could see that several were glancing in their son’s direction to obviously see whether he’d survived his ordeal. As people started to move, Danny painfully got up, assisted by Dawn and he could hardly put one foot in front of the other as he hobbled into the packed aisle.

As if he needed any more attention drawn to his embarrassing predicament, his dad called out, “Can everybody let him off, please? Please, just stand aside and let him off first if you will, he needs to get off as urgently as possible.”

As they approached the exit doors, Dawn tried one last plea, “Can’t you just unlock the toilet for him, please?” but her request was met with a shake of the head from a stewardess.

Doug and Angela had sorted out the hand luggage whilst Dawn had her hand on Danny’s lower back as he carefully hobbled down the stairs, walking as if he had broomstick handles wedged down both legs of his trousers. But as he looked ahead and saw a waiting bus, he came as close to shedding a tear as at any time since he was a child, “Oh No! Not a bus! I don't think I can do this anymore! I’m just about to wet myself!”

“Get on and stand right by the doors, you’ll be able to get off first, it won’t be long” begged Dawn but Danny was almost beyond the stage of hearing. Lifting his foot to step up into the bus took a monumental effort and as he leaned back against a glass panel right by the door, his bladder muscles began to contract and quiver, causing him to strain every sinew to get himself back under control. A few seconds later, the pulsating sensation in his bladder started up again and with each contraction, his control weakened and his tummy flipped in a tingling fashion.

Dawn was standing facing him close up as if to protect him from being jostled by other passengers, all of whom were looking at him as they boarded. Danny bowed his head slightly and whispered, “Where’s me mum and dad?”

“They’re just getting off now, why?”

“I think I’m doing it in my pants, Dawn! I think I’m weeing!”

“No you’re not!” she whispered back, although she couldn’t help herself stealing a glance down at the crotch of her boyfriend’s jeans. Danny plunged his hand down and grabbed himself, scrunching up the material of the crotch of his shorts and as the same time, he crossed one leg over the other, pressing his legs tightly together as he began to jig up and down on the spot humiliatingly, in the manner of a little child.

Almost everyone on the bus was staring at Danny and as his mum and dad got on with the luggage, Angela put her hand over her mouth as she saw the state of her son and his dad Doug just said loudly, “Oh bloody hell!” and from somewhere on the bus, a voice shouted out,

“Hurry up will you driver, we’ve got a lad here about to have an accident in his trousers!”

Eventually the bus trundled away, bumpily making its way across the concourse until it reached the terminal and Dawn tried to propel her boyfriend down the steps but as his feet hit the floor, he clutched himself tightly again and whimpered “I’m going! I’ve just done a bit!”

She ushered him into the arrivals hall … only to find that another busload of passengers had arrived just in front of them, and there were three lengthy queues to the passport check desks. Danny found himself in the midst of the middle queue, behind passengers from the earlier bus and in front of many of those who had been on his flight. Even those ahead of him were turning back to see what was attracting so much attention and the sight was a spectacular one from all angles.

From the front view, Danny was holding himself through the crotch of his jeans and had his legs pressed together at the knees whilst from behind the incoming passengers could see his backside wiggling frantically and lower down his feet, ensconced inside white trainers, were on tip-toe. Danny was frantically trying not to wet himself, even although he knew that beneath his shorts, his tight-fitting white briefs were sodden at the crotch where he had let go several spurts during his momentous struggle. His calf muscles were aching as he strained his legs and encased in his rolled-down white football socks, his toes were curling constantly.

All of a sudden, everything seemed to stop … there was no fidgeting … no bouncing … and no bobbing …

Instead, there was an almost serene calmness and silence and for a brief few seconds, the world around him seemed to stand still whilst Danny himself could neither see nor hear any movement…

People began to step back to leave the area directly around him as an open space and Danny was completely exposed in the middle of the large hall. Some passengers were looking at his face, others were looking at each other but the majority were staring at his feet…

It was a pretty safe bet to assume that he had begun to uncontrollably urinate a couple of seconds prior to people realising what was happening, presumably soaking straight into the material of his pants and jeans, because the first indications to those watching was an absolute deluge of clear, silver pee simply jetting out of the bottom of the leg of his cut-off jeans. The torrent was half-running down his right leg and half-cascading onto the carpeted floor whilst the stream down his left leg instantly widened into a spreading glistening shadow which soaked the entire inside of his bare lower leg.

At his feet, his crumpled and rolled-down thick white socks initially absorbed much of the flow but their rapid saturation saw the urine dripping off his socks and running over his trainers. His jean shorts had darkened right across the crotch and the top of his legs and the ever-glistening and drenched material looked shiny.

Inside his pants, Danny could feel the most incredible warmth, almost a scorching sensation which just continued unabated and spread all round his backside and down the backs of his thighs. The huge puddle was forming around both of his feet and soaking into the carpet but not before a few wispy wraiths of steam evaporated from both the floor and from his socks.

Danny stood and wet himself in torrents, urinating into his underpants with the force often associated with that of a camel or an elephant and any attempt to stop himself would have been futile. The people standing watching, now positioned well back from the spectacle, looked on in sheer amazement at the force, volume and length of his pee which few had ever seen matched.

Dawn was standing a few paces to the side of him, with her hands covering her face and just looking aghast at what was happening, whilst slightly further back, Danny’s mum was staring with an expressionless look and his dad had his hand on his forehead in disbelief. When Danny had finally ‘finished’, standing there with trickles and dribbles running down his legs, Dawn stepped towards him and just place her hand on the back of his burning neck.

“It doesn’t matter” she whispered, “you couldn’t help it, I know that.”

Expressing the obvious was the understatement of them all as Danny just muttered in quiet shame, “I had to wet myself!”

Still standing in horror at what they’d just witnessed happen, his mum Angela turned to his dad and said “Oh My God, Doug, he’s wet his pants!”

His dad was still shaking his head in disbelief and he replied, “This is going to take some recovering from for him, I mean wetting himself like this. It’s not as if he’s a little kid any more, he’s 23 for heaven’s sake. I don’t know how he’s going to deal with this” as his mum added in typical motherly fashion, “I wonder if the hotel have got a laundry service because I bet he only bought that one pair of jeans with him?”

[Fred]

Lee, if you have some of your other gems available to post here, please do so. There's no guarantee that we'll ever have access to the old board to recover them, and they mustn't be lost forever!

[Lee]

Thanks Fred. If I find any more worth reproducing, I'll consider adding them over time.

[Brian]

Thanks Fred. If I find any more worth reproducing, I'll consider adding them over time.

You've written dozens and dozens of brilliant stories, some dating from many years before I stopped just lurking on M.desp sites and started showing my face, and many more since then. I never recall seeing anything from you which isn't worth reproducing.

[Connor]

Really love this story, so glad to be able to read it again!