Policeman's Nightmare at Court

Stories, writings, literature, partial stories, multiple chapters etc. Discussions within the stories threads also permitted and encouraged. Please get involved, we always like new and old material, and different writing styles. Please do not post any sexual references here, there is another section for those stories (SI).
Post Reply
Lee
Well Known Member
Posts: 258
Joined: 18 Sep 2016, 16:05

Policeman's Nightmare at Court

Post by Lee »

When police offers gather for social functions and the alcohol has been flowing freely, tales of embarrassing escapades and comical incidents often begin to do the rounds and one of the all-time favourites is that concerning a young-at-the-time constable called Kevin Matthews who was involved in a remarkable episode a good number of years back.

The story goes that the lad who was aged about 20 at the time was giving evidence for the first time at a brand new Crown Court building. He was, not uncommonly, very nervous and found himself in the witness box giving evidence for not far short of two hours and he was able to stand down only when the jury was released for a comfort break. His first task on leaving the courtroom was to try and find himself a toilet as he had to piss urgently. He hurried along the corridor looking frantically for a Gents sign but appeared to be out of luck. He was fast approaching the beyond-desperate stage and in some considerable discomfort he found himself at the end of the corridor facing an unmarked door. Rather than turn back and head off to where he had started out, he gingerly opened the door and stepped inside where he was faced with an empty room laid out with numerous chairs and a large table.

As he looked around he saw a couple of doors leading off the far side of the room and with his heart pounding and his bladder throbbing, he moved towards one of the doors, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be where he was but genuinely not knowing what other action to take and surmising that one of the doors must, at the very least, lead back into a public area.

All of a sudden, and just as he was about to place his hand on the door knob, he heard voices on the other side of the door through which he had entered and he realised that someone or a group of people were about the enter the room. Feeling somewhat panicky and immensely guilty about being somewhere he obviously shouldn’t be, PC Matthews decided to move quickly and get out of one of the other exits and he rapidly opened the door and half-stepped through. In sheer panic as he heard the main door open he hustled himself through and pulled the door behind him, sweating in horror that he hadn’t been discovered.

The horror of the situation that engulfed him was too awful for words. He found himself in what could only be described as a tiny cupboard, stacked with chairs so that he was left with little more than about half a metre in which to stand between the piled-high furniture and the door. Even worse was that he had been unable to properly close the door behind him and so it remained very slightly ajar. His distress at his situation paled into insignificance when he realised with heart-thumping horror that the voices he had heard outside were those of the jurors in the case in which he had just given evidence, being ushered into the room by a court official.

PC Kevin Matthews almost passed out with the terror of the situation. He was in a situation where his discovery would not only lead to the most serious of repercussions but would almost certainly result in the court proceedings being abandoned and his own future in the job surely on the line. As he stood in silent horror, his need to go to the toilet intensified ten-fold…

The story did not have a happy ending.

But here’s what might well have happened in that cupboard in the Jury Room…

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The young police officer was sweating and felt himself trembling all over his body as the jurors began to discuss the case and, no doubt, interrogate the evidence that he himself had just given. He could hear them chatting and he could also hear the sound of crockery clinking as they started to make themselves refreshments. His ears were almost ringing and his face was burning crimson as he tried to convince himself that if he stood perfectly still without making a sound he could avoid detection, although his legs felt like buckling beneath him as he tried to contemplate just how long he could be in this total nightmare scenario.

As he tried to get things in his head into some sort of perspective, his tummy flipped several times as he realised that he could be forced to maintain his silence and his statuesque posture for goodness-knows how long – an hour maybe, perhaps more! He felt an unpleasant wetness under the armpits of his crisp white police shirt and a warm glow spread across his cheeks as he contemplated such an unthinkable scenario – and he knew that his bursting bladder was screaming for relief and he absolutely needed to answer nature’s call within a very short time.

As he stood motionless, he had a sickening vision of standing there and wetting himself!

As the minutes ticked by, PC Matthews had never experienced such a feeling of helplessness. His legs already ached with the tautness of standing so rigid and still, he had an overwhelming desire to shift his position and the ache in his midriff was developing into short, sharp stabbing pains as he struggled to contain himself, “Oh God, I’m going to have to go in my pants!” the whisper inside his head was turning into a warning message.

Desperately keeping his arms down by his side, he dared not bob up and down on the balls of his feet with even the gentlest of movement, instead curling his toes tightly and incessantly as he kept his shoes planted firmly in place.

The seconds and minutes ticked by and PC Matthews was straining his leg muscles in agonising fashion. His calves were tense and throbbing whilst his thigh muscles were twitching as he pressed his legs together tightly with resorting to grinding his upper legs against each other as he longed to do to ease his terrible discomfort.

He could feel little beads of sweat trickling down the back of his neck and his brow was damp as his dark hair concealed the perspiration on his forehead. Even the cheeks of his backside were aching as he began to utilise long-since stretched muscles to help him remain totally still whilst ensuring that his bursting bladder would not let him down.

After what seemed like a lifetime standing there, but what in reality was probably 10-12 minutes, the young policeman was on the absolute verge of catastrophe. He had avoided being discovered and if he managed to maintain his stance there was every likelihood that that would remain the case. However, his need to relieve himself was such that wetting himself was no longer a possibility – it was a certainty. He knew that he was seconds away from starting to wee uncontrollably in his uniform trousers; the pain was unbearable and he had never been so close to simply losing control of his bladder.

The shame of wetting himself would be with him for ever and he knew he could not let it happen, but he had resigned himself to the fact that it would happen – could there have been a worse nightmare for him to face than soiling himself in uniform?

In the midst of his nauseating panic, he suddenly and dramatically felt a sense of calmness as he tried to appraise himself of what was about to happen. In a rapid return to reality he startlingly told himself, “So what? If I have to wet myself, so be it. That should be the last of my worries as long as I don’t get found out and get out of this unscathed.” He’d nearly convinced himself and almost felt like a naughty schoolboy about to commit a dirty deed. He’d worry about the consequences of wet trousers later.
As his control weakened further and his struggle began to reach its by now inevitable conclusion, he felt a warm stream trickle down the front of his thigh, dribble down to his knee and drip beyond his shin and onto his sock and although he couldn’t bend forwards or move his head, he diverted his eyes downwards to look towards his shoes.

The young policeman was about to allow his stretched bladder to ease into relaxation and begin the unthinkable but uncontrollable deluge into his underpants when, like a speeding express train, he was hit by the most horrifying realisation.

The panic was worse than he had previously experienced. Totally unable to move his body or shift his feet, the gap between the backs of his shoes and the slightly ajar door was no more than about 20 centimetres and if he had been able to look down, he would have seen a shaft of light almost touching the heels of his black shoes. If he stood there and urinated, a puddle would almost certainly form on the floor and if it spread out, the wetness would most likely escape under the door and run into the room. A pool of liquid silently emerging from beneath the door had to attract some sort of attention and - ‘Oh God! He’d be discovered!

In a desperate attempt to stop the flow he had all but started, he strained every muscle and sinew he could and the screaming pain almost made him wince out loud, but the agony was brief as a couple of long spurts wetted the material of his pants, then soaked through and began to saturate his crotch as he was unable to prevent himself doing it.

The collar of his white uniform shirt felt tight around his reddening neck, he swallowed dryly and he felt slightly sick and somewhat faint. As the hot steaming urine streamed and poured into his pants and his uniform trousers, he desperately wanted to put his hands in front of him to cup around his crotch but unable to move a muscle, he had no option but to stand motionless and piss all down his legs in scorching torrents.

As the young policeman peed himself torrentially, his mind flashed back almost cruelly to about two years ago when, as a university student, he had been coming home from a nightclub on a bus with his mates and one of them had needed the toilet so badly that he had almost been in tears of anguish. On that occasion his mate had narrowly avoided disgracing himself and making himself a figure of ridicule, but now Kevin Matthews empathised with the predicament his friend must have felt as he himself felt on the verge of tears as he stood wetting himself.

His heart was beating so fast it was almost pounding against his chest and he could feel the sweat trickling down his back. He clenched his fists and his sweaty palms almost squeaked making him cringe even more. As the flow began to subside into trickles down his lower legs and his calves, he could feel his socks sodden in his shoes and his trouser-legs clinging to his skin. His white cotton underpants were still burning with the tingling warm wetness and he could feel his short black cotton socks clinging to his ankles and cooling inside his warm shoes as the hot and sticky urine congealed under his feet and pooled in his socks all round his toes.

His anguish was such that he had scarcely heard the noise from within the room fading as the room began to empty with the jurors vacating it. PC Matthews wanted to momentarily be whisked away from this nightmare as he averted his eyes to his feet and saw the spreading steaming puddle of his urine snaking around the bottom of the door as he heard the room door close behind the final juror.

He remained standing motionless for around 20 seconds as the last droplets of pee seeped through his sodden underpants. Then, carefully, he stepped backwards out in the room, easing the door wide open and out of the darkness in the bright lights of the large room. Without a glance back at the floor of the cupboard and the escaping puddle and unaware of the wet shoe-marks he was leaving behind him on the carpet, he uncomfortably hobbled towards the main door, his cold and clammy pants sticking to him and his wet trousers chaffing as his socks and lace-up shoes squelched with each step.

Out in the corridor again he was still trembling with the sheer horror of what he had done and still in fear of being discovered, he gave a little shiver as he noticed that he had dripped onto the floor. Unaware of where he was of what he was going to do, he had taken only a few paces to his right when a voice blurted out, “Officer! What are you doing here, you’re not supposed to be beyond this door!”

It was a court usher who was looking horrified at seeing the policeman in the private court corridor.

“I’m sorry!” mumbled PC Matthews, “I’m really sorry, I was, erm, I was looking for a toilet.”

“Well, it’s not in here!” snapped the usher, “You need to go to the other end of the corridor. You’d better get out of here quickly before someone sees you. You and me will both get shot otherwise!”

Seemingly completely unaware that the young police officer’s uniform trousers were totally sodden, the usher was more concerned with urging the officer to exit through the door and back into the public area.

Suddenly, there was another voice, and this time it was a familiar one…

“You coming to the canteen, Kev?”

PC Matthews turned sharply and saw three of his colleagues heading in his direction. They were all carrying newspapers and one of them had a packed sandwich in his hand, “We’re going to grab a quick cuppa, mate, what about you?”

As they approached, Kevin suddenly noticed that one of the officers was staring at his legs with a wide-eyed expression. There was an awkward momentary silence and then a quiet voice, “Have you wet yourself, mate?”

Kevin glanced down and looked at his glistening police uniform trousers. There were also a few streaks of wetness still sitting on his shoes and the inside of one of his trouser-legs was clinging noticeably to his lower leg.

A horrific couple of seconds followed before Kevin swallowed, unable to deny the awful evidence, and he gently nodded.

“What happened?”

In an almost pathetic schoolboy-like response, PC Matthews replied, “I couldn’t find the toilet.”

He was aware of the other officers exchanging glances with each other and then one of them said, “Where did it happen?”

Kevin nodded his head in the direction of the end of the corridor, daring not to even look towards the jury room he had left just moments ago.

“Come on mate, let’s get you back to the nick” said his colleague and in a stunned silence, the four police officers walked towards the exit, with young PC Matthews feeling wet, cold and ashamed.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Well, is that truth, fiction or folklore? I’ll let the reader decide for themselves, but one thing’s for sure. Almost 28 years on, there’s a late-forties police officer, with two grown-up sons somewhere in the London area, who knows the answer without a doubt!!

Brian
Site Staff
Posts: 1529
Joined: 01 Sep 2016, 10:32
Location: The Netherlands

Re: Policeman's Nightmare at Court

Post by Brian »

Thanks for posting this story here Lee. It's one of your particularly memorable ones. The situation you describe is so mind-blowing. There was just no way out of that one for the young PC!

If those jurors had seen a small lake appearing under that cupboard door... Oh no, no wonder PC Kevin was in a panic!

I bet something like this really did happen.

Wombat48
Site Staff
Posts: 339
Joined: 14 Mar 2017, 01:39
Location: Manchester UK

Re: Policeman's Nightmare at Court

Post by Wombat48 »

Well written as always- I really thought at one point he was going to regain control of the flow and manage to hold on which would have been my favoured outcome!! 🙂

Post Reply