It was just before 07:00 on Tuesday 5th June and outside Arndale police station in West London, two hired coaches were sitting waiting to be boarded, with numbers of police officers gradually congregating on the concourse in readiness to be transported into the centre of the city to undertake crowd control duties at the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Day event. Some of the officers, all dressed in ceremonial uniform, had plastic cups of coffee with them, a few were finishing bacon sandwiches and several had bottles of drink with them.
One of the latter was 22-year old PC 183 XA Jake Cleary. He had finished his two-year probationary period just three months earlier and, as a fully-fledged Metropolitan police constable, he was about to embark on his first major event, having been assigned as one of the officers to line the procession route along The Mall. Before getting on the coach, clutching a two-litre bottle of Lucozade, he glanced down at himself. He enjoyed the look of the ceremonial uniform – a smart crisp white shirt with shoulder epaulettes, black tie, thick uniform trousers and a wide leather belt around his slim waist. Yes, he looked okay, although his shoes could have done with more of a shine. No heavy boots for today, instead it was parade shoes – standard black lace-ups, but a few of the more experienced lads had suggested it was a waste of time buffing up the shoes, because standing on the dusty Mall usually meant that you could write your name on your shoes within a few minutes of taking up your post.
It had also been suggested to him that standing for hours on end in a pair of heavy boots resulted in sore and swollen feet at the end of the long day, and as one of his colleagues had remarked, ‘ at least if you’ve got ordinary shoes on, you can take them off when you get a break and let some air to your feet!’. It had sounded good advice to Jake.
Jake did have one slight concern though. He gently pinched the material of his trousers on his left thigh and lifted his trouser leg very slightly, glancing down warily to see whether his somewhat risky choice of socks could be noticed, and his stomach gave a little flip as he vividly saw the light grey colour between the cuff of his trouser-leg and the top of his shoe. He knew he should have worn regulation plain black socks, but he’d taken a bit of a gamble with a pair of grey socks, and what he had thought to be darkish grey in the shadow of his bedroom, now looked much lighter grey. In fact, he had a horrible feeling that if glimpses of his socks showed as he walked, it might actually look as if he was wearing white socks with his uniform. That poor choice could easily come back to haunt him as the prestigious day progressed, especially if some eagle-eyed sergeant spotted his footwear.
Then again, once in position along The Mall, he probably wouldn’t move for hours and if he did, the many pairs of eyes in the crowds would surely undoubtedly be focusing on the spectacular events unfolding in the parade taking place, and not on a policeman’s feet!
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Around 40 minutes after the 07:15 departure time, coach B was still trundling slowly through traffic, wending it’s way towards Central London, and the estimated time of arrival was 08:20. Jake was sitting in one of the window seats, staring aimlessly through the glass, but also conscious that with every bump and jolt of the old and less-than-luxurious coach, his bladder tingled slightly. He cursed himself for drinking almost three-quarters of the bottle of Lucozade as he realised that, despite going for a pee when he arrived at Arndale, two cups of coffee and a litre or more of the cold fizzy drink, had not been entirely sensible.
It was around 08:35 when the coach finally pulled up in Whitehall Place and the instruction was given for all officers to disembark and gather alongside it to be given their precise locations.
‘I wonder where the toilets are?’ mused Jake to himself, as he glanced all around him.
But before he could spot anything or ask anyone, the list of locations was being read out and after hearing the precise details of his placement, they were suddenly on the move, like a military march. Walking down Whitehall, past the closed theatres and then turning left into Admiralty Arch, Jake was still perusing the vicinity to see whether he could spot a toilet, but before he knew it, they had passed under the Arch and were in The Mall itself, with officers dropping out at various points to take up their allocated posts. By the time they were approaching the middle point of the wide and expansive Mall, Jake was realising that he was approaching his own designated spot, and he spoke to the officer walking alongside him.
“Aren’t they going to tell us anything about the agenda and timings? You know, refreshment breaks, rest periods, and where the toilets are – stuff like that.”
The response was not good news for Jake.
“It’s all on the info sheet mate, the one they handed out yesterday. You did get yours, didn’t you?”
“Err, yes” Jake admitted, but slightly embarrassed, he failed to reveal that he had taken no notice of the piece of paper, disregarding the sheet and leaving it somewhere in his room without even a glance.
“Someone’ll probably come along and organise the change-over when the refreshment breaks are due. I think we’re all due a break at different times so there’s no obvious hand-over. You’re a bit stuck if you don’t know what time yours is. I guess somebody will tell you.”
His colleague laughed though as he finished his reply.
“If you don’t know what time your toilet break is though, you’re going to have to play a guessing game if you need a piss. Either that, or just cross your legs until you get told and pray you don’t get forgotten! Good luck mate!”
And with that, he was gone, off to his own location, and a couple of minutes later, Jake was standing in his allocated spot, with a slightly pounding heart, as he glanced around and smiled in response to the greetings he was receiving from members of the public already in place behind the barriers.
He turned and faced the crowds, steeling himself for what was undoubtedly going to be a long, tiring and eventful day, and amazed at the numbers of people who had already gathered and secured their spots. He glanced down at his uniform, noticing a thin dusty film already covering the tops of his shoes, resisting the temptation to wipe them on the backs of his trouser-legs, and he saw the small marking on the reddish road which indicated his spot. He took a deep breath as he prepared himself …
… but he also felt a gentle heaviness in his bladder making itself known and causing him to tense his stomach muscles very slightly.
‘I think I’m going to need to go to the toilet. I wonder what time my break is due? I really hope I’m not going to feel too uncomfortable during the morning. I definitely shouldn’t swigged that Lucozade'.
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It was around 9:35 and the proceedings were starting to get underway after a long period of near nothingness. People were making their way along The Mall to various cheers and bouts of applause, whilst the Guards had taken their places and were being keenly photographed by those in the crowd.
PC Jake Cleary was still standing in his allocated spot and it was close to an hour since he had taken up his position. With little else to focus on other than the crowds behind the barriers, who he was facing and exchanging a few smiles and pleasantries with, boredom was bound to have set in, but Jake had more pressing matters on his mind.
‘God! I really do need to go to the toilet, badly! I wonder how I go about finding someone to ask?’
He shifted from one foot to the other and tensed the muscles in his buttocks, but the fullness of his bladder was extremely apparent.
‘I wonder where we go to use the toilet? I didn’t even see any public toilets anywhere. Maybe they’ve arranged for us to use the facilities in one of the buildings, or something?’
As he was pondering the question, he was aware of another officer striding along his side of The Mall and as Jake caught his eye, he managed to convince him that he wanted to attract his attention, and the officer walked rapidly towards him. He was only of constable rank, but Jake had to ask.
“Excuse me mate, you don’t know what we do if we need a toilet break, do you?”
The other officer laughed, “You either ask one of the skippers to add your name to the ‘needing a wee’ list and probably wait until about four o’clock this afternoon, or you suck it back in and hold on for dear life! Either way, you’re probably going to test your bladder muscles to capacity today mate!”
And he patted Jake on the shoulder and strode off as rapidly as he had arrived. Jake felt his heartbeat increase dramatically and he shifted his feet again, feeling a little bit panicky.
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At 9:55 PC Cleary was standing almost in a world of his own, aware of the noise generated by the crowds and of the increasing activity on The Mall behind him, but in his head he had been transported back in time to around four years ago, when he had been in sixth form at school. He was sitting in his history lecture and bitterly regretting his illicit lunchtime visit to the pub with a couple of his fellow students. Two pints of lager consumed in speedy fashion had seemed a bit of a dare at the time, but now in his lecture, he was in severe pain as the beer desperately needed to be released.
He had glanced across at his two mates, but they seemed okay, although both highly amused as they realised Jake’s predicament. It wasn’t hard to spot as he was writhing around on his wooden chair, feeling, and no doubt looking, somewhat panic-stricken. And of course, his two fellow conspirators had not been shy to make sure that others in the room were made aware that Jake seriously and desperately needed the toilet!
Jake was sweating and he glanced up at the clock, which showed 2:45pm. The lecture was due to finish at around 3:10pm – and Jake knew that would almost certainly be beyond his capacity.
Several minutes passed, excruciatingly slowly and ever-more painfully, and with his bloated tummy rippling with the pints of alcohol screaming out to be released, the stabbing sensations were emitting warning signals to the near-19-year-old student, telling him that time was not on his side.
Five minutes later, Jake knew that it was now or never, and completely oblivious to the words of the lecturer at the front of the room, it was time to make a move – or potentially suffer the most humiliating consequences and unthinkably wet his pants!
“Where are you going?” asked the lecturer, pausing his flowing speech, as Jake uncomfortably and awkwardly stood up and stepped out into the aisle.
“Erm, I need the toilet, please?”
“There’s less than 15 minutes to go, sit down please.”
“I need the toilet, though.”
“You’re 18, not a first-year. Just sit down and wait until we finish please. You had plenty of time to go during the lunch break.”
Jake felt his red face colouring up even more and there was an embarrassed quiver in his voice.
“I know that, but I’m going to have to go, sir!”
The lecturer said nothing but waved his hand to beckon his student to sit back down, and he began to resume his lecture.
Jake sat back down, his face crimson with embarrassment, and his stomach flipping over in panicked discomfort. He couldn’t stand up again, not for a second time, because it would seem as if he was pleading, and that would be hugely embarrassing. It was bad enough everyone knowing he was bursting.
His mates were loving it. As he glanced across, trying to muster a forced grin onto his embarrassed face, he could see them sniggering and their shoulders quivering as they tried to stifle their amusement. From the back of the room, he could hear a few quiet ‘pisssssssss’ noises and ‘trickle, trickle’ whispers, but then suddenly, to his absolute horror, the lecturer suddenly said,
“If you lot want to make him do it in his trousers and wet himself, you’re going the right way about it!”
Jake felt mortified and clenched every muscle in his stomach as he could hear the ripples of laughter.
Somehow, and he never did quite fathom out how he managed it, he somehow contained himself until the bell rang for the end of the lesson, and as he stood up it took a monumental effort not to start to release the contents of his bladder all down his legs.
The hobble to the toilet had been horrific and he hadn’t even dared contemplate the couple of tiny dribbles he knew had seeped into his underpants, and with the other students roaring their delight at his condition, he had just about got himself into the toilets and to the urinal, where he had found himself gasping with relief after practically yanking his trousers open.
Jake knew that if the lesson had lasted just another four or five minutes, he would almost certainly have done something too unthinkable for words and wet himself as an 18-year-old sixth form student.
That was the last and only time in his life that he had been genuinely close to disgracing himself…
…until now, four years later.
As a police officer, he was standing in The Mall, reliving that horrific ordeal as the memory ran wildly through his head, and knowing that his current predicament was getting ever close to where he been that day in sixth form.
He had no idea whether anyone in the crowd he was facing had realised what he was going through, but he desperately wanted to press his thighs together and once or twice, he had momentarily done so. He knew that putting his hand in his pocket to give him some temporary respite was out of the question, and so he was trying to deal with the situation by constantly shifting his weight from foot to foot. Anyone looking might have simply assumed that he was making his standing position more comfortable – or so he hoped. But his efforts were gradually having less and less impact.
There had to be a way to be relieved to go to the toilet, surely?
They couldn’t expect officers to stand in one place without a comfort break, could they? Although he had long since passed the comfort break stage. His need was becoming acute and with his heart pounding and his tummy churning, he was only exacerbating his highly embarrassing situation. Jake tensed his entire body and tried to stretch the muscles in his legs before leaning backwards slightly to stretch his back, but the movement sent a couple of sharp twinges around his midriff, and he eased into relaxation again and moved his feet so that his legs were slightly astride.
With his hand, he gently brushed his brow where a few beads of sweat had formed, and with his action being noticed by a few spectators, a woman leant over the barrier,
“Officer, do you want a drink? We’ve got lots of bottled water here. Do you want one?” she said, offering a plastic bottle in his direction.
“Oh thanks, but I’m okay” PC Cleary replied, “thanks anyway, though.”
“Okay” the woman answered, “but we’re well stocked here. If there’s anything at all you need, don’t hesitate to ask, will you?”
Jake smiled awkwardly and nodded. ‘If only she knew what I really need!’ he mused to himself.
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He glanced at his watch. 10:14. He had to do something. He had absolutely no idea what time his break was scheduled for and he cursed himself for dismissing the information sheet he had been given.
‘I wonder if I can just walk away if it gets so bad I can’t wait?’ he asked himself silently, ‘but then where would I go? I have no idea where there are any toilets? I suppose I could ask someone, but that would look so unprofessional. And what if they are some way away from here?’
He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The procession behind him was building up to its crescendo and although he was unaware of the timings, the reaction of the crowd was telling him that things were moving rapidly. There was no way he could abandon his post. What would happen if somebody jumped the barrier – and he wasn’t in his place? No, he couldn’t just walk away.”
Turning back to try and focus on the crowd again, he felt another sharp stabbing twinge in his lower belly and he desperately wanted to grip the crotch of his trousers and hold himself – however impossible that would be. He shifted his feet again, and this time his bladder felt like a football inside him.
Suddenly, he glanced to his left and saw another police officer walking more centrally along The Mall. This was his chance, and he had to make sure he took it. He turned slightly and tentatively raised his arm a little, beckoning the officer towards him, and noticing it was a sergeant heading to him.
“Did you want something? the sergeant asked.
“Do you know how long before I get relieved, only I’m absolutely dying to go to the toilet” Jake said.
“Oh, hold on” said the sergeant, looking completely disinterested, and he got a sheet of paper out of his pocket, “now let’s see” he continued, perusing the sheet carefully and looking down at the mark on the pavement to identify the precise location.
“Your break is at, erm… let’s see, it’s scheduled for, ah yes, here it is. It’s 11:30.”
PC Cleary was horrified. It was exactly 10:20.
“There’s no way I can wait that long!” he blurted out.
The sergeant looked a bit taken a-back, “Oh right, well, unless they can find a temporary stand-in, you might have to.”
Jake felt his face glowing with embarrassment.
“I can’t, honestly. I just can’t wait until half past eleven. I can hardly wait now,” before adding a phrase that he could scarcely believe he was uttering, “I’ll have done it by then!”
Unbelievably, the sergeant grinned broadly.
“I’m not joking!” added Jake, urgently trying to express the extent of his desperation, regardless of how it sounded, “I’m serious. I’ll end up doing it standing here… in my trousers I mean!”
“Okay, let me see if I can do anything” replied the sergeant, and he stepped away and spoke into his radio out of PC Cleary’s earshot. The conversation lasted just a few seconds before the sergeant turned back to face him again, “Sorry lad, they said half of the officers here are apparently dying for a wee. They’ve run out of replacements for the time being. They just said cross your legs!”
Jake could hardly mumble a dignified response, “Jesus Wept! What am I supposed to do now?”
“I’ll see what I can do, okay. Hold tight.” said the sergeant, as he walked away.
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Jake was fairly certain that nobody had heard the exchange, nor had reason to suspect his immense discomfort, but during the next 15 minutes, his despair and panic got worse. He was constantly, and as discreetly as possible, jigging around on the spot.
As he stood there, PC Cleary’s thoughts again cruelly returned to that day in the sixth-form, when he’d struggled so badly to keep control of himself. He remembered lying awake in his bed that night and gut-wrenchingly imagining that he hadn’t been able to wait and had wet himself sitting in his chair in the lecture room.
He could vividly recall how he had told himself that if it had happened, his life would have been devastated. Just imagine if he had wet his pants in front of all his mates and the other students. They would have been talking about his accident still, a few years later, he was certain of that.
How on earth would he have coped if he’d sat there and done it in his trousers and pants?
The prospect of not being able to wait as a police constable on duty was more horrific to him than his previous experience. He couldn’t even visualise the possibility, but he knew he was in imminent danger of something awful happening. His belly ache was worse than ever and the discomfort was spreading all around his waist, so much so that the little stabbing sensations were cropping up in various places, almost like a stitch in his side one moment, then as a tingling feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to almost march on the spot in order to give him some respite, but with every jerky movement, his need intensified.
His head was in a complete whirl. He’d convinced himself that he couldn’t abandon his post, and without any obvious access to a toilet or any likelihood of being relieved by a colleague, he knew that his only option was to make sure he contained himself – but could he? His bladder was approaching the stage where it was going to make such demands to be emptied, that he would have to respond, one way or another.
‘Oh God’ the voice in his head was urging him to take some sort of preventative action, but without giving him any hint of how to go about it. But the voice was insistent.
“Go on! Do something! If you just stand here, there’s a chance it will happen in your uniform trousers!”
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Somehow, he’d survived another 20 minutes after his earlier request and as his eyes frantically scanned the area for any glimpse of salvation and a replacement officer, he spotted another sergeant striding along the opposite side of The Mall towards the Arch. This time, Jake had no option and no time to try and be discreet, and spinning round on his heels, he began to brazenly beckon the sergeant over towards him.
As the officer approached, Jake felt a surge of panic sweep through his body and unable to dismiss the sensation, he had no alternative other than to step rapidly from foot to foot. It was no longer a case of having to constantly shift his weight, it was simply a desperate stepping action as a prelude to hopping from foot to foot.
The sergeant looked somewhat surprised and asked what was the matter.
Jake had no time for sensitive discreetness. “Is there any way I can be allowed to go to the toilet?” he blurted out.
“Have you previously requested to be stood down?” replied the sergeant, somewhat testily, “because if you have and it’s already being actioned…”
He was unable to finish speaking as PC Cleary interrupted him, “Oh Christ! I’m going to wet myself!”
The sergeant looked even more surprised, “Have you already asked someone?”
Jake began to bob up and down and pressed his thighs together.
“I’ve already asked, but there’s no way I can wait until half past eleven, I’ll do it in my trousers!”
“Okay lad, just calm down” replied the sergeant, “I’ll try and get someone here asap. Just don’t panic, I’ll try and sort it.”
“Please!” responded Jake, “please tell them it’s an emergency and that I’m almost wetting myself! I’m seriously on the verge of going in my pants!”
As the sergeant walked a few steps away and began to speak on his radio, Jake could hear snippets of the conversation amidst the cheering and noise from the crowd.
‘…he says he’s going to have an accident… it’ll be massively embarrassing if he wets his uniform standing there… he looks like he’s on the verge… do your utmost to get someone here as quick as you can… the lad looks so desperate I wouldn’t be surprised if his pants are getting wet as we speak…’
Jake caught just a few phrases, but in the crowd now behind him, several members of the public had also overheard a couple of his own comments.
“Did that policeman just say he was going to wet himself?”
“I’m sure that’s what he said, ‘I’m going to wet myself’”
“I heard something about doing it in his trousers!”
“There’s obviously something going on judging by the way he’s shifting around and talking”
Suddenly, another previously unheard female voice joined in.
“Have none of you noticed, we’ve been watching for ages, he’s obviously bursting to go to the toilet”
“Yes, he is definitely” chipped in her boyfriend, “we’ve been keeping an eye on him, he’s hardly been able to stand still. Didn’t you see him call someone over about 20 minutes ago? I reckon he was asking then if he could go? He’s absolutely desperate if you watch him.”
“Oh, poor guy. Why don’t they just let him run off?”
“He must be dying to go to have asked twice.”
Nobody seemed to hear the conclusion of the conversation between the two police officers, as the sergeant quietly explained that he had no authority to stand Jake down, but he had made an urgent request for a replacement to be sent.
PC Cleary’s response, whilst fidgeting frantically, was brief but frighteningly direct, “Please be quick though, I’m nearly doing it!”
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“Do you know what time the actual royal procession is due to start?”
Jake suddenly realised that the question was being addressed to him and he saw a woman in the crowd leaning towards him, across the barrier, “Officer!” she continued, “do you know the scheduled start time, please?”
“Er, I’m not sure, not really. I don’t know I’m afraid” he replied, unaware of the comment from a male standing alongside her, “He might get his toilet break then! If he doesn’t, I reckon he’s in a bit of trouble!”
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During the next 15 minutes, his ordeal remarkably seemed to get no worse. It was still agonising and he was numb all around his lower belly and groin area and continuing to gyrate and shuffle his feet in order to maintain control, but maybe he had reached the stage where he was at his absolute fullest and as long as he focused on keeping control, he could survive … just.
But suddenly, just as he was feeling slightly less tense than at any time since first taking his place, he experienced a moment of unimaginable horror. With seemingly no warning whatsoever, he released a short and strong spurt of pee into the crotch of his underpants.
He managed to stop himself, but he could feel a warm wetness around his cock and balls. He had no idea whatsoever how much he had done, but he had clamped his muscles shut almost as soon as he realised he had started going, but the reality was that he had done enough to make his pants feel wet.
‘Oh God’ he mentally told himself, “I’ve got to get away from here right now!’
With his fingers trembling and his stomach doing cartwheels, he moved his hand to his radio and almost without even considering the consequences, he double-pressed the emergency button. The response was almost instantaneous.
“What’s the situation officer? My name’s Adam Choosey, what urgent assistance do you need?”
Jake hardly knew what to say.
“What exactly is the nature of the problem, officer?”
Jake: “I need to be relieved, stood down. Now, it's desperate!”
Adam: “Can you please give your name and number and your position please, officer?”
Jake: “PC Jake Cleary, 183, XA division. Look, someone needs to get here to replace me. Now! Please!”
Adam: “Okay, what exactly is the reason for your request, please?”
Jake: “I'm about to wet myself!”
There was a slight pause before the operator answered.
Adam: “Oh, erm… so are you asking for a toilet break?”
Jake could hardly get the words out quickly enough.
“Oh God, I'm in absolute agony standing here. I've asked twice already but nothing has happened. I'm not going to be able to wait much longer. If I don't get away from here in the next few minutes, I'm going to go to the toilet in my trousers!”
Adam: “Who did you make the previous requests to? Were they to the control room and what time?”
Jake: “No, I asked someone, look please, I don't know what to do. I can hardly stand still. I don't know where the nearest toilet is, but you've got to help me, I'm going to do it in a minute! I’ve just done a bit in my pants!”
There was another couple of seconds silence before the operator responded.
“This isn’t really an emergency, is it. Well, it might be for you, but this line is for genuine policing emergencies that require urgent responsive action. Look, I can pass your message on to the control room and ask them to deal with it, but this line needs to be kept clear for emergency purposes…”
Jake’s interruption was uncharacteristically sharp.
“Look, I know all that, but I don’t know what else to do. You’ve got to understand, please! I’m so desperate to go to the toilet that I’m starting to wet myself! Someone’s got to help me! For God’s sake, please! I don’t know how much longer I can last out standing out here!”
Adam: “Okay, stay where you are, I've recorded your call as an emergency, and I'll elevate it for you”
Jake: “Please! I’m going to do it standing here in front of everyone! I’m almost going! I’ve never been this desperate in my life, ever!”
Adam: “Okay, okay. I’m passing it over to somebody who can arrange something for you. Just try and hold on if you can.”
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The pain was simply gnawing away in the pit of PC Cleary’s stomach as he twisted his hips from side to side, pressing his thighs together with every gyration, and as he bobbed gently on the balls of his feet, he was curling his toes tightly inside his socks.
The waistband of his uniform trousers felt tight and the crotch area, normally spacious and free-fitting, was constricting his movements, whilst the damp patch in his briefs was now a clammy sensation with the cold cotton material clinging to his cock.
The procession appeared to be fully underway behind him, although he was somewhat oblivious as to what was actually taking place and his focus on the crowds had hardly registered.
‘Where the hell is this relief?’ he mused, unsure if he had muttered the phrase out loud, before suddenly, his radio crackled with activity.
‘God! Please! Let this be a relief call, it’s got to be…’ But the words were like a dagger into his bladder.
All officers stand-by, the royal party have set out from the palace and will be moving along The Mall shortly. Concentration levels at their highest, 100% focus on the public within sight. Alert level one”
Jake tried to look at the huge crowd behind the barriers, probably around 12-15 rows deep, but he could hardly see through his stinging eyes as little beads of sweat trickled from his forehead and dripped onto his eyelashes.
He squeezed his arms by his sides and felt an unpleasant clamminess under his armpits and as he curled his toes frantically in his shoes, he could feel his damp socks scrunching up under the soles of his feet. This was the nightmare of all nightmares.
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11:15 and no sign of anyone coming to replace him. Was he supposed to radio in again and get bawled at for using the emergency channel inappropriately?
He glanced both left and right, watching the parade slowly pass in all its glory, but every police officer and even military personnel he could see were fixed to their posts and no-one was walking around, whilst the crowds were revelling in the entertainment and excitement.
The wet patch in his pants was little more than a faint stickiness now, but the pains around his midriff had merged into one agonising ache which was exacerbated with even the tiniest of movements which were necessary to retain control. This terror had gone on for so long that the young officer was beyond the stage where he was worrying about how to deal with the situation. His only concern was to deal with his predicament minute by minute and try desperately to avoid starting to wee again.
How he could resolve the situation was not something he was even considering any more, it was purely a case of holding on as best as he could until… well, until what? He couldn’t last out for ever and sooner or later he was simply going to go to the toilet? Where? How? He had no idea. Did there just come a time when the bladder said enough was enough and just emptied itself involuntarily?
What if that happened where he was standing. He gave a little shudder of horror and the impact was to cause a knife-like sensation in his belly. His thighs and his calf muscles were stinging where he had been tensing them so tightly for so long, and his buttocks had also gone completely numb.
If, and it was almost too catastrophic to imagine, but if he actually started to wet himself, would he even be aware of it, let alone able to stop it? The combination and pain and numbness was just overwhelming and he wasn’t sure whether his cock had also been numbed?
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11:30 There was an almighty cheer from the crowds and PC Cleary turned his head slightly to see the start of the royal family entourage slowly passing by, but with his eyes watering and stinging and his ears ringing above the noise, he could scarcely register an interest in what was taking place. All he could think was… ‘Please don’t let me wet myself! Please don’t let me wet myself!’
He was suddenly aware of an outstretched arm close to the front of him, and although he was slightly too far distanced to be touched, he was close enough to see that the woman who had offered him water what seemed like hours ago, was trying to say something, and he looked directly at her.
“Just go somewhere love, there must be somewhere you can go…”
Jake was almost fixated by her face, as she reached out again and added, “go on, just move yourself away somewhere, anywhere. Otherwise, you’re going to wet yourself standing right there…”
There was nothing he could say or do and he just looked back at her before being overcome with the most painful spasm he had ever felt. His whole body quivered as if he’d been plucked like a guitar string, and as the sensation intensified, he had no choice other than to bend his knees and softly squat.
It was a ridiculous posture and he quickly managed to straighten himself up again, but within seconds, a further spasm caused him to squat again, almost down to his haunches .
This time, he looked down at himself, seeing his feet about twelve inches apart and his knees splayed with his legs open. He could see the fronts of his shoes and although he could feel his toes twitching frantically, there was no visible evidence of the movement through the leather, although, even in his distressed state, he noticed his light grey socks showing clearly between the cuffs of his uniform trousers and his shoes, and he forced himself to stand upright again.
It wasn’t just the woman in the crowd who was now watching the young policeman rather than the impressive spectacle in the wide open road behind him, but numerous pairs of eyes were fixed on the officer, who was clearly in the midst of a terrible predicament.
PC Cleary lifted his wrist up close to his face and desperately tried to see his watch through his stinging eyes. It was 11:36 … and as the time registered, he felt a cascade of scorching warmth in his crotch and searing heat surge up the crack of his backside.
With no option other than to bend forwards to try and ease the accompanying agony, and with the palms of his hands planted just above his knees, he was almost about to let his whole body relax when he felt an imaginary strong arm around his lower back, holding him as upright as possible, although his slightly bent knees meant that he was starting from a lowly position and he rose as straight as his contorted body would allow. The pain was excruciating and his legs felt hardly able to carry his weight, before he clamped his knees together, squeezed his thighs tightly … and then gently opened his legs again as the incredible warmth seeped all over his groin.
The briefest of incidents, which had lasted a mere few seconds, had attracted much attention, especially as the royal procession had all but passed by, and dozens of pairs of eyes in the watching crowd were firmly fixed on the young policeman.
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PC Jake Cleary was standing completely motionless. No more jigging about. No more rocking on his heels or stepping from foot to foot. No more trying to press his thighs together. And no more focus on controlling himself. His burning and blushing face was no longer crimson, but was now ashen in appearance.
The ringing in his ears began to disappear, but there was little sound of the noise from the crowds. Instead, there was a muffled, near-silence filling his head, and his slightly open, dry mouth prevented him from swallowing, as he allowed a film to form over his eyes to blur his vision.
It was all over. The battle was lost.
The spurts and little jets of hot wee into his underpants were no longer happening and there was no longer any warm sensation around his crotch or up his backside and the intense pain was subsiding.
He was just having the most glorious, luxuriating, orgasmic wee he had ever experienced. He couldn’t even feel his pants getting wet or the streams down his legs. The force with which his bladder was emptying was eye-wateringly momentous and he was just engulfed in the moment of sheer relief.
Seconds later, however, the realisation of what he was doing hit him like a sledgehammer in the chest. The heat cascading around his cock and balls was suddenly gushing down both of his thighs as the torrents of scorching urine ran rapidly to his knees before streaming all down his shins and trickling around the backs of his calves.
His ankles were diverting the flow onto his socks and down the outsides of his shoes, whilst seeping into the insides of his shoes in equal measures, and, accompanied by drips and a near-permanent trickle from the cuffs of his police trousers, numerous little pools and rivulets were merging into one huge puddle all around both of his lace-up shoes.
His underpants were actually beginning to sag around his crotch as they became heavy with the volume of urine which was jetting into them and the tops of the legs of his trousers were starting to cling to his thighs as little streams emerged through the thick material and escaped to visibly drip down the outsides.
The streams were so strong that as they reached his knees, they began to run fiercely around the backs of his legs, resulting in the backs of the cuffs of his trouser-legs emitting constant dribbles onto the pavement, and as he was not moving, the amount running hotly into his shoes was being absorbed by his socks and making them sag around his ankles.
By this stage, Jake was gasping and breathing erratically, unable to quite take in what was happening, although fully conscious that he was uncontrollably wetting himself. He could feel his entire body trembling and quivering as this was a pee like nothing he had ever experienced before. He was just urinating like a burst dam and without any semblance of being able to lessen the flow. It was a marathon pee that would just go on and on of its own accord until his bladder had fully emptied itself.
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From the view of the stunned crowd, there were those who could see the officer’s trousers getting wetter and wetter, with many noticing the streams emerging from above both of his knees and trickling down onto the floor or dribbling down into his shoes and socks.
But the unavoidable sight was the urine which was gathering, frothing and virtually fizzing around the constable’s shoes. It wasn’t just a silently emerging pool of rippling liquid; it was forming so ferociously that the sheer lava-type image was literally bubbling into a puddle that was snaking away into a dozen different directions and heading away from the young policeman’s feet.
“Bloody hell! He’s wetting himself!”
“Oh My God! He can’t stop going!”
“It’s happening in his pants! How desperate must he have been?”
“I told you he was bursting to go. I could tell for ages he needed to go!”
“No way! He’s done it in his trousers!”
“I could see he was going to have an accident!”
“He looks in a bit of a daze, poor bloke!”
“Look at him, he’s pissing for England!”
“See that puddle round his feet! It’s like a flipping lake!”
“I’ve never seen anyone wet themselves like that!”
“He must have been absolutely bursting!”
(for what happened next, read the other story!!)
