Memorable moment last week when I had to go for my morning mass. (Well bless me father for I have sinned!). Usual kind of time before coffee break, usual day, usual shit; or so I thought.

I pushed open the door to the loos and pulled the light switch (energy efficiency at it's best - the lights are left off when not in use). Ping went the only working light bulb left, so I held open the door until my eyes adjusted to the light (or lack of it - our top floor toilets have no natural light and the downstairs get a little too popular for privacy!!)

Confidently I let the door swing closed as I went into the first cubicle, which has now been repaired. OK I thought, skirt up, tights and panties down and I perched merrily on the toilet and relaxed. A nice healthy feeling was followed by the hiss of the piss as I finished, wipe copiously for good measure (it was a bit too dark to see so I thought of the safe method).

As I adjusted my clothing EEEUUUCCKK!! a damp feel to the back of my skirt. Damn, some silly ???? must have wet the seat and this silly ???? (me) didn't wipe first!! Time now seemed to be important, as I knew I'd have to dry off (Light grey is great but it does show damp patches!!), AND I didn't want my arsehole of a manager asking where I was (he ALWAYS seems to want something when I'm gone to the toilet).

FLUSH FLUSH FLUSH (just to make certain!!) then OUT, to hot air hand drier.. hands dried.. now turn around and bend forward (bunching back of skirt by damp patch). SOD IT !! The drier sensors don't pick up my rear. Tip toe ?? NO!! So I pull the back of my skirt as high as I can get it with one hand and wave the other aimlessly behind my back until WHOOSH.. THE DRIER STARTS!!

AND STOPS!!?? More frantic waving.. AND STARTS!! It seemed like ages passed with my wrist aching from the contorted position to keep my right hand from bubbling in the heat and the back of my skirt on slow cook. I started giggling as I felt like Stevie Wonder in a wind tunnel and finally fumbled my way to the door, pulled it open and staggered out gasping into the shadow of Karen just on her way in!!

She stopped in alarm and asked "what's happened to you ??"
"Oh, the lights went while I was in there" I said meekly, then made my way back downstairs in shock and with my right arm dangling limply from my shoulder.

Phew !!

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Wondering Joe
Hi there!I've been reading this posts for over a year now and decided to post.I am a 16 year old male and I was never an outgoing guy.I have always had an interest in bathroom habits,but this site has given me confidence that it's not a strange interest.Anyway I'll give you some background information.

My father and mother separated when I was young.I lived with my mother.My mom was always a little strict on me when I was a kid,especially when it came to toilet habits.If we were going on a journey she would always say,"Do you need to go to the bathroom" which was my cue to head off.Once there,however,I always knew she was listening and after a while I developed a small case of Bashful Bladder(I think it's called).I used to go in with a bottle of water and pour it in to the toilet to make my mom think I was going.This always ended badly.Her large adult bladder was capable of going for hours without a break and she assumed that mine could too,so she never stopped to go to the bathroom on long journeys.This meant I often wet myself on trips,something I never found enjoyable as a kid.I wet so much that when I was ten I went into a store and bought a pair of rubber pants.I wore them on every car journey and they worked so well that I actually began to enjoy wetting myself in mom's presence,because it was so daring.Sometimes I knew she could hear me peeing but she never discovered my secret.

My friends would always pee outside when they were younger,something I think every kid does.But I was always afraid my mother would find out.On rare outings with my father,he would pull over into a field and explain that it was O.K to pee outside.He would zip down and pee but I always froze up.

Anyway,since stumbling upon this site,I have been experimenting.I wet my pants on purpose at home,but only when mom was away for a weekend or something.I also crapped my pants too.I found both very enjoyable.It's helped me become more outgoing and a month ago I was at a neighbor's party,when something great happened.I was dying to pee so I broke away from my mom to find the bathroom,which had a huge queue.I was holding myself and I was telling myself I was too old to just wet myself.Social suicide.I went around with my hand on my crotch and walked straight past my mom,who gave me an odd look.I met up with my buddy,Nick and said I needed a pee.He said he did too.He asked me to come with him and we walked to the edge of the garden(it was a BBQ).He unzipped and began to pee.I froze up,but the sight of him peeing made me spurt into my jeans.I was desperate so I unzipped and began to pee too.It felt so good.There was a noticable stain on my jeans but I didn'r care.I got a tap on the shoulder and saw my mom.
"Joey,what are you doing!"she demanded but I just grinned.
"Taking a piss."I said.

this morning i woke up and immediately felt the urge to pee, but i had to get dressed and such because i have to take my mom to work and my sister to school.

well, after i got done with all of that i forgot that i had to go to the bathroom. at around 11:30 or so i suddenly had to pee. i decided i would just get my clothes for my shower and just go when i got in there.
but then my brother woke up and made it into the shower before i could.

he took about an hour, so by the time he was done and out of there i REALLY had to go... BAD! i was almost ready to burst!
that was when i saw my leggings lying on the floor. i grabbed them in a rush and headed to the bathroom. i had already read a few stories on here this morning and remembered how fun it was to read about other people peeing their pants for fun.

i saw that the dark-colored laundry needed done anyways, so i slipped on my grey leggings and grabbed the mirror from my parents room. i quickly jumped into the shower, held the mirror in front of me so i could watch, and let go.
the warm pee flowed down my legs faster than ever before! it was amazing. while i was still peeing i got that jittery excited feeling in my stomach which i usually get when i do this. it makes the experience 10x better.

i wish i could go on more trips out in the woods so that i could experience using the earth as my toilet, but i don't have that opportunity much... if ever. living in town makes it hard too.
does anyone have any suggestions so that i can experience this without being too obvious?


P.S. -- has anyone ever peed their pants in front of people on purpose? what did it feel like? did you enjoy it?

Nice stories everybody! What did you think of mine??

To Lucy:
My, my... You ARE a talented writer!
You're story is definetely the best on this forum, if you'd ask me!
Please continue this wonderful work.
Can you please post more? (you have to watch the kids more then once, don't you?)
Thankyou very much!!


i just noticed many times on this sight that it has been discused whether women or men can hold their pee longer. in holding contests, the female often wins, but it is truely the man who can hold his pee longer. i read somewhere that in boys and girls, it is kinda reversed. when a guy has to shit, he HAS to shit, but when he has to pee, it goes away and comes back. in a women, we can typically wait to shit, but when we need to pee, it's no joke. i think that this is because women tend to ignore the urge and not become physically aware it's there until in a male's point of view, it's desperate. this is just my best guess. i also have a story.

my husband is the most incredible people in the world. he is cute, understanding and compassionate. currently, i am pregnant with our first child. i have lots of strong, sudden urges to pee. i'm not talkin leak, i'm talking flood. i also have constipation, so when my window of poo oprotunity resents itself, i really physically can't wait. the other night, both of us went out for a romantic dinner, whichwasn't that romantic on account of the fact that i look like a whale (i'm 8 mos along). the restraunt was a little ways away, but not to far. i'll estimate about fifteen minutes. let me give you some background knowledge. i had just peed, at the restraunt, but i could tell that i was going to have to go again sometime soon. i also hadn't pooped in 4 days. (i normally go three times a day). we were in the car, and you guessed it, strong urge at both ends. i told my husband to step on it while i focused on not ruining the car. there was no good brush coover around, and it was a fairly busy road. the white pregnancy pat si was wearing were fitting a little tightly, and i was getting used to the fact that i wasn't going to make it home. i told my husband that he'd better pull over, and he said that he would when i was to desperate. at this point, i was already in pain. i started to try to unbotton my pants and told him to look for some trees. we found none, and i could no longer wait. we pulled over in plain view, and i sprinted (or more waddled) out of the car. i took off my pants and undies, in clear view of the road. every time i tried to squat, i would lose my balance. my darling husband finally realized my delemma, he leaned gainst the car and held my hands while i leaned back into a squatting position. i then proceeded to open the flood gates, but nothing happened. all the while i was thinking about how this couldn't be, i was in aginy, naked, in the middle of the road! this was no time to get pee-shy. finally, my husband said to me, hold on tol the side of the car, and i'll help you pee. he got a water bottle out of the car and poured it down the front of my vagina. that iddn't work, so he massaged my bladder and spoke softly to me. that sure got things moving. pee shot out of my vagina at 90 miles per hour and flooded the median after that, i knew it was time to drop my load. my husband didn't realize i also had to poo, so i told him to watch out nd tried to push it out. it didn't work, so my husband pushed on my abdomen and i strained as ahrd as i could. finally, log after log came dropping out. when i thiugh i was done, i stood up and quickly popped back down as waves of liquid crap poured out. i couldn't stop, so my husband sat it out and played it off as if we were just looking at the stars together. finally, when i was done, i did the walk of shame. all in all, it may have been one of the most romantic nights of my life.

1. How many of you gals out there get poop on ya hansds when ya wipe I do,
2. How many of you gals do not wipe at all to prevent getting poopy fingers can't, I always have runny poop, and it would almost be like shitting my pants
3. How many of ya gals out there do poop ya pants when ur desperate insted of trying to find a toilet. I try not to, but sometimes do anyway. It's a mess to clean up.

Very Gassy
Hello. Today when I woke I had a lot of gas to release. Amazing how it accumulates in your sleep over night. So I went to the bathroom, sat down and I looked at the clock and my first bout of gas was 18 seconds long! Then I released about 10 more, some lasting 6 or 7 seconds each. I feel 10 pounds lighter Have fun peeps.

I am presently sitting on the toilet as I am writing this, just recently having a bowel movement. I had a breakfast consisting of GoLean products right before, so I was very confident about defecating.

I had to push in order to get my BM started, but once I did, it only took a few pushes just to excrete the stool.

Well, I am going to wipe. I hope one day to have a toilet seat bidet to eliminate the need of using toilet paper after pooping.

Hi guys. Me again. The girl with the sister named Candy.

I wanted to add something to my post to Jenny who can't use the toilet because of the septic alarm thing. Don't worry about your mom. I know it sucks if she grounds you, but, as I said in my other post, better to be grounded with wet or messy pants than suffer or get sick.

I cannot stress this enough. If you really really need to go, and you don't have a better option, go ahead and go in your pants. After you clean up you will feel better, and even if your mom gets mad, she means well and she won't stay mad forever. Do not let fear of punishment or embarrassment stress you out. Accidents happen. Clothes can be washed or replaced. Your health is the most important issue. Going in your pants can't make you sick, holding it can. And I am 100% positive your mom has had an accident when she was "too old", even if she won't admit it. Everyone has.


Now for a story. Last summer our parents took me and Candy to an amusement park about 20 minutes from our house. Up until then Candy had always been afraid to ride the roller coaster. It's not one of the modern steel roller coasters, it's a really old wooden roller coaster. During the car ride I finally convinced her to ride it with me. For the first hour or so we rode some of the little kid rides, ate junk food and drank lots of pop. Eventually we made it around to the entrance of the roller coaster. I asked her if she was ready and she said yes, but I could tell she was nervous. The line was sort of long, about a 15 minute wait. As we got closer to the front of the line I noticed Candy fidgeting in her wheelchair.

"Relax girl, I've ridden it a hundred times before. It's safe. They wouldn't let you ride if it wasn't." I said, trying to make her feel better.
"It's not that."
"What is it then?"
"I have to go."
"Go where?"

She looked up at me and rolled her eyes.

"To the bathroom. To pee."
"Yeah right, you're not getting out of it that easy."
"No, really. I have to go. I swear."
"Okay, if you need to go right now I can take you but we're next an we'll lose our place in line."
"How long does the ride take?"
"Less than five minutes."
"I can wait."

When it was our turn I lifted her out of her wheelchair and carried her onto the ride. After we sat down there was a short wait while other people got on.

"Are you excited?"

She nodded and gave me a half-hearted smile. I could tell her mind was focused on trying not to wet her pants.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear "Just go."

She turned to me with a confused expression.

"Wait until the ride starts so that everyone is distracted and then go in your pants."
"But..." She trailed off.
"Most likely it will happen during the ride anyway. It's really bumpy, and..."
"But people will know."
Even if they do, they'll think it happened during the ride, and I promise you wouldn't be the first person to have an accident in their pants on a roller coaster. Just be thankful you only need to pee."

She scrunched up her nose when she realized what "only need to pee." meant.

"Besides, it'll make a cute story. "Candy got so scared on the big hill she peed on herself." I teased. She punched me on the arm and had a look of mock anger.

A few seconds later the ride jerked forward and Candy jammed her hands between her legs. I reached over and pulled them away and said "That was nothing. If that almost made you pee just relax and let it out because the bumps only get worse."

She sighed and dropped her arms to her side. A few seconds later her teal green shorts started turning darker. About 30 seconds later she was finished. As the ride inched closer to the top of the biggest hill she tensed up and grabbed my hand.

"At least you don't have to worry about getting so scared you have an accident..."
"Not a wet one anyway."
"That's not funny."
"Tell me about it. If you get the crap scared out of you I'm the one who has to clean you up. Not exactly my idea of fun."

Before she could answer we reached the top of the hill and then dropped. I basically missed the entire ride because I was watching Candy. On the big drop I could tell she was holding onto the lap bar really tight. When the ride stopped she was white as a ghost. She says she wasn't scared but her appearance gave her away.

After we got off the ride we met up with our parents and headed for the bathrooms because I needed to pee. I only stayed in the bathroom for a few seconds before coming back out because it was really nasty. I explained the problem to my parents, and after going in to inspect for herself my mom asked if I could hold it until we got home, which would be at least an hour later. I told her I didn't think so, which was sort of a lie. I probably could have held it for a long time, I just don't like to. Her answer really suprised me though.

"You can pee in your shorts if you want."
"It's no big deal. I have to wash Candy's wet clothes anyway. Besides, when have I ever been mad at Candy for having accidents? Some of them aren't even accidents and I still don't get mad."

Candy blushed when she realized that mom knew she went in her pants on purpose sometimes.

I hesitated for a second before going over to the side of the building with the bathrooms. I thought no one could see me but about 10 seconds after I squatted and started peeing I heard a little kid say "MOMMY LOOK! That big girl is going potty in her pants. You said only babies did that."

Despite my embarrassment I couldn't help but smile. Part of me was glad to undo some of the shaming the kid's mom had done.

After I finished Candy and I rode the log jam to get wet and try to hide our accidents.

Tanya from NM
My poop changes when I'm menstruating. It's not quite diarrhea, but it's extra soft and slips down my hole smoothly and easily. I can't recall I time when I've been constipated during my period. Perhaps the hormones affect things down there.

When I was a child we had a basement where we kept all our toys and I remember playing for hours with all my dolls. I hated to take a break to go potty. So to keep poop in I remember sitting/kneeling with my heel of my foot pressed firmly on my hole to keep the poop in. I'm not sure I got some pleasure out of feeling it full down there, and kept in, but it wasn't unpleasant. I would do this a lot. ALso, held the pee in a lot too. I think it resulted in problems - I distinctly remember my mother having to give me an enema at least once - there seemed to be some build up of fear surrounding the whole experience and the promise of some toy reward afterwards. It was a Fleet brand enema. WHen I moved to Boston as an adult, I used to call Fleet Bank the Enema Bank as a tribute. The holding in of pee resulted in numerous infections, leakees and eventual some type of surgery to do something down there.

Jessica L.
Hello everyone,

Anyway I just wanted to say that no I could not sit down, and it would have been embarrassing to be pee-dancing at my table while I'm talking to customers. So, yes I found it pretty difficult to hold it for that long. But now after that experience, I am finding I can hold it without any discomfort for 5 hours rather than 3 hours. Did I do any permanent damage holding it for 9 hours? Or is it that I actually stretched my bladder?

It is pretty nice to be able to hold my pee for 5 hours, as I can take a big trip and only have to pee once or twice a day, rather than 3-4 times a day. Did I permanently damage anything?

Thank you!

To Lisa: The last time I bought a mattress pad it was the pee proof type and I'm glad because I wet the bed once for no reason and my mattress didn't get wet. I just tossed the pad into the wash.

When I was 15 I wet my pants in school. It was because I drank too much orange juice and water in the morning and didn't go to the bathroom at school at my usual time.

A girl once wet her pants at nearly the same time as me, outside the school. She was too far away from the bathroom to run in and go. She wet so much it ran into her sneakers and then overflowed and made a big puddle.

I was doing laundry with my girlfriend once and she saw my pissy underwear, all yellow in the front. I told her I start squirting if I hold it too long. I was like "Wow do you think I should wear diapers?" From then on she insisted on checking me once in a while to see if I was wet.

Sometimes I spend a lot of time sitting on the toilet reading even if I don't have to go anymore and if some one else has to go they tell me to hurry up.

have any girls noticed that their bowels get all wierd around "that time of the month"? Maybe because of the cramping I feel like I need to go a lot more, but I usually don't. Is this wierd?

1. Have you ever wet your pants?

Yes I have, usually just for the thrill of it.

2. Have you ever peed in an unusual place?

I have peed in containers in my bedroom, a men's urinal, outside beside the car, and at the beach

3. Has someone ever peed on you or vis versa?

No the closest would be one of my family members peeing in the drain while i was in the shower with them.

6. Do you regularly pee in the shower?

yeah pretty much all the time

7. Have you ever been caught peeing in a place you weren't supposed to be?

When i peed beside the car on the side of the street cars were driving by but i couldnt wait anymore. My parents have also seen me pee in the yard but they dont care!

Longtime Lurker
I've been following this site for some time. I finally decided to post after reading Jenny's post below.

Jenny, all you need is a wastebasket (or a bucket or something like that) and a plastic grocery store bag. It doesn't make up for the lack of a toilet, but it'll work in a pinch. Just place the wastebasket in the shower and kind of hover over it and bombs away.

As far as the accidents go, I don't really have any idea.

outdoor shitter
one day i was walking with my friend in the forest when he announced the urge to shit. we found a place by a river and i positioned myself behind her. she started pushing and a light brown turd oozed its way out of her ass. it stretched its way out like she had a tail and dropped 2 da ground. it had undigested pieces of corn in it. as i finished my soft serve shit she commented that it was the biggest turd she had ever taken

Hi riya. I don't know if they can do it in the girls' room too. I, being a 15 (turned 15 yesterday) year old guy, have entered many boys' rooms and many of them didn't have doors on the stalls. However, I have seen many girls' rooms from the outside and most of them had doors, so I do not see the stalls in the girls' room being taken off unless someone did something wrong in there, which I hope not.

Anyway, nothing interesting has happened lately. Yesterday, I did not go at all. I think I will try to go today. I wouldn't want to go at school tomorrow. But if i needed to, I think I could hold it, because I can do so for at least 12 hours. (I get constipated though).

From Lucy

It's surprising, I'm finding, how often one comes across pants-messing in ordinary life, particularly in 'older children' - which term (in medical terms) generally seems to be taken as meaning from about seven years old up to the end of puberty - say, fourteen or fifteen. Frustrating, when I look back - that was one of the two periods in my own life when I was pretty 'normal' in my toilet habits; just when I should have been deliberately 'soiling' for a whole variety of reasons, I was largely innocent of this particular pleasure. A strict girl's boarding school had a lot to do with that sorry state of affairs.

I can now report that 'soiling in older children' is alive and well and apparently accepted as quite normal, at least in the leafy avenues of North Oxford. (Actually, come to think about it, Oxford as a whole has a pretty slewed take on what is 'normal' and, certainly, what is acceptable!) Since the middle of last summer, I have been helping out an academic who is bringing up three kids on his own, his wife having ditched him for 'someone more connected', whatever that means. The perils of being a historian?

Anyway, back to my juvenile trio. Nobody told me that these three (Joshua, aged six and half; Emily, eight, and Penny, just ten) were 'unreliable' in toilet matters when I took on the job of looking after them - but I soon found out! My first clue, on an early visit to the tall Victorian house in Summertown a week or so before I started my stint of childminding, was a pair of girl's white cotton panties I noticed scrunched up in a heap beside the toilet in the first-floor bathroom. Curiousity being my middle name, I picked them up - and found that they bore clear evidence of having been used as a potty. From the label (girls cotton briefs, 10 - 12 years) I deduced these must be Penny's pants. There was a good wet patch in the crotch - big enough and wet enough to suggest, maybe, that they had been weed more than once. And although the hapless panties had obviously been 'emptied out', there was still generous smear of fruity, sticky chocolate-fudge in the seat of them, with a matching stain on the back. Definitely more than could be explained by careless wiping!

Thus alerted, I began to keep a closer eye on the children - Penny in particular - to see if that pair of messy pants was just a one-off accident or something more. I hadn't really come to any conclusion when the children's father asked me if I could help out by looking after them on my days off, for which he was happy to pay me quite well. As my publishing job is only 3 or 4 days a week and the pay (as a trainee editor) is lousy, I was happy to oblige, and so got to myself not only some useful extra income but a ready-made 'case study' in my new field of academic research - panty-soiling.

Dr. Walker (name changed to protect the innocent) - who was as absent-minded and vague on all matters practical, domestic and otherwise more current than the mid-thirteenth century as Oxford Dons are supposed to be - never said anything about the wayward toilet habits of his offspring. I sometimes wonder if he even notices when they have 'accidents', or whether he just thinks that it's perfectly normal for children up to ten years old to wee and worse in their underwear. There's a phlegmatic and hard-working Lithuanian girl called Magda who comes in three mornings a week to 'keep house' and I soon found that she just took the unsavoury laundry in her stride. So maybe it doesn't have that much impact on him.

When I started to look after the 'toiletsome trio' (as I soon christened them), I didn't really know what was in store either. All I knew for certain was that on one occasion in the fairly recent past ten-year-old Penny had done a real number on her underwear. That state of unknowing innocence lasted for less than a day! As you'll recall, the summer just past was a good one, so that meant that we - the children and I - could be out in the fresh air most of the time. That first afternoon the weather was just beautiful and it was no hardship to head for the University Parks with my charges, who seemed quite happy to to be outside in the sun with no particular programme in mind.

They were very 'different' children, all three of them. Not strikingly physical attractive or anything like that, just very individual kids with very definite and slightly quirky personalities. Penny, the eldest, was a rather odd, awkward girl, but highly intelligent and very articulate. Her light brown hair was very straight and cut quite short, and she had oddly-coloured green-blue eyes behind her round glasses and a rather gappy grin. She was also hard on her clothes (most of which semed more than a tad shabby) and usually looked pretty untidy. Penny was, I soon found, rather excitable and quite uninhibited - as a handstand in a crowded part of the Parks whilst wearing a loose-fitting dress suggested; generously displaying her (thankfully, clean) underwear to all and sundry didn't seem to bother her in the least.

Emily, her younger sister, was much quieter and, by comparison, shy and reserved. She was a also much prettier girl than Penny, with curly dark brown hair and deep liquid brown eyes. And she had a lovely shy smile complete wth a prize dimple. Emily was nothing if not cute - but that was just one side of her. I also soon discovered that she could also be stubborn and introverted and it was evident that - like Penny - she was also extremely bright.

Joshua seemed a bit overshadowed by his sisters and it was even more difficult to make him out. He was a rather serious little boy, even quieter than Emily, a reticence not helped by a slight speech impediment which sometimes frustrated his efforts to say certain words beginning with 's'. But he was a very affectionate child and soon became very attached to me. Which was nice. Joshua was also, I soon learned, a total genius at maths and had an amazing talent for computers and computer games, at which he could trounce kids far older than himself.

Altogether then, not quite your average family. The three of them exhibited an odd contrast in extremes between their considerable academic and intellectual prowess and their very lackadaisical physical (ie, toileting) skills. Although I soon concluded that at least part of the reason why they were quite happy to just go in their pants was that they had better things to worry about and wet or messy underwear was no big deal.

But that first afternoon in the Parks I knew none of this. So I had no reason to divine the reason why Josh, Penny and I were standing waiting for Emily, who had wandered off into a shrubbery and was standing at the side of the path apparently staring at a large Vibernum Davidii.

"Come on, Emily," I called - but she didn't appear to hear me.

"Whatever is she up to?" I wondered aloud to myself. Penny, who was a few steps ahead, looked back over her shoulder and said, quite matter-of-factly: "I expect she's having a poo."

"Having a Poo?" I said, disbeliving. "She can't be; the toilets are over there."

And I pointed toward the cricket pavilion, where the nearest public loos were.

"Oh, we don't bother with toilets," said Penny, still quite matter-of-fact. "If we need to go when we're out, we just do it where we are."

"You mean the Emily is doing a poo in her pants?" I asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief; Emily's pose and lack of movement would have struck chords with any pants-pooper. Penny nodded, then turned away and went off to look at something in the grass.

So I stood with Josh, who was holding my hand, and waited for Emily to catch up. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of fairly loose-fitting bib-and-brace shorts, so there was no obvious evidence that she had filled her pants. But my experienced eye immediately detected the slightly-awkward gait of a small girl walking with a load in her knickers.

"Are you OK, Emily?" I asked her, as she came up to me. She smiled brightly and nodded. "I had to go for a poo," she said. "But it's all right now. It came out."

"Where did you do it?" I asked her, pretending puzzlement.

"It's all right - it's all in my knickers," said Emily, as though that was absolutely the most natural place for it. A noticeable, if not particularly objectional, odour confirmed her mild assertion.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry if you had an accident. Isn't that a bit uncomfortable? Do you want me to take you over to the loos and clean you up a bit?"

Emily shook her head.

"Shall we go home?"

Emily shook her head again.

"It's all right," she repeated. "It's not runny or anything."

"Don't you mind having a mess in your pants?" I asked her.

Emily looked at me in apparent amazement.

"Of course not," she said.

And as I stared at her she grasped her shorts at the waist and pulled them up vigorously in an obvious attempt to squash the contents of her panties and make herself more comfortable.

In fact, the state of her underwear didn't appear to affect Emily at all. She carried on walking and running and jumping without any regard to her dirty bottom, and when we arrived at the children's playground she had no hesitation in using the swings, slide and - particularly - the see-saw. It was while we were in the play area that I noticed that Joshua's red shorts now had a darker patch across the crotch. Sometime in the last few minutes he had peed himself - without giving any indication either of his need to go or of the fact that he was busy relieving that need. It was evident that, so far as Josh was concerned, widdling his shorts was a totally unremarkable thing to do. Which, at six-and-a-bit, I suppose it was; plenty of children that age wet themselves from time to time. The only difference being that in Josh's case it was rather more of a routine occurrence. Certainly, he seemed quite oblivious to his wet pants and, oddly, none of the other children in the playground took any notice of him.

As an aside, I soon discovered as I got used to escorting my new charges about the place over the following weeks that most people apparently just didn't notice that they had had 'accidents'. Or maybe they were too polite and British to comment? I suppose to some extent the children's lack of reaction and their unaffected and natural behaviour when they had wet or dirty pants didn't draw attention to their less-than-pristine state; they weren't making a fuss, so why should anybody else? They never - not even Penny - seemed bothered to be seen in wet pants. She would happily wear shorts in public and wet in them, then carry on unconcernedly with the evidence there for all to see. Only on a couple of occasions did some more-observant Mum take it upon herself to point out that any of my charges were in need of a change of underwear, or to offer smpathy or potty-training advice - which I soon learned was best accepted in good grace. From time to time other kids would pass comment or indulge in the odd taunt, particularly of Penny. But as her reaction to being called "pee-pee pants' or similar was a totally indifferent "So what?", this teasing usually soon died the death.

But I get ahead of myself; here I was on my first day in charge in the public playground of the University Parks with one wet child and one with messy knickers. Or, as I discovered a few moments later, two wet children and one messy; as we passed the public loos on our way back to the Banbury Road entrance, I asked Penny if she needed to 'spend a penny'. She poured silent scorn on my feeble joke, and said "I already did."

"Oh," I said. "Where?"

"I did it under my dress, ages ago. Like this."

And Penny squatted down and pretended to tie a shoelace on her scruffy trainers as a small puddle grew in the dust underneath her.

"There," she said, standing up. "Now I definitely don't need to go."

It was teatime when two wet children and one with poo-pants got back to Summertown. We walked, as I wasn't sure what the Oxford Bus Company would think of kids with wet underwear dampening its smart upholstery. Emily apparently hadn't needed a wee while we were out, but we were no sooner inside the garden gate when she abruptly stopped walking and, standing legs akimbo, proceeded to pee copiously in her knickers and shorts, making a puddle on the path. I watched in some amazement as she just stood there, totally relaxed and unconcerned, with a dark wet patch spreading over the bottom of her shorts and streams running down her legs.

"Couldn't you have waited?" I asked her.

"I did wait," she said, as the last few drips coursed down her legs.

"Until you were on the toilet, I meant." Emily looked at me with incredulity. Wait to go to the toilet until you were on the toilet?

I smiled at her, and held out my hand.

"It's OK," I said. "Accidents happen. Shall we go and get you changed into clean, dry things?"

"I'm all right," said Emily.

"We can change our own pants if we need to," said Penny.

I looked back at Emily,

"Don't you think it would be a good idea if I helped you get cleaned up now? You're very wet and your pants must be very ickky."

Emily considered this for a moment.

"OK," she said, and took my hand.

I led her up to the bathroom where I had first found Penny's messy pants. I noticed that now there was a large lidded plastic bucket beside the toilet; I lifted the lid, and peered in. The bucket was full of sanitising solution, in which floated several pairs of cotton children's pants of various kinds.

"That's for our knickers," said Emily. "Magda puts it there for us."

"Oh," I said. "That's a good idea. Now wait a minute while I go and look for some clean undies for you."

"You don't have to look," said Emily, busy unfastening the braces of her bib-and-brace shorts. "There are knickers and things in there." And she nodded towards the airing cupboard at the opposite end of the room. I opened the door, and was confronted with three piles of neatly ironed and folded underwear, mostly just plain white cotton briefs.

"Mine are the middle ones," said Emily, letting her sodden shorts drop unceremoniously to the floor.

I picked the top pair of pants from Emily's pile, then turned to inspect the damage to the ones she was wearing. There was a flattened bulge in the well-soaked seat of them, a faint speckled stain and a little bit of rich tan-coloured poo showing at the legband on the left side.

"Turn around, Emily," I said, She looked at me blankly for a moment, then turned and presented me with her small, neat backside. I hooked a finger in the waistband of her knickers and pulled it out so that I could peer inside. The back of her pants contained several squashed lumps of clay-like poo - not hard, but not soft enough to be seriously messy. The poo had moulded itself to the shape of her bottom where she had sat in it, but it was all neatly spread in her pants; it was probably the tidiest panty-poo I had ever seen!

In the event, it was easy enough to sort Emily out. I eased the mucky panties down, turned them inside out over the toilet to dispose of their contents, rinsed them under the shower to get rid of the worst of the staining, and dropped them in the sanitising bucket.

Emily had reached down a packet of baby-wipes that were on a shelf above the cistern and wiped herself - very thoroughly, I noticed. I handed her the clean pants, and she stepped into them and pulled them up. All very matter-of-fact.

"Do you want to just sit on the toilet and see if you need to do anything before you go off and play?"

"No," said Emily, bluntly. "I'll go and find some other things to wear. Thanks."

And took herself off to her room along the passage.

"OK." I said, to her retreating back.

I stood there for a moment pondering the extraordinary topsy-turvey approach to toilet matters chez Walker, before I recalled that I had two other children with wet pants to see to. Penny was out in the garden, sitting on the swing-seat with her dress rucked up around her waist, reading a book.

"Clean pants, Penny?" I asked her. She shook her head. "These are nearly dry now," she said, without looking up. I shrugged.

"OK," I said - and went to look for Josh.

He was curled up on the floor in the corner of his room, busy with his play-station.

"Do you want dry pants, Josh?" I asked him.

"Not yet," he said. "I don't want to stop now."

I sat down on the end of his bed and watched him for a while. He was amazingly fast at the game, which I realised was on a very advanced level. The score in the corner of the screen mounted rapidly.

After a few minutes, he had finished the level he was on and moved on to an even higher one. As he started playing again, he shifted his position slightly. Next moment, I caught a faint but familiar sound; without any apparent effort and without missing a keystroke, Joshua simply filled his pants. I saw the seat of his red shorts move as his BM slid into his underwear. Still without missing a keystroke, he strained a little; there was another faint sticky sound as the bulge in the seat of his shorts got bigger. The familiar fragrance of a childish BM filled the air as, still engrossed in the game, Josh eased himself into a more comfortable position. The sound that accompanied this movement left me in no doubt that his would be a far more demanding clean-up than Emily's had been. I sighed - part in dread, part in envy.

"Come and see me when you want to get changed," I said - and left him to his game.

I set off downstairs to see about getting the children their tea. On the way down, I met Penny coming up. She still had her book in her left hand; with the other, she was holding the hem of her dress up on her hip, ominously clear of her knickers.

"Are you OK, Penny?" I asked her.

She shook her head.

"Nope," she said. "I need to get my pants changed."


Penny nodded. "Rather a big poo," she said, turning her back towards me. It was no exageration. The seat of her white cotton briefs was white no longer; a broad brown stain fanned out in a neat semicircle across the slick round bulge that distended the back of the hapless panties, and a glistening smear of soft, slick poo grinned a broad crescent at the legband on the right-hand side. It was one of the most comprehensively poo'd in pair of pants I'd ever seen.

I stared at Penny's pants, wondering what on earth she'd eaten to produce such a substantail BM.

"Would you like me to help you get cleaned up?" I asked.

Penny nodded, and flashed me her impish smile.

"That would be nice," she said. "I'm not very good at it when I get really messy. Magda helps me sometimes…"

We went into the bathroom, and quite matter-of-factly Penny kicked off her sneakers and peeled off her socks. Carefully, she put her book - which she had been clutching throughout, on the top of the lavatory cistern, followed by her spectacles. Then she reached down and grasped the hem of her dress so that she could pull it over her head. She stood there, pale and scrawny in vest and knickers, with her crumpled dress in her hands, and looked back over her shoulder to try and see the damage.

"I think I made my knickers a bit dirty," she said, with masterly understatement.

"Just a bit," I agreed, as I reached for the waistband to start easing them down.

Tea was rather late, by the time I'd sorted Penny out, then hauled Josh - protesting - into the bathroom to have his messy pants changed too. It took a lot of tissue, plenty of soap and water and some serious scrubbing to get everything back to some state of normality. At last, the children were sitting around the big kitchen-table tucking in to scrambled eggs, baked beans and toast (their request) while three pairs of sorely-abused cotton underwear soaked in an extra-strong bucketful of solution in the bathrooom. I sat there watching them eat while clutching a well-earned cup of tea and wondering if I'd be dealing with such spectacularly messy pants every day…

To Jason: Just say your sorry and bring her flowers or something - how was it to pee your pants?

Hey everybody, hope you're all well! I've got some replies to recent posts... To the anonymous UK girl- I love your posts, keep them coming. I agree with you about turnstiles at public loos! They really are a nuisance, especially if you're desperate! They have them at Glasgow Central Station and I really see no need for charging someone to use the toilet! I guess that's what they mean about spending a penny, eh? LOL

To A.W- Do YOU have any pee stories that you can share with us?

And lastly, To Anny- I hope your constipation and bladder problems are easing up, darling! Keep us POSTed won't you? x Goodbye All, happy peeing and pooping!

Billy from Texas
Thanks for the story Filup. It hard to imagin going through that as a child. I remember being in the store when I was a little kid and see this little girl about 4 or 5 crying, begging her mom to take her to the bathroom. However she kept saying no. I was trmatized witnessing that as a child. You would have had to been their to see the look on her face and how her mom was talking to her. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been holding it for hours by the time on seen them. I also witnessed teachers removing restroom breaks as punishmnt in school and the pain they went through. I was denyed, but not as punishment. I always wondered what these teacher put their own children through.

To answer your question my co-worker has an over streached bladder and when she has to go she can not wait as it hits her when her bladder is very full. I guessing her bladder has lost its feeling from holding it so much.

Tanya from NM
My friend HTP and I went to an Indian buffet dinner tonight. The food was pretty good but as always with buffets, trying a bit of everything and then back for seconds and end up eating way too much. HTP made two trips to the men's room I think. I waited until I finished eating and felt really full and bloated. So I made my way back to the ladies room, and honestly why do they even bother putting doors on the stalls - you walk in and the gaps in the stall walls would give anyone a full show for free. A fleeting thought that the senile old waiter might mistakenly open the wrong door and see me. Oh well, carry on. So down on the can trying to release the pressure building up. Not sure it's poop or gas or both. I let out a quiet short pffft of gas, but no poop. Should I wait and force it out, or get on with it and go find HTP. I decided to give it another minute and was rewarded with an initially large poop that strained and stretched my hole a bit (slight bit of pain, but not unpleasant) and once that passed through the end of my hole, the rest flowed out nicely, quickly and easily. A little too quick for my taste, but oh well. Then a quick wipe down (I still am in the bad habit of back to front), and off to find my HTP!

Hi, its me again, I notice that my name doesnt appear with my post, could anyone possibly tell me how to do this? Cheers.

Anyway not much has happened recently so here's a tale from a while ago.

Mum had to go away on a business conference somewhere so we had to drive her to the station, it was 50 miles away or so I think. Anyway me and dad went and as it was about lunchtime we stopped for some lunch at Mc Donalds. I remember finishing part of his drink because he didn't want it, anyway, i felt a bit of a need to go as we left but it was very small so I ignored it - only an hour or so home anyway... or so I thought.

Dad decided to stop off at some of his friends houses, and he spent about an hour and a half talking to them whilst I sat bored in the corner. By the time we (finally) went, I was feeling a bigger urge but it was someone else's house and I didnt want to ask to use the toilet, so I held it in. We drove home along the motorway, but were slowed to a standstill a few times by roadworks. It was around 3 hours after we'd had lunch now and I was starting to fidget a bit and looking forward to getting home. However we sailed past the entrance to our estate...

"Hey dad, you missed the turning!"

"We need to stop off at the supermarket... I have a few things to buy for tea"

Now I knew that if we went to the supermarket and back I couldn't possibly hold it all in.

"Can't I go home myself and let myself in?"

"Well, I'm not allowed to leave you at home for long"

"It won't be long!"

"Why do you want to go home anyway?"

"I'm kinda sick of the car, and" I fidgeted a bit, Dad looked over.

"Do you need to use the toilet?"


"Can't you hold it in until we get back from the supermarket?"

"I don't think so"

"Are you desperate?"

"Well, erm, yes"

Dad turned the car around and turned back to the entrance to our estate. He parked up and gave me the keys "Okay - you go home, I'll be back in half an hour or so ok?".

Now from the estate entrance it's a bit of a way to our house, so I started walking quickly. However as I walked I was getting more and more desperate, and I didn't want wet pants or anything, so I started running down the street. Eventually I got to our house and up to the front door. Now try to imagine this, you're 8 years old, trying to get into your house, whilst desperate for a wee. It was almost impossible to get the door unlocked and opened, but unfortunately the door wouldn't budge. So I ran around the back and tried the back door... this I got unlocked, but then I had to shut it and lock it behind me as I was told I always had to do. Whilst fiddling with the lock though I had to hold myself still and not fidget, and this was a bad idea as I started weeing myself, I tried to stop but I couldn't, so I ran upstairs - still wetting myself - and as I got to the toilet I undid my jeans and pulled them and my knickers down. But I was still standing up, so the wee just poured streight down and onto my jeans and knickers which were at my ankles. As it tailed off, I started to cry... I'd tried to hold it, and I'd got so close, but I'd still managed to wet myself. I took my jeans and knickers off, put them in the wash, and went and put fresh ones on. It felt quite humiliating, that I'd actually fully wet myself, and so near to the toilet as well, aged 8.

I have a couple of other stories from a while ago which I will post tomorrow.

Friday, March 30, 2007

My Second Post!! ooh exciting XD !!!

I was on the way home today with my friend she is female and i like her much, and she started to moan that she needed a wee. So we agreed that we would stop at the next fast-food restaurant and use the toilets there.

On the way she told me how this one time 4 years ago, she got off a bus and she was so desperate and could barely hold it-literally!
It was winter and the ground was really icy and slippery. She says she gets off the bus and is walking home and is concentrating on walking home quickley and not slipping so she gets home quicker. And she stumbled and squirted a big squirt into her knickers so they were dripping, but she managed to hold hersself again. Was wearing a big winter coat which she then did up to cover any wet patches!

We made it to the toilets this time though...shame...

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