Glancing furtively behind him to make sure that Maureen had driven away following their tortuous car journey, Carl fumbled for his door keys, extracting them from the sodden pocket of his bagged and rolled-up trousers. His hand was trembling slightly as he went to insert them in the lock, thankful beyond belief that on-one should be at home. Both of his parents would be working until early evening and his brother probably wouldn’t get home until the very late evening.
As he opened the front door he could instantly sense that there was someone inside the house and almost before he could recognise the coat laying on the telephone stall, a voice called out “Is that you, Sam?” (Carl’s dad). ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ cursed Carl silently, ‘please no, this can’t be happening’ but almost instantaneously, an elderly lady appeared at the end of the hallway.
“No, it’s me, Nan” replied Carl, his voice wracked with absolute horror. His grandmother occasionally came over whilst the family were at work and indulged in her passionate pastime of cooking, meaning that everyone arrived home to one of Nan’s wonderful dinners. Her presence on such occasions was always warmly welcome, but not today – by Carl anyway.
In a panic, he turned his back so as not to see his grandmother’s face but he also momentarily forgot that he was wearing the plastic yellow waterproof bottoms and no shoes. In all honesty, he looked ridiculous, with his lime green shirt simply adding to the ill-matching combination and so without even having the slightest clue as to what had occurred, his Nan said,
“I wasn’t expecting you back, I thought you were working at that new job?” before adding, “Why are you dressed like…? I mean, what on earth are you wearing?”
Carl’s fragile spirit was broken before he even had a chance to think of an excusable response, and he let both arms drop by his sides, clasping the ever-dampening paper bag in one hand and gripping his shoes in the other hand. There was simply no way out of this situation, no way at all. Not only could he not think what to say but whatever he did say would not let him escape from the clutches of his awful humiliating mishap.
“Erm, Hello Nan!” he said, struggling to find the next words.
His Nan spoke again, “Whatever’s happened?” Her eyes flickered from her grandson’s embarrassed face to the soggy bag and then to his shoes – and those ludicrous fisherman-type trousers which barely reached his ankles, whilst she could also see that his socks were thick and woolly-looking.
Carl simply had no option other to try and swear his grandmother to secrecy.
“Look, please Nan, I’m begging you. Please, please don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, please!”
The response was a confused, stony silence as he continued,
“You must promise me, swear to me, you won’t tell anyone about this. Please Nan!”
She still looked on, as if she was waiting for him to say the actual words.
“I’ve, erm… I’ve had… I had a bit of an accident, Nan – in my pants.”
His Nan peered over the top of her glasses, “Oh Carl! You haven’t wet yourself, have you?”
The very phrase made his stomach flip. “Nan, I need you to do something for me? Please can you stick this in the washing-machine for me? It’s got to be done before mum or dad get home, please.”
As he passed her the brown bag, a small tear appeared in the wet paper and Car’s dark grey trousers began to emerge as the tear sliced open further. His Nan put the bag down on the nearby table, still shocked at what she was seeing, but Carl’s heart sank as she picked up the trousers by the waistband, looking intently at the wetness all down the legs and began examining the label, “I wonder if these can be washed or whether they need dry-cleaning?”
“Nan, please!” whispered Carl. “Yes, yes, they’re alright to wash, can you just do it for me, please!”
But she wasn’t finished, “Is it just your trousers, is there nothing else?” she asked.
Carl stammered slightly, not really knowing how to respond, as his Nan continued, “Where are your underpants? They must need washing, surely?”
“Erm, in the bag.”
“No they’re not” replied his Nan, scrunching up the soggy wet brown paper bag.
Carl looked genuinely confused and slightly puzzled and there was a momentary silence before his Nan added, “And your socks, where are your own socks? Aren’t they wet too?”
Carl tried to cast his mind back, “I’m not really sure, I thought Norman put them in the bag with my trousers and pants.”
“Norman?” queried his Nan.
“Er, the caretaker I think” replied Carl, “he’s something like that. He sort of helped me out after I’d done it. He lent me the waterproofs and the socks so I could wear them home. He was there when I took all my wet things off in the toilet, I thought he’d put everything in the bag. He definitely picked my pants and socks up, so I don’t really know what’s happened. He might have put them in the bin.”
“Where did you do it love, where did you wet yourself?” whispered his Nan quietly, as she gently took his shoes from him.
Carl bowed his head, “In the office, I was absolutely desperate and that Norman guy hadn’t unlocked the toilet. We had to go outside for a fire drill or something and I was bursting. When we got back inside I was dying for the toilet to be opened, but I couldn’t wait and I ended up going in my trousers sitting in the office.”
“In front of everyone?” Nan added.
Carl nodded, “Yes, everyone saw me doing it. I was still going when I got to the toilet, still actually doing it in my pants, I mean.”
His Nan put her hands up to her face, “Oh you poor thing!”
Carl interrupted her sympathetic reaction, “I’m going to get showered and changed. I’ll stick my shirt in the normal wash-bin. But please Nan, you mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
------------------------------
It was just after midday when office manager Irene returned from her meeting. As she entered the main doors she glanced along the corridor and wondered why there was a small plastic sheet and a yellow ‘Caution – Wet Floor’ sign bang in the middle, outside the toilet area.
Equally as puzzling was another smaller piece of plastic sheeting on the carpeted floor close to one of the unoccupied desks and she knew that something unusual had happened as she glanced into the small yard and saw Norman, outside in the sizzling hot sunshine and forcibly scrubbing the seat of one of the chairs. She could see the white cleaning foam frothing on the material as Norman rubbed at it furiously.
She immediately caught Katie in her eye-line and said, “What’s happened there? Has somebody spilled something? How did that happen?”
Katie said nothing and glanced at her colleagues for support but they all had their heads down working, or at least imitating working, as Irene added. “How’s the temp Carl? Is he getting on okay?”
Katie ushered Irene a few metres back into her office, realising she was going to have to deal with this alone. She had little option other than to blurt out the situation.
“Oh Irene, he wet himself! Maureen’s had to take him home.”
Irene just stared straight back, completely expressionless.
“It was awful Irene, so embarrassing. He asked me if he could go to the toilet when he first got here but Norman hadn’t unlocked them. I just assumed he’d gone a bit later but, oh yes, we had a fire evacuation, a false alarm, but when we got back in afterwards he went and sat back down at the desk and well, he did it sitting in his chair. He never said anything to anyone about wanting to go. Bev spotted it and just hit my arm and said ‘Oh My God, he’s weeing himself!’ and she pointed down and it was all running off his chair and down his trouser-legs. They managed to get him outside to the toilet but I think he mustn’t have been able to get there in time and he finished doing in his pants standing in the corridor. I’ve no idea why he didn’t ask anyone or try to go earlier, I presume he must be a bit shy but Irene, he didn’t half do a lot. He must have been bursting so badly.”
“Oh my goodness” replied a still-stunned Irene.
Katie could hardly get the story out quickly enough, “Unless he did go earlier and then just had to go again so soon after, we really don’t know but he definitely didn’t ask anyone as far as we know. Even when we were outside during the fire alarm I don’t think he wanted to go or at least he didn’t say. It was unbelievable when he wet himself though Irene, we could all see him doing it on the chair, you could see it running out of the bottom of the legs of his trousers, Norman’s had to try and clean up the puddle…”
“Alright, alright Katie” interrupted Irene. “What’s happened since? Have we told the agency what’s happened or do we know whether he’s coming back?”
Katie called Maureen into the office to ask if Carl had mentioned anything about coming back. “He never said a word, nothing. I didn’t really expect him to but I didn’t ask. I can’t imagine he’ll come back tomorrow after disgracing himself like that can you? But then again, he’s supposed to be here for six months and then maybe permanently, so who knows?”
“Is your car okay, after taking him back in that state?” asked Irene.
“Yes fine” replied Maureen, “Norman gave him some waterproof trousers to wear and I think he took his trousers and pants in a paper bag that Norman gave him…”
Irene frowned slightly, “Norman was involved?”
“Oh yes, he helped Carl a lot after he’d done it. I actually think he might have wet himself waiting for Norman to unlock the gents, although I’m not sure.”
Irene’s innermost thoughts immediately turned in another direction, ‘Not Norman, surely not again!’
------------------------------
Back at the scene of Carl’s disastrous humiliation, caretaker Norman, a well-built middle-aged man with a west country accent, sat in his small office and from the right pocket of his overall coat, he extracted a pair of still wet, tightly rolled-up, men’s white briefs and he stretched them open on the bench next to him, before pulling two damp grey cotton socks from his other pocket, and he laid out the socks, side by side, alongside the wet underpants.
There was a slight aroma of urine emanating from both the socks and the pants, and Norman gently grinned to himself, as he smoothed his hand across the sodden items, visually recalling the smart suited good-looking lad standing wetting himself, with a hot puddle forming all around his shoes.
He leaned across and opened a small cupboard, reaching inside and sliding out a small metal drawer before carefully lifting out another pair of white boxer briefs with a black waistband, accompanied by a pair of plain white sports socks.
He smiled to himself as he cast his mind back more than a year to the incident in the lift – when the toilets had been mysteriously out of order and he had been asked by Irene to accompany a frantic young carpet fitter to the second floor facility. The three-man team had been laying new flooring in the ground floor reception and the youngest of them, a blond-haired lad who was only about 20, had asked twice if he could use the toilet, but was told both times that as soon as caretaker Norman could be found, the toilets would be unlocked.
His two requests had been around an hour apart and the fitters, who were all working in their socked-feet, were approaching a lunch-break when the lad called Jay had whispered to one of his workmates about his predicament.
“I’m absolutely busting myself for a slash, I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold on much longer. They’d better find that caretaker soon!”
Sensing his colleague’s distress and embarrassment, fitter Lee had popped his head around the door of the office and asked one of the girls, “Any chance of your caretaker showing up yet? My mate is getting desperate for the toilet now, he’s asked a couple of times already and he really needs the gents opened quickly, it’s getting a bit serious for him.”
The girl had gone to find Irene, who appeared soon after, “Has Norman still not turned up? I’ve sent him a message twice and both times he said he was on his way.”
“Well we haven’t seen him” Lee replied, “and Jay here’s dying to go now. We don’t want to have to replace the carpet before we’ve even finished laying it!”
He grinned and Irene smiled back slightly awkwardly, whilst Jay felt his face redden a bit, but it was true – his discomfort was such that his bladder was pulsating and he had a slight tummy ache.
Suddenly, Norman appeared from around the corner.
“Ah at last, this is Norman” Irene said as Norman nodded in response, “could you please unlock the gents as a matter of some urgency. One of the carpet fitters is desperate to go to the toilet and he’s been waiting for ages.”
“Oh sorry about that, I’ll do it now” replied Norman, prompting Jay to get up from his knees almost instantly, and he hurried across the reception, feeling his stomach muscles tingling and sensing some numbness around his crotch area, as he wanted to hold himself, although knowing he couldn’t.
He followed behind Norman like an obedient puppy, as the caretaker jangled a large bunch of keys and by the time he reached the toilet door, Jay was standing just a few feet behind him, almost bouncing on his white-socked feet.
Norman fiddled around with the keys without actually doing anything, and he turned to look behind him as a panicky Jay said, “Could you try and hurry up please!” whilst bobbing up and down gently. He was so close to being able to relieve his bursting bladder that his need increased tenfold.
The door was finally opened and Norman stepped inside, but to Jay’s horror, the caretaker said “Oh hold on just a minute lad, will you?”
Jay stood motionless as Norman entered the toilet before emerging around 10 seconds later.
“I’m afraid we’ve got a leak, the floor’s wringing wet, I don’t know where it’s coming from, but we’re going to have to find out before it gets any worse,” and to Jay’s despair, Norman produced his keys again and began to lock the door.
“I really need to go, mate, I’m absolutely desperate here!” stuttered Jay in a sheer panic.
“Don’t worry lad, we’ve got a toilet facility up on the second floor. It actually belongs to one of the other companies who use the building, but we can pop up there and let you use that one, they won’t mind. We can go up in the lift.”
Jay hobbled behind Norman as they walked back into reception, with Jay’s stomach muscles tensing up even more tightly and his legs felt a bit jelly-like.
“Feeling better now, mate?” asked Lee, unknowingly.
“They’re out of order!” Jay blurted out loudly.
“It’s alright, we’re going to go up to the second floor where there’s another toilet, we’re going to get the lift” replied Norman, before turning back and adding, “you’d better put your shoes on lad, you don’t want to be going into another company’s offices in your socks.”
Jay stepped across the room and rapidly wriggled his socked-feet into a pair of discarded tan boots which were laying side by side near the wall, and as he did so, he turned towards Lee and said, “Christ mate, I’m going to wet myself if we don’t get to a toilet soon!”
Lee grinned broadly, but Jay whispered, “I’m serious, I’m actually nearly pissing my pants here!” as he quickly followed Norman back out and across the corridor, with the laces dangling down from his loose-fitting boots as he walked.
“Here we are” said Norman as they reached the small lift, “jump in boy, it’s a bit cramped but it’ll be quicker than the stairs.”
Jay stepped inside first and stood by the wall before Norman got in, seemingly taking all the time in the world, before pressing one of the buttons on the panel, and they waited for the doors to close. It took an eternity and Jay couldn’t help himself, “Argh, I’m nearly going in my pants here mate!”
“Don’t do that boy,” replied Norman, “not in here with me anyway!”
Jay half-winced in embarrassment, but his stomach was doing cartwheels, such was his frantic need.
The lift trundled slowly and noisily, with Norman standing right in front of the wall panel, but all of a sudden, there was a shudder and jolt before the lights went out and almost immediately came back on again … but the lift was stationary.
“What the fuck…!” Jay snapped, partly out of shock but also in a blind panic.
“Oh these bloody lifts” Norman said in a monotone voice, “we’ve had this before. I’ve been telling them we need an upgrade, they’re temperamental, they don’t like to be overworked!”
But Jay hardly took in the words, “Mate, I’m in fucking trouble here, seriously I am, I’m in real danger of pissing myself!”
“You’ll just to have to hold on as best you can, boy. Sometimes they start up again of their own accord within a minute or so. If not, I’ll try and call the engineer. I don’t want to press the emergency button just yet because that sends a message to their call centre and that can sometimes take longer than calling the engineer directly, so I’ll probably try and go down that route…”
But before he could finish speaking, Jay pressed his legs together and grabbed the crotch of his grey shorts, “Jesus! I am going to fucking wet myself in here if we don’t move!”
Remarkably, Norman ignored the comment and turned to face the wall control panel, “Hmm, now I wonder if I can try and get us back down to the ground floor. I don’t think anything has fused or else the lights would be out, but – I wonder…”
Jay couldn’t see what Norman was doing but Norman could clearly see the reflection of the young carpet-fitter in the mirror. He was red-faced and wide-eyed and there were beads of sweat on his young forehead, glistening below his ruffled blond hair. He was standing with his legs crossed and although he was no longer holding himself, he was bent slightly forwards.
Jay simply didn’t know what to do. Time was running out rapidly for him and with no access to a toilet and absolutely nothing to resolve his predicament, his heart was pounding in his chest and he was starting to perspire as his legs felt taut and yet weak.
“How long are we going to be stuck in here?” he mumbled in a somewhat weaker voice than before.
Norman looked back at him, “I don’t know lad, I really have no idea. Why don’t you sit on the floor if you’re uncomfortable, there’s enough room as I’m not getting down. I wouldn’t get up again!”
Jay was dumbfounded – this caretaker bloke really didn’t seem to get that he was on the verge of having an accident. If they didn’t get out of here soon, Jay was going to wet himself like a little kid.
“Oh God, I don’t know what to do?” Jay blurted out loudly, grabbing his crotch again and bobbing up and down frantically on the spot, “What am I going to do? I need a wee like you wouldn’t believe, I can’t hold on much longer!”
“Don’t jump about like that!” said Norman, “we don’t want to cause even more damage, these lifts are old and rickety.”
“I’m going to wet myself!” Jay was well beyond the stage of embarrassment, “I’m going to do it in my pants in a minute!”
Norman again ignored the words, “Damn, I can’t get a signal to call the engineers, I think I’m ging to have to report directly to the lift company. I’m afraid we could be in for a bit of a wait, so you’d best try and get as comfortable as you can.”
Jay’s voice broke slightly as he couldn’t contain his immense anguish, but his raised voice was almost akin to a shout.
“I am going to piss myself!”
Norman just looked at him without any emotion at all.
“Oh Fuck! It’s going to come out in my pants!” Jay yelled in a spluttering voice, “I can’t hold this in any more, I’m almost fucking doing it!”
Norman watched in silence, as Jay bent forwards, holding himself through the scrunched up material of his shorts, as he leaned forwards and at the same time, bent his legs at the knees so that he was in a semi-squatting position.
“Oh Christ, this is so fucking embarrassing, I can’t help myself!” he mumbled in a quiet voice, “I just can’t wait any more, it’s happening! I’m doing it!”
For what seemed to be an eternity, but in reality was probably only a matter of a few seconds, the two of them made direct eye contact, as Jay let out a short but audible fart.
“Charming!” muttered Norman under his breath, but almost immediately, he saw the top of the leg of Jay’s grey shorts start to darken, followed by a little trickle of urine running down the inside of the lad’s upper left thigh. The dribble stopped, then intensified again, and this time a little spurt of wee dribbled right down his leg before weaving its way around his shin and onto his calf.
Jay stretched out one arm and planted his hand on the side wall to support him as he opened his knees a bit wider, allowing a little stream to splatter from his shorts and onto the lift floor and at the same time, several trickles ran in numerous tramlines down the fronts of both of his upper legs.
As Norman glanced down, he could see strong streams of urine running powerfully down Jay’s legs and dribbling over the tops of his white sports socks above his boots, although the trickles seeping over the sides and down the outsides of his tan boots were forming little puddles next to both of his shoes, gradually spreading between his feet and merging into a pool of hot steaming urine.
Jay was still holding himself with one hand, but the entire front of his shorts had turned a dark grey colour and droplets were falling from all around the cuffs of his shorts, some of which were running down his legs and some of which were forming constant drips and dribbles onto the floor, making the puddle around his feet ripple as the size of the pool continued to grow.
The scenario continued for a good 20 seconds or so before the deluge began to recede and Jay was left standing, still with his knees bent, as the gentle drips and trickles dribbled down his wet legs, weaving between the blond hairs and reaching his ankles.
Jay could feel the warmth down his legs beginning to turn into a sticky sensation, whilst inside his boots he could sense the wetness of his socks and a warm clamminess beneath his feet.
“I’ve been in my pants!” he stammered.
“You have that laddie, you certainly have that” replied Norman in a unconcerned tone.
Jay was shaking and trembling, as his cock released a final uncontrollable spurt into his white briefs, and he wiped his hand across his watery and sweat-streaked eyes, looking at the floor as he said, “I’ve wet myself, I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t hold on any longer” before adding, “Fuck!”
Norman stared intently and savoured the sight in front of him. The young blond-haired, red-faced and distressed carpet fitter was standing just a few feet away, with a puddle round his boots, his legs visibly wet and his shorts saturated.
He looked for several minutes without saying anything and Jay also stood in mortified silence.
“We’re going to have to get you sorted out with something to wear” said Norman as he finally broke the quietness, “That’s as soon as we get out of here.”
Suddenly, there was a whirring motorised sound as power was seemingly restored. Jay was still in a state of disbelief, completely failing to notice Norman’s hand action behind his back as he firmly pressed and held one of the buttons on the concealed panel.
“Well, would you believe that!” said Norman, as the lift began to fire up into action.
As the lift sprang back into life, Norman turned to face the control panel, “We’d better go back down to the ground floor again. We don’t want to take you up to another organisation’s premises, and in event, it’s too late to get you to a toilet anyway.”
------------------------------
Around 30 seconds later, the lift shuddered to a halt and as the door creaked open loudly, Norman stepped out, leaving a mortified Jay still standing against the rear wall.
“Come on out boy” prompted Norman, and at the same time as Jay slowly and uncomfortably moved, gasping slightly as now cold urine dribbled down his leg again, tickling his knee and shin before being absorbed by his sock, Irene stepped back from the reception area, where she had been talking to the other carpet fitters.
“Is everything alright?” she asked tentatively, sensing that Norman was urging the young lad out.
“He didn’t get to the toilet in time, I’m afraid.”
“Oh My Goodness” said, Irene, putting her hands up to her face as she saw Jay slowly emerge into the corridor, with his grey shorts sodden. As she glanced down, she saw the lad’s glistening and shiny legs, with the hairs matted damply, and his tan boots streaked with dark wetness. Jay was looking down at the floor in embarrassment, and Norman spoke again.
“The lift had a bit of stall as usual, and the laddie couldn’t wait, had an accident before we got there. I’ve got some things in my office he can change into.”
Irene was still standing with her hands over her face, but she turned back and spoke into the vicinity of the reception, prompting Lee and his colleague Kevin to step out into the corridor.
“Jeez mate, have you wet your pants!”
Jay didn’t answer but Irene did, “Yes, I’m afraid he has. Norman is going to give him some dry things to change into, and then I assume one of you will take him home, or wherever?”
Lee and David looked at each other with their mouths open, as Jay uncomfortably walked behind Norman, still with his gaze fixed on the floor, as the extent of the wetness of his shorts became apparent.
“Tell the girls the ladies loo is out of use for 10 minutes whilst we get this lad sorted out, okay” called back Norman, as Jay hobbled bow-legged into the female toilet.
A few minutes later, Norman re-entered the toilet carrying a pair of yellow plastic fishing trousers.
“Here laddie, put these on to get home in. There are some dry socks too. I’ll put your shorts in a bag if you give them to me and you can take those with you. Take your pants and socks off as well, I’ll deal with those.”
Jay dutifully and almost subconsciously removed his boots and peeled his wet white socks off, before pulling his sodden shorts down his wet legs and stepping out of them. He looked at the ridiculous yellow plastic trousers, but knew there was little other option, and as he stretched out his hand to pick them off the wooden bench, Norman bent down and scooped up the socks and shorts, adding,
“Come on, give us your pants too.”
Jay was past the point of embarrassment and tugged his saturated white underpants down his legs. They were plain white tight-fitting boxer-briefs with a black logoed waistband, and Norman picked them up before turning his back and fiddling with a plastic carrier bag. Seconds later, he turned back to see Jay fastening the yellow fishing trousers.
“Erm thanks” Jay mumbled as he pulled on a pair of thick fisherman-type blue-striped woollen socks. His comment was partly in response to the caretaker’s assistance and also to acknowledge Norman handing him a carrier bag with, apparently, his wet clothing in.
But it was only when he walked ashamedly out of the toilet carrying the plastic bag with him like a little schoolboy who’d had a mishap in class, that Norman glanced back to the wooden bench, where Jay’s wet white underpants and his sodden white sports socks were rolled up in the corner.
Norman stood at the door as he watched Jay walk towards his mates, one of whom put a consoling arm around his shoulder prior to them going out to the works van, before the caretaker turned back and picked up the soggy bundle, musing to himself with a broad smile,
‘They never ask for their own pants and socks back’.
------------------------------
Back in his office, Norman was feeling a sense of immense satisfaction. Looking down at the table in front of him, he got a whiff of Carl’s sodden underwear, alongside the 14-month old pair of carpet fitter Jay’s white briefs, and the two pairs of socks, before swinging his chair around and carefully opening another small drawer at the bottom of the grey cabinet.
This time, he extracted a pair of expensive-looking Hugo Boss underpants, grey with blue edging, sitting alongside a pair of navy blue socks, ‘Like I say, they’re always too embarrassed to ask for them back’ he grinned to himself, as he leant forwards and pulled open the door of the cupboard, ‘and sometimes, I get the lot when they don’t even dare speak to you again!’
This time, he didn’t extract the items, but just looked knowingly at the neatly folded pair of police uniform trousers, on top of which were sitting a pair of plain black lace-up shoes, each with a black sock stuffed inside, and a pair of plain white y-front underpants.
‘That was an older one – but a real goodie!’
