Lads Pissing

The fair was in town at Brighton and some of the members of the blue watch team of Sussex firefighters were taking the opportunity to spend some of their spare time having a wander around the summer event. Most of them had found themselves on duty at similar events over the years so having the chance to attend as a member of the public was a rare treat.

On the popular but much-feared Pendulum Wheel, two of the firefighters were waiting to embark on the next ride. Mark and Darren had queued for almost an hour to experience the thrill of the attraction although as they stepped forward into the small enclosure ready to get on, 26-year old Darren remarked to his mate,

“I feel positively ancient here mate, they’re all about 10 years younger than us!”

That was a slight exaggeration but Mark knew what he meant.

Each rider was strapped into a double-seat alongside their partner, sitting as best they could on an angled flat seat which was little more than a small plastic board, tipped forwards. Straps held the rider around the chest and around the waist, tightly restricting their movement and the metal bar which came down on each capsule meant that any arm movement could only be upwards. The rest of the body was totally exposed and as each rider sat with his or her legs and feet dangling, the guide yelled out, “Shoes off boys and girls, please!”

“They could have told us that before they strapped us in like mummies” groaned Darren as he managed to extract his feet from his trainers and ten pairs of footwear gradually dropped untidily onto the ground below them.

“How long does this ride last?” he asked his mate
“About six minutes I think” replied Mark
“Just as well that’s all it is, I’m busting for a pee”.
Mark laughed out loud, “Oh well done mate, that’s all I need to hear, strapped alongside you.”
Darren grinned awkwardly, “I wanted to go a bit when we started queuing but once you’re in the line, what are you supposed to do, eh?”
“Well don’t do it on the ride mate, you’ll end up showering everyone watching below!”
They both grinned and waited for further instructions from the ride guide.

It was nearly 10 minutes later when the guide stepped back having competed all the checks.
“Still bursting for a wee, mate?” Mark sniggered
“I’ll tell you what” said Darren, “they’d better not take as long to let us off as they have to get us on. I’ll never make it, mate!”
Mark laughed again, “And you can’t even cross your legs!”

Three or four minutes further on, the exhilaration peaked as the ride almost rocketed its passengers into orbit and as it began to slow very slightly amidst screams and whoops of delight and excitement, Darren and Mark were clinging on tightly. Mark’s head was spinning and alongside him, Darren was experiencing a tingling sensation in his stomach, partly he was sure, as a result of his bloated bladder.

All of a sudden, there was an unseemly clatter, a clanging of metal and an unexpected jolt which almost catapulted the riders from their seats and made them grateful for the tightness of their strapping.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Darren, “Bloody Hell, I nearly wet myself!”

This time Mark didn’t respond with laughter. Instead he looked worryingly at the small plumes of smoke emanating from the engine of the equipment and within seconds the ride had ground to a halt, leaving its riders dangling above the ground. They were far enough in the air to have absolutely no means of reaching the safety of the ground but close enough to hear shouted instructions from below them.
“Stay still, please. Do not struggle. Try not to move, please. Just await further instructions and keep calm.”

Several minutes later, most of the riders were starting to come to terms with their predicament. There was little genuine panic and seemingly a willingness to listen to what was being said from the ground.

“This could take a while, so just sit tight and try and enjoy the scenery.”
“Is he joking?” whispered Darren, “Enjoy it? I’ve got to piss like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I don’t like to say this mate, but we could be up here for hours, they’re going to have to winch us down manually, surely. They’ll need to bring equipment in to do that. You might have to exert all your willpower if you’re to survive with dry trousers.”
“Don’t! Just don’t!” snapped Darren testily, “Of course I’ll survive but I’m seriously gagging to go, absolutely bursting.”

During the next 20 or so minutes, nothing seemed to be happening below them, other than people dashing around, speaking on mobile phones and more and more peering up at the stationary ride and its dangling passengers.

Mark was uncomfortable as a result of the strapping with restricted his ability to move or shift his body. However, although brief snippets of conversation were taking place with his mate, he could see Darren’s legs swinging incessantly – back and forth and from side to side. Further down, he could see Darren rubbing his black-socked feet together tightly, moulding them against each other and visibly curling his toes.

Finally, he knew he had to ask the question.
“Are you okay mate, you managing to contain yourself okay?”

Darren looked in real anguish.
“No mate, I’m not. This is serious, I don’t know if I can hang on much longer.”
“Well unless you’re going to wet yourself, there’s nothing much you can do.”
“Oh God, I might wet myself, I’m deadly serious mate. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m getting to the stage where I’m not going to be able to hold it in. Jeez, I can’t piss my pants, no way.”
“You’re not going to piss yourself, come on. How many times have you been stuck somewhere on the job without a toilet? We always last out, don’t we?”
“Mate, you don’t know how bad I have to go. I honestly could just let go now and do it in my trousers.”
“Really? That bad, then?”
“I’m not joking, I’ll absolutely die if I wet my pants but I might end up doing it.”

A further 15 minutes passed and Darren’s feet were rubbing against each other in near frantic fashion, displaying his intense desperation. Unable to jiggle his legs above his knees, his foot action was just about helping him fidget enough to keep control. He was unable to get his arms down to enable him to hold himself whilst the tight strap around his waist was constricting his movement so much that every change of posture was like a dagger to his belly and his bursting bladder. He had his wrists together out in front of him and was wringing his hands.

His mood had not been helped by the arrival of a team of firefighters to assist with the rescue operation and although not from his home station, some of them had recognised the pair and one of them had shouted up to the stranded riders,
“You’re safe up there boys and girls, the chap one from the end is one of us, a firefighter I mean. He’s going be doing his best to make sure this rescue goes as smoothly as possible.”

The muffled response from Darren had fortunately been unheard by his fellow riders, as he mumbled “For Christ’s Sake, I’m going to wet myself in front of everyone in a minute!”

Mark was doing all he could to assist his mate’s weakening condition.
“Look mate, you are going to hold it in, whatever you might think. You really are going to be alright. Everyone’s had one experience when they think they just can’t wait another second, and yet everyone makes it. When does anyone actually wet themselves? They don’t.”

Darren seemed unconvinced.
“I’m going to do it in my pants, I know I am” and then almost questioning what Mark had said, he groaned quietly, “What about Jack Carey, then?”
“Oh yeah!” laughed Mark, “Well apart from Jack Carey, no-one’s ever done it! It was the M25 wasn’t it?”
Darren gently nodded his head as he bit his lip and tensed his muscles further.

Mark was not to be deterred though, and Darren was in no state to join in the discussion.
“It was about three years ago now, wasn’t it? I remember him saying he was going to tell us because he knew his missus wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut and so he decided he was going to come clean before anyone found out any other way. Didn’t he say he knew there was a service station on the motorway and he was trying to reach there but they got stuck in a horror snarl-up and he couldn’t drive he was in so much discomfort?”

Mark couldn’t help having a brief laugh as he recalled Jack’s confession, “There was a big queue of cars to get into the services and he widdled himself in his seat as they were pulling into the car-park! He couldn’t even get out when they found a parking space and had sit there whilst his missus went in to use the toilet and he had to drive all the way home in his wet jeans!”

Darren was in despair, “I’m going to do it Mark, I’m going to do it in my trousers!”

Mark couldn’t get his hand across to give his mate a consoling pat on the shoulder.
“Look mate, if you’ve got to do it, just do it. Just wet yourself. I know what I said earlier but if you’re in genuine agony and can’t wait, go in your trousers. It’s not the end of the world, just do it in your pants!”
“I’m 26 years old mate, I can’t wet myself. I just can’t!”

No sooner had Darren uttered those wailing words, than he groaned out loudly, “Oh No, I don’t believe this!”
As they both looked down to the floor and saw the crowds milling and watching the rescue operation in full progress, they both saw Darren’s wife, accompanied by their little toddler and Darren’s mum, with the two women staring upwards in some concern.
Mark knew how Darren must be feeling and once again, he changed his stance.
“Try and hold it mate, just a bit longer and you might make it, keep hanging on if you can.”

It was nearly another 10 minutes as the mechanism creaked and the ride began to inch its way down. It was at that moment that Darren knew the game was up and he realised that the whole process was going to take longer than it was possible to humanly contain himself. His bladder was pulsating and his stomach muscles were straining so much that his whole abdomen was numb.

The urge to urinate was so great that neither willpower nor brute strength could fight against it any longer and Darren felt his muscles spasm and then relax. He strained desperately to tighten his grip but it was hopeless. Rather than strengthen his hold, he felt his resistance weakening and then, almost accepting his awful fate, his bladder began to relax and in a blind panic, Darren started to pee.

There was no series of spurts which he could control or prevent, nor was there any escaped dribbles or powerful gushes. This was simply his bladder emptying in one long continuous gentle but unstoppable stream straight into his underpants. Once it had started it was impossible to prevent it continuing and the flow was constant, streaming out at one powerful yet smooth torrent.

Darren was unable to do anything to control himself as the scorching warmth spread underneath his backside, flowing down the backs of his thighs and continuing unabated all down his calves and lower legs. His white briefs were so hot that he felt on fire around his crotch area and he looked down to see his jeans growing darker and darker and starting to steam from his lap as the warmth permeated through from his sodden underpants.

The flow running down both of his legs was also uninterrupted and Darren stared down at his black socks, from both of which a tap-like trickle was emanating from the toes with drips and dribbles running from the heels and he could feel the warm wetness running along the underneath of his feet and increasing the rapid dribbling from the front of his feet whilst his seat was releasing a stream of urine to fall to the ground.

The other riders were all staring in disbelief as were those carrying out the rescue and those on the ground, including Darren’s wife and mum as a little voice piped up ‘is Daddy doing a wee-wee in his pants?’

I can virtually feel Darren's panicky struggling in his physical confinement on that ride next to his sympathetic colleague. What an awful situation to be in. Great physical description of the inevitable climax too. Thanks for a beautiful new story Lee!

Great detailed, step-by-step buildup to the ultimate failure! I imagine that fairground rides have their share of full-bladdered riders. Lots of beverages to consume, and fairgrounds that I have seen have rest rooms in just one location. People waiting in line for the popular rides…

Continued...

There was an embarrassed near-silence as the disabled ride was gradually and slowly lowered to the ground. The other riders were straining their necks to try and peer along the line to see the wetting incident whilst Mark was conscious of the stares and felt almost as embarrassed as if it had been him who had the accident.

“That’s the one they said was a fireman, isn’t it?” whispered a lad to his girlfriend, “I wouldn’t want to have him rescuing me in a crisis if that’s the case that he got so scared on a ride he peed his pants!”

It was a good 15 minutes after Darren had finished wetting himself that they reached the ground and one-by-one, the riders were released from their seats. Darren and Mark were at the end of the line and as each rider disembarked, they glanced along at the two firemen. Darren watched with a sense of awkward envy as one lad of around 19 or 20 was helped out of his seat by an on-duty firefighter who assisted the lad to hobble to the side of the mobile office and stood behind him as the lad urinated profusely onto the grass, the silver arc of pee jetting onto the floor as the lad lifted his head to the skies in apparent unbridled relief.

A minute or so later, both Darren and Mark were unbuckled from the ride and left to ease themselves out of the seats. Darren glanced down at his light blue jeans which were dark and sodden in a near-perfectly shaped stain which rounded right across his crotch area almost as high as his belt before spreading out symmetrically across both of his thighs and all down his legs. The dark shade extended below his knees and down as far as his ankles, replicated in identical fashion on both sides.

As he carefully stood up, the cold denim chaffed his legs and he felt a sudden warm surge engulf his backside and flood down the backs of his thighs as the remnants of the puddle he had been sitting in released itself from the seat of his underpants.

Mark was still slightly behind his colleague and he looked in astonishment at the dark wetness which was covering the entire back of Darren’s jeans, all across his bum and right down the backs of both trouser-legs down to the cuffs at his feet. In fact, the light-blue jeans were almost completely a darker tone other than two pale blue strips down the outer-edge of each leg.

Still in his short black cotton socks, Darren began to wriggle each foot in turn into his navy blue suede-effect Nike trainers although the saturated state of his socks made the task more difficult than it should have been.

Thankful that his little toddler son had been kept by Darren’s mum at the side of the attraction, it was only his wife who approached him, glancing down at her husband’s legs and jeans.

As they walked in the direction of the distant car-park, it was impossible for Darren not to hear the comments of others and he lost count of the number of times he heard the words ‘wet himself’.

Less than half-way to their destination, Darren was so uncomfortable from the chaffing of the sodden material that he had little option other than to walk with his legs wide apart, every so often experiencing another cold trickle to dribble down one of his thighs as he could feel his soaking wet cotton briefs clinging to his backside and with every step, his warm socks squelched inside his padded trainers.

----------

Three days later in the canteen at the fire station, the crew of blue watch were sitting around the table with their teas and coffees, having enjoyed a hearty lunch. Darren’s personal nightmare of 72 hours earlier was now the subject of a raucous debate amongst the firefighting lads, with Mark and a bashful Darren at the heart of things:

“So it was nearly two hours you’d been hanging on for, including queuing time?”
“Must have been, I wanted to go when we started queuing”
“Can’t believe you couldn’t last out, did you just decide ‘oh sod it’ and let go, then?”
“No, no way! I was in agony trying to hold on, I just couldn’t last any longer!”

There was much laughter as the discussion continued…
“Tell me you weren’t serious Mark, about it all running from his feet onto the ground!”
“Oh absolutely, it was like someone had turned on a tap inside both his socks!”
“Don’t tell me you got your own arse all wet sitting next to him?”
“No, separate seats fortunately!”

“So what did your missus say when she got you home?”
“She wasn’t best pleased. She made me put me own stuff in the washing machine and she accused me of drinking before getting on the ride”

More laughter.
“So come on then, spill all. Tell us the full story mate!”
“Not much to say really, I was busting like I have never been in all my life. I bet none of you lot can ever have needed a piss like I did. You know when your bladder starts throbbing and contracting? Well that’s what was happening. Absolutely nothing I could do at all”
“Did you just lose it then?”
“Yep, it wasn’t even as if I was gradually leaking, I just started peeing and couldn’t stop myself, it went on for ages and ages and I couldn’t even control it. I wasn’t even able to cross my thighs or anything to stop it all running down my legs”
“So why was it running out of your socks?”
“Because I’d taken my trainers off when we got on and so it just all accumulated in my socks and poured out from my feet”

The laughter in the room reached epic proportions.
“You ever wet yourself before mate?”
“No I haven’t, cheeky git!”
“Has anyone here?”
“Jack has!”
“Apart from Jack. Widdling yourself in your car seat stuck in traffic is bad enough but weeing your pants on a fairground ride takes the biscuit really”

Darren buried his face in his hands and shook his head in embarrassed fashion amidst howls of laughter.
“So did people underneath get splashed, or what?”
“Oh don’t, you can’t expect him to answer something like that – although I heard he was swinging his legs so much that people on the dodgems thought it was raining!”

Some of the lads were almost crying with laughter whilst Darren was shaking his head grinning as the questioning got more intense.
“Did you have to tell your missus you’d wet yourself or was it that obvious?”
“Are you joking?” answered Mark “His jeans were not such much two-tone, they’d changed colour totally! He was wearing those light blue ones of his and it was like he’d dyed them down both legs!”

“You lot are unreal” said a red-faced Darren, “Wetting myself like that in front of everyone was one of the worst experiences of my life, I can tell you – and all you lot can do it take the mick”
“Oh stop being such a prude! Okay, so you pissed in your pants but worse things happen at sea. It’s given us the best laugh we’ve had in ages and you ain’t gonna hear the end of it for years, mate!”
Darren raised his eyebrows and grinned again.

“You do know what his missus is most worried about, don’t you? That little Toby is going to tell all his school-friends that his Daddy wee-wee’d his pants at the fair!”
“I bet he draws a picture of it when they have to say what they did at the weekend!”
“Your next dinner party’s going to be embarrassing, mate…”
“…and parent’s evening at his school!”
“Aargh” Darren shook his head and laughed quietly. “Are you sure you lot can’t come up with anything more embarrassing!!”

Love the small detail of the guy being helped off who only just makes it (albeit having to pee on the ground shielded by his helper) and Darren's envy at that.

The dialogue with the colleagues is sublime! Poor Darren.

I would imagine Darren sat at home disconsolately on the evening of his accident and I guess the following questions were going through his head…


“Why didn’t I go to the toilet before I started queuing when it was obvious how long it was taking to get people on and off the ride?”

“If only I hadn’t worn those pale blue jeans – at least if I’d had dark or black trousers on, it might have been a little less obvious that I’d had an accident.”

“I wonder if I’d been allowed to keep my trainers on whether they might have contained the pee a bit more and not let it run out so obviously through my socks.”

“How did my need to go get so bad so quickly – I’ve been bursting before but never like that, it just seemed to increase so rapidly when we got stuck.”

“I just can’t help wondering what my missus and little ‘un saw? And even worse what my mum could see!”

“What am I going to say to my mum and dad when I next speak to them? Do I try and explain what happened or just try and laugh it off as ‘one of those things’?”

“Should I tell little Toby never to speak about what happened? That wouldn’t be right. But what exactly will he say if he tells others he saw his daddy going to the toilet in his pants?”

“I can’t help wondering what the others on the ride saw? I wonder when they first realised that I was wetting myself or whether they had seen that I needed to go.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wear those jeans, pants and socks again, knowing what I did in them!”


I wonder what answers you'd have given him?

I would just give Darren a big hug and tell him it didn't matter. And I wouldn't let go until he agreed.

Fred wrote:I would just give Darren a big hug and tell him it didn't matter. And I wouldn't let go until he agreed.

Yes, a big hug is in order. That was exactly my inclination too before I saw your reaction Fred.

Also, I wonder if Darren is on good terms with Jack Carey. If so, he should ring him up, tell him what's happened (if he hasn't already heard it from other colleagues), and the two of them should share in their mutual experience.

I think the embarrassment is amplified when incidents like this are witnessed by a child! Always reminds me of the report about the football fan waiting to get into a stadium who wet himself with his 8 year old son by his side, I always think it must be 100 times more embarrassing because of this!

I hope nobody minds that I'm re-reading some of the old stories and posting a new response - which pushes them up with the 2021 offerings.

Even at 26, Darren hadn't really learned to plan ahead. Considering the speed at which he became overwhelmingly desperate, I suspect that (1) he had been drinking some of the fair's beverages prior to the ride, and (2) he was understating when he admitted he "wanted to go a bit" when he was in the queue. Younger lads don't always perceive that "what goes in must come out", and in his case "a bit" might have meant that he'd been consciously holding it for a while but assumed he could put off trotting to the gents' for a a while longer. Then kidneys cranking liquid into an almost-full bladder over a period of two hours was more than even his youthful bladder could bear.