New Story: The Police Officer in the Van...

[Lee]

“Still need a wee do you, Sarge?”

The three police constables who were sat in the police van all grinned, including the driver PC Sam Parker who had made the cruel comment. His fellow PC’s Matt Harley and Kevin Wyatt both glanced across at their skipper Dave Best who was sitting opposite and gently bouncing his legs up and down. He had only been acting sergeant for just over three weeks, having passed his exams around six months earlier and he had been forced to wait until an appropriate opportunity came along.

Although he was now their superior officer, the acting sergeant had yet to elevate himself above the daily banter routine and he grimaced as his travelling companions sniggered childishly at his predicament.
“How come you need to go so bad then, Sarge? Too much coffee or forgot the old toilet routine?”

Sergeant Best continued to jig his legs back and forth and brushed aside the question.
“It doesn’t matter why, I just need us to get there ASAP, okay?”

The others smirked again, remembering instantly the scenes at the unmanned railway station about 20 minutes earlier, when their skipper had foregone his police duties to head off in search of a toilet, only to return after several minutes having been unsuccessful in his quest and unable to find a suitable secluded spot in the busy area, he had been forced to get back into the van and attempt to wait until they made their next scheduled stop.

For Sergeant Dave Best himself, the previously awkward situation was becoming highly embarrassing. He had needed to relieve himself badly, hence having little option other than to try and find a toilet facility at the station, but now his condition was becoming urgent. He was absolutely bursting to go and he was at the stage where sitting still was both difficult and uncomfortable.

A year earlier, the 27-year old then-constable would probably have been playing along with the banter although he had never been one to revel in embarrassing situations, either his own or that of others. As it stood now, he was not enjoying his predicament one little bit. Being stuck in a van in slow-moving traffic and dying to go to the toilet was every policeman’s nightmare scenario, with no chance of pulling over and heading for some discreet bushes whilst in full uniform.

That was assuming there were some bushes or trees available but here they were in the midst of a populated residential area with not even any major shops or stores to stop at. The only option was to ask at a stranger’s house but that was frowned upon so he had little choice but to grit his teeth and hold out until they stopped.

Around 15 minutes later, the van was on the approach road to Alton railway station, their next port of call, and Dave was sitting on the edge of his seat in absolute agony. He was still being subjected to occasional gentle taunts from his colleagues, mostly questioning in comical fashion whether he was still hanging on okay, but they didn’t realise the depth of his desperation. He was trying frantically not to convey how much pain he was in as he responded to the comments with brief replies but he dared not say too much that would reveal that he was genuinely close to disgracing himself.

Such a disaster would be unthinkable but he knew that he had to get out of the van as the countdown was definitely on as to an involuntary release to ease the terrible pressure in his lower belly.
“There’s the station, Sarge” said Sam, “first port of call the toilet, yeah?”

Dave didn’t respond and mentally steeled himself for the final moments of this tortuous saga, only to almost have his resistance broken by PC Harley, “Oh No, just our luck, the level crossing’s coming down.”

Sergeant Best glanced up in horrified fashion as he saw the flashing red lights as the prelude to the barriers starting to lower, blocking their passage to the sanctity of the station building.
“Oh Christ!” he moaned.

All three other occupants of the van looked at their skipper, as he raised his head to the roof and pulled his knees tightly together, raising the heels of his shoes off the floor and bending forwards in his seat.
“You okay, Sarge?” asked Kevin
“Have you got to go that badly, Sarge?” enquired Matt, and Sam turned back from the driver’s seat and simply exclaimed, “Bloody Hell. Sarge!”

Dave Best squeezed his legs together even more tightly and without looking up at any of his colleagues he spoke quietly and initially tentatively,
“I’m in serious trouble, I can hardly wait” before adding ominously, “I think I’m going to wet myself!”

The other three police constables all looked at each other in embarrassed fashion and Sam Parker said, “Hold on Sarge, we’ll get there as soon as possible for you”.

Five or six minutes later, the barriers rose and PC Parker drove across the concealed railway lines, prompting his sergeant to wail in anguish as the van bounced over the bumpy surface and Kevin Wyatt looked over, almost fearfully, at his colleague gripping himself through the crotch of his police trousers as he continued to take whatever action he could think of to avoid humiliating himself in his uniform.

As the van pulled up in the fairly busy forecourt of the station, Sam Parker jumped out almost as he switched off the engine, saying, “Just a few more seconds Sarge, I’ll find out where the toilets are so you get straight there without looking” and with that the 24-year old police constable ran into the station building.

Back in the van, both PC’s Harley and Wyatt were looking with uncomfortable awkwardness at their sergeant who was still sitting silently, knocking his knees together with rapid movement and with his hand buried deep between the tops of his legs in embarrassing fashion, muttering beneath his breath, ‘come on, come on, come on’.

Sam Parker seemed to be gone an age before he re-appeared, jogging more slowly than his initial sprint from the van and he stuck his head in through the still-open door and broke the devastating news,
“Sorry Sarge, the office is all closed up and there’s no staff here at all. They haven’t got any public toilets and we can’t get into the private staff area. I don’t know what to suggest, other than to try and go up against side of the van if I can manage to park it somewhere appropriate”

PC Harley offered his own solution,
“Or maybe you could ask one of these householders if you could go inside and use their loo?”
And PC Wyatt tried to be helpful by saying,
“Is there anything you could do it in?”

A crimson-faced Sergeant Best momentarily raised his voice to almost shouting level,
“I’m just about going in my trousers!!” before adding in a softer but frantically urgent tone, “Ask someone for me, please! Just ask someone, anyone, I’m on the verge of doing it in my pants!”

Sam Parker almost stumbled as he virtually fell out of the van in his anxiety to respond to the request and he directed his question at the first and nearest person he saw - an elderly woman carrying a plastic bag containing some light shopping items,
“Excuse me love, do you live in these flats?”
The woman looked round in surprise and nodded, “Yes, I do. Why?”
PC Parker was practically standing in front of her as he addressed her again,
“Do you think there’s any chance my sergeant could come in and use your toilet, he’s bursting to go and he needs to find a toilet as soon as possible. Would you mind if he came in with you and used yours? Please, love”.

The woman initially looked puzzled by the request but then said, “Well yes, okay. Yes I suppose he can if he really needs to go.”
“Oh thanks, thanks a lot dear, thank you” Sam blurted in overly-grateful manner, turning round and saying, “Quick Sarge, this way, this lady says you can go in her flat and use her toilet.”
The woman looked surprised as she saw another police officer clamber clumsily out of the side door although she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was seemingly unable to stand upright. She stood looking at him as PC Parker tried to urge her forwards,
“Could you hurry if you can, please, it’s a bit urgent if you don’t mind. Here, leave your shopping-bag with me and I’ll follow you in and bring it inside for you.”
“Oh thank you, how kind,” the lady said, “it’s only some potatoes and onions. I try not to get too much in one go as it’s easier to shop locally. The trouble with getting the bus into town is that by the time I get there…”

Sam had stopped listening and was glancing at Sergeant Best who was bobbing up and down and stepping from one foot to the other,
“Look love, it really is a bit of an emergency situation, sorry but would you let him in as quickly as you can if you don’t mind?”
“Oh okay” the lady said and began to walk towards the entrance to the flats, still seemingly not particularly noticing that the officer behind her was in visible distress as he hobbled along.

Inside the lobby of the building, with the frantic officer barely containing an imminent deluge into his underpants, the old lady suddenly turned back and walked back to main entrance, opening the doors and calling out to PC Parker, who was deep in conversation with his two fellow constables,
“Officer, when you bring my shopping up, it’s flat number six please!”
“Okay, okay, just hurry please” called back Sam Parker.

As she turned back she again almost failed to notice that the officer was dancing on the spot. Rarely could any grown man have had to physically hop around and gyrate his body to keep control but the wait was proving disastrous.
“Where’s your flat?” Dave groaned, “Where is it?”
“Here we go” replied the old lady, pressing the button on the wall and positioning herself in front of the lift doors, “top floor, on the fourth floor. I’ve lived there for eight years now…”
Her voice trailed off in Dave’s ringing ears and the 10 or so seconds that it took the lift doors to open in front of them resulted in a spasm in his bladder that was virtually fatal and he swept his hand onto his belly as he pressed his legs together in vice-like fashion.

Inside the lift, the old lady continued to babble on, about the flat, her neighbours, her dog and the shops whilst all the time explaining that a fault with the lift meant that it stopped at every floor and they had to wait for the lift to open and close its doors on each floor before continuing on its slow-moving and creaking way.

Sergeant Best was beside himself and in sheer panic mode as he felt the certain approach of the dreaded moment and hardly hearing himself utter the embarrassing words, he clasped the old lady’s arm in unprofessional style and with his voice quivering, he said,
“I’m starting to go! I’m going to wet myself!”

The lady looked back at him with an astonishing stare, but he wasn’t able to help himself pleading in a last-gasp attempt to save his dignity,
“I’m wetting my pants! I’m not going to make it in time!”

Remarkably, the lady said nothing back in response and almost immediately, the lift stuttered to a halt and the door slowly started opening on the top floor. She stepped out carefully and made her way to the door of her flat just a few metres away. It was almost as if she hadn’t quite taken in what the officer had blurted out as she began to fumble calmly in her pocket,
“Now where are my keys? I’m always putting them in different pockets…”

“Oh God! Oh No! Hurry up please! It’s coming out!!” Sergeant Best was standing on one foot, with his right foot wrapped around his left calf and bobbing up and down on the spot.

“Ah, here they are…” and with that the lady opened the door.

At that precise moment, the police sergeant lost control and urinated powerfully, sending a scorching jet of urine into his underpants as he felt his crotch dampen and it took him 3-4 seconds to regain control although by that stage the damage had been done and even worse, he continued to dribble uncontrollably for another few seconds. His heart was pounding as he tried to contemplate that he’d actually wet himself but before he could move or take any other action, the old lady stepped aside and allowed a top-heavy-looking basset hound to leap past her and jump up the officer’s legs.

Sergeant Best was still trying to avoid starting to pee himself again, let alone having to attempt to fend off the boisterous dog, but to his horror, the animal seemed attracted to the crotch of his trousers. Whether there was a wetness that had seeped through or whether the dog had got a whiff of the fresh aroma from the officer’s underpants was uncertain but the hound wanted to bury its nose in the area in question, with the nuzzling discomfort almost causing Dave to have a total and complete loss of bladder control.

With the dog eventually backing off slightly in response to its owner’s calls, the hapless policeman was dealt another, surely final, blow to his anguish when the lady said calmly and with no urgency whatsoever,
“Just take your boots off and then you can come in and use the bathroom.”

No police officer ever willing removed his shoes whilst on duty, partly due to the vulnerability involved in doing so as well as the safety aspect and Sergeant Best was no different but this was a matter of saving the last shreds of any dignity he still possessed. Unable to bend down to unlace the boots, his only option was to try and ease them off despite them being firmly laced. Frantically working to force each one off in turn, he struggled to extract his feet and having managed to do so he had just stepped forwards, leaving the boots lying side-by-side on the floor, when he was presented with voices from both in front of and behind him.

“One minute dear, I’m just taking the washing out of the bathroom. I forgot it was drying in there and I’m sure you don’t want to be seeing my personal items, do you?” and the lady laughed, apparently having totally forgotten that the officer at her front door was by now wetting himself once again.

This time, there was no jet but instead the cascading torrent of scalding hot urine poured all down Sergeant Best’s leg with the force of a hosepipe. He strained every muscle he could control to lessen the flow although such was his agonising pain that he had no idea whether he had been successful in doing so. He couldn’t feel himself peeing but the warm wetness was all down his leg from his thigh to his ankle and the tingling feeling all round his calf suggested that his trousers were not able to contain the stream without diverting it down the backs of his legs too.
As he stood motionless and panic-stricken he heard the voice behind him more clearly,

“Sarge! Sarge! Are you up there?” and within seconds, the door at the top of the nearby staircase opened and PC Sam Parker appeared carrying the lady’s plastic shopping-bag. He had expected to find his sergeant either inside the flat or emerging mightily relieved and ready to have an amusing exchange about the desperate close-shave he’d just experienced. Instead, Sam looked on open-mouthed at the scene facing him.

Sergeant Best was standing outside the flat, without his boots which were lying a short distance from him and balanced on one foot with his legs corkscrewed. On the light-blue carpet right next to him was a small dark patch of what looked like wetness and as his colleague untangled his legs and continued to hop from one foot to the other, his raised sock revealed the outline of a wet footprint on the carpet beneath him.

As Sam continued to stare in astonishment, he instinctively glanced down at his skipper’s trousers and immediately saw the material glistening all around the crotch area as Dave clasped his belly in anguish.
“Oh My God! What’s happened?” he said.

Sergeant Best could hardly muster the strength to whisper the words, “I haven’t been yet, she’s trying to clear things in there, I think I’ve been in my pants, though!”

From inside the flat, the lady’s voice called out, “Almost there, one minute more and you can come inside!”

PC Parker knew he couldn’t let Dave wet himself all over the floor of the flat, and that was surely what was going to happen. Without really knowing what he was doing or where they were going, he dropped the bag of potatoes on the floor, bent down and scooped up his sergeant’s boots and grabbed his colleague’s arm, tugging him towards the lift and frantically pushing the button as the lift door started to open.

Before either of them really knew what was happening, they were both inside the descending lift and Dave was bent over, almost down on his haunches, clutching himself tightly between the legs and muttering, “I’m wetting myself! I’m going in my pants!”

As the lift came to a halt on the ground floor, Sam pushed his sergeant out ahead of him, propelling him forwards and yelling, “Outside! Outside! Turn right into the garden area, you can go out there!”

Sam went to run forwards to open the doors but as he looked back, Sergeant Best was standing totally motionless, still bent forwards slightly but with his legs apart. The constable knew exactly what he was going to see but nonetheless he glanced downwards almost in miraculous hope.

The officer was standing in his navy blue socks, both of which were becoming surrounded by growing puddles running from underneath his feet. Both cuffs of his trouser-legs were dripping into the pools which were forming on the wood-block flooring and all down the fronts of his police uniform trouser legs, little shimmering streams were dribbling rapidly, turning into cascading tap-like flows which were trickling directly onto the floor and merging with the glistening puddles.

There was a near-silence in the lobby area, interrupted only by a gentle hissing sound as the puddle around Sergeant Best’s wet socks started to froth as the sheer volume of pee rushing down his legs gathered in a bubbling and steaming pool all round his feet whilst beneath his uniform trousers, his sodden white y-fronts were sagging warmly with heavy wetness.

Neither of the two police officers moved nor said a word as the event unfolded and went on for a good 30-40 seconds until the gushing flow began to dwindle into a steady stream and then a dripping and dribbling which rippled the pool on the shiny wooden floor.
The silence was finally broken by Sam, who simply said, “Oh Sarge!”

A couple of minutes later, the two police officers emerged and walked along the paved area towards where the van was parked. PC Parker was still carrying his sergeant’s boots and Dave was padding along in his socks, leaving a trail of dark wet footprints in his wake.

As they approached the police van, both Matt and Kevin looked at each other in amazement.
“He hasn’t? Has he?” asked PC Wyatt.
Sam Parker nodded, “He wet himself in the hall”.

With the sergeant back in the van, Sam, Kevin and Matt spoke briefly before getting in to join him.
“What are we going to do?”
“I reckon we ought to ring his wife, she’s a teacher I think. Get her to come along and sort him out if she can.”

Inside the van Dave heard the comment. Initially, his heart missed a beat with the embarrassment of having to explain to Beth how her husband and dad-of-two toddlers had wet his pants on duty, but then he felt warm glow of comfort as he just longed for his loved one to be alongside him to share his unforgettable experience.

[Aquarius]

Brilliant! The detail in your stories is absolutely amazing!

[Fred]

Oh, Sarge! He fought the Good Fight and he lost. That old woman will have lots to tell her friends!

I felt myself clenching my own sphincter to try to help him hold on just one more minute! This was a brilliant ending to the saga.

[Brian]

Lots of great twists here. All very realistic and all adding up to a hopeless situation for the poor sarge. I loved the lift which stopped at every floor and opened its doors due to a fault. But before that, I especially liked the reactions of his colleagues (subordinates), in the way they initially went from slightly cruel teasing to sympathetic and doing their best to help when they realised that their sarge was in serious trouble.

What a wonderful story!