Sam the Dustman's Payback

[Lee]

“So what are you going to do, then?” asked one of the girls.

“I’m not sure yet” replied Joanne, “but I’m going to make him suffer that’s for sure.”

Joanne was still furious at the way her boyfriend Sam had embarrassed her on the way back from the pub the previous weekend when he’d told her the toilets had been closed as they were about to leave. It was only on the way back that he’d admitted he was lying and had deliberately prevented her from using the loo and she’d had to hold on desperately and embarrassingly until they got home. She was furious and vowed that she’d get her revenge sooner rather than later.

Sam was a refuse collector, or dustman in old fashioned terms. Joanne always thought that he could do better for himself, but he enjoyed the job. It was tough at times, often in cold and miserable conditions but despite the early starts, it meant that he had the afternoons to himself. Sam was 24 years old, well-built and muscular, tanned with heavily tattooed arms and blond hair. Not the most expressive or vocal character, he was best described as surly and someone who rarely smiled or laughed but more often responded with a shrug or a smirk. Nonetheless, he got on well with his work colleagues and was a valuable member of the small team.


… it was 5.30am and the weather outside was dark, dank and miserably cold when Sam hauled himself out of bed and into the shower. Twenty minutes later he was pulling on his second hooded top, keen to keep himself warm before slipping on his yellow waterproof local council jacket. Beneath his grey fleece-lined tracksuit bottoms, he was cosy in his all-in-one white cotton thermal undergarment which Joanne had bought him for Christmas. It had proved invaluable in the wintery weather and although it was a bit of a pain to extract himself from it after work, it was great for keeping the chill out. It was tight fitting and basically thermal long-johns and vest but joined at the waist to make it an all-in-one type of ‘onesie’.

Sam pulled on his loose-fitting white sports socks and slipped his feet into his well-worn tan caterpillar boots, tucking the laces into the insides rather than tying them and without waking Joanne who had a day off work, he walked out of the bedroom, clumsily made his way along the hall and outside into the freezing cold. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, slumped his shoulders and trudged along the street towards the bus stop for the 30-minute journey to the depot. Parking was unavailable at the yard, so the bus was the only option, albeit a complete pain.


It was close to 11:00am and the team had made good progress, working speedily to collect as many bins as possible as quickly as they could. Sam’s role was to go ahead of the lorry and empty the individual boxes into one wheelie bin and then deposit the contents into the back of the lorry as driver Greg made his way slowly along each road.

They got to the bottom of Watkins Avenue and gathered to see how they were doing. There had been little conversation whilst they were working, and this was the first chance to all get together.

Ken took off his woolly hat and wiped his brow. “We should have a fairly early finish here, boys.”

“If Trill Gardens is fairly straightforward, we might be back in the cab in half an hour” added Chris.

“Bloody hope so” mumbled Sam in typical surly manner, “I’m dying for a piss!”

“Why didn’t you go in Sid’s Café, then?” asked Greg, “when you had the chance.”

“Because I didn’t need to go then, why do you think?” snapped back Sam.

“Alright” replied Greg, “only asking.”


To their dismay, Trill Gardens was nowhere near as straightforward as they’d anticipated and the street was littered with boxes and bags, meaning that the lorry had to keep stopping and Greg had to keep getting out to help collect the boxes. The long, long road, the longest on the whole route, took almost twice as long as normal to deal with and as they approached the end houses almost an hour after they’d started on the street, Sam stopped after emptying one of the bins, put one hand on the back of the van and bent forwards slightly at the waist.

“What’s up, mate?” asked Don.

“I am fucking bursting for a slash!” replied Sam, pinching his cock through his grey trackies.

“Well, you missed your chance, mate, at the café”

“I’ll have to go somewhere soon” grimaced Sam.

“Ere!” shouted Don, “Sam’s dying for a piss! Didn’t that woman on the alleyway let you use her bog once, Chris?”

“She did, yeah” called back Chris, laughing “saved my underpants that day, didn’t she!”

“Ask her” yelled Ken, “give her a knock and ask. She likes you, mate!”

“Don’t!” mumbled Sam, irritated at the loud exchanges.

“Well, it’s better than pissing yourself, isn’t it?” replied Don as he picked up a heavy box.

Two or three minutes later, the lorry was outside number six and as Sam looked longingly at the house, the door opened and the woman stepped outside to collect her bin and waved, smiling at the bin men.

“Quick mate, here’s your chance!” said Don.

Before anyone could add anything, Greg jumped down from the driver’s cab and walked over to the garden gate.

“Hello love,” he said, “are you alright?”

She nodded and said something in reply before Greg said, “Any chance my mate here could use your toilet? He’s desperate and might not make it back to the depot in time” grinning as he spoke.

“He only needs a tiddle!” called out Chris as Don added, “Don’t worry, he’s house-trained, he won’t wee on your floor!”

“No guarantees he won’t wee his pants, though!” laughed Greg.

Sam felt himself reddening in the face as he inwardly seethed at his mates. But nonetheless he really needed to use the toilet more badly than ever and couldn’t let the opportunity pass him by.

He walked briskly over to the house and began to stride down the path, feeling his bloated bladder stretching in his belly amidst huge discomfort around his waist.

He kept his head down and avoided looking at the woman directly as he reached the front door.

“Cheers, love” he mumbled in expressionless fashion and as he reached the entrance he kicked off his loose-fitting boots one at a time, leaving them lying on the front step, and stepped into the hallway in his socks.

“There it is” said the woman, pointing to a small door just a few yards away and Sam entered the tiny toilet off the hallway. With huge relief, he undid his jacket and tops before untying the cord of his tracksuit bottoms and pulling them down slightly to his mid-thighs.

As his bladder started to anticipate the end of its discomfort, Sam had to tense his muscles to avoid any premature leakage or dribbles and he gently squeezed his legs together and bobbed up and down in a way he wouldn’t have dared do in front of his mates.

He'd fumbled around for a good 15 seconds without success before he realised that something was seriously awry.

“What the fuck…!” he mumbled to himself as he realised he couldn’t locate the fly opening. Puzzled beyond belief, he bent forwards so that he could see better. “Where’s the sodding fly gone?” he asked himself, “don’t tell me I’ve got them on back to front?”

He instantly realised that of course he didn’t have them on the wrong way around. The buttons at the front of the collar were where they should have been and the flap at the back was exactly where it should have been. “So where’s the fucking fly gone?”

Sam’s heart began to pound in his chest as the reality hit him hard in horrifying fashion.

“Oh Jesus! The cow! She’s sewed it up!”

As he stared in disbelief, he realised that his girlfriend hadn’t just sewed up the fly but she’d sealed it with permanent ironing tape so there wasn’t even anything to get hold of to try and rip them open. The only way out of his predicament would be to take every item of clothing off, top and bottom, and then try and extract himself from the all-in-one piece.

“Oh Jeez! I don’t believe this! What is she bloody playing at?”

Suddenly, a voice from outside yelled out, “Come on, mate, what you up to in there? We promised this nice lady you’d have a nice quick wee-wee!”


Around 30 seconds later, Sam emerged, doing up his jacket. How could he reveal that he hadn’t even been? His bladder was screaming at him as his need had intensified in anticipation of the impending relief. His stomach muscles were aching, and he hardly knew what to say.

“Well at least say thanks to the lady, then?” said Greg.

“Erm, thanks” mumbled Sam as he walked to the door and wriggled his socked feet back into his boots before trudging off down the path, feeling his bladder like a swollen balloon in his tummy.

“Bet that feels good, mate” said Don as he slapped Sam on the back, “hope you didn’t splash anywhere!”

“That’s our emergency toilet visit used up for the next few months, better take more care next time, lads, otherwise it’s crossed legs time!” added Greg with a laugh.


The remainder of the shift was tortuous for Sam. Having missed his immediate chance to admit that he hadn’t been able to go to the toilet, he couldn’t say anything now. Not only that, no way could he tell his work-mates that his girlfriend had stitched him up in more way than one by sewing up the fly of his pants. Every movement was uncomfortable, and the pressure seemed to have got worse since his missed opportunity.

Back in the lorry, Sam was finding it hard to sit still. It was getting so bad he was getting close to saying what had happened but his ridiculous macho pride at being humiliated by Joanne was getting in the way and he couldn’t bring himself to reveal it. The stupidity of his reluctance was becoming a nonsense though. His need was so severe that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been bursting as badly. He was desperate to jig his legs back and forth and if he had been alone he’d have undoubtedly had his hand clasping himself to hold back the deluge.

Inwardly, he was in utter turmoil about what he was going to do. Even if he found a toilet he could use or just an alleyway, he couldn’t free himself to do what he had to. He cursed himself that he hadn’t taken the plunge and totally undressed himself in the lady’s toilet. It might have taken an age but at least he’d have dealt with his predicament. Now he was panicking about how he was going to get home without totally embarrassing himself in public.

As the lorry trundled along and the lads chatted happily, Sam suddenly knew that he had to stand up to help him keep control. His heart was almost thumping through his chest and he tensed all of his muscles as he feared an instant loss of control and he squeezed the cheeks of his backside together as his bladder contracted and caused him to fidget urgently.

“What’s up with you, mate…” started Chris, but immediately the situation went from bad to worse as Greg suddenly switched on the indicators and said, “Go on boys” nodding at Sam and Don, “you two jump off here, your bus is coming up behind, have an early afternoon, I’ll sign you out back at the depot.”

“Oh cheers mate, “ grinned Don, “Nice one!”

The doors opened and Don jumped down, followed by Sam who clambered down awkwardly, terrified that a jump might make him do a bit in his pants. He was desperate to grab himself but as the bus pulled up alongside them, he was frantically looking around him to see if there was anywhere he could go… but knowing that he just couldn’t relieve himself without the most enormously difficult struggle.


Both lads got on the bus and Don immediately went upstairs as Sam followed him, scarcely able to plant one foot in front of the other. He joined Don sitting on the seat halfway along the top deck and although his mate was chatting away, Sam could hardly hear what was being said as he focused every effort on keeping his underpants dry.

Don didn’t seem to notice and kept chatting away, completely unaware that right next to him, his 24-year old workmate was on the verge of wetting himself.

Five or six minutes later, Sam was sitting in absolute agony and unable to move any part of his body for fear of the consequences. His thighs were trembling, and he could feel his calf muscles tense and taut as his legs strained with the effort of containing himself.

Suddenly, Don said, “Right mate, I’m jumping off here so I can grab some food at KFC. See you tomorrow, okay?”

Sam nodded almost aimlessly and as Don pushed his way past him, he gasped as he thought for one awful moment that he was going to start to urinate in his pants.

Sitting alone, he managed to slide his phone out of his pocket and with his fingers trembling, he sent a brief text message to Joanne, who he knew would be at home. It simply read, ‘you bitch!’

He swept his hand through his blond hair and shuddered as he seriously wondered whether he was going to make it home in time. It was going to be a mini-miracle if he did.

If he could have done so, he’d have pulled his trousers and pants down and done it on the floor, he was that desperate, but knowing there was no option but to try and hold on was making his need more excruciating by the minute. He lifted his knees up and pressed his thighs together as tightly as he could, but nothing was having any effect in easing the discomfort which was now serious pain.


His bladder was pulsating and throbbing, and he could feel the agony spreading around his midriff with little stabbing pains in his belly and a knife-like sensation in his groin area. He glanced around and although the bus wasn’t totally packed, it was busy enough that he couldn’t hold himself and knead himself through his trackies, as much as he frantically wanted to. It was the only way he could envisage himself holding on for much longer.
In sheer panic, Sam half-stood up out of his seat before quickly sitting down again as a few people noticed and immediately the sharpness in his tummy intensified and he silently muttered to himself, “Jesus Christ! I’m going to piss my pants!”

“If I get off, where am I going to go? I’ll fucking wet myself in the street! There’s no way I’m going to last out! If I just sit here I’ll do it in my pants! I’m not going to get to a toilet in time! I’ll piss myself!”


Suddenly and almost without warning, Sam experienced the most incredible sensation of calmness. The frantic feeling subsided and he was no longer fidgeting and fighting the most intense battle to try and control himself. The agony in his belly turned into a numbness and he could feel the sharp stabbing sensation easing.

Instead, in a state of almost high-pitched ecstasy, Sam could feel incredible warmth around his cock and balls, immediately spreading around his groin and under his backside. He gently closed his eyes as the uncontrollable sensation resulted in a glowing and radiating heat underneath him and travelling all down the backs of his legs. The warm feeling engulfed him, and he softly shuddered as the hot trickling stream tickled the hairs on his legs and a sticky sensation dribbled down his calves.

For several seconds, Sam cared little that he was wetting himself in his seat on the bus in front of everyone. The incredible relief and the amazing release was astonishing and mind-blowing. This was the piss to beat all pisses. Never had he experienced such a feeling of sheer bliss…
…until the force of the jet of his scorching piss began to cascade all down his legs.

With a jolt of raw humiliation, Sam realised what he was doing. He couldn’t help himself nor stop himself, but at the age of 24, he was wetting himself spectacularly.

He glanced down with his chest now pounding, watching the crotch of his grey tracksuit bottoms getting ever darker and wetter, glistening and shimmering as the urine seeped through around his groin and over his thighs. Every second or so, a small jet fired through his crotch and as he glanced further down, small rivulets were streaming down the legs of his trackies and dripping onto the floor of the bus.

He could feel the heat permeating underneath his backside and little dribbles were running all down his ankles, making his socks wet and the hot pee was trickling inside his boots as well as running down the outsides of his footwear and pooling onto the bus floor with a puddle spreading out all around his feet.

It seemed as if the torrent was never going to stop and Sam felt his trackies getting heavy as they got wetter and wetter and as he looked down, the darkness was all over the crotch and legs of his trousers. He could see the tops of his white socks around the top of his boots and to his absolute horror the puddle was trickling across the bus floor.

As he stared down, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and although he took no notice, the text message response from Joanne simply said, ‘hahaha’.



An eternity seemed to pass as Sam just sat trying to contemplate that he’d just wet himself. The feeling of relief had been overcome by a sense of shame and disbelief whilst the glorious warmth had been replaced by a cold and sticky wetness in his pants, under his thighs and all down his legs. His trackies were coldly clinging to his calves and his sagging white socks were glued to his ankles and contrasting starkly with the warmness inside his boots.

As the bus continued its journey, other passengers had seen what had happened and there were several people pointing out the pool which was spreading from under the young lad’s seat. Nobody said anything but all eyes were on Sam’s feet and when, around 10 minutes later, the bus turned into the High Street, everyone was staring as Sam slowly, cautiously and carefully stood up.

As he did so and everyone saw the sodden state of his trousers, vast amounts of cold urine streamed all down Sam’s legs and dribbled through his wet socks and right into his boots. Uncomfortably and without looking anyone in the eye, Sam slowly walked to the front and began to climb down the stairs and as he reached the bottom, all the passengers on the lower deck saw his condition and there were several gasps of disbelief and whispered comments,

“He’s wet himself!”

“Oh, he’s had an accident!”

“Look, that’s the lad who gets the bus back every afternoon, he comes straight from his workplace, I think. He must have been caught short, he’s been in his pants!”

In the High Street, Sam had no option but to walk past the busy shops. He tried as best as he could to walk normally but the cold chaffing meant that his gait was slightly bow-legged, and his soaking wet socks squelched inside his work boots. He had no idea of the number of shoppers who stared at his astonishing condition, nor of any of the neighbours who saw his legs-apart walk down the side street to his home.


When Joanne heard the key in the front door, she waited a moment and then called off, “Toilet’s free, if you need it!” She went to giggle but then waited as she heard nothing back in response. The silence lasted for a good 10 seconds and, surprised, she went to get up off the sofa to see what was going on.

As she did so, the lounge door opened, and her boyfriend appeared at the door minus his yellow waterproof jacket. His boots were in his hands and he was standing in a pair of wet and stained white socks – with his soaking wet tracksuit bottoms dark and saturated from crotch to ankle.

Joanne put her hands over his face in horror and a crestfallen Sam softly said, “I wet myself!”

[Brian]

Very original situation!
Yes, I guess explaining to his workmates that he hadn't been able to pee, and why he couldn't, would have been just unthinkable.
Oh, and you dressed him just like my hottest fantasies!
Thanks Lee, this is brilliant.

[Dazza88]

Fantastic story as always Lee, love the level of detail you go into

[greatwater]

That's a hot one, Lee! Thank you! I wonder what would they do later after the crestfallen Sam returned to Joanne.

[Wombat48]

Brilliant as ever Lee, glad he didn’t do it in front one workmates, but very hot scenario!

[Fred]

Layers of cold-weather clothing are awkward enough to get access to pee even without being sabotaged. This was a different sort of "public servant" who got caught short, and from now on I will watch the trash collectors and wonder if they're holding on to too much coffee before they complete their route. Almost all of them are young men, and if they're in a residential area there would be very few places for a pee break.

[Sam70]

I have to wonder. Did Sam's girlfriend get one of her mother's fluid pills and dissolve it in Sam's morning coffee the day of Sam's mishap?

I would love to read the conversation that Sam and his girl friend have. I would suspect that she only meant for him to be in pain. It is doubtful that she meant for her payback to include Sam pissing his pants. This could cause the blossoming romance to wither rather quickly!

I'm not sure how the next chapter could serve the interests of this web site. If there is a way, Lee could find it! Even if it is a short chapter I would love to see how this conversation would turn out!

Sam has the problem that he rides this bus everyday as does one of his co=workers. There is a reasonable chance that this co-worker will find out from the other bus riders what happened to Sam. Then the entire work crew may get on board knowing that Sam pissed his pants on the bus ride home!

Sam may be ready to find another job in another city many, many miles away! (We still use the English system of measurements here in the US!)

[Lee]

Thanks for the generous comments, everyone.

I'll have to think about how I might construct another chapter. Tricky one, though.

(check your private messages, Sam70)