It's Christmas Time - and it's Danny again!
Posted: 17 Dec 2017, 22:39
Although there weren’t enough of them to make up a Christmas party, some of the lads from P.K.McIndoe’s scaffolding firm had spent the last Friday before the holiday period winding down from a really tough week working in East London. The erection and dismantling of three major sites in close proximity, along with all the daily travelling, had been an exhausting exercise and the boys were well pleased to be starting a well-earned holiday break.
There was no party dress for them either – they had all piled into the nearest pub as soon as work had finished and all of them were still in their work gear, somewhat surprisingly being allowed into the slightly downmarket pub. As they eventually emerged, slightly red and bleary-eyed and with the stench of alcohol mingling with the aroma of their work clothes, they began to wend their way to the nearby tube station.
Twenty-five year old Danny was one of the longest-serving lads in the group and was also often one of the noisiest and most raucous. He had put his yellow ‘high-viz’ waistcoat back on over his thick fleece top whilst his grey track-suit bottoms, which were stained and marked with the grubby efforts of the day, were tucked into his dirty thick white football socks which were pulled up high over his ankles above his badly-scuffed and worn white trainers.
As they lads laughed and joked their way to the station the cold chill of the night air hit them hard, causing a couple of them to wrap their jackets tightly around their upper bodies although Jack was, as ever, wearing shorts despite the frosty conditions. The walk took around 15 minutes and no sooner had they got into the station and onto the platform than the board displayed that the final train of the night was slightly delayed and would be with them in around eight minutes. The wait was tedious and although the atmosphere was a bit warmer than it was out on the streets, the effects of the change of temperature was causing a few bladders to react accordingly. No-one said anything - after all, the journey to Waterloo would only take around 25 minutes, but Danny was conscious that his own bladder was filling rapidly and every time he jigged and fidgeted around, as was his style, he could feel the twinges in his lower belly region.
Despite his outgoing personality and carefree attitude, he did not like the sensation of an overfull and filling bladder. Sixteen months earlier he had endured a painful and ultimately embarrassing incident when he had been bursting for the toilet whilst working and found himself having to support a heavily-weighted stanchion on his own in order to prevent what could have been a serious catastrophe, but although his sterling efforts ensured that safety was preserved, the strain of his actions had caused him to lose control of his bladder and he had embarrassingly wet himself in the street whilst holding onto the structure. The incident had been witnessed by many members of the public and although his mates had rallied round him and offered their support, as well as some inevitable good-natured banter and ribbing, it had left Danny slightly sensitive about revealing a need for the toilet.
Added to which, another year previous, then-23-year old Danny had suffered an absolute holiday nightmare whilst in Portugal with his fiancé and his parents and he’d come agonisingly close to wetting himself on the plane before spectacularly doing it in his pants in the passport control queue. Several nights later, he’d unbelievably pissed himself again during an evening out drinking with his fiancé and incredibly, he’d also wet the bed following another drinking session. Of course, his work-mates had no idea about his holiday catastrophe, but a couple of them had certainly been present when he’d wee’d all down his legs out in the street.
But this wasn’t, unfortunately for Danny, the time to be coy about his predicament. The cold weather and sudden change of temperature had left him bursting to go and the jolting and jerking of the tube train was accentuating his need tenfold.
“I’m going to piss myself in a minute!” he suddenly blurted out, not entirely serious about his statement but more so as a means of revealing that his need was urgent, to put it mildly.
There was some laughter from his mates as a couple of them revealed their own discomforts.
“I know mate, me too!”
“I was gagging even when we left the pub!”
Several minutes later, with the tube train still trundling along, Danny was starting to get those familiar stabbing sensations in his belly as his need to pee intensified and every little stretch and tingle made him more aware of how severely desperate he was. “Christ, I seriously am going to piss myself if we don’t get off soon!”
The lads were standing in a group, chatting and laughing, and amidst them Danny was trying his best to join in whilst keeping one eye on the passing stations and counting down to their destination. He was standing leaning back against the glass partition with his tense back pressed against the upper part and his legs crossed at the knees. The thin material of his grey track-suit bottoms meant that his upper body was warmer than his lower half and every time the doors opened, he could feel the cold draught permeate his trouser-legs and whistle around his thighs.
Suddenly Jack said loudly, “Ere, look at Dan, we’re going to have a pissy pants situation on here any minute”
“Fuck off!” replied Danny with an awkward grin, trying to make light of the situation as best as he could.
“Blimey Danny, you’d better hope there’s a bog on the station platform, otherwise you’ll be wee-wee-weeing all the way home!” said Joe.
The lads continued the noisy banter whilst Danny stood there with his legs tightly pressed together and his stomach muscles taught as he tried to repel the pain around his midriff. The last time he’d felt like this was in Portugal on that holiday and he knew how that had ended up – twice!
“I’m going to have to get off, I’m seriously going to piss in my pants if I stay on here!”
This time, there was a sense of panicky urgency in his voice and as Will put his arm around Danny’s shoulder and playfully gripped his neck in a vice-like hold, Danny tried to pull away sharply and said, “Don’t mate, you’ll make me wet myself!”
The momentary feeling of panic subsided and Danny grinned, still somewhat falsely and uncomfortably as he announced, “Jesus Wept, I nearly did a bit then!”
“Not for the first time, eh mate?” smiled Jay, who had helped out Danny when he’d had his accident in the street during the previous summer.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard about your little mishap, mate” laughed Jack, as Joe added, “He only puts on a show for the privileged few!”
Danny was trying to act as normally as possible but his forced grins were proving difficult to maintain as his bladder threatened to betray him, with his muscles working overtime to keep control.
“Do you want to see it happen again, then?” asked Will.
The boys, including Danny, looked at him in bemused fashion.
“Do you want to see Dan give a repeat performance and wee his pants? Twenty quid from me if he does it again! Anyone else?”
“Oh Fuck Off!!” Danny laughed falsely.
“Come on! £20 quid and Danny’ll piss himself for us!”
“I fucking won’t!” snapped Danny again.
“Alright, I’m in” laughed Joe, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and extracting a £20 note.
“Go on then, a score from me as well!” yelled Jack in excited fashion as he handed over a crumpled bank note.
“Jay, you in too?” asked Will
“I’m not sure, we might be throwing our money away if he’s going to do it anyway!”
Danny responded to the last comment. “I’m not going to piss my fucking pants unless you lot don't stop going on about it and I’m not doing it for money either, no bleeding way.”
The lads were laughing like hyenas, grabbing hold of each other to keep their balance as the train sped along the bumpy tracks.
“A hundred quid mate, a ton in your pocket if you wet yourself right here right now!”
Danny was in full panic mode, He daren’t embarrass himself in front of them but the discomfort was such that he desperately wanted to grab his cock through the material of his trackie-bottoms in a bid to help him hold on. He plunged one of his hands down the back of the elasticated waistband and inside his underpants to firmly massage one of the cheeks of his backside, as he crossed his legs tighter and stood one foot on top of the other.
“Come on Dan mate, let it go, ease the pressure. Imagine a nice long warming piss, how good will that feel, eh? And a full hundred quid better off too! Go on, piss yourself for us!”
“Will you lot shut the fuck up!” Danny snapped back.
“How about I go down the train with a collecting bowl?” asked Joe amidst the laughter. “You might make a fortune mate, then you could put on a real show for everyone!”
“I think the money might just be irrelevant judging by the way he’s looking” said a slightly worried-looking Jay.
“Are you weeing then, Dan?” laughed Will.
“For fuck’s sake!” whispered Danny, finally relenting and gripping his hand around his now firm and throbbing manhood.
When the train eventually pulled into Waterloo station some time later, an ashen-faced Danny was wracked with pain with his bladder pulsating and a throbbing sensation all around his stomach and groin area. As everyone waited for the doors to open Danny was beside himself, “Jesus wept, open these frigging doors, for Christ’s sake, I'm going to piss!”
“Disappointed in you, man” announced Will. “I can’t believe you spurned the chance of a nice Christmas bonus for the sake of a pair of wet undies!”
“I suppose it is a cold night to piss yourself, to be fair” laughed Joe.
“Nah, all that hot piss running down his legs would have warmed him up a treat!” sniggered Jack, but suddenly Jay said simply, “Oh fuck, look!”
They all looked down and a dark wet stain was emerging all down Danny’s left leg, turning the material of his grey tracksuit bottoms a near-black shade right down to his knee. The stain was a couple of inches wide and extended down his thigh but as quickly as it had appeared and instantly grown in size than it stopped and got no bigger, other than the edges becoming more blurry as the shiny wetness faded into a revealing dark patch with a tennis-ball sized stain marking the area where the outline of his cock was apparent.
“Fuck Dan, mate, you okay pal?” said Jack, putting his hand on Danny’s shoulder.
“Shit, shit! I’ve just a done a bit in my pants!” groaned Danny.
“Come on pal, there’s got to be a bog nearby, let’s get off!” said Jay.
As the doors opened, the passengers began piling off, mostly noisily and in jovial manner with the majority failing to look at or notice the mid-twenties scaffolder with a telling wet patch down the front of his trousers, walking awkwardly and stiffly.
No sooner had they disembarked onto the platform and started to make their way to the exit than the crowd stopped stationary, with people craning their necks to see what was casing the delay.
“What the bloody hell’s going on?” asked Joe.
“Incident in the foyer, mate” said a bloke standing just in front of them, “just saw it on Twitter, the police are attending.”
“Oh bollocks!” said Will, glancing over at Danny who was silently stepping from foot to foot and sporadically touching the wet crotch of his trousers.
Suddenly, the crowds began to part as a yellow-jacketed police officer made his way down the platform, announcing that everyone needed to be patient and they’d be on their way shortly but until they got the go-ahead, people should wait where they were.
“Fuck, I’m going to wet myself!” whispered Danny to Jay, who squeezed his mate’s upper arm in a gesture of support.
As the message-giving officer appeared alongside to the group, Jack caught his attention, “Ere mate, can you just let us through, he’s dying for a piss!”
“No sorry, you’ll all have to wait like I’ve just said”
“But look, you can see how busting he is?”
“Sorry, nothing I can do.”
“But he can’t wait! What’s he going to do?”
The young officer shrugged in unconcerned fashion, “I don’t know. Wet himself, I suppose!” and walked on.
Ten minutes later, as the crowd finally began to move forwards to the staircase, Danny was bent double, with both hands on his knees. He was no longer speaking or making any form of contact with his work-mates as he concentrated solely on not releasing his bladder, he had never needed to piss so badly, not even he felt at the airport in Portugal. He had gone beyond the point of being frantic and his whole lower belly felt as if a single pin-prick would burst his entire body. The pain had numbed his groin area to the extent that even massaging his crotch area would have been pointless and by standing bent over without moving, he was somehow maintaining a sense of control.
Will lent towards Joe and whispered, “Do you think he’d take the £20 quid now?”
“Don’t” grinned Joe, “He might call it double or quits!” and they both smirked.
“I hope he doesn’t do it now” added Jack, “we can’t get a proper look if he does!”
As they moved up the packed staircase, others were turning to look at Danny, walking in obvious pain and with his body shaped like a corkscrew. The dark stain was still vividly all down his trouser-leg and he had both of his fists clenched tightly with his arms by his sides, desperately and frantically trying to hold on.
They got to the top and the station foyer and as the automatic barriers were opened to let the passengers through more easily, Jay spotted the elusive sign saying Gents toilets. “Quick, there’s the bogs, get him over to them!”
Danny shuffled towards to the far side of the foyer but unable to walk at any more than a hobble, he was not alone in his pursuit as the combination of a lengthy hold-up and the last-train-home had meant that the small toilet facility was in great demand. By the time Danny got himself to the entrance, he was seventh in a queue just to get in to the toilet, let alone how many were actually inside already.
“Jesus Christ, he’s going to piss himself in the queue!” said Will.
(to be continued...)
There was no party dress for them either – they had all piled into the nearest pub as soon as work had finished and all of them were still in their work gear, somewhat surprisingly being allowed into the slightly downmarket pub. As they eventually emerged, slightly red and bleary-eyed and with the stench of alcohol mingling with the aroma of their work clothes, they began to wend their way to the nearby tube station.
Twenty-five year old Danny was one of the longest-serving lads in the group and was also often one of the noisiest and most raucous. He had put his yellow ‘high-viz’ waistcoat back on over his thick fleece top whilst his grey track-suit bottoms, which were stained and marked with the grubby efforts of the day, were tucked into his dirty thick white football socks which were pulled up high over his ankles above his badly-scuffed and worn white trainers.
As they lads laughed and joked their way to the station the cold chill of the night air hit them hard, causing a couple of them to wrap their jackets tightly around their upper bodies although Jack was, as ever, wearing shorts despite the frosty conditions. The walk took around 15 minutes and no sooner had they got into the station and onto the platform than the board displayed that the final train of the night was slightly delayed and would be with them in around eight minutes. The wait was tedious and although the atmosphere was a bit warmer than it was out on the streets, the effects of the change of temperature was causing a few bladders to react accordingly. No-one said anything - after all, the journey to Waterloo would only take around 25 minutes, but Danny was conscious that his own bladder was filling rapidly and every time he jigged and fidgeted around, as was his style, he could feel the twinges in his lower belly region.
Despite his outgoing personality and carefree attitude, he did not like the sensation of an overfull and filling bladder. Sixteen months earlier he had endured a painful and ultimately embarrassing incident when he had been bursting for the toilet whilst working and found himself having to support a heavily-weighted stanchion on his own in order to prevent what could have been a serious catastrophe, but although his sterling efforts ensured that safety was preserved, the strain of his actions had caused him to lose control of his bladder and he had embarrassingly wet himself in the street whilst holding onto the structure. The incident had been witnessed by many members of the public and although his mates had rallied round him and offered their support, as well as some inevitable good-natured banter and ribbing, it had left Danny slightly sensitive about revealing a need for the toilet.
Added to which, another year previous, then-23-year old Danny had suffered an absolute holiday nightmare whilst in Portugal with his fiancé and his parents and he’d come agonisingly close to wetting himself on the plane before spectacularly doing it in his pants in the passport control queue. Several nights later, he’d unbelievably pissed himself again during an evening out drinking with his fiancé and incredibly, he’d also wet the bed following another drinking session. Of course, his work-mates had no idea about his holiday catastrophe, but a couple of them had certainly been present when he’d wee’d all down his legs out in the street.
But this wasn’t, unfortunately for Danny, the time to be coy about his predicament. The cold weather and sudden change of temperature had left him bursting to go and the jolting and jerking of the tube train was accentuating his need tenfold.
“I’m going to piss myself in a minute!” he suddenly blurted out, not entirely serious about his statement but more so as a means of revealing that his need was urgent, to put it mildly.
There was some laughter from his mates as a couple of them revealed their own discomforts.
“I know mate, me too!”
“I was gagging even when we left the pub!”
Several minutes later, with the tube train still trundling along, Danny was starting to get those familiar stabbing sensations in his belly as his need to pee intensified and every little stretch and tingle made him more aware of how severely desperate he was. “Christ, I seriously am going to piss myself if we don’t get off soon!”
The lads were standing in a group, chatting and laughing, and amidst them Danny was trying his best to join in whilst keeping one eye on the passing stations and counting down to their destination. He was standing leaning back against the glass partition with his tense back pressed against the upper part and his legs crossed at the knees. The thin material of his grey track-suit bottoms meant that his upper body was warmer than his lower half and every time the doors opened, he could feel the cold draught permeate his trouser-legs and whistle around his thighs.
Suddenly Jack said loudly, “Ere, look at Dan, we’re going to have a pissy pants situation on here any minute”
“Fuck off!” replied Danny with an awkward grin, trying to make light of the situation as best as he could.
“Blimey Danny, you’d better hope there’s a bog on the station platform, otherwise you’ll be wee-wee-weeing all the way home!” said Joe.
The lads continued the noisy banter whilst Danny stood there with his legs tightly pressed together and his stomach muscles taught as he tried to repel the pain around his midriff. The last time he’d felt like this was in Portugal on that holiday and he knew how that had ended up – twice!
“I’m going to have to get off, I’m seriously going to piss in my pants if I stay on here!”
This time, there was a sense of panicky urgency in his voice and as Will put his arm around Danny’s shoulder and playfully gripped his neck in a vice-like hold, Danny tried to pull away sharply and said, “Don’t mate, you’ll make me wet myself!”
The momentary feeling of panic subsided and Danny grinned, still somewhat falsely and uncomfortably as he announced, “Jesus Wept, I nearly did a bit then!”
“Not for the first time, eh mate?” smiled Jay, who had helped out Danny when he’d had his accident in the street during the previous summer.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard about your little mishap, mate” laughed Jack, as Joe added, “He only puts on a show for the privileged few!”
Danny was trying to act as normally as possible but his forced grins were proving difficult to maintain as his bladder threatened to betray him, with his muscles working overtime to keep control.
“Do you want to see it happen again, then?” asked Will.
The boys, including Danny, looked at him in bemused fashion.
“Do you want to see Dan give a repeat performance and wee his pants? Twenty quid from me if he does it again! Anyone else?”
“Oh Fuck Off!!” Danny laughed falsely.
“Come on! £20 quid and Danny’ll piss himself for us!”
“I fucking won’t!” snapped Danny again.
“Alright, I’m in” laughed Joe, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and extracting a £20 note.
“Go on then, a score from me as well!” yelled Jack in excited fashion as he handed over a crumpled bank note.
“Jay, you in too?” asked Will
“I’m not sure, we might be throwing our money away if he’s going to do it anyway!”
Danny responded to the last comment. “I’m not going to piss my fucking pants unless you lot don't stop going on about it and I’m not doing it for money either, no bleeding way.”
The lads were laughing like hyenas, grabbing hold of each other to keep their balance as the train sped along the bumpy tracks.
“A hundred quid mate, a ton in your pocket if you wet yourself right here right now!”
Danny was in full panic mode, He daren’t embarrass himself in front of them but the discomfort was such that he desperately wanted to grab his cock through the material of his trackie-bottoms in a bid to help him hold on. He plunged one of his hands down the back of the elasticated waistband and inside his underpants to firmly massage one of the cheeks of his backside, as he crossed his legs tighter and stood one foot on top of the other.
“Come on Dan mate, let it go, ease the pressure. Imagine a nice long warming piss, how good will that feel, eh? And a full hundred quid better off too! Go on, piss yourself for us!”
“Will you lot shut the fuck up!” Danny snapped back.
“How about I go down the train with a collecting bowl?” asked Joe amidst the laughter. “You might make a fortune mate, then you could put on a real show for everyone!”
“I think the money might just be irrelevant judging by the way he’s looking” said a slightly worried-looking Jay.
“Are you weeing then, Dan?” laughed Will.
“For fuck’s sake!” whispered Danny, finally relenting and gripping his hand around his now firm and throbbing manhood.
When the train eventually pulled into Waterloo station some time later, an ashen-faced Danny was wracked with pain with his bladder pulsating and a throbbing sensation all around his stomach and groin area. As everyone waited for the doors to open Danny was beside himself, “Jesus wept, open these frigging doors, for Christ’s sake, I'm going to piss!”
“Disappointed in you, man” announced Will. “I can’t believe you spurned the chance of a nice Christmas bonus for the sake of a pair of wet undies!”
“I suppose it is a cold night to piss yourself, to be fair” laughed Joe.
“Nah, all that hot piss running down his legs would have warmed him up a treat!” sniggered Jack, but suddenly Jay said simply, “Oh fuck, look!”
They all looked down and a dark wet stain was emerging all down Danny’s left leg, turning the material of his grey tracksuit bottoms a near-black shade right down to his knee. The stain was a couple of inches wide and extended down his thigh but as quickly as it had appeared and instantly grown in size than it stopped and got no bigger, other than the edges becoming more blurry as the shiny wetness faded into a revealing dark patch with a tennis-ball sized stain marking the area where the outline of his cock was apparent.
“Fuck Dan, mate, you okay pal?” said Jack, putting his hand on Danny’s shoulder.
“Shit, shit! I’ve just a done a bit in my pants!” groaned Danny.
“Come on pal, there’s got to be a bog nearby, let’s get off!” said Jay.
As the doors opened, the passengers began piling off, mostly noisily and in jovial manner with the majority failing to look at or notice the mid-twenties scaffolder with a telling wet patch down the front of his trousers, walking awkwardly and stiffly.
No sooner had they disembarked onto the platform and started to make their way to the exit than the crowd stopped stationary, with people craning their necks to see what was casing the delay.
“What the bloody hell’s going on?” asked Joe.
“Incident in the foyer, mate” said a bloke standing just in front of them, “just saw it on Twitter, the police are attending.”
“Oh bollocks!” said Will, glancing over at Danny who was silently stepping from foot to foot and sporadically touching the wet crotch of his trousers.
Suddenly, the crowds began to part as a yellow-jacketed police officer made his way down the platform, announcing that everyone needed to be patient and they’d be on their way shortly but until they got the go-ahead, people should wait where they were.
“Fuck, I’m going to wet myself!” whispered Danny to Jay, who squeezed his mate’s upper arm in a gesture of support.
As the message-giving officer appeared alongside to the group, Jack caught his attention, “Ere mate, can you just let us through, he’s dying for a piss!”
“No sorry, you’ll all have to wait like I’ve just said”
“But look, you can see how busting he is?”
“Sorry, nothing I can do.”
“But he can’t wait! What’s he going to do?”
The young officer shrugged in unconcerned fashion, “I don’t know. Wet himself, I suppose!” and walked on.
Ten minutes later, as the crowd finally began to move forwards to the staircase, Danny was bent double, with both hands on his knees. He was no longer speaking or making any form of contact with his work-mates as he concentrated solely on not releasing his bladder, he had never needed to piss so badly, not even he felt at the airport in Portugal. He had gone beyond the point of being frantic and his whole lower belly felt as if a single pin-prick would burst his entire body. The pain had numbed his groin area to the extent that even massaging his crotch area would have been pointless and by standing bent over without moving, he was somehow maintaining a sense of control.
Will lent towards Joe and whispered, “Do you think he’d take the £20 quid now?”
“Don’t” grinned Joe, “He might call it double or quits!” and they both smirked.
“I hope he doesn’t do it now” added Jack, “we can’t get a proper look if he does!”
As they moved up the packed staircase, others were turning to look at Danny, walking in obvious pain and with his body shaped like a corkscrew. The dark stain was still vividly all down his trouser-leg and he had both of his fists clenched tightly with his arms by his sides, desperately and frantically trying to hold on.
They got to the top and the station foyer and as the automatic barriers were opened to let the passengers through more easily, Jay spotted the elusive sign saying Gents toilets. “Quick, there’s the bogs, get him over to them!”
Danny shuffled towards to the far side of the foyer but unable to walk at any more than a hobble, he was not alone in his pursuit as the combination of a lengthy hold-up and the last-train-home had meant that the small toilet facility was in great demand. By the time Danny got himself to the entrance, he was seventh in a queue just to get in to the toilet, let alone how many were actually inside already.
“Jesus Christ, he’s going to piss himself in the queue!” said Will.
(to be continued...)
