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  1. As I mentioned as part of the discussion in this post (https://omorashi.org/topic/25110-ultrasound-this-thursday/), I had an regular scheduled ultrasound on Thursday this past week. This is a normal check up procedure, I do these about once a year, ever since I had Botox injections to deal with my UI issues (I've had this done twice now, and it is a relatively new procedure, so they keep tabs on things). I've had many of these ultrasounds over the years, and have had a range of experiences with them. At my first ultrasound as a high school student (investigating the causes of my IU and bedwetting troubles), I had a very public accident, which I've shared with the community here (https://omorashi.org/topic/2645-ultrasound-disaster/). While at the time this was horrible at the time, I have found myself reliving it in my head and it has become a very erotic experience for me now. Basically just the thought of the experience get my heart racing and my lady parts wet. This is basically one of my go to experiences for when I need to get turned on fast (and being a busy grad student this is enough that I have been thinking about it more often than not). It was a long time ago and I worry that the feelings have perhaps faded, and also that at the time my teenage self was too panicking and emotionally upset to savour the other feelings going on. Thinking about my upcoming ultrasound, I kept thinking about my first disastrous one, and would get excited. This led me to consider perhaps trying to replicate this first exam, or at least take advantage of a rare desperation-inducing situation. I should say that I've had at least 6 of these ultrasounds in my life and this upcoming test was purely a check up. I haven't had any complaints and there haven't been any problems with my previous tests, so I was not worried about messing up any legitimate medical investigations. The general rule at my UK urologist is that they run a flow test and an ultrasound every time you go in. As a note, these tests usually entail an ultrasound only, but in the UK, they usually add a flow test, just because it's easy to do after the ultrasound. For the flow test you basically sit on a special toilet with monitors, which detects your flow of urine, to see if it is consistent. I understand that if you have a weak flow or stop and start, this can indicate an obstruction, or other problems (prostate issues in men for example). I've done a few checkups where I did not do the ultrasound, and was not scheduled to do either, but they asked me if I would do a flow test all the same, and I usually did, coaxing out some urine if I didn't have to go. As a result, I developed the habit of arriving at all my appointments with a pretty full bladder out of practice. And again, after probably 6 or 7 appointments and flow tests, they haven't found anything out of the ordinary (which is consistent with my diagnosis of mild mixed UI). For an ultrasound, you are requested to arrive at the hospital with a 'comfortably full bladder' and are usually instructed to drink two pints of water at least an hour before the test to ensure this. They pull down the waistband of your pants (and have you undo the button and zipper), put (usually very cold) jelly on your belly over your bladder, and press an ultrasound wand thing across the jelly until they get a good clear image. They then have you empty your bladder (doing the flow test), and then scan again, looking to measure the residual. If you have too much in there, they might ask you to try to empty your bladder again. On my first test, they also did an ultrasound of my kidneys and this was repeated my first visit in the UK. My bladder issues growing up and past experiences with these kinds of tests have led me to take some precautions around ultrasounds. Now the technician can see the waistband of your underwear, and when I was still a teen I was way too embarrassed to have the technician see my panties, let alone the waistband of a pullup/Goodnite, which is what I should have been wearing under my clothes for this (or which would have been recommended). As a result, I usually wore the biggest maxi-pad I could find, an overnight one with the big part on the bottom, which would catch any leaks or drips and be invisible to the technician. Also, and I didn't know you could do this (but of course you can), but if you tell the receptionist you are bursting to wee (and yes I screwed up the courage to do this once, not for an ultrasound but for a flow test), their first response is to ask you is you can use the washroom but only let out a little bit. This is an option for some, but for me it is not, I have a lot of trouble stopping after I start peeing. I have been practicing, but if I was desperate enough to ask the receptionist to pee before my appointment (being generally very shy about these things), there would be no way I would be able to stop after letting out a little bit. If you ask they might try to see you sooner, but there are generally a waiting list with an order and cue jumping in this case isn't an option. My clinic has a little video screen which tells you how late they are running behind, and they are almost always 30 minutes behind (the doctors are very good and spend lots of time answering all your questions, which is very nice but leads to backlogs). They have recently added a sign which says something like if you are not seen 40 minutes after you were supposed to be, then see the receptionist. I think this a partly to re-schedule, but partly also to check on full bladders. This is the UK after all and people are not really open about these things, so maybe they have the sign as a nice starting conversation about bladder situations with patients. So like I said, when I was younger I wore thick pads to all subsequent tests and drank much less water. My small bladder with OAB symptoms was not really up to the job of holding 2 pints, ever. When I was older, and more comfortable with things and mature (and also a little naughty), I I would comfortably wear a pullup to my ultrasound (not a Goodnite as this was too childish, but usually something like a Tena pullup, discreet or otherwise). I wore one to my more recent here in the UK. The technician clearly saw the top of a Tena pullup (rolled down to minimize visibility). This was necessary because even if I did my fluids correctly, the pressing of the wand-thing and the cold jelly would often cause me to leak a little, and normal incontinence pads (like maxi pads) don't work as well laying down on a bed, the liquid tends to run down your bum and skip the pad all together, and get into your panties and pants. The last test I had were I wore my Tena pullup, I had a nice 50 something British lady pulled down the waistband of my pants, and tucked in the small cloth they use to keep your pants free from the gel, and I got a pretty big exhibitionistic rush. She didn't have any reaction (this time around the pullup caught a little squirt when the put the cold probe on my belly, so one point for pre-planning). I still got rather excited by the thing, I suppose medical procedures, apart from say changing rooms (and random one night stands), are one of the few times a stranger sees your underwear. At least for me, and this was rather exciting knowing that she knew that I was wearing a diaper. For my test last week, I contemplated wearing a pullup again, though I didn't think I really needed one, as my UI problems have been non-existent this past while, and I could easily get the correct amount of fluids. Also, it had been done, the only real sort of way to build on the previous test would be to perhaps wear a Goodnite, or maybe even a proper, overnight diaper. But this seemed heavy handed and not quite what I was aiming for. It was after all a very short rush with none of the protracted agony and humiliation which comes from a wetting accident. This very long pre-amble is to say that I wanted to go to my test without any protection. But this was not too much of a challenge, as I was probably ready to do this anyhow. I would probably have slipped a pad into my panties, brought my usual spare pair in my purse (in a plastic bag, a long force of habit, which comes in use), and go from there. However, this would not really help me relive my youthful accident. Not to belabour this introduction, but I had been reading the discussion on rapid desperation (https://omorashi.org/topic/755-an-experiment-in-rapid-desperation/) and was keen to try it out. I decided therefore to combine the rapid desperation with an unprotected visit to my urologist with a full/filling bladder for my ultrasound. My test was at 3:00 pm on Thursday at the hospital, which is about a 20 minute cycle from my department (where I would be teaching and in meetings during the morning). Before the fateful day, I read up on the rapid desperation method, but I didn't practice, I thought about it, but I wanted to just see what would happen, and practicing/testing it out, seemed to be cheating, or rather would let me know what was going to happen, and so take away all the 'fun'. _________________________________________________________________ On the day of my test, I woke up early, went to the bathroom immediately (out of necessity) around 8:30am and had a cup of tea, my usual morning routine. My fiancé was out the door by about 9:00 am, having gotten up before me. He was heading off to his department for an early morning something (I was too wrapped up in my upcoming test to remember exactly what it was). I then began the practice of drinking small amounts of water, 300 ml every 15 minutes, and going to the bathroom as soon as I felt the urge. I am glad that we have our new place (I don't know if I told people on here, but I moved in with my fiancé, it made financial sense and otherwise we didn't get to see each other very much). Our new place has its own washroom, a huge improvement from my former student accommodation where I had to go down three flights of stairs to pee, a massive pain. Still in my PJs (t-shirt and baby-blue fleece PJ bottoms with panties and fuzzy socks for those who care) I set about answering e-mails, sipping tea and peeing whenever I felt the need. This went on for about an hour. I slipped into a pullup (Tena Discreet) before changing for work, just in case I felt the need to pee during my cycle to work. I wore this under my panties so it would be easier to change. We had a shot discussion about what to wear on my 'teaser post' and I had trouble making up my mind while I was waiting to change. I slipped into a regular pair of white cotton panties (with coloured purple trim, something cheap from the shops), and took a little while to make up my mind. I had a hard time making up my mind, but in the end settled for a lighter pair of jeans. They were not too dark so as to hid an accident, but not too light so as to make it totally obvious. They were also rather thick, not the stretchy thin jeans people have, but proper denim. This made it a little harder to cycle, but I've done it loads of time and the jeans may my bum look fantastic (at least to me and my fiancé). I chose a professional looking blouse to go on top, and also put on a big cozy hoodie which I often wear cycling and which is big enough to cover up a possible accident if worn around the waist. I wore comfortable walking shoes (flats). I decided against a purse and a bag, as it would be clumsy, so I put everything into my backpack. Inside I packed a spare pair of pants (tight yoga-style pants which I usually work out in and which pack small), as a precaution. I wasn't sure what might happen and if I did have an accident, I was not prepared to cycle all the way home in wet, obvious, jeans. I also slipped in a spare pair of panties (similarly white, from my rather simple panty drawer), and socks, just in case. I also packed a couple of things which I would need to school, some reading material for the wait (a couple of journals and a glossy magazine), a water bottle (about 1 litre), and I also brought along a 2 litre jug of mango juice. I was using this to hydrate during the morning, and it was about half empty. Before I left I added water as I find the juice way too sweet, albeit delicious. I also packed a small snack, though I really couldn't think about food at this stage, my heart was pounding just packing up. Packing and pre-planning for a possible accident was also getting me a little aroused, I noticed I was rather wet on one of my many toilet visits (there was a good little slippery patch on the crotch of my pullup, and I was very sticky). I went pee right before I left home and then headed off at about 10:15. While at first it took my body a good 40 minutes to fill up y bladder, by the time I left home I had peed about 4 times. Not always peeing very much, but sticking to the rapid desperation routine. By the time I left home, after having done the rapid desperation pre-drinking and peeing component, I was peeing every 20 minutes or fewer. It turns out I didn't need the pullup on my cycle, biking in the usual traffic took my mind off of my bladder, it's also hard to pee in a diaper while cycling. I arrived at my department around 10:45 am, with just enough time for a much needed bathroom visit before my only class of the day. I peed and removed my pullup. Even though it wasn't wet. In these cases in the past I would usually sit on the toilet and wet the pullup just so I don't feel as though it's going to waste, but in this case I was too distracted. It was not re-useable because of the bunching which occurs from riding a bike in a diaper and the already significant sticky patch. Did I mention I was very excited at this point? My arousal had somewhat decreased as I prepared myself mentally for my class and also while cycling, but I was still pretty wet. I tore off the sides of the pullup and binned it. My schedule for the day was as follows. I was teaching a class from 11:00 am to 12:30 noon, not so much a class as a graduate seminar, a small discussion group with about 10 to 12 masters students (depending on turn out), I then had a department lunch meeting from 1:00 to 2:00 pm after which I would have the remaining hour and a half to make my way to the hospital for my test. My plan was to continue to drink mango juice regularly and pee as often as I could between 11:00 and 1:00 pm, and then pee for the last time at 1:00 starting to hold it until my test. This would give me 2 hours of holding, which according to those who have done the rapid desperation experiment, is pretty hard/boarding on impossible to do. The seminar was a discussion as I mentioned, and I excused myself twice in order use the rest room: I was filling up quickly and drinking mango juice constantly, and I excused myself from the discussion once at 11:20 because it seemed like a good pause in the seminar, and again at 12:05, because I was getting very uncomfortable. At the end of the seminar I hurried to the washroom once more, this time at about an uncomfortable 6 or 7. I had finished the mango juice by then and picked up my water bottle in the graduate office (where I had left my bag), grabbed a quick snack, checked my e-mails for a couple of minutes and then went to the bathroom one last time before heading off to the department meeting. I noticed the unused pullup in the bottom of the trash when I did, and I had a momentary thought of regret, for not having kept it on. At exactly 5 minutes to 1:00 I peed for the last time before my test. From 1:00 until 2:00 I sat in the meeting. This wasn't the sort of meeting you excused yourself from. I did still continue to sip water, at least for the first 30 minutes, but then I stopped realizing my rapidly increasing level of desperation. I tried to focus on the meeting, but generally was too distracted by my upcoming appointment and my rapidly filling bladder. I became acutely aware of my body and had the feeling as though everyone was watching me. I could feel the skin on my inner thigh rub against my rough jeans, the slight lingering moistness between my legs, my feet somewhat uncomfortably curled in my shoes. I had a couple of bladder spasms around three quarters of the way into the meeting when I contemplated going to the bathroom for one last time. Surely if my bladder could fill up this fast in just 30 minutes, I could go and still be bursting for my ultrasound. I mulled over these options but stood firm in my decisions not to use the loo. I sat there in increasing desperation, and by the time the meeting was over (a little before 2:00 pm thankfully, like 1:50 pm), I was pretty desperate, probably an 8 on the 10 scale. As the meeting wrapped up there was the usual post meeting chit chat, and I tried to get away as quickly as possible. I was approaching the point of hopping about and needing to cross my legs awkwardly and I did not want my department colleagues to see me doing this. I excused myself from a conversation and then a second. In the third one of the grad students in a year after me commented that I seemed a little distracted (which I was but I was a little disappointed that it showed), and I made an excuse and quickly headed to collect my bag. On the way down the hall I filled up my water bottle which was about half empty at this point. I also grabbed a random bottle of water I had in my desk from a conference a while back and tossed that into my backpack. I know, what is a girl who is an 8 on the desperation scale with a 20 minute cycle ahead of her and at least 40 minutes (more like an hour) until her ultrasound doing getting more water? I was feeling reckless and moving about quickly was reducing my urgency, and well reckless and wild abandon! I quickly left the building, unlocked my bike and headed off to the hospital. The bike ride was uneventful, though I had occasional twinges and sharp feelings in my bladder as I went over bumps. I put my full concentration into peddling and traffic and arrive at the hospital still at an 8. I was surprised. I had no problem finding the bike racks this time, and right before going in to the hospital I chugged an entire last bottle of water. I wasn't really planning on drinking more water at this point, but I was feeling pretty desperate, an 8.5 to 9 on the scale. This was my sort of way of guaranteeing that I would not back out I suppose, or a moment of panic resulting from a lull in the feelings of urgency, resulting in my thinking that I was going to all this trouble (and increasing pain), and that I might still make it. I think this as hubris on my part, but I chugged the entire bottle of water before heading in to navigate the labyrinth of the hospital. I checked in at the desk in the usual way, and was sent over to the waiting area, which is overlooked by the reception desk. To the right of the desk is a video screen with little messages (including how late they are running), the waiting room is open plan with seats along the wall in a U shape and more seats in the middle of the U. I sat down in the middle of the bottom of the U after checking in. The hallway to the appointment rooms is also to the right of the reception desk and it leads down a hall, immediately to the right upon passing the reception desk is the usual bathroom that I use, inside they have the things to do a flow test. There is another bathroom before you enter the waiting room which is the one they send you to if you need to 'release a little pressure.' When I arrived there was three other groups, an old gentleman with his wife on the left-hand side (of myself sitting down), and elderly later on the middle chair island) and another elderly gentleman on the right. The seats were vinyl covered padded chairs, some with arms, others without. I sat down and started to read my magazine. I was already very desperate, a 9.5 at this point, but I could easily hold it for a little while, maybe a maximum of 20 minutes, this was a little worrisome because I arrived at about 2:20, and I still had 40 minutes to go before my appointment. I started to get nervous, a little bit of cold sweat formed on my forehead. I felt closed off and did not make any eye contact with any of the other people in the waiting room. I sat there trying to read my magazine. The elderly couple was called, and then the lady. Then another younger man, about 30 came and sat down and was also called. There looked like there were two nurses, and some of the people were quick others much slower. The gentleman beside me was there for a while, but eventually called as well. To be replaced with another middle-aged gentleman. I didn't really pay attention to the people around me, I was too caught up in my own agony and desperation. At this stage I had firmly crossed my legs, squeezing and double crossing them together as much as I could. The thick denim of my jeans was making it hard to press them together as tightly as I would have liked (and as my bladder demanded). I don't recall all the movements of all the people in the waiting room, but I do remember, towards the end, trying to figure out who was going to be called next, and whether it would be me, and how long I had. I also didn't want too many people to see me in my state or to strike up a conversation, not that British people would ever do this, ever! I looked at my phone, which I then tucked into my bike bag, at about 2:30 pm and lost hope. I had initially thought I could hold on until the test at which point I might have an accident on the way to the ultrasound in the dimly lit privacy of the hall way outside of the check up rooms, or perhaps, like my first ultrasound, leak during the test itself, or on the way to the bathroom after the test for the flow test (it usually takes the nurses a few seconds to calibrate the machine, so you a have to stand there, toilet in sight waiting for a good minute while they do this, a point at which I almost always lose a few drops). But at this state I was too desperate and was in considerable pain, I wasn't going to make it to the test itself. I wasn't going to even be able to stand up at this point. I was at a 10 on the scale, but still managing to hold on. This was when I started feeling pain, cramping pain in my kidneys, and I got worried. I am familiar with water poisoning, and know that you can damage your kidneys from holding it too long. Usually my bladder would spasm and I would leak well before this point ever occurred, but whatever it was, be it the group of people around me, my double-crossed legs, or sudden bladder shyness, I wasn't leaking, but holding on, and in increasing pain. I don't know the time exactly, it must have been maybe 2 minutes after I checked my phone, but time was doing that strange thing it does when you really have to pee. I didn't exactly leak, but I knew I was going to have to let some pressure out, and I was worried I was going to do some permanent damage. It wasn't exactly a controlled release, because I'm not good at those, but we could call it a momentary relaxation resulting in a small accident. After putting my phone into my bag, I put my magazine into my lap and let out a little bit of pee. Nothing was visible, but I quickly realized that I would have to put something more significant into my lap soon. I was feeling pain in my sides and stomach at this stage. The feeling of pressure on my sphincter was unbearable, a sharp acute pressure, not like the dull sort of full pressure which you get on a normal hold. I felt like rather than being a round balloon, that my bladder was a narrow zeppelin, with all of the pressure pushing against my pee hole. I stole a peek under the magazine while turning pages, and didn't see any damage on my jeans. My underwear felt a little wet but in that warm post-leak kind of way. The leak must have been small enough to either have been absorbed by the gusset of my panties, or my legs were tight enough together that the pee travelled down to my bum. A problem which I would have to deal with when I stood up, but a problem which I could likely solve by covering up with my hoodie. Thinking along these lines and with the magazine still strategically covering my lap, I removed my hoodie and put it on the seat next to me on the left. The east on my right at this point was occupied by an elderly gentleman in a baseball cap who may have been actively avoiding looking at me. I read some more, the magazine in my lap, and held my legs together, the leg crossing not seeming to cut it. This must have lasted for a good few minutes, but it was clear that I needed to try something more discreet. I also felt like I was going to lose control at any moment. I retrieved my hoodie from the chair beside me, put it in my lap, and arranged it to cover everything. At this stage I was wiggling my foot desperately, but otherwise not moving about too much, my legs pressed firmly together. I carefully folded my hoodie to ensure that it covered my entire crotch and also that none of it was between my thighs,... just in case. With my hoodie in my lap I tried to hold myself. This was a last desperate move, which was probably ill thought out, as it would have involved pressing the fabric of my jeans into the wet gusset of my panties, and would certainly result in a visible wet spot on my jeans. But I had to try, there was no way I was going to make the nest 20 minutes (or so the clock indicated). Amazingly the running late notice indicated that they were only running 5 minutes late, so I got very lucky, as another hour would have been completely unmanageable. I tried to jam my hand between my legs, but it didn't seem to help. The denim was too thick to allow me to maneuver my fingers between my labia and pres where it desperately needed to be pressed. I 'disreetly' kept my right hand under my hoodie moving my fingers about trying to find a good way to hold myself. It must have looked pretty obvious to the 5 people in the waiting room, but I told myself they were not looking, or I was past the point of caring. The hand wasn't working. I let out another spurt, this one completely involuntary. Then another, and another. Each lasting for about 1 or 2 seconds, but coming in quick succession. At this stage due to the placement of my hand (still between my legs), and perhaps the force of the spurts, the pee went upwards into the crotch of my jeans. I felt my hand get wet, and the warm hard feeling of wet denim. I peeked under my hoodie and magazine (now forgotten) and saw a considerable wet patch on the crotch of my jeans. Bigger than a full hand and spread evenly between both thighs. I quickly replaced the edge of my hoodie. I could only imagine how bad my bum was, as when sitting pee usually pools towards the bum as you will all know. When I would be called I would have to stand up and there would be a moment when I was going to tie the hoodie around my waist when all of my neighbours would see my accident (as I couldn't do this and cover my front at the same time). I momentarily considered this, but it would not be the first time I've used a sweatshirt to cover up an accident, and I thought I might be able to use my bag to shield myself in the front for cover. I couldn't think about this for long, because soon I was concentrating 100% on stopping from losing control completely. I ceased efforts to hold myself, though I still had a hand under the hoodie and my foot was now wiggling uncontrollably. I was still in pain and very much worried I would not make it. I could not stand up and talk to the receptionist (not that I would at this stage as it was clearly too late) without revealing my accident to everyone. I simply sat there very uncomfortably and wiggled. I also worried that standing might lead to a fatal cascade. I looked at the receptionist, who was busy on the phone, but I could have sworn I saw her glance over in my direction. She was a 30 something woman with brown hair I think. I spent a little longer staring at her with what must have been a forlorn look on my face. While I was almost completely oblivious to the goings on around me, I did notice her, she was off her phone a moment later and when the next nurse came in to call the next person they had a short and hushed conversation. They were too far for me to see anything, but they both glanced my way. When they did I hurriedly looked back at my magazine. At this stage I had been too distracted by my pressing need and quickly approaching bathroom accident to be embarrassed. It was all business, and the only thing I recall being aware of, was not being aware of the people around me. I would occasionally look about, trying to see when I might be called or trying to get a good description for you all (I do aim to please), but none of this was really registering. But now I felt myself blush lightly. The nurses were clearly discussing the desperate 28 year old clearly holding herself and wiggling uncontrollably in the waiting room. My heart raced and mind scrambled. I thought it might be worth the embarrassment if they called me sooner. I half expected the receptionist to walk over to me to ask if I was alright, or to be called next. At 2:45 pm most of the people who had been there when I arrived had been called and I was optimistic that I might get seen earlier. When finally the younger gentleman who came in while I was there and was seen left, and I anticipated being seen next. But it was not to be. Next up another elderly gentleman nearby and I was in agony. I left out another significant 2 or three second spurt, which seemed to do nothing to relieve the pressure, but did make the wet spot on my jeans more pronounced. I tried to reach a hand under my bum to feel for damage but I could feel nothing, thought I was unable to get my fingers too far under, at least nothing was visible from the sides. I was now fully committed. Not that I hadn't been the second I took my last washroom visit. My jeans were wet and there was no way to get up without revealing that to the whole group on the waiting room, and making the problem worse. I knew my appointment was approaching, it must have been 2:50 pm, and so at this stage I stuffed my magazine into my bag, as there was no chance I could read or follow it, I was too agitated. The thought briefly crossed my mind that if I wasn't seen at exactly 3:00 pm I might have a spectacular seated accident here in the waiting room. I panicked a little at the thought, my heart pounding, cold sweat appeared on my forehead and I blushed some more. I may have been shivering at this point, and I was close approaching the point of completely giving up and having a full accident right then and there. Should I make a mad dash to the receptionist and ask to use the washroom? The thought of me standing up at the reception desk where everyone could see me and wetting myself made my heart beat even faster Finally, and it must have been exactly 3:00, or very close to it, a middle aged female (45-ish) nurse in light scrubs with dark East Indian skin and long black hair, came to the edge of the end reception desk under the video screen. I'd seen here several times as she came out for patients. She called my name. I sort of waved with the hand that wasn't between my legs, feebly pressing the wet denim of my jeans into my vagina, and began gathering my things. I gave up on tying my hoodie around my waist to cover my accident from behind. It didn't really have full use of both of my hands and it was shaking at this point, and didn't think I would be able to do it. So clutching my bag and hoodie in front of me, so that the nurse and receptionist could not see the accident, I headed over to her. I'm sure everyone in the hall and in the waiting room (which at this stage was probably three other people), could easily see the wet patch on my bum, but I didn't look back. I don't think I felt myself holding it as I walked down the hall, but I don't think I leaked more at this stage, my body must have been in the pre-massive accident mode where it's actually harder to pee. I walked as quickly as I could, and was a little surprised that I wasn't peeing uncontrollably at this point. The nurse asked me how I was doing and I said "ok but that I really had to pee." I heard my voice sound weak and unconvincing. The walk to the examination room wasn't too far and was relatively strait. The nurse remained in front of me, guiding me down the hall, past a hallway on my left which was rather dark, and to a darkly lit examination room with a bed with cloth sheets in the middle. In the examination room I put down my hoodie and bag and she said, upon noticing either my wet bum or crotch, something like: "you've already had a little accident." Or "you've already gone a little bit." Not these words exactly but similar, in a very soothing and understanding way. I don't remember if I responded, I think I may have apologized. My face was burning at this point and I was incredibly thankful for the darkness of the room. I was also shaking. Still managing to hold on. Feeling very meek and embarrassed I climbed onto the bed an lay down. I had already undone my pants knowing the procedure and hoping to expedite things. The nurse tucked the little piece of paper into my waistband (to keep my pants dry, though that boat had long sailed). My whole body was trembling and I tried to hold my legs together. I think I may have re-iterated that I was sorry and that I really had to go pee. My bladder felt like it was going to explode, and I don't remember completely losing control before or after she applied the jelly, or if I was peeing the second I lay down on the best. The nurse put on the jelly, which to my surprise was actually very warm, they must have invented jelly warmers since my last test, as I recall the jelly being very cold. My bladder felt like an cannon ball in my lower abdomen. As she put down the ultrasound rod on my belly. She must have felt how hard it was, because she asked if I could use the washroom the let out a little pressure. To which I responded in a voice higher than normal and approaching panic level, "no I'm already going." And I was, I was wetting myself at this point. I don't know how much I was peeing, but I could not have stopped it if I had wanted to, it just came out. I wasn't the flood gates as one would expect, it was that very tortuous stream which you sometimes get when you've been holding it too long. When your sphincter is still trying to hold on but the pee gets out anyhow, not when it fully opens. She must have acted very fast, because within a couple of second she said she was done, and that I could now use the washroom. This was abnormally quick and she must have done the bare minimum knowing my predicament. Still wetting myself, I got up off the bed, and spent a second wiping the jelly off my belly, and doing up my pants only got the zipper up, the button was not going to happen, I was too swollen and my hands were shaking too much. Doing this, I remember touching my bladder and feeling it as a rock hard ball in my lower abdomen. I did up my pants and stood up and she directed me out the door to the nearest washroom which was supposed to be directly down the hall, the on on the immediate right after passing down the hall from the reception desk. At this stage I was half holding myself, half using my hand to shield the wet patch on the crotch of my pants. She tried the door to the washroom only to find it lock. "This one must be occupied" she said and then told me I could use the one at the end of the hall near the start of the waiting room. You could see the light coming from under the crack in the door and the very apologetic but business-like tone in the nurses voice. I am not making this up, it was like out of some omorashi fantasy story. I didn't think or stop moving, but powered on down the hall, walking as fast as I could walking without running. I literally ran down the hallway, while wetting my pants freely, rushing past the waiting room nurses, the receptionist for the ultrasound area, and into the washroom. I kept my eyes down and both hands firmly in my crotch. Without locking the door I yanked down my pants and underwear. I was in mid-stream and there was a nice wet patch all over the front of my pants, but not running all the way to the ground, which at the time surprised me, though on reflection, I suppose that had done most of my wetting while laying down on the ultrasound bed/chair. Later upon inspection, I saw a similar nice round even wet patch on the bum of my pants. I peed into the toilet for longer than a minute and a half. I could feel the rock hard roundness of my bladder while peeing, and could see the pee dripping from my underwear, which were around my ankles, and into my pants the entire time I was peeing. A sure sign of the wetness of my underwear. They were glistening wet, with wetness running all over the bum and up the front. My pee was very clear. My stream very thin and intense. I peed for longer than I've ever peed in my whole life, it must have been longer than 1 minute and a half. The pee hissed out of me like an angry serpent. And I felt my entire lower body gradually relaxing, like I had been planking for 5 minutes and finally stopped. After finishing peeing, I spent a few moment to let my heart stop pounding, locked the door which I had forgotten to do, and inspected the damage. Apart from perfect even wet patches running all over the crotch of my pants to about the knees, my panties were soaked and there was a small puddle on the floor in front of the toilet from where the pee had dripped through my pants onto the floor. I took off my shoes and pants and underwear, and made an attempt to dry both of these off with the paper towel which was in the room. My socks and shoes were dry. Like I said the peed did not run all the way down my legs. I spent the next, probably 8 minutes or more, cleaning the room and slowly applying dry compresses of paper towel to my panties and pants. I twisted my panties into a little ball with some paper towel and wrung them out. All this time I was all business, focused on cleaning up my accident and somehow making the massive wet patch on my pants disappear so I could hurry back to the examination room. I was shaking slightly, though not crying or sobbing. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I did not appear to be making much progress. I also spent a few moments to dry off my legs which were pretty wet as well. After what must have been 12 or 15 minutes, I paced about in my socks, like a trapped incontinent tiger in the zoo. I cracked the door a tiny bit and I peeked out the door to see if anyone was out there waiting for me. They were not. I could not see the waiting room, but everything seemed petty normal at the reception desk. I could not see my nurse, who I fully expected to see speaking with the receptionists. I had not seen her follow me out. I contemplated using the help button (those little strings and buttons they have in hospital washrooms) to get help and a dry pair of pants, but I thought this wasn't quite the emergency for which the button as created. After pacing about for a while, and building up my courage, and after several additional attempts to dry my pants with paper towel, I got ready to leave. I noticed that I had taken so long in my attempts to cover up my accident, that my bladder was almost full again (the rapid desperation really works!), and so before heading back to the ultrasound, I peed again, a large amount. Knowing that if I did not, I would be sent back to 'try again' and this would only increase the number of people that would see that I had had a spectacular accident in my pants. After it was clear that no one was coming to get me, and that I would have to chance the outside world in my wet pants. I put them back on, without my panties, which I balled up in my hand. And I opened the door. I don't remember looking around at anyone. Face burning, I walked purposefully down the hall, past the waiting room which had once again about 4-5 people in it, past the receptionist, down the dark hall and back to the room. The room was still dark, and the nurse was not there. Instead she entered just behind me, taking me a little off guard, while I was sticking my wet underwear into my bag. Not having time, I left them under my hoodie, which I had apparently left on a chair. I have no recollection of doing this however. She said something like: 'I saw you earlier but there were people before you.' A semi-apology for not seeing me sooner despite my clear desperate state. This made me blush, as I then knew she had been watching my desperate struggle in the waiting room. I apologized, but before I could say more, she pointed to the cupboard behind the chair where I left my bag and hoodie, and said: 'I got you something to wear, I wasn't sure your size so I have a small and a medium.' To which I apologized profusely and thank her for her thoughtfulness. I hadn't even thought about this. While I was cleaning up, she must have called someone, or gone and fetched a spare pair of pants for me to wear. Knowing that someone was thinking about my accident in this way now gets me very aroused, as this is not the usual reaction one gets from accidents, its more the reaction that you got when you were a child, where you parents were getting your backup pants out of the car while you cried in the washroom, oblivious. I was still shaking ever so slightly and felt warm all over. I noticed that she had also placed a reusable waterproof absorbent blue pad on the bum part of the bed. I was a little unsure of what would happen next, I was still standing there in my very wet pants. I didn't look like she was going to give me the chance to change into the scrubs which she had gotten for me. And I was invited to get back up on the table, still wearing my wet pants. I made some comment about miss-judging my fluids but she didn't say very much else, perhaps something comforting, but I don't recall, my face was so hot that I had ringing in my ears. I had forgotten to undo my pants, and fumbled with the button and zipper. She must have noticed the absence of my panties, which were not the low-riding kind, and the upper shaved portion of y mons. At that moment I realized what was more humiliating than having a technician see the waistband of your diaper... but rather knowing that your wet panties were balled up on the chair and that you had wet them. She put the warm jelly on my belly, which elicited a comment from me about how it was warm, and that I wasn't expecting that. I was so embarrassed I was babbling at this point, not a usual reaction for me, as I'm usually very shy and simply get quieter. She responded with something like yes. I also mentioned that I had peed a second time, because I had felt full again, and she said that this was good. She spent a long time on my bladder, and even longer on each of my kidney's. Compared to her first scan, she took a good 5 minutes (or so it seemed) on each kidney, probably longer. I didn't think the kidney's were going to be necessary, but perhaps in all the excitement she didn't notice that instruction, or perhaps my previous test the technician hadn't bothered. During this time I asked her whether she noticed anything, to which she said that the report would be made to me by my doctor and that she wasn't in a position to say anything. At this stage I was worried about my kidney's which were feeling a little tender. Something I told her as she prodded one for a good 5 minutes. I was still laying there in my wet pants, on each side and on my back while she ran the scan. When she was done, she once again wiped off the jelly and gave me a paper towel to wipe off any more. She told me we were all done and that I could change, and she got up to leave the room. I thanked her again for her thoughtfulness and then asked her her name, thanking her by name. I intended to remember what she said, but I can't for the life of me remember what her name was. I was in a daze. Ears and face burning. My entire body blushing. I stood there, having risen from the bed once I'd wiped off the jelly. I stood for a couple of moments to regain my composure. I couldn't believe what had happened. All the people who had seen me in my wet pants, my accident, everything. After a while I then set about changing. I took off my shoes and wet (and now cold) pants, and tried on the first pair of scrub pants, the smalls. These were too small, I probably could have worn them but then I would have been flashing a camel toe to the world, and it would have been a rather damp camel toe at that. Also it would have been painfully evident that I was not wearing panties. So I balled them up and left them on the absorbent mat on the bed, and tried on the medium. While doing so I noticed that the mat had two wet spots where the wetter part of my pants had rested on the bed while she ran the second round of tests. I rolled the waterproof mat back and saw that there was a somewhat bigger double wet patch on the sheets under this where my accident had clearly dripped through from the first round of the test. I had not forgotten about my spare pants in my bag, or even my spare panties in the ziplock baggie, but I decided against all of these. I was committed and being someone who had come not planning on having an accident, I felt like I should leave like someone who had had just that. After pulling on the scrubs I took a quick picture of this wet spot on the bed with my phone. I then made sure the pad was back in the middle of the bed, and slowly set about gathering my things. In addition to the two pairs of scrub pants there was also a cloth bag/pillow case which I wasn't sure what it was for. Perhaps to put all the wet things into after I left? I think in hindsight it could have perhaps been for my wet clothes, though this seems like the wrong thing for this (as a plastic bag would be better). I washed my hands in the little sink. I was careful to ball up my pants in such a way as to avoid getting my other things wet. I had forgotten to bring a plastic bag, despite all of my forethought. I had just completed putting on my shoes when the nurse returned, and she was clearly surprised to still see me there, and said something like "oh your still here" to which I responded "yes I was just packing up," and I thanked her again, and asked if there was anything else I needed to do. She said no, and then as if as an afterthought, she asked "would you like a bag for your things?" Which elicited further burning on my face. "No" I responded, "I'll be ok, thank you" holding up my already packed bag. She then went in to change up the room presumably. Now, in my scrubs, I walked back down the hall where I had previously sprinted, and tried to avoid looking at the receptionist and people waiting in the waiting room. I'm sure my protracted test had pushed a couple of them back a while, and that there were some desperate people in the waiting room, but I was not going to make eye contact with anyone. I carefully walked out of the unit, and out towards the exit of the hospital. I cycled home in the scrubs, which was chilly and they kept slipping down, likely revealing my butt crack to trailing cars. The results of my test would be discussed at my next consultation, or sooner if there were problems. I actually got a little lost on the way home, taking a wrong turn and having to back track. I was so distracted by the entire experience. I don't remember all of the ride home, but I got home and after stashing my wet things in the laundry (my fiancé is used to the occasional wet thing, though I usually do the laundry anyhow), I collapsed on my bed and had a blissful nap. I was completely exhausted from the whole thing. Now, thinking back, it was incredibly exciting. I've masturbated to components of the experiences and some of the emotions several times in the last while, and even thought about it during sex with my fiancé. The first time that I did, I almost cam immediately and my man was surprised that I came so fast (and probably a little proud). So there it was, all 17 pages of my most recent, very public, accident. Looking at the scrubs in my drawers still gets my heart racing.