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malefemale Rachel Kirwan Made Me Write This


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     Actually, Rachel didn't MAKE me write this. I don't know, her, nor have I ever interacted with her in any way. It's just that one of her stories, the one about the ultrasound accident, is one of my go to videos. OK, it's not actually a video, but she tells the story so well, that I can see it happening, in my head, and I love it. Sorry Rachel. It's just that that sort of thing happens to me so often, that I really enjoy someone else's suffering, so much. Again, sorry. After I explain, maybe you'll understand, and forgive me. 

     I've developed quite an affinity for her stuff, because we have a few things in common. Yes, I'm a guy, and I'm about 30 years ahead of her on life's path, [63], but we were both bedwetters, in our own worlds, growing up, and , like her, I've gone through all the ultrasounds, and flow tests, so I fully understand what she's talking about, when she does. My problem turned out to be a teeny-tiny little girl sized bladder. Not as in smaller sized woman. As in little kid. They found this out while doing all those ultrasound and flow tests. They couldn't believe the flow test results, so they decided to do an MRI with contrast. That's where they make you drink some dye, so your plumbing shows up really well on the MRI. The operator warned me before I went in. "It's going to feel like you're pissing your pants, but don't worry, you're not. That's just the dye heating up as a reaction to the MRI. That's what makes it easy to see, like a neon light. It'll make you feel like you're pissing yourself, but don't worry, you're not." He was wrong. By the time I came sliding out, the pee was dribbling off the sides of that little table they lay you on. They had to shut down the machine for some serious cleaning. At least they did find out that  I have a maximum capacity of less than 8 ounces. That's just over 100ml, for you international types. Now I'm not a big guy. I stand only 5 foot 4. That's about  171cm for you non-americans. But even at that size, I should be able to retain more than that. Nope.

     A little spoiler alert here. If I hadn't named this piece what I did, I would have called it "Not Your Normal City Bus Disaster." That's because I drive a city bus. Anybody with half a brain, now knows where this is headed, but none the less, enjoy the ride. I'm driving. 

     As I said, Rachel didn't make me write this. It's just that I recently went back, and read her tale of woe again. This time, it brought back into play, an old misadventure of mine, that I swore to always keep to myself. Problem is, now that she stirred it up, it's stuck in my head, bouncing around, like one of those songs that you just can't get rid of. Now I'm stuck with this song until I sing it all the way through. So Here goes. Before I start, there's a few things I thing you need to know, so you'll understand it all. If you want to skip to the story part, go ahead. I'll give you a heads up when I get there, but first this.

     I don't have to 'plan' a hold. With my bladder, it's a forgone conclusion. After  an hour, I have a definite desire to go. At an hour and a half, it's becoming a need. At two hours, it's a serious need, and heading toward desperate, but still manageable. Two and a half hours puts me into seriously desperate, but still hanging in there, rapidly getting critical. At three hourxs, if I'm not dead red critical, it's because I've already crossed over into, " Oh Gawd!! I'm really really sorry. I couldn't help it." For me, there are no planned holds. I'm pretty much holding all the time. 

     Next up. For me, there's no such thing as 'buying time', by whatever name you call it. Leak, spurt, seepage, dribble, whatever. It's not a possibility. As soon as the first little dr4oplet forces open the gate, and heads for the exit ramp, all his little buddies are coming along with. Not with a rush, but a slooooow, agonizing ooze, [because I'm fighting it the whole time,] that seems to take forever, but won't stop, no matter how hard I try. In the privacy of my own bathroom, I've tried all the differen't levels, need, desperate, whatever. It doesn't matter. Even when I start it on purpose, stopping is not an option. 

                        OK. This is where the story starts.

     The route I was driving lasted for about two hours, end to end. By the end of the trip, I'm real glad to get the people off the bus. It's ok though, because two hours is still manageable, and never went more than just a few mins. over. The only problem was the last trip of the day, which because of the added load, and traffic, it would push it up around 2:15-2:20. A little tight, but still ok. On this particular day though, things were going to get much worse.

     I would always 'take care of things', just before starting out, just to make sure, Then I started out, same as usual. At the very first stop, there was a wheelchair waiting for me. I have no problem with people in wheelchairs. I can't. They have it tough enough already, so I always treat them nice. Most of them are really nice people. The only thing is that it takes a little more time to load them, on, and off. It's not their fault, just the way it is. I finally got going about three mins. late. I know this because the bus has a monitor on it, that keeps you informed on where you are, in relation to the schedule. Three mins. is no problem. Just natural fluxuation. No big deal. Two stops later, a second w/c. Now I'm 7 mins. down. Still not a problem. A little early to be 7 down, but I'm a silver lining kind of guy, so I'm looking at making the time back up over the next couple of miles, where I'm usually dogging it a little to keep from getting ahead. I do. I'm nearing the end of that area, back to 4 mins. down, when I hit a little construction. Not a major problem. Just didn't gain it all back. 

     Around the next turn, I hit the traffic. There's always traffic here, so no biggie. Then it got worse. Up ahead, at the bus stop, I see another w/c. Worse yet, this was Oldladytakesforever. She's a nice lady, so I can't be mad at her, but does it have to be today? Then things got better. The w/c bell rings, and one is getting off. At least I can do them both in one fell swoop. I finally get her loaded up, and now I'm 12 mins. down. Not good, but not terrible. At least the bus 15 mins. behind me is about to catch up. I've got all the people, so he'll soon be ahead of me, running interference. That's a good thing. That's how you avoid getting any further behind. Then things got worse.

     I had forgotten. In my silver lining frame of mind, I had totally forgotten about the high school. There is a high school on my route, that lets out about 5 mins. before I get there. When I get to the stop, there's usually about 20 kids already there. If I can get them loaded up fast enough, I can hit the gas just before the second wave arrives, and leave them all running, screaming, waving their arms about, and then flipping me off. Tough darts kids. But today I'm 14 mins. late. The second wave has already arrived, and the third. There were so many kids at the stop, that the stop was completely full, and there was a line down the sidewalk. I started loading them up, cramming as many on as I could. They all wanted on, but it wasn't going to happen. When I finally got the doors closed, I was 22 down. Not good, but at least I had the bigger load, so the other bus would soon be in front of me. Then it got worse.

     The very next stop. The VERY next stop, the w/c bell rings, and Oldladytakesforeveer wants off. I have to unload about a bzillion kids, just so I can do the ramp, get her off, and then load all the kids back up. By now I am 32 mins. down. The other bus has not only passed me, he's out of site. He's not going to be any help. At this point, a little quick math tells me that I'm looking at two and a half hours, by the end of the route. I can do that, but if I lose any more time, I'm going to be in some real trouble, pisswise. It's going to be close, but still ok. Then things got better. The half hour back bus passed me, mostly empty, and that was a good thing. With him doing all the pickups, I was able to start emptying out, and even got the last w/c off, while making up time as well. We did really well. Pretty soon we were down to only 22 mins. down. The math told me that he was running about 8 mins. ahead of schedule, but I didn't care. Usually it kind of bugs me when I see other drivers running ahead, because that really jacks the next bus in line, but today, I was fine with it. 

     Better yet. We started catching up to the bus ahead of us, who was getting slammed, because I wasn't ahead of him. Even if this guy started feeling guilty about being so far ahead, and slowed down, I now had THAT guy, helping me out. Life is good. This was all going to work out. Then it got worse.

     Who, in their right minds, closes two, out of three lanes, on a busy street, during rush hour??? We've got three busses, all within about a block of each other, stuck in traffic from this mess, and the monitor is starting to climb, again. It wasn't as bad as it first looked. We made it through the bottleneck only 28 down. Now through the construction zone, slow going, but at least moving. Then it got worse.

     I'm not making this up. At the end of the construction zone, there's a set of RR  tracks. Yes, a train. The first two busses made it, and I'm left sitting, the second vehicle in line, as the train chugs by. I'm sure there are longer trains, in the world, but I don't care. As I'm sitting there watching the timer climb to 48 mins, I'm getting more desperate by the second. Whatever help I was getting from the other busses is now long gone. The next bus is stuck, just like me, and I'm already in desperate mode anyway. I'm shaking, grabbing myself, rocking back and forth, and clenching with every muscle I have. Finally the train is gone, and I do a situational survey. I'm 48 mins. down. That means dead red critical by the end of the route, if I'm lucky. No help from anybody. I'm already seriously desperate, and I can't even squeeze my legs together, because I'm so damn short that I have to sit right up on the wheel, and the steering column is between my knees. There is good news though. At least were past all the major parts of the route. From here on is mostly offloading, and lower traffic volumes. A few pickups, but nothing major. Only 7  more major intersections, and we're done. With a little luck, maybe I can even make up some time. Every min. counts, at this point. It actually worked. I powered along, telling myself, just keep going we're gonna make it, over and over. I kept checking the internal mirror. Apparently nobody was aware of how bad I was doing, even though I was squirming, and shaking with every bump, and busses 'bump' a lot. The countdown was on. 6 more, 5 more. It was all working. I even had it down to 42 late, which isn't a lot better, but it helped me just to know it was getting better. Then it got worse.

     Way worse. I had passed the tree more major intersections to go point, and heading for two, when disaster struck. Up ahead, in the distance, at the two to go light, I saw flashing lights. Lots of flashing lights. A traffic accident. A whole bunch of different thoughts ran through my head really fast. First there was sarcasm.  'Oh sure. A traffic accident. Why not? We've already had everything else.'. Then hope.  'Please don't be a big traffic tie-up'. Then despair  'Oh god, look at the traffic'. The traffic was backed up for half a mile, close to a kilometer, for those of you who think that way. Worse, because of the accident, the emergency vehicles, the bystanders, and who knows what else, only a few cars were getting through with each change of the light. Hence, the backup. That's when despair times 100 set in.  "This is going to take forever. I'm never going to make it". That's when the way worse hit.

     I had just made fatal mistake number one. When I thought, "I'm never going to make it" my 'plumming' heard that, and decided, 'Well hell. If we're never going to make it, why wait? Now is a good time.' Now was definitely not a good time. As soon as I felt that first surge of warmth, I knew I was in trouble. I clenched. I squeezed. I grabbed myself so hard it hurt,. I  begged and pleaded with myself. "No no no no! Please stop! Please just this once, let me stop!!" There was no just this once, anymore then there had been any of the other times I had begged for a just this once. I tried to make it stop, but as always, there was no stopping it now. The only saving grace was that, so far, nobody else was aware of it. When that's the only card you have left in your hand, that's the card you have to play. All I could do was lay my right arm on top of  my right leg, and hope that if anybody looked my way, the visual blockade would suffice. So far, so good. Then it got worse.

     As soon as she stood up, I recognized her, and I knew I was in trouble. At this particular point, where we were sitting, stuck in traffic, the last bus stop was behind us. The next bus stop was over half a mile [1k] ahead of us. Usually, bus stops are about a quarter mile [400m] apart, but not here. Here , almost a mile. [1k+] There is this pretty blond girl, about thirty, that rides my bus, quite often. Not every day, but often enough that I recognize her, on site. This girl. On the days that she rides, she will always wait until we have passed the last bus stop, so that it's out of play, and then come forward, and take my right bicep in her hands. I know it's not just me. It's just a pretty blond girl, doing what pretty blond girls do. I'm sure she does it to all of us. Then she leans in, and in the sweetest whispering voice you can imagine, so that nobody else will hear, "Please sir. I know you're not supposed to stop where there's no stop, but the last stop is way back there, and the next stop isn't until after the light, and I just live two houses in, on this side street, right over here. Could you please stop next to this school zone sign, and let me out so I don't have so far to walk? Pleeeease?" Girls saying "Pleeease" is my kryptonite. I don't even have to like them. Old, young, fat, ugly, bull dyke, nasty old battleaxe? Doesn't matter.

     Any day but today would be great. I just don't want her to be here today, but here she comes. Try as I might, and I tried, I couldn't make her vanish into thin air, and here she comes. All I could do was move my arm, to lay across my lap, hoping that would conceal the damage, and continue pissing my pants, unable to stop. It didn't help. I checked. My entire crotch area was soaked, little streamlets were starting down my inner thighs, and a puddle was starting to form between my legs, which I could not close, because of the damn steering column. On top of all of that, I'm wearing khakis. Why couldn't my uniform pants be dark blue, or black? Anything but khaki. And here she comes. All I could do was look her right in the eyes, and hope that she wouldn't look down, as I continued pissing my pants. It's amazing how long it takes for such a small amount of fluid to escape, and how big of a mess it can make, when it does, but it does. Pour 100ml in your lap some time. It does.

     She took my arm, same as always. "Pease sir..." reciting her scripted dissertation. I wasn't really listening. I was busy, still pissing myself, and pleading in my head, 'Don't look down. Don't look down.' Then I realized she was done with her part, and looking at me, waiting for my response. Usually. "Yeah, sure thing darling." I couldn't talk. I was so clenched up, trying not to shake, or anything, I couldn't move, talk, or anything. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I had better say something soon. I finally managed a "Yeah, OK." It sounded weak and scratchy, even to me. She got this really concerned look in her eyes, and asked, "Sir? Are you OK?" I'm sure she thought I was having a heart attack, or something. "Please don't call for help!!" my mind screamed. I said, "Yeah, I'm ok". That actually sounded a little better. I took a quick look down to see how bad it was. It was bad. My whole crotch was soaked, the streamlets were now rivers, and pond was now a lake, and that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that I had just made fatal mistake number two. 

     Up until this point, we had been in eye contact. When I looked down, she looked down, and it was over. Any last glimmer of hope, to get out of this, without major embarrassment was now gone. As soon as I heard her go "Oh my god, Oh god Oh god, Oh god", it was over. My spirits sagged. My hopes vanished, My resolve vanished, and the last little bit of pee surged out, and flooded into my shoes. All I could do was whisper back at her, "Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything. I'm not doing this on purpose. Please don't freak out."  She whispered back, "I won't I won't. I promise."

     Me : "I'm really really sorry. I couldn't help it.". 

     Her : "It's Ok. It happens. Not your fault."

    Me just don't tell anybody."

     Her : "I won't, I promise."

     Me : "This your spot?" It wasn't. We were still a couple of bus lengths from her spot.

     Her : "Yeah. I'll get out here."

     I opened the door to let her out . As she stepped off the bus, she looked back one more time. I mouthed the words "Please don't say anything" at her. She mo, uthed back "I won't, I won't" so I shut the door. She almost made it. Just before the door closed, I heard "Te-heerumph" as she clapped her hand over mouth to late to stop the first giggle. I could see her eyes all lit up, through the glass. Her whole body was shaking. She took her hand away from her mouth long enough to mouth the words, "I'm sorry", before taking off down the sidewalk. I knew. Her husband, all her friends, the girls at work, and anybody else she could think of, were all going to have a good laugh at my expense, and there wasn't thing one I could do about it. At least she got off the bus before she started ratting me out.

              Epilog

 

     A few days later I saw her again. I recognized her as soon as I saw her, at the stop where she gets on. I felt the heat of the blood rushing to my face. When she got on, I could see her trying to not look like she was laughing at me in her head. She was, but at least she tried. When we got to her 'spot', I saw her get up, and come to the front, same as always. I did notice her 'checking' to make sure I was clean and dry, as she approached. I was. Then she took my arm, and went into her little routine. When she finished, I said, "You know I can never say no to you darling, expecially not now". She smiled. "It's ok. Not your fault. I won't tell anyone." I had to know for sure, even though I already did.

     Me.  "Not even your husband?"

     Her, knowing she was busted, "Well I had to tell him. He's my husband. I'm sorry." 

     Me.  "Well, I guess that's ok. At least he doesn't know me. Does he?"

     Her.  "No. No he doesn't."

    Me.  "I guess I can live with that. What about all your friends?"

    Her, noticing the look I was giving her. "I'm sorry."

    Me.  "And the girls at work?"

     Her.  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

     Me.  "More people I don't know. Just don't tell anyone that knows me."

     Her.  "I won't. I promise."

 

               Epilog II

 

     I still see her from time to time. Maybe someday I won't feel the blood rush to my face every time I do.  And maybe someday, she won't be wearing that 'laughing at you in my head' grin. It's not looking like it's going to be any time soon.

     And Rachel. If you ever read this, maybe you'll understand why I enjoy your distress as much as I do, and forgive me for that. I can't help it. I just love when it happens to somebody else, for once.

 

Edited by sednarb1 (see edit history)
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great story, so this is just another vote of encouragement here—i’m sure a lot of folks here would like to hear more stories , especially around this theme:

 At three hourxs, if I'm not dead red critical, it's because I've already crossed over into, " Oh Gawd!! I'm really really sorry. I couldn't help it."

so have you had any other spectacular embarrassments wetting your pants in front of someone?

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