Desperate in the City

This story is fiction, although it is based on a real event that was mentioned to me a few years ago by a friend of the main character– whose name has been changed. The final outcome actually happened, but the rest of the story I have made up to fit credibly around it, based on what seems likely from what details I was told, and from various experiences of my own.
“Okay, well I’ll see you on Friday night,” Kylie said to Dale, her new boyfriend. They gave each other a quick kiss then left the small inner–city park where they’d met for lunch. Dale had to go back to work, but the rest of the afternoon was Kylie’s to spend as she wished, as she had only casual work, and there would be no more for her for the rest of the week. The very first matter on her mind though was to get to a toilet. She’d really enjoyed sharing Dale’s lunch hour with him, but the two cans of soft drink she’d had; one she’d bought herself earlier and a second one that Dale had unexpectedly bought her for lunch, were now rapidly filling up her bladder.
In fact as Dale’s lunchtime had been nearing its end she’d started frequently checking her watch; hoping the time was nearly up, as her bladder was getting very full and uncomfortable and she knew she’d have to wee soon. She didn’t want to mention it to Dale if she could help it though; their relationship was still in the early days and she knew she’d feel embarrassed at having to admit that she, a healthy, strong girl of 20, couldn’t even manage to hold on until the end of his lunch break.
During the last couple of minutes they’d been sitting on the grass together, Kylie had had to change position a few times, and even wriggle slightly, hoping Dale was not noticing anything. Then when they’d stood up and kissed goodbye she’d had to hold on really hard, and it had been her that had ended the kiss so quickly, simply because she’d badly needed to move.
Walking provided some degree of relief, but she wasted no time in heading for the railway station; the nearest toilets she knew of. When she got there though, she was annoyed to find that all the toilets were on the inside of the ticket barrier, and she wasn’t ready to catch the train home yet. She was short of money too, with the scarcity of work, and she really didn’t want to have to buy another ticket just so she could go to the toilet. She paused, undecided for a few moments, staring in past the ticket barriers, then headed away again. Surely it couldn’t be too hard to find a public toilet? She wasn’t that familiar with the city, but did know that there were a few large parks and public gardens around, which surely would have toilets in them. Back out on the street she paused briefly and looked around to try and get her bearings, then headed in the general direction she was sure that she knew there was a large park.
However actually finding one turned out not to be as quick or easy as she had imagined. For one thing she couldn’t see any signs to any, and also the lunchtime crowds were still out in force, making progress slow. As she waited in the midst of a crowd for the traffic lights to change so they could cross the road, her need to wee came on very hard and she shuffled from one foot to the other to help hold on. Finally the lights changed and they started moving, Kylie pushing forward through the mass of people as much as she reasonably could. Inevitably though, a few minutes later she had to wait again. She was right at the curb this time, but there was no chance of making a quick dash across the road against the lights– the traffic was just too constant and heavy. Again as soon as she stopped walking her need to pee worsened, and she had to hold back very hard against the sharp pressure in her very full bladder. Feeling she was more conspicuous where she was standing this time, she tried to restrict herself to standing with one leg bent forward and pressed tightly against the other, but within moments she just had to move again, and started repeatedly bending her legs alternately back and forth as if she was simply cold.
Ten minutes later Kylie knew she was in trouble. She was dismayed at how quickly her need to wee was worsening, and was wishing she’d simply paid the money for a ticket and gone to the toilet at the railway station. It was too late to turn back now though; she doubted she’d make it back that far in time, and surely she must be nearing a big park by now?? She came to yet another red “Don’t Walk” light and was compelled to stop walking. But within moments she was holding on absolutely as tightly as she could manage to against the pressure, and couldn’t stop moving her legs. For half a minute or so she continued to “walk” on the spot, stepping repeatedly from one foot to the other, sometimes lifting one leg out at an angle, and making frequent little bobs or curtseys. Then, psssst – she felt herself lose a sudden little spurt into her pants, which until then she’d managed to keep dry. In a slight panic, she dashed across the first half of the road through a gap in the traffic she would normally have considered too small, and found herself marooned on the center island, traffic rushing past in both directions. But despite the little bit she’d just done, if anything her desperation now became worse – the pressure seemed overwhelmingly strong and she could feel slight lapses happening in the tightness of her sphincter.
She felt very close to completely losing control. Then sure enough, PSSSSSSST! She spurted again; longer, and heavier than the first one, and in desperation she thrust her hand between her legs and clamped her fingers tightly onto her outlet, dancing and squirming like a little girl. Close to tears, she was mortified at what she was doing in plain view of so many people, but it was better than totally wetting herself in front of them, and she tried to reassure herself that at least no one knew her here in the city anyway.
The lights finally changed and she managed to hold on properly then for a couple of minutes as she hurried along, changing direction whenever she came to a Don’t Walk light, just so she could keep walking. She saw some steps heading downward off to the side, and decided to follow them. Maybe she’d find a reasonably secluded laneway or back doorway or somewhere she could pee. As she half leapt down the first two steps in one go she suddenly did another spurt, and as she neared the bottom she could feel her control faltering again. There was no one coming her way so she held herself again to try to ward it off, but it was no surprise to her when more forced its way out anyway. Before pulling her hand away she felt the crutch of her denim shorts, and could now feel a definite wet patch there. She wasn’t game enough to check though, as there were now more people coming in her direction.
Still following her rather vague sense of where she should be heading, as soon as there was enough of a break in the traffic she stepped down off the footpath to cross the road, but this street was rather old. Just stepping down from the unusually high curb was too much for the now quite precarious hold she had on her overfull bladder, and more wee abruptly squirted out into her pants and shorts. She ran a few steps, but the jolting made the discomfort of her heavy, stretched bladder in her belly even worse, and almost made her lose control completely.
Then at last as she headed down another street, Kylie saw ahead what she had been longing to see: trees. That meant a park of some kind, and hopefully it would be big enough to have toilets. She longed to run, but knew it wouldn’t be wise. She fought down the urge to hold herself as the urge to wee worsened again with anticipation, but grimly held on as tightly as she could possibly manage, ignoring the feelings of imminent loss of control.
As she came closer, she saw with relief that it was indeed a park, and probably quite a decent sized one, which surely should have some toilets. It was all she could do not to start weeing then and there as she hurried along, and she was sure people were looking at the urgent, awkward way she was walking. She avoided looking anyone in the eye though, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. She knew the wet patch around the crutch of her shorts must surely be visible to anyone who looked by now. At the entrance to the park she had to slow right down and maneuver her way through a group of people standing around, then as she put the pace on again she accidentally let go another large spurt, which she knew she’d barely managed to stop.
This time she felt a dribble run down one leg, and she rubbed her legs against each other as she walked to hide it.
Her anxiously searching eyes found a small brick building ahead, which had to be a toilet. Relief was in sight at last! Half a minute more, she told herself– if she could just hold on for half a minute longer…
She hurried around the corner of the building, knowing she was only moments away from relief – and came face to face with a locked gate and a sign saying “OUT OF ORDER. USE TOILETS AT OTHER END OF PARK.”
With a little whimper she clutched herself between her legs and turned to try and see where the other toilets might be, but before she’d managed to take more than a couple of steps she felt her failing control give way completely, and the wee start gushing out of her, totally out of control. She grabbed with both hands and tried desperately to tighten up enough to stop the flow, but it felt as hopeless as trying to stop a rolling car with one finger, and in moments she gave up, stopped struggling and squatted down where she was. At least it wouldn’t soak her shoes that way.
When it finally stopped she looked gingerly around and then stood up. There was no one close by. No one had seen her! What luck! She looked at the huge puddle running slowly away from where she stood, then down at the very obvious wet area in her shorts.
“I pissed myself… I actually pissed myself!” she murmured to herself in bewilderment– half crying and half laughing. It had been many, many years since she’d totally wet her pants like this; it hadn’t been something she’d ever really contemplated happening again. Yet now that it had happened…
She felt a strangely exciting sense of freedom and relief, that was more than just the physical relief of a bladder no longer bursting, and began to laugh outright. What did it matter if her shorts were soaked? She had plenty of time, and if she lay down in the warm sunshine they’d soon dry. She walked nonchalantly away, grinning at the puddle she’d left behind outside the locked toilet, and wondering if anyone would come across it before it dried off too.
Please feel free to email me with any comments, or if you’d just like to ‘talk.’
By: Anna B.