Further Adventures of Nancy

It was in the fall of 1967 when Nancy found herself in the clutches of the State Police. She was demonstrating on the campus of her college when the demonstration turned violent. She wasn’t aware of this fact and she continued to demonstrate just as she had been prepared to do by the leaders of the demonstration. She was still shouting what a great sham the college administration and the government of the United States was when the state police hustled her and several of her friends into a line where she and her friends would appear in front of a pair of officers who would determine whether Nancy and her friends would be detained or not.
Gathered into this queue, Nancy began to feel a bit uncomfortable. She was in a desperate need to use the bathroom. In short, Nancy had to pee and to pee badly. She hadn’t gone all morning and in the excitement of the protest she hadn’t needed to go. But, now that the police had her corralled, her physiological needs began to assert themselves.
Nancy was standing in a long line waiting to be processed by the police who were sure that she was trespassing, at least, in her protest. There were several other students before her and she was becoming very nervous about her bladder condition. She was shifting from foot to foot and kind of bouncing up and down on both feet. Her bladder was absolutely swollen and she was desperately trying to keep anyone from knowing her condition. Nancy could not remember a situation in her life where she had to pee so badly.
There were three other students before her and she was inwardly screaming that they would be processed quickly as her need to pee was so desperate. Nancy prayed: “Dear God, let me hold it for a few more minutes. Dear God, I just can’t have a wetting accident here and now. I am in the middle of a protest and how would it look if I wet my pants like a little girl?”
There were troopers along the flanks of the queue where Nancy was now standing. They were placed to keep the line straight and single file. Some of the troopers were Nancy’s age and some were older.
The two troopers at the processing desk were somewhat older than anyone else in the room. Nancy was sure that the troopers at the desk would listen to reason and that she would be allowed to go free whereupon she could finally go to the bathroom. If only she could wait to get to the desk.
She succeeded in holding her pee until she appeared before the desk but she was very tight when she appeared. “Your name.” queried the older trooper at the desk. “Nancy Brown,” replied Nancy as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “Address?” At this point Nancy was leaking and the crotch of her jeans was getting dark. Nancy was now jumping up and down and doing everything she could to hold her pee. She was shouting “I didn’t do anything, you can’t do this to me.” She began to jump up and down again while still shouting, “I didn’t do anything. Please don’t arrest me. Please, please let me go. You can’t do this. I didn’t do anything.”
The officer said “You are under arrest for trespassing and possibly vandalism. Empty your pockets onto the desk and sign a receipt for your possessions.” When she heard these words, Nancy lost control. Pee flowed down the inside of her thighs, soaking her jeans. She peed her jeans in front of everyone for several seconds before she regained control. The officer continued, “When you are finished, empty your pockets onto the desk and sign a receipt for your personal belongings.”
Oh dear God I have wet myself in public, thought Nancy. I have peed my pants in front of police officers and my friends. I wish I could die. What am I going to do? She thought, “There is no way I can hide it,” as she was led away to a cage by a trooper. As she was placed into a cage (dog kennel) full of other girls she heard a guy in an adjacent cage say, “This is exactly why we can’t get anywhere with our protests. Our ranks are full of girls who wet themselves rather than stand up and shout.” Nancy’s humiliation was now complete.
She found a bench to sit upon in the girls’ cage and it allowed her to keep her wet jeans from her legs a bit. She then began to dread what her father would think as he would be the one to bail her out. It was several hours later but when her daddy showed up her pants weren’t dry but still damp and still showing evidence of her wetting accident. Nancy vowed to herself and to her father that she would never, never again get into such a situation. But she still had to go when her father took her home and she completely voided her bladder in the front seat of her father’s car before he could get her to a restroom. Nancy had spent most of the day in soaked jeans and she was not able to hide that fact from her parents, her friends, or the police officers that placed her under arrest.
Nancy spent the next few days hiding and wanting to die but she was slowly coming to realize that wetting her pants wasn’t all that bad. Sure, she would prefer that her daddy didn’t know but he did see her in damp jeans and later in flooded jeans and he didn’t seem to care. As a matter of fact he held and comforted her. It was nice, thought she, to have a masculine arm around her and comforting attention while sitting in soaked jeans. Maybe that vow could be put on hold for some time. Maybe, wetting oneself wasn’t so bad after all.
DaveJ