Never Trust a Train

Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental Wetting and Humiliation
There shouldn’t have been a problem. The train journey took only 20 minutes but as it was a sprinter with only 3 carriages there were no toilets on board. Still, there really shouldn’t have been a problem.
When Carol got on the train she had a slight fullness in her bladder, but nothing serious. Besides she didn’t have time to use the station toilet because the train was ready to pull out and she sure as hell didn’t want to be waiting 90 minutes for the next one at this time on a winter evening. She went to the front carriage where the only other occupants were an elderly lady reading a book and a businessman at work on his laptop.
The first half of the journey proceeded normally. Carol read a magazine she’d bought earlier in the day and when the train stopped at the last station before hers she put the magazine away and readied herself to get off. However, the train seemed to staying at the station for longer than anticipated. Such delays were of no surprise to regular users of the British railway network, but as five minutes became ten, became fifteen, Carol began to get more than a little worried. The pressure in her bladder was building and as is the case, the more she became aware of it the worse it got.
When the delay hit the twenty–minute mark, she realized that she was in trouble. The pressure was now quite painful and she desperately crossed her legs to try and ease matters. The fact that her salmon pink slacks were so tight wasn’t helping matters as the waistband squeezed her stomach. Her heart began to beat a little faster and a light sweat broke out over her body.
Then the train began to move. Carol breathed a sigh of relief. All she had to do was hold on for five more minutes and she’d be at her home station where there would be toilets. The train didn’t seem to going at its usual speed though and Carol grabbed at her crotch as if that would hold the pee back. It was now becoming quite painful.
Come on, come on…
They were now going over the viaduct that meant they were almost at her station. Carol stood, an act that was painful and required her to move in a shuffle. Luckily the other two occupants of the carriage didn’t seem to be paying her any attention. She got to the door, ready to open it the second the train stopped. Thank God the toilets were on the platform they’d be coming into.
And then the train stopped again! Carol felt a wave of desperation come over her. The pain was now serious and her whole body felt weak with the effort of keeping her bladder from emptying. She began to wonder if she wasn’t about to have a panic attack such was the rapidity of her breathing and the light–headedness that was threatening to overtake her.
Come on, COME ON…
Suddenly the train jerked forward and Carol had to throw out an arm to steady herself. Unfortunately in doing that she relaxed a little and before she knew what was happening the fullness of her bladder began to ease. It took a moment before she finally realized that warmth was spreading over her crotch and slowly moving down the insides of her thighs. A very wet warmth!
She looked down to see her salmon pink slacks slowly turning a darker shade. Desperately she tried to stop the flow of piss down her legs but it was too late. There was no stopping the flood now until her bladder was empty. She felt her cheeks burning with the shame of it as the wet warmth spread ever more down her legs. She watched in horrified fascination, as the dark stain of the piss grew ever more over the material of her slacks.
And then the flood reached her feet, pouring into her shoes and forming a puddle on the floor of the carriage that spread mercilessly as the train moved. Carol sobbed quietly as she felt the piss–sodden material of her slacks cling to the front and back of her legs. And still it was coming. She looked to see if anyone was coming to the door where she was stood. The old lady was indeed making a move to get up.
Carol sobbed again. The train was now at the platform and coming to a stop. There was a man standing just where she was going to have to get off. As the train stopped so Carol opened the door and as fast as she could she exited the carriage. She hoped the man wouldn’t notice her piss sodden state as it was dark and the station lighting wasn’t the best. However she knew he’d see and smell the puddle she’d left in the carriage. But now she didn’t care. She made straight for the toilets and once inside she locked herself in a stall.
She looked down at herself and nearly screamed. Her slacks were soaked all down the front and most of the back of the legs and the crotch and bum area were equally stained. She gingerly pulled the piss soaked material away from her legs, but it just clung right on back.
“Jesus, I’ve pissed myself! Like a little kid, I’ve wet myself!!”
She realized that she couldn’t walk home with her slacks looking like this. The stain was just so obvious that anyone who saw it would know what she’d done. But she couldn’t stay in these toilets either.
She then thought of a plan. It was a long way short of perfect but it was all she could think of. She left the cubicle and peeped out onto the platform. The train had pulled out and there was no one to be seen. She retuned to the toilet and removed her slacks, pulling a face as she handled the pissy material. It may have been her piss, but it was still piss and getting it all over her hands repulsed her. She stood there in her soaked transparent knickers and filled a sink with water. She then dipped the slacks into the water soaking them completely. That done she wrung them out as best she could and with a deep breath she pulled them back on, wincing at the cold wet clammy feeling they gave.
She looked at herself again. At least the slacks were now dark all over and not displaying an obvious stain. It was dark outside and if she moved quickly enough Carol thought she might get away with it. And even if someone did notice her slacks were wet well at least it wasn’t now so obvious that she’d pissed herself. Perhaps they’d think she been dunked or fallen in a river or something. That would be embarrassing, but not half as embarrassing as walking home with the obvious stains of someone who’s pissed herself!
PeeJay