I have posted this story before on another site but I hope it is still of interest… I never really liked using the toilets at school. Bullies would push you into the urinal if you stood there or throw things over the stall doors if you used a cubicle. I lived very close to the school so usually I just went to the toilet at home. Who knows what happened this day but during my last class, French, I was getting more and more desperate. I am sure my classmates must have seen me, legs bobbing up and down and my hand rammed into the pocket of my grey school trousers, pushing or holding myself to try and ease the pressure. There was no point in asking to be excused from class to go to the toilet. The teacher would probably have let me go but I would have been teased so much by everyone for being such a baby that it really wasn’t worth it. And anyway, I wasn’t a child, for goodness sake. I could hold on until I got home! It had been ages… oh well actually, it had only been a few months since I last wet my pants but that wasn’t going to happen this time! I could hardly concentrate on my work, counting the minutes until school ended and I could rush home and pee! Finally that moment came and the bell rang for the end of the school day. I rushed straight out of the classroom, along the corridor and down the three flghts of stairs. By this time, I was totally holding myself through my grey trousers, my need was URGENT. I could have run to the school toilets but I chose to go home. The back door of the school led out to some woods beyond which was my street and home but the gate of the school grounds was at the other side of the building. I quickly decided the best way home was over the fence. I was (and am not) very tall. The fence was not that high, maybe a few inches taller than me but certainly a climb over. I started up, eventually getting both feet up to the top of the fence. I don’t know exactly what happened but something caused me to lose my balance. I think maybe the strap of my Adidas school bag hooked round part of the fence and pulled me… Before I knew it I was flying off the top of the fence towards the ground of the woods below. I felt a wave of panic go through me as I fell and then I landed hard on my right ankle and fell right over into the undergrowth. I cried out in pain as it shot through my body from the ankle up. I was sobbing already…then I realised! I was wetting my pants!!!! Crying from the pain, the fright that I had and now because I was peeing my pants, I tried to get to my feet but the whole time, I just could not stop peeing. It was soaking my pants and trousers. As I stood, the pee ran down my legs to my socks and shoes. I hobbled the few minutes home, still crying but more out of embarrassment now as the pain was subsiding (nothing broken). When I got home, the house was empty as usual. I didn’t have to confess that I had wet myself to anyone. I got myself straight upstairs to my bedroom and looked at myself in the mirror – my soggy wet and muddy trousers clinging to my thighs. I took them off and dropped them on the floor. I could see my briefs were all yellow with pee and the bottom of my white school shirt was wet too. I remember my pants. They were white M&S boys briefs with an A-front, like this / that had a red and blue stripe down it and a blue stripe round the waistband. I peeled them off and pulled them down. For some reason, I did not go and wash, I just dried myself off with the dry part of my pants and went to my undies drawer for some clean ones. All I had was some really old faded blue Y-fronts which I pulled on and got changed. I hid my wet clothes under the bed and when my mum came home I told her I had fallen on the way home from school and my trousers were all muddy. I managed to get them into the washing machine without her knowing the truth! However! I left the pants under my bed and actually forgot about them for days. When I did remember I had left them there, I went and looked but they were gone. I saw them out on the washing line later that day. I realised I had probably been found out if the stains on my pants had been noticed. My face burned red even though my mum never said anything. It was obvious she knew though because that weekend, on our usual family shopping trip, she made a big deal about getting me some new pants and bought me some new patterned Y-fronts (from M&S as always) but this time a Small mens size. Maybe she thought buying adult rather than boys pants would make me “grow up” and not have any more accidents… It didn’t work!