Sara finished work late that day, so she was in a hurry to get home. She didn’t want to get home to set the video, or cook something to eat, or go out and meet friends. Sara wanted to go home and wet her pants. Actually, she’d wanted to do it today, sitting on the toilet at work, and she’d brought along a spare pair of knickers in her handbag, ready to change into once the ones she was wearing had dried and started to smell of wee. *She* liked that smell, but she wasn’t sure anybody else would appreciate it! In an ideal world, once her knickers were dry, she’d have wet them again, and maybe again, and gone home and admired the overlapping yellow-brown stains on the seat of her once pure-white pants. But there had been no opportunity to wet herself today. Too much sitting down, and she really didn’t want the wetness in her knickers soaking through her skirt.
Actually, she had done a bit. If Sara had somehow entered a parallel universe where office knicker-inspections were the norm, she would be one very embarrassed girl by now! When she’d put them on this morning, they were white. Sweet, sensible, big white knickers. Rather childish-looking, really, but then Sara was in touch with her inner child perhaps more than she’d care to admit to anyone in the office. She liked the way she looked in her high-waisted knickers, and she liked even more the way she looked when she’d done a wee in them. Today, given the circumstances, she hadn’t exactly done what she would call a wee in them- not the whole lot- but she’d definitely leaked. Little squirts and trickles throughout the day, just enough to keep her warm, and the lovely feeling of soft, wet cotton between her legs. And above all, that wonderful secret feeling- she was weeing her pants, and nobody knew!
Sara had drunk two cups of tea half an hour ago. By the time she got home, she’d be dying for a wee, and she could settle down- if that was the right word for wriggling about in agony, having a slow but inevitable accident in her knickers- for a good time. As she put her coat on to go home, she made sure she didn’t need to wee yet. She loved feeling desperate, but only at the right time, in the right place. And anyway, her knickers felt damp and slightly stiff between her legs, where she’d done little wees all day, and that felt good enough for now.
Sara put her ticket through the machine and stood on the escalator down to her platform. The rush hour was over, and it was quiet. A few people were coming up, a few people were going down on her escalator, and she relaxed and lapsed into thought. She was still lost in thought as she walked through the labyrinth of connecting tunnels, on her way to her platform. She didn’t notice the two guys until it was too late. With a gasp of shock, she was suddenly aware of a man standing in front of her. Except for the echo of her gasp, all was silent. She looked round, about to scream or call for help. Her stomach churned as she saw the second guy, standing silently behind her. Sara realised she was in big trouble. Her legs began to tremble, and her heart suddenly started to beat a thousand times a minute. What did these guys want? She turned unsteadily back to the guy facing her. She felt a cold sensation in her tummy, a sort of spreading numbness and panic. She suddenly realised she needed to go to the toilet very badly. Very badly indeed. But not because she needed a wee. It dawned on Sara that she was going to do a poo in her pants.
“Wh..what do you want?”, she whispered. She just wanted to get out of there. Maybe the awful feeling in her tummy would subside if all this was over quickly. The guy laughed, but he looked nasty. “Give us that”, he said, pointing to her handbag. Trembling, Sara started to take the strap off her shoulder. Impatiently, he leant forward to grab the handbag. Frightened by the sudden movement, she felt a sharp spasm in her lower belly. Knowing what was about to happen, Sara had the presence of mind to squeeze her bumcheeks together. She didn’t care how silly she might look- she really didn’t want to poo her pants. The guy behind her shoved her, trying to get her off-balance, and Sara was forced to change position. Suddenly, she felt a warm, sticky sensation around her bottom, and she knew disaster was about to strike. She was doing it in her pants! She could feel a huge pressure in her bowels, and it hurt too much to keep it all in. She was pooing her pants right in front of these guys! As she gave in, she felt her knickers balloon outwards, and then fall back, hanging between her legs. It was pouring out, a semi-solid gush of poo, filling the seat of her knickers and working its way up front. By this time, the guys had grabbed her bag. Hampered by the mess in her pants, Sara made a half-hearted lunge towards them and gave up. One of them looked at her strangely, sniffed the air, and then they were off.
Sara just stood there forlornly in her pooed pants, not knowing what to do. She was trembling, completely shaken by this turn of events. She was a mass of mixed emotions. Frightened, but relieved that she was essentially unhurt. Angry- she’d just lost all her money- but pathetically glad they hadn’t got her travelcard, which she’d put in her coat pocket. At least she could get home. Well, sort of. She was in a dreadful mess. She could feel her poo settling inside her knickers. It felt very soft, and she was terrified it was going to start coming out of the legbands. She wasn’t sure how much she’d done, and she reached round and felt the back of her skirt tentatively. It felt like warm pudding. Not good. The only good thing was that her knickers, being of the sensible variety, had nice strong legbands. Maybe they’d hold it until she got back home.
She took a few tentative steps. Her knickers felt really strange, drooping slightly, and wobbling with every step she took. She had the surreal thought that she should go back upstairs and report the crime, but she couldn’t do that, considering the state she was in. Her whole being was now concentrated on getting back home without drawing attention to herself. As she approached the stairs leading up to her platform, Sara knew that this was the test. If her knickers held everything in, she might be OK. If not…. She decided to try walking up the stairs straddle-legged and almost sideways. She knew if she just walked straight, her skirt would press on the bulge, and poo would squirt everywhere. No-one was around, so she began climbing. The mess in her pants wobbled dangerously, but everything held firm.
Just at that moment she heard footsteps approaching. Her first reaction was fear. Not surprising after what she’d just been through. And her second reaction was panic. She’d have to walk normally! She couldn’t even stop and pretend to be looking for something in her handbag, waiting for them to pass- she’d just had her handbag stolen! As the footsteps approached, Sara reluctantly began climbing the stairs as normally as she could. This was awful! The first step she took, she felt her mess squeezing out of her knickers. At first, it seemed to come out of her crotch and smear on her inner thighs, where she could sort of spread it around and distribute it evenly by rubbing her legs together, but the more steps she took, the more she could feel it slowly beginning to squeeze out of her knickers and roll down the backs of her thighs. Whoever it was was coming up behind her now. Please, please god don’t let them smell anything! Or, worse still, notice anything on her legs! She concentrated on walking normally. Her knickers squelched against her bottom, clinging and then drooping, clinging and drooping. The person was now parallel with her, and now she (it was a she) was past her. Too late for poor Sara, though. She’d started something she couldn’t stop. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the sound of a train approaching. A lump of poo rolled stickily and forlornly down her leg. Should she get on the train, or should she somehow try and get rid of her filthy pants on the platform somewhere? She looked up and down quickly. There were too many people around- not all of them would be getting on her train. She decided she just needed to get home.
The train pulled in to the platform. Sara stood there, to the casual observer, a pretty girl in a shortish skirt, with a funny brown mark on one of her legs. In reality, Sara had completely shit her pants, and the casual observer would have been absolutely shocked by the state of her underwear. She desperately hoped the carriage would be empty. She didn’t have much choice as to which carriage, as she wasn’t in a fit state to be running down the length of the platform looking for a suitable one. As luck would have it, there were only about five people in the carriage which eventually stopped in front of her. That was five people too many for Sara’s liking, but it would have to do. She could feel her knickers starting to give up the struggle. The first lump of poo that had escaped had made a pathway for the next one, and she could feel it slowly sliding down her left leg. As she got on the train, she did the only thing she could think of to prevent it all coming out of her knickers, down her legs and onto the floor. She sat down.
The moment her bottom made contact with the seat, Sara’s knickers seemed to explode. She tried to sit down slowly, but the lurching of the train as it moved off made this impossible. She sat down heavily, and felt her mess being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste. She could feel it oozing up towards the high waistband of her knickers at the back. It was also pushed forward, over her pussy and further up. She felt like she was sitting on a soft, slidy cushion, little bubbles of air tickling her as the poo was mashed into the once-clean white cotton. She just knew her skirt was in a terrible mess. She stank. With every jolt of the train, she involuntarily slid around a little, slowly messing her pants up even further. And she really needed a wee!
She’d been numbed with shock by everything that had happened, and it had brought on the need to wee much earlier than she’d anticipated. Sara was determined not to wet her pants on the train. That would be just too awful. She had an idea that as long as no-one got on and sat next to her, she just might be able to get away with this. But a puddle of wee round her feet, and the snaking trail it would make up and down the carriage would be a dead giveaway. If she just sat quietly here in her filthy knickers, she’d be OK. But boy did her bladder ache!
Sara was dreading having to get off at her stop. She had no idea what would happen when she stood up. There was only one way to find out. She eased herself gingerly out of her seat. It didn’t matter now if people thought she was acting strangely- she would be gone in a few seconds. But that few seconds seemed to last a lifetime. Her knickers clung to her, plastered over her cute bottom- but so did her skirt! She dreaded to think what the back of it looked like. Her skirt felt cold, damp and sticky against her legs, but at least nothing was going down her legs. Everything was up the back or up the front now. But she really wanted a wee, and although under normal circumstances she would have squeezed her thighs together to control herself, Sara couldn’t bring herself to do that- not with all that poo in her pants.
Once again, thankfully, the station was almost deserted. Sara felt able to waddle rather than walk properly. Underneath her skirt, she’d made the biggest mess she’d ever made in her life, and she wanted to keep that mess away from her skin. It was a futile gesture, but when you’ve had a huge accident in your pants, it’s not easy to think logically! She negotiated the escalator successfully, but as she exited the station for her final, short walk home, the relief of being near to safety made her concentration lapse momentarily. Sara did a little wee in her knickers. And then another. She needed to go so badly! Late though it was, it was summer, and it was still relatively light. She knew she had a brown mark on her leg, and she didn’t know about her skirt, but she knew that if she wet her pants, that would be the end. Everything would come cascading down her legs, and everyone in her neighbourhood would know that she’d done it in her pants. But it hurt so badly! She really, really needed a wee!
As Sara neared home, it all began to go wrong. Her shitty knickers, weighed down with the mass of poo in them, had started to slip down. She kept losing control of her bladder, just slightly, and squirting wee into her pants, and she could feel it trying to find a way out- and succeeding. Her inner thighs were very messy indeed. Once again, she was in big trouble. She was going to wee her knickers. She really was- any second now.
Suddenly, on the corner of her road, Sara lost control. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to squeeze her legs together, and she paid the price for it. There, in full view of the neighbours, she completely wet her pants. That might have been bad enough, but of course the neighbours (if they were watching) didn’t know that she had already disgraced herself once that evening. That’s why they would have been mystified by her actions. Instead of squatting down or standing straddle-legged, Sara, acutely aware of what would come pouring down her legs, suddenly bunched up her skirt tightly around her, and, half standing, half crouching, proceeded to wee herself like that.
Her accident seemed to go on for ages. To begin with, there was a delayed reaction as the wee tried to find a way out, but, as before, it inevitably did. Only now, instead of the leakage being confined to her crotch, it was pouring through the seat of her knickers, right through all the mess, and into her bunched-up skirt. But at least, thought poor Sara, it’s not going down my legs. She almost didn’t care how she looked, or what was happening in her knickers, the relief was so great, but the truth was, she was in a terrible mess. When she had at last stopped wetting herself, she relaxed her grip on her skirt. It flopped wetly away from her, and with it, the whole of what she’d just done in her pants. It had all been for nothing! Her legs were covered in pee and poo- it was completely obvious what had happened.
There was nothing for it except to walk the last few yards as naturally as possible, her knickers now totally ruined, a mixture of poo and wee running in rivulets down her legs. Sara wasn’t going to forget today in a hurry…