I Did This Only Once

I wanted to wet myself by accident in class. Does that necessarily count as "for attention"? The kind of attention I'd have liked to get was the kind I'd have gotten from females with a wetting fetish, or who might develop such a fetish as a result of seeing me have an accident. Maybe one of more of those was present. I'll probably never know.

I've already posted this story to a large number of experience groups. This will be a somewhat more detailed version.

I was seven years old.

I first began fantasizing about doing this during the previous year, when I was in kindergarten, so I was either five or six. I heard a boy in first grade---a year ahead of me---say that a girl had wet herself in class. I thought that would be horribly embarrassing, and I kept trying to picture what it would feel like physically. I also thought it would be incredibly sexy to be the victim of such an accident in front of everybody. I didn't know the word "sexy" then, so I didn't think of it in that language, but that word fits the feelings I associated with it. Another thought was overwhelming: this can happen. I could be in school and lose control and wet myself. The whole picture of myself having such an accident, and the thought that it could really happen, became something I thought about every day. And somehow I felt that some day this would happen to me.

One begins first grade at the age of six, and usually reaches the age of seven before the school year is over, and so it was with me. On or near the first day of class, the teacher mentioned that if the only way to avoid wetting oneself is to run out of class without stopping to ask for permission, that was OK. It seemed as if just doing that would take some courage. This whole scenario was a recurring thought during the whole school year. Each day we took a toilet break in the morning and one in the afternoon, and we could use the facilities during the lunch hour. I think as the weather warmed up in the spring, it began to seem more like a possibility that I could have an accident. I thought: I want to experience this. Why don't I just wet my pants on purpose in class some day? But I also wanted it to be an accident. I remembered having accidents when I was three or four. The way it happened then was I would unexpectedly start peeing in my pants. Sometimes it flowed down my leg into the bottom of my shoe and my sock got soaked, as did my pants of course. Once I had an accident when I was four, when my mother had been trying to make me realize I shouldn't do that any more, and at some point she threatened to make me wear a diaper if it happened again. And one day it did, and she made me wear a cloth diaper and clear plastic pants, with nothing over them. I was dressed that way when one of my mother's friends visited. Somehow I remember it as somewhat embarrassing and vaguely sexy. So I thought: that's what the teacher will do to me if I have an accident. I'll be dressed like that in front of all my classmates.

One day the weather was sunny and pleasant and I thought it would be a good day to have an accident, and although I realized I didn't have the courage to just stand there and pee in my pants, I could make myself lose control by drinking a lot of water all day and never using the bathroom. When I got to school I went to the drinking fountain and drank a lot of water. When we took our potty break that morning, I needed to pee, but I didn't use the facilities and I drank a lot of water again. By lunch time I needed to pee badly. On the way to the cafeteria I drank a lot of water. During lunch I had to suppress squirming. After eating I drank quite a lot of water again. When we were all seated in class I thought, now maybe I'll unexpectedly lose control at some point, the way I did when I was four. But what happened was that it became painful to desperately try not to pee. I realized it might be that way for a long time---two hours maybe? I _could_ just go ahead and pee myself. But there's no way I had the courage to do that. Finally I realized it's not going to be like when I was four, and I'd probably just sit there in pain all afternoon. I chickened out and asked for permission to use the facilities. The teacher said "Can you hold it a little while longer?" I actually thought I could. It was going to be painful. I said yes. Some time later the teacher had us all stand up to sing. This seems like an amazing coincidence, since my fantasies had always been about wetting while standing up. It was really painful by then, and I thought about the teacher having said it was OK just to run for it. But I still thought I could hold on, despite how intense it was. So in that state I stood there and tried to participate in singing. Then I thought just maybe I might lose control and wet myself, and I thought OK, why not just go ahead and do it? It's what I wanted to happen. But when it came to the point where I had to actually do it in order to do it, I didn't have the courage. So I still stood there while it got worse. And worse. Then I thought I was in danger of an accident; I might not make it. What would happen if I lost control? Here's what I thought would happen: pee would shoot out in front of me in a long arc, and fall on the floor, and everyone would watch while it happened. For the longest time I just kept thinking that would happen.

Here's an odd thing: I had enough courage to deliberately set myself up to have an accident, thinking it would happen, but when I reached the point where I considered whether to go ahead with it, I lacked the courage, and now when I thought a horribly embarrassing accident might happen to me in another twenty minutes, while I was in agony the whole time until then, I didn't have the courage to run out of the room to use the facilities either! I kept reminding myself the teacher had said that was OK. I thought: alright, that's what I'll do. But as soon as I was at the very point of moving toward the door, I chickened out again.

So I thought there was real danger that I would wet myself, but probably I'd make it and avoid that. That agonizing state also went on for a long time.

While in that equilibrium state where the various forces moving me ended up making this clearly unsatisfactory compromise, something happened: I felt my desperation getting much worse. I then realized it was moving toward the boundary. It would happen if I didn't run for it. Should I run for it? But now another thought affected me: what I had planned for and fantasized about was going to happen. Success. But how embarrassing! How could I have done this to myself? I'd feel my desperation moving toward the boundary for maybe five more minutes and then it would really happen.

When I thought I had a few minutes left to wait, I felt the oddest thing happen, that has never happened to me before or since. I lost control but I wasn't peeing; I just knew that it was going to happen in a few seconds. It's too late. I'm going to wet my pants. Right here. This state may have lasted five seconds, but it was long enough for lots of thoughts to run through my mind: __why__ didn't I run for it when I had the chance? Why didn't I get some last warning a few seconds before I lost control, that would have made it possible for me to run for it? I really thought I had a few minutes left; why did I suddenly lose control so unexpectedly when I should have had a few minutes left?

I then felt something else happening that I've never experienced before or since then. I could actually feel the fluid moving inside me before it reached my **** and started flowing through it. It's coming! Then I felt it moving upward through my ****. Nothing could stop what was about to happen. Then finally flowing out of me onto my skin, getting my skin and my clothes wet. It was warm. It didn't shoot out in an arc in front of me and it didn't shoot upward, but sideways onto my right leg, and then down my leg. And I thought flowing sideways like that isn't how I'd wanted it. I remembered how when I was four it would soak the bottom of my shoes and my socks would get completely soaked, and I thought: I hope that doesn't happen now. It quickly went down to my feet and totally flooded the bottom of my shoe and kept gushing out. It was many years after that that I realized the bottoms of my feet are erotically sensitive, and maybe that's why it was at that point that my **** stood up straight. Pee started shooting up above my waist, soaking my shirt almost up to the bottom of my rib cage. I'd never pictured getting the front of my shirt soaked. Everyone was still singing; no one else suspected anything was going on except that we were all singing. And then it started heading down my left leg while the flow continued down my right leg. This was going to be a really major soaking. Then the bottom of my left foot got completely soaked and I kept on peeing intensely into my pants. And everyone kept singing. And I kept peeing and thinking in a few seconds I'm going to be the whole center of attention and everyone's just singing. There's a classmate standing beside me singing while I'm standing here wetting my pants. Both legs and my crotch area and my waist and my shirt above my waist are soaking wet I I'm still peeing at full strength as if they weren't wet enough yet, and I can't do anything about it, and they're all singing, not suspecting they'll all be looking at me and watching the incident they'll tell everyone about later. I kept on peeing. And kept on peeing. At some point I thought: OK, that's enough. But I couldn't stop.

As long as the pee kept flowing down my legs and a growing puddle kept growing below me, I think it was relatively quite, but then some pee fell _between_ my legs and made a splashing sound. That's what did it. A girl behind me shrieked "-------- is wetting his pants!!!!". Everyone fell silent and I still stood there peeing with great force and unable to slow it down, let alone stop. It kept going and everyone was staring, seeing me do it.

The girl's shriek has always irritated me; I've always felt she could have done it differently. She could have somehow called everyone's attention to what was happening in a way that implied fascination with a sight one rarely sees. I think if I had seen a girl having an accident I would have just stared, watching it happen, and not said anything, letting others do that. In another experience group, a woman with a major wetting fetish posted a story (this will seem like an unlikely coincidence, but it's true) that when her third-grade class was singing before an audience consisting of the whole school, she saw the boy standing next to her wet his pants, and she just stared in fascination, and even felt a bit envious because she wanted to have an accident too. I'd have loved having a girl who felt that way see my accident. I wish I could invite all females I've seen on the internet who have this fetish to go back in time and be there to watch.

I stood there and kept on peeing my pants in front of everybody.

I tried to stop. I couldn't do anything. It kept flowing until none was left.

The teacher asked why I didn't run to the lavatory. Couldn't I remember that she'd said that was alright? I think I just said I didn't know. She told me to go to the lavatory now and finish what I'd started. I said there wasn't any left. But she insisted. I just stood there disobediently. And then she insisted more emphatically. I remember the effort it took me to move from where I stood and walk toward the door. I was going to go out into the hallway where people might see me. I walked down the hall, expected to hear someone gasp and say "That boy wet his pants!". No one did. I stood before the urinal and had no pee left.

I knew exactly what to expect when I got back to the classroom. The teacher would say I shouldn't be wetting my pants at this age, and now I have to wear diapers. She would make me take all my clothes off in front of the class and put cloth diapers and clear plastic pants on me, and I would be required to sit at my desk in class wearing those and nothing else. I thought that that diaper would have been useful a few minutes earlier. I'd have had an accident in my diaper and no one but me would have known. When I got back to class, that didn't happen. The teacher told me my pants would dry by the end of the day. They actually did.

No one ever mentioned the incident to me after that, either in school or at home. Somehow that seems surprising.

During subsequent years in school I had fantasies about this happening again, but I never attempted to make it happen and it didn't. I still have all sorts of fantasies about similar incidents, but always involving female audiences who properly appreciate the erotic nature of what happened. Sometimes they abduct me and force me to have an accident, and require me to wear diapers and be the pet wet diaper boy in the sorority house.
footedsleeper footedsleeper
46-50, M
Nov 27, 2012