It was sometime in October of 2004 when I woke up in the morning feeling the need to pee. However, my mother told me that school started in 10 minutes. Checking out the clock, I realized that it was almost 8:50. I really slept in. I needed to use the washroom, but not desperately, so I chose to run downstairs, grab my stuff and ride to school on my bike. It was only a 5 minute ride.
I arrived at math class just in time. My teacher told everyone to sit down and take out their homework. Crap! I had forgot my homework. The teacher told me that I would lose those marks for ever, and I shouldn't be so irresponsible. Anyways, half an hour into class while we're learning about algebra and stuff, I realized that my urge to relieve myself had grown twice as strong since this morning. But then I thought, half an hour, I can make it.
15 minutes left to, I really needed to pee. I raised my hand and the teacher stopped mid-sentence, asking me "What do you need, Mr. Jameson?" I told him I needed to use the washroom, but to my horror, he replied, "Maybe if you had handed in your homework, I would have been more leniant. 13 minutes left until break. You can hold it." By now I was desperate. 13 minutes seemed like an eternity, and I was holding onto my crotch for dear life. 7 minutes left, and I knew that if I didn't go right now, I would have an accident. I asked the teacher again and he retorted with another denial. Tears started welling in the corners of my eyes. I was not about to have an accident in front of everybody, so I held everything back as much as I could for all it was worth. I checked the clock, and there was only a minute to go. Those last 60 or so seconds were hell. RING!!! "Class dismissed," said the math teacher. Everyone left as I slowly hobbled out of the classroom, one hand holding my binder, the other holding my crotch. When I came to the boys washroom, I almost lost everything right there. 'Out of Order.' There were two boys restrooms, and the other was in the next hall. But when I got halfway there, I felt this weird sensation in my groin, and my bladder contracted, releasing a spurt of hot urine into my white briefs. I was wearing beige khaki's at the time, and a white shirt. As I took another step, another spurt of urine shot into my underwear. I noticed two girls who were chatting by their locker look over at me. I looked down and noticed that a quarter sized wet spot had formed over the frontal region of my pants. I held my hand over it and tried to keep going, but I knew right there and then all hope was lost. My hand came to my eyes as I started to cry; more people stopped to stare at me. The dam had broken, as a surge of hot piss rushed into my tightey-whities. A dark stain grew over the front of my pants as I stood there, soiling myself. I cold hear whispers, giggles. The steaming urine was running down my leg, soaking my pants along the way. My underwear was drenched, so were my beige khakis. I could feel warmth seep into my socks and pour into my shoes. A puddle began to form on the floor, and the pee kept coming. Some jock yelled out, "Look at this loser pissing himself!!" It was still coming, I hoped for the end, to no avail. Finally, the last droplets of yellow liquid emptied themselves into my soaked pants. People giggled, some laughed and even pointed at me, and others just walked away. I had lost all of my dignity right there and then, as I trudged to the nurses office, crying. I told her, "I had an accident," and she sent me home in a pair of black sweatpants that were a size to big. I didn't have to let my mom know, but the next week, I had told her because it was the reason I wanted to switch schools. Everyone just kept making fun of me. So I switched schools, and everything worked out fine.