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When I was eleven, our 6th grade class went on a class field trip to the Natural History Museum. Skipping over a rather complicated series of events that led to what happened, the pertinent fact is that on the bus on the way to the museum, I shit in my pants. I full on pooped my Jockey briefs and while it was not unreasonably messy, the scent from my pants was discernible and when I felt the back of my jeans, I could feel that it was kind of damp. I was too embarrassed to tell the teacher that I'd gone to the bathroom in my pants when I was in the 6th grade, but when we got off the bus at the museum everybody quickly became aware that I'd pooped in my pants.
Nevertheless, we all lined up and entered the museum. The teacher went ahead with her lecture about the exhibits, leaving me to just trail along with poop in my pants. It may have been my imagination, but my perception was that as time passed my pants were becoming increasingly odorous. I think the poop shifting around inside my pants as I walked had stirred up the smell. In any case, it was so apparent that I'd shit my pants that nobody wanted to be anywhere near to me.
About halfway through the museum tour, a girl in my class drifted over beside me and timidly grasped my hand. She did not say a word, but she loyally stuck with me the rest of the way through the museum. When we got back on the bus, she sat down in the seat beside me and gave me a shy smile. She never did explain why she'd taken me under her wing and I can only guess that at some point she'd shit in her pants at school and knew how embarrassed I must be.
My humiliation was not yet complete when arrived back to school. There was only a half hour or so remaining before school let out for the day and the teacher saw fit to contribute to my humiliation by announcing to the class that I could just let the poop stay in my pants until it was time to go home. I suppose she figured after I'd been wearing my pants that way for the entire afternoon and everyone knew I had that it wouldn't hurt me to keep wearing them for awhile longer. I can't really blame her.
When school was out, I still had to ride home on the bus which resulted in a completely new set of kids finding out that I'd ignominiously shit my pants. Who rode the bus with me depended on who lived along that bus route so there were kids on the bus from all grades. I was really embarrassed that a bunch of first and second graders knew I had shit my pants when I was in sixth grade.
When I got home, I had to confess to my mother that I'd pooped my pants at school. She was less than sympathetic. She eyed my pants and asked me derisively if I'd been wearing them that way all day. I explained to her about having to stay with the rest of the class at the museum and the teacher making me let it stay in my pants until school was over, but she focused only on the fact that I'd had poop in my pants for a disgracefully long time as if I'd wanted to wear stinky pants for half the day.
Nevertheless, we all lined up and entered the museum. The teacher went ahead with her lecture about the exhibits, leaving me to just trail along with poop in my pants. It may have been my imagination, but my perception was that as time passed my pants were becoming increasingly odorous. I think the poop shifting around inside my pants as I walked had stirred up the smell. In any case, it was so apparent that I'd shit my pants that nobody wanted to be anywhere near to me.
About halfway through the museum tour, a girl in my class drifted over beside me and timidly grasped my hand. She did not say a word, but she loyally stuck with me the rest of the way through the museum. When we got back on the bus, she sat down in the seat beside me and gave me a shy smile. She never did explain why she'd taken me under her wing and I can only guess that at some point she'd shit in her pants at school and knew how embarrassed I must be.
My humiliation was not yet complete when arrived back to school. There was only a half hour or so remaining before school let out for the day and the teacher saw fit to contribute to my humiliation by announcing to the class that I could just let the poop stay in my pants until it was time to go home. I suppose she figured after I'd been wearing my pants that way for the entire afternoon and everyone knew I had that it wouldn't hurt me to keep wearing them for awhile longer. I can't really blame her.
When school was out, I still had to ride home on the bus which resulted in a completely new set of kids finding out that I'd ignominiously shit my pants. Who rode the bus with me depended on who lived along that bus route so there were kids on the bus from all grades. I was really embarrassed that a bunch of first and second graders knew I had shit my pants when I was in sixth grade.
When I got home, I had to confess to my mother that I'd pooped my pants at school. She was less than sympathetic. She eyed my pants and asked me derisively if I'd been wearing them that way all day. I explained to her about having to stay with the rest of the class at the museum and the teacher making me let it stay in my pants until school was over, but she focused only on the fact that I'd had poop in my pants for a disgracefully long time as if I'd wanted to wear stinky pants for half the day.