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Many years ago, as a young teenager, I had an afternoon paper route.
I would get home from middle school, sort out my papers and head out on my journey of just under 100 customers who were spread out on a somewhat larger residential street.
Of course, not every house was a customer, so in all I walked about 150 or so houses, which took me about an hour to an hour and a half to deliver - depending if I stopped to talk to anyone.
One cold winter day in particular I will always remember. It was just before Christmas - and some of my customers were stopping me to give me my "Christmas tip", which of course delayed me in my deliveries.
Right around half way through my route, I got a somewhat urgent need to have a BM. I was at the point where if I turned around and went home, or continued my route and went home would take me the same time, and not make a difference.
I sat down and fumbled through my paper bad, pretending to count my papers, and deciding what to do. The urge went away almost as quickly as it came up - so I decided to finish my route and go home. This turned out to be a big mistake.
As the end of my route was almost in sight, the urge returned. This time however, with great intensity. I stopped walking and just froze in my tracks. I closed my eyes, I was doing everything in my power not to have an accident. The urge went away again, and I figured I was going to be ok.
I had about ten more houses to go, as I was placing a newspaper inside the storm door of a customer when once again this incredible urge to have a BM hit me.
This time, however, I was not so lucky. My body seemed to get a mind of its own, as everything wanting to exit made its way into my underwear, long johns, and jeans. It seemed as though the accident took several seconds and at the end it felt like I had a pound of play-dough in the seat of my pants.
Of course, my bladder wanted to play too , and although thankfully I did not wet myself completely, my long johns were wet by my inner thighs, just above my knees.
So now I have to finish my route, with a load of crap in my pants, praying not to encounter anyone. Since it was so cold outside, I did not notice any smell.
I was home free, at my last customer's house when she opened her door. Her name was Ms. Humphries, and to me she seemed old - I am not really sure what her age was. She greeted me, and wanted me to come inside to give me a Christmas gift, and to make arrangements to have her paper stopped for a vacation. I told her I would wait outside, but she insisted I come in. I protested again, and she became a little angry, and said come inside while I get you your gift and tell you about my vacation.
I stepped into the entrance of her house, and forever I will remember what I saw because I was so traumatized. I will never forget the look on her face when she finally realized why I did not want to come inside. She was kind, and offered me a ride home. I humbly declined, telling her I was in no condition to ride in her car, she laughed a nervous laugh and agreed.
I finally made it back home, and had to face the music to my parents. I remember how my mother commented as to how much I had gone.
I took a shower, my clothing made its way to a garbage bag, and this was never mentioned again.
I would get home from middle school, sort out my papers and head out on my journey of just under 100 customers who were spread out on a somewhat larger residential street.
Of course, not every house was a customer, so in all I walked about 150 or so houses, which took me about an hour to an hour and a half to deliver - depending if I stopped to talk to anyone.
One cold winter day in particular I will always remember. It was just before Christmas - and some of my customers were stopping me to give me my "Christmas tip", which of course delayed me in my deliveries.
Right around half way through my route, I got a somewhat urgent need to have a BM. I was at the point where if I turned around and went home, or continued my route and went home would take me the same time, and not make a difference.
I sat down and fumbled through my paper bad, pretending to count my papers, and deciding what to do. The urge went away almost as quickly as it came up - so I decided to finish my route and go home. This turned out to be a big mistake.
As the end of my route was almost in sight, the urge returned. This time however, with great intensity. I stopped walking and just froze in my tracks. I closed my eyes, I was doing everything in my power not to have an accident. The urge went away again, and I figured I was going to be ok.
I had about ten more houses to go, as I was placing a newspaper inside the storm door of a customer when once again this incredible urge to have a BM hit me.
This time, however, I was not so lucky. My body seemed to get a mind of its own, as everything wanting to exit made its way into my underwear, long johns, and jeans. It seemed as though the accident took several seconds and at the end it felt like I had a pound of play-dough in the seat of my pants.
Of course, my bladder wanted to play too , and although thankfully I did not wet myself completely, my long johns were wet by my inner thighs, just above my knees.
So now I have to finish my route, with a load of crap in my pants, praying not to encounter anyone. Since it was so cold outside, I did not notice any smell.
I was home free, at my last customer's house when she opened her door. Her name was Ms. Humphries, and to me she seemed old - I am not really sure what her age was. She greeted me, and wanted me to come inside to give me a Christmas gift, and to make arrangements to have her paper stopped for a vacation. I told her I would wait outside, but she insisted I come in. I protested again, and she became a little angry, and said come inside while I get you your gift and tell you about my vacation.
I stepped into the entrance of her house, and forever I will remember what I saw because I was so traumatized. I will never forget the look on her face when she finally realized why I did not want to come inside. She was kind, and offered me a ride home. I humbly declined, telling her I was in no condition to ride in her car, she laughed a nervous laugh and agreed.
I finally made it back home, and had to face the music to my parents. I remember how my mother commented as to how much I had gone.
I took a shower, my clothing made its way to a garbage bag, and this was never mentioned again.