The Wal-Mart Adventure

I've been interested in self-humiliation via wetting myself, my bed, and/or wearing and using diapers for almost my entire life. I kept it secret for years, though. While the thought of public humiliation was exciting, I didn't have the nerve to try. Not until my high school years. This story isn't about those early trials, which didn't produce many results. This adventure takes place long ago, when the world was young. Known to most as 2004.

It was my first year of college. I moved out of my parents' home, and away from everyone I knew. I'd left a small town for a moderately large city. This seemed like an excellent time to step up my game.

Now, I'm not a great looking guy. This helps with the humiliation thing. Back in '04, I was a scrawny thing barely more than 140 pounds soaking wet (no pun intended), and just under six feet tall. I'm not well endowed, either. At the time, I'd never officially measured, but my best guess would be just short of five inches long fully aroused. Limp, it was truly a "grower, not a shower" sized. Generally, I had to sit just so I wouldn't dribble on the floor while peeing. And since humiliation actually embarrassed me, and didn't give me an immediate erection, it really helped me to look really pathetic.

I think it was a Tuesday. It felt like a Tuesday. I headed to Wal-Mart, not with the specific intent of pissing myself silly, but better because I had nothing better to do. I've always had issues with not noticing my bladder needs until it was completely full. So, it wasn't until I'd been in Wal-Mart for a few minutes that my urgent need became evident to me.

A number of possibilities occurred to me. The store was pretty busy. I could have easily found someone in one of the aisles to witness my "accident," and to subsequently laugh at me. But, I didn't want to make a mess where someone might slip. Today would totally gross a person out, slipping on someone else's pee.

Instead, I headed for the bathroom, honestly hoping I wouldn't make it. I've been known to have a few, uncommon, actual accidents. Never a big blowout, but noticeable. Especially in the light tan khakis I was wearing.

Alas, I made it to the front of the store without incident. I was resolved to relieve myself without any excitement. So I pushed my way into the restroom, holding myself in desperation. When I entered, I simply stood in place, confused. I was a bit of an idiot back in those days.

But, I realized that there weren't any urinals. The concept didn't dawn on me immediately. All I knew is that both of the stalls were occupied - as evidenced by the pairs of shoes visible under the doors. So I stand there by the sinks, all but groping myself to hold back the floodgates.

A toilet flushed, a stall door opened, and out strolled a young woman, maybe mid-30's. I felt the blood rush from my face as the realization hit me.

I was in the women's bathroom.

I expected a disgusted look, some foul words, a police escort. Instead, she looked at me with motherly eyes, like the way you look at a puppy at the pet store.

"Oh, you must be lost, sweetie," she said kindly. "The boy's bathroom is across the way."

At this point, I was shaky from anxiety and I simply couldn't hold it anymore. I tried to respond, but only managed a meek whimper. In the same moment, a long squirt of urine blasted out if my tiny penis. It quickly drenched my whitey tighties and soaked through my pants. A sizable damp spot appeared between my legs. It looked like I was a little girl, where the spot was. At least, that's what I thought.

The woman's eyes softened and she offered a warm, compassionate smile.

"Aw, that's okay, sweetie. It happens to everyone. But you can't be in here, you'll get in trouble. Come on."

She held out an arm to me. I followed her out of the bathroom. She pointed to the men's door across the way. Without a word, I scurried across and finished my bathroom business.

The woman was gone by the time I emerged from the bathroom. My nervousness had not died down, however, and the very obvious piss spot on my pants on made me blush harder. I left the store, taking a few surprised glances, but not one sneer or jest. In fact, most of the people who have ever witnessed me having an "accident," or seen the results of sick, have been very polite. Or simply tried to ignore me.

But this moment stuck with me. It was, by far, the best response I've ever had to an incident.