Danny's Tricks – Part 1
[In which Danny reveals his fascination with urine and wets his pants for the first time.]
I'm not sure why, and it sounds, like, really weird, but I've always been fascinated with pee and poop. Like, I'm a freshman at a big city school – one that was built back in the 30's. You know the kind where the marble stair treads have grooves worn in them from the hundreds of thousands of feet that have stepped on them over the years? Anyway, there are four floors plus the basement which houses the gymnasiums and pool and each floor has one large Boy's Room and one large Girl's Room on it. Each Boy's Room (I'm guessing the Girl's Rooms are the same except for the urinals but I've never checked them out) has a row of urinals against one wall, a row of sinks against a second wall, and a row of stalls on the third wall. The stalls are made of marble and used to have doors on them except they took them off years ago when they found kids smoking and doing weird shit in them. The fourth wall has windows at the top and a row of radiators along the bottom to heat the room in the winter. These aren't the kind of big iron upright radiators but the kind that mount down near the floor and have a steam pipe running through them with fins on it. So some of the boys, to show their opinion of the school, or the teachers, or whatever, will pee on the radiator instead of in the urinals – I've done it a couple of times myself. What this means is that when you approach the Boy's Room from the hallway you start to get this smell of urine. And when you walk in the door the smell really hits you hard – especially in the winter. Most of the guys walk in, and their eyes start to run and they do their "business" as fast as they can and rush out into the hallway to escape the odor. Except me – I like it – and I take my time in the Boy's Room to enjoy the smell.
Let me give you another example. When we go to visit my relatives in Indiana, we drive along a road where the state put up "Rest Areas" every thirty miles or so. Except that you don't go there to rest, you stop there to take a dump. Indiana being Indiana, they didn't build regular bathrooms, they build old-fashioned outhouses. They're about thirty feet square and there's a trough to piss in along one wall, and two other walls have a row of stalls – except in these stalls the waste just drops through a hole into a holding pit beneath the outhouse. At least there's a regular toilet seat over the hole. And when you step up to the seat, you can look down into the hole and look at the mass of shit and turds and toilet paper and piss that's down there – at least you can if you want to. The outhouses have a roof and four walls – except that the walls start a foot above the ground and end a foot below the roof. I've figured out that this is so there's always air circulating and that keeps the odor down. So one time we were going to my grandmother's at Christmas and I needed to take a dump so I asked Dad to stop at one of the Rest Areas. As I got out of the car I noticed that the open areas at the top and bottom of the walls had been covered with plastic sheeting – probably to keep out the snow. Anyway, when I walked in the smell hit me – with no air circulation the odor had built up to something I could never have imagined. It was worse than the urine smell at school – it included ammonia, and rotting crap, and other smells I couldn't describe. I just stood there for a minute or so, breathing in the beautiful odor. Finally I remembered what I had come there to do and got rid of my load – taking my time. When I got back in the car everybody started gasping, and their eyes were watering, and they rolled down all the windows even though it was pretty cold outside. I realized that the odor had permeated my clothing and that I smelled as bad as the outhouse. After awhile the odor in the car dissipated but for weeks afterward I could bury my face in my winter jacket and take a deep breath, and smell the outhouse smell – neat!
Oh well, so much for background.
A week or so ago when I was up in my room one evening doing homework for school the next day, I found myself daydreaming about what it would be like to wet my pants. Now I don't mean that I was thinking of a "gusher" or anything – but maybe just a little dampness. "Well, why not find out", I thought to myself. So I leaned back in my chair and just barely relaxed by bladder muscles. And nothing happened. So I completely relaxed my bladder and still nothing happened. "This isn't the way it's supposed to work", I thought. So then I really tried to push it out and after awhile I could feel a couple of drops escape into my underwear, and then a couple more, and then a small stream started and began to flow more rapidly. "Whoops", I thought, "That's enough", and I clamped down and stopped the flow. I looked down at my crotch and there was a small wet area that slowly got larger till it was about the size of my hand. I could feel the warm wetness in my underwear as the fabric clung to my body. As I bent down, I could smell a faint aroma of warm urine arising from my jeans. Wow! This was so neat! After about five minutes the warmth turned to coldness which wasn't as comfortable and I decided that I'd get dressed for bed. I stripped off my jeans and laid them on my bed so that they would dry out before Mom saw them. I looked down and saw a faint yellow stain on my briefs where the pee had soaked in. I took my briefs off but hid them in the corner of my closet. The following night I retrieved the briefs, put them back on and repeated the process of releasing a little urine into them. It felt so good that I continued to do this for several nights and after about a week, the yellow stain on my briefs was much darker and they had the not unpleasant scent, kind of musty like, of dried urine. When I wet them now the smell that arose from my crotch was much stronger. And when I went to bed that night, I stuffed the dirty briefs into my pillowcase a drifted off to sleep with the scent of piss coming from my pillow.
Gee, that experiment in my room worked so well that I wondered whether I could do the same thing in the rest of the house. So for the next couple of weeks when I was in the family room watching TV, or having supper with my folks, I'd let just enough pee leak out into my briefs that they were constantly damp. You couldn't really see anything on my jeans and unless you got really close to me you wouldn't notice any odor.
Emboldened by my experiment at home, I tried it out at school the following week. Spanish was always a boring class so when Ms. Sanchez was babbling on about something, I slouched down behind my desk at the beginning of the period and let just enough urine out into my pants that I had a small damp spot on the front of my jeans. After a day or so I was doing this in all my classes. I still had to go to the Boy's Room to use the stalls but most of my urine was going into my pants now so I only used the urinals infrequently – when I had been drinking a lot of liquid. By the time school was over for the day and I returned home, my underwear was stained a yellow color in the front and I noticed that even after it was laundered, the stain wouldn't be completely removed. But us boys are supposed to have a few stains on our underwear, aren't we?
Well, the first experiment had work well, but now I was wondering what it would feel like if I let more than a few drops out at any time. So today when I came home from school, I drank a couple of glasses of water and then went down into the basement about an hour later. I stood over in the dark corner of my Dad's workshop and relaxed my bladder. For a few seconds nothing happened, and then a few drops escaped into my pants, followed by a small stream that grew into a large stream as I completely emptied my bladder. The crotch of my jeans was sopping wet and two wet streams ran down the inside of my legs, wetting the legs of my jeans, soaking my socks, and emptying into my sneakers. Oh God! Did that feel good! And I just stood there and enjoyed the feeling of the soaked jeans and the strong scent of warm piss that arose from my pants. As I walked around, my pants flapped wetly against my legs and my sneakers made squishing noises. I was in heaven. But after about five minutes of this enjoyment, reality set in – there was no way that I could hide this from my folks so I took off my clothes, threw them in the washer and set it on a quick cycle. I took my shoes, dried them as much as I could with paper towels, went upstairs and dressed in dry clothes, and set my shoes out in the sun to dry. By the time my folks came home an hour later, no evidence remained of my experiment. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I remembered the wonderful sensation of dumping a full bladder into my pants and how good it felt. But could I do that every day without risking getting caught?
[To Be Continued]