Joan was staring at a pair of simple, white panties. There was nothing special about them, really. They weren’t sexy and they definitely weren’t granny panties. They were just a thick cotton pair of bikini style panties. The only abnormal thing about the panties was the soaking yellow crotch.
Joan had been a bad girl. She had been a stupid girl. At the age of 18 she was much too old to be wetting her panties. And yet here they were, soaked with her still warm urine. The embarrassing experience replayed in her head like some sort of twisted .gif image she saw on the internet.
Joan had been shopping at the mall with her mother. Joan going to be headed off to college soon and was running out of time to buy the things she needed. Her mom was already upset with her for not having planned ahead, but that was the least of her worries. Her bladder was throbbing, having filled to capacity in her sleep. She always took the biggest pee first thing in the morning. But her mother had angrily dragged her out of bed that morning in order to complete the overdue shopping.
She barely had time to put her hair up in a bun and throw on a decent top and a jean skirt before her mother threw her into their minivan.
Now she found herself in Macy’s, yet another store with no bathroom. Her mother was tearing through the store like a tornado, pausing every few minutes to ask Joan her opinion. Joan had twice tried to excuse herself to find a bathroom, but her mother wasn’t having any of that.
"I’m not letting you run off to hide while you stick me with all the shopping yet again. Nope. You can hold it."
And that was why Joan was obediently following her mother from store to store with her hand clutched between her legs. She was getting a few stares from the people she passed, but her mother was too busy to notice.
The pain in Joan’s abdomen felt sharp, but also like a drawn out burning sensation. The crotch of her white cotton panties was wet with sweat from having her hand jammed in there constantly, but Joan, thankfully, didn’t think any of the wetness was from pee.
"What do you think of this bedspread?" Her mother practically demanded. Joan was pretty pissed even though she knew this was her fault. But, seriously, her mom couldn’t tell how badly she needed to visit the toilet.
At this point, Joan’s mother was ready to move on, but Joan was rooted to the spot. During one of the frequent spasms her bladder had been having, she felt a large squirt of pee escape into her panties. The great warm wetness Joan suddenly felt in her panties and on her hand wasn’t helping her situation.
"Joan, what are you doing? C’mon, we need to hurry up!"
Her mother didn’t understand. Joan had lost. It was over. Joan’s bladder had given up and her hands were useless to stop the flow of urine. It was like someone had uncorked a wine bottle in her panties.
Urine splashed noisily down her smooth, long legs and quickly formed a puddle at her feet. Her entire crotch was wet in an instant, and so were her shoes and socks.
"Oh my God, Joan" was all her mother had to say. Joan stood there for about a minute, noisily wetting herself. For the first time that morning, Joan felt good. The relief of releasing her bladder combined with the warmth of her pee felt like heaven to Joan, and she was released from reality for a bit.
But Joan’s mother quickly pulled her back into reality as she yanked Joan out of the store by the hand that had been pressed firmly into Joan’s crotch. Her mother had to have realized that her hand was now covered in urine, but she didn’t stop until they were back at the van.
Her mother didn’t say a word until they were half way home. Joan was sitting on a shopping bag to keep the seat dry. Joan’s face was flushed with humiliation as she thought of everyone who might have seen that episode.
"I can’t believe what you just did back there, young lady," her mother said. "Was that just to get out of shopping? Did you hate it that much?"
What? Joan thought her mother was going crazy. Joan was wondering why her mom thought she did that on purpose. But nothing Joan said made any difference. She was scolded all the way home and was then sent up to her room to think about what she had done.
At 18, she had completely wet her panties. And now, as she stared at these panties, panties her mother had bought her, she hated nothing more. Those panties that bore the mark of her mistake. The great yellow stain on her panties represented her life. She had tarnished her mother’s opinion of her.
In a fit of anger, Joan cursed the dirty panties. She had to get them out of her sight. Even though the stain would fade, Joan would remember what she had done. It was childish, really, but Joan put all the blame for her accident on those panties.
It wasn’t my fault, Joan thought to herself, these panties made me pee myself. I would never do such a thing.
And with that, Joan threw open her window and chucked those stained, cursed panties out into a strong wind. Before they could drop harmlessly to the ground, the panties were carried in a gust and floated down the block.
The gust carried the panties to a small house on the corner. The house was made of red brick and was a little bit worse for wear, but it still felt like home to the family within. And the panties suddenly found themselves blown through an open window, into the room of Kaitlyn, a 23 year old who had just moved back in with her parents.
The panties lay there, cooling as wind continued to enter through the window. Eventually, Kaitlyn’s mother entered the room to look for dirty laundry.
"Ooh, cold," she said, stepping on something wet. Mrs. Greene picked up the sodden, stained panties and let out a small chuckle. "My, my Kaitlyn. I guess you’re never too old to have an accident."
And with that, Mrs. Greene tossed the panties in with the other dirty laundry.
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