Tickled Till I Peed!

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Posted by Maria on June 10, 2002 at 13:21

First let me thank all of you who welcomed me to this board. You've been great. I have been lurking here for a while, and I notice how many people got started with this fetish when they were about 11 or 12. It was the same with me. Here is a story I wrote a while ago, while I was still shy about posting. I'm not a good writer like Lionheart or Weasel or Holly, but here goes.

I had 2 brothers, one a year older, one two years younger. We lived near the edge of town, and there was an orange grove behind our house and also a vacant lot or field with oak trees and an irrigation ditch. My brothers and their friends built a "fort" of dirt and oak branches and played in the orange grove. They were like a "club." I was the only girl allowed. In the U.S., we would say I was a "tomboy." We all met at the fort after school and played till dinner time.

One summer evening when I was 9, which was in 1961, my brothers and I were wrestling on the front lawn. My older brother held me down and my younger brother tickled me until I peed in my jeans. When it happened, we all just went silent. The effect was electric for all of us. My heart was pounding inside me. Mom was furious. Dad scolded them, but not as hard as I thought he would.

Any of you guys who ever had a "club" or a "fort" will know that there have to be punishments. If someone farted or dropped the water balloons or admitted to liking a dorky TV show, they had to stand "guard duty" (in an oak tree) or get "whacks" or have their pants pulled down. Up until that time, I had done all these same things. But from that time on, you can probably guess what my "punishment" was. My older brother would yell: "Tickle her and make her pee!" I would get jumped by about 5 guys and tickled without mercy.

It wasn't long till they were all coming up with lots of reasons why I was a dork and had to be punished with tickling. And it wasn't long until I started "acting off" so the boys would jump me and tickle me till I peed, which was soon totally deliberate on my part. They always teased me that I would be a wimpy girl and run home crying to change my pants, so I acted tough and always played the rest of the afternoon in wet pants. Whenever I went home for dinner with wet pants, we all got hell from Mom, though Dad always remained strangely quiet. After a while Mom, who is still a devout Catholic to this day, started calling me "demon spawn" or "child of the devil," because she knew I was doing it on purpose. I never paid any attention to her.

All good things come to an end, and by the time I was 12 I had finally drifted over to a girl's crowd and girl's stuff. I no longer played with the boys in the "fort."

But there is a sweet ending to the story. One of the regular guys at the fort was named Jimmy. When I was 16 and he just got his driver's license, he asked me out on a date. He kept tickling my sides and talking about "those times back in the fort." I knew what he wanted. And that, my dear friends, was the first time I ever deliberately wet my pants on a date!


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