Urine for a Treat

When was the last time you pissed yourself? Oh, when you were eight? Get real, friend; it was last weekend and we all know about it. Now that you're all ashamed, here are some stories about other people who pissed themselves to cheer you up.

Oct 12 2012, 12:25pm

When was the last time you pissed yourself? Oh, when you were eight? When you went camping that time and got scared by the noises outside? Bullshit. Get real, friend; it was last weekend and we all know about it. We also all know you're going to do it this weekend, too—starting tonight and carrying on in a consistent, free-flowing Amazon river of urine, until your whole mattress is saturated with your own golden nectar. Now that you're all ashamed, here are some stories about other people who pissed themselves to cheer you up.    

Illustrations by Sam Taylor. Follow him on Twitter @sptsam or visit his website at samtaylorillustrator.com.


I was at this party when I was 16 and ended up in the make out room with a girl. There were a few other couples nestled away in the corners in various states of embrace, but I was blind-drunk so I didn't really care. I was just fixated on getting some boob. I was also dying to piss, but I thought it might kill the mood if I darted off to take a leak and left her there waiting for me. Anyway, we were kissing and groping for a bit, then she unbuttoned my pants and started sucking me off. That was great, obviously, and I started to really relax.

In retrospect, that was a bad idea, because as I relaxed, my drunkenness took over and I was in that weird middle-ground between the waking world and complete unconsciousness. Seemingly out of nowhere, she put her elbow on my bladder and, in my drunk, blissed-out haze, I start peeing. Everywhere. It felt great for about three seconds, then I snapped back to reality and realized what I was doing. To make it worse, I still had a boner, so the stream was uncontrollable; hitting my face, splashing the girl's hair, and leaving a mucky, little puddle pooled on my grey jumper. That was one of the worst nights of my life. People have called me Stuart "The Shower" ever since.


After a day of drinking, it was time to stagger home to where I live with my understanding and tolerant parents. I was so drunk that I didn't even consider pissing in the street during my 30 minute power-walk. Instead, I struggled towards home like a piss-filled homing pigeon, having to undo my trousers at the halfway point to allow for bladder expansion.

Within minutes of my front door, I realized I had a key to the garage at the back of the house, which had a toilet in it. Approaching from the east, this route in would shave valuable seconds off my journey. I got to the heavy, rope-operated, steel rolling door, giddy with a mix of pain and excitement at my impending relief. Once I'd shuffled inside, I pulled down the door and managed to place my middle finger between two of the steel plates just as they came together. There was an audible crunch as my finger broke in three places. Unsurprisingly, this broke my concentration and I pissed in my jeans. It was the most mind-blowing combination of pain and relief I've ever experienced.

The next morning, I found myself in my bed, covered in piss and blood, with a black finger. Then rapidly made plans to move out. 


It was the mid-90s and I was at the zoo with my family. Me, a typical 10-year-old kid who modeled his existence on Bart Simpson, holding the hand of my mom, who, at the time, had a mane of huge, bright red hair. A bit like Chaka Khan or a less icy Rebekah Brooks.

We'd spent about 15 minutes staring at the lions and it was getting pretty boring. My little sister had just watched The Lion King, so she was hyped for some singing lion cubs, or something, but all they were doing was sitting on rocks, being all moody. God, lions are boring. 

My dad was getting angry because he wanted to see the man lion do his thing, so he started shouting at them—I guess to try and rile them up—like a 550lb lion was going to take any notice of a screaming man. My mom walked up to my dad, towards the male lion, to try and get him to relent. Spotting her wild red mane, the lioness must have thought my mom was a threat, because she instantly fired a 15ft stream of piss directly into her face. I'm not sure what the protocol is surrounding your own mother getting pissed on by a lion, but I just stood there, pointed and laughed for about five minutes, then my mom screamed at me, cried, and we went home. Ah, family memories.


We were on a skate trip in Stockholm last summer, when, one day, we decided to take a day off from the shred and venture outside the city to explore some woods and go swimming in some beautiful lakes and all the kind of shit people normally do on vacation.

We prepared a huge picnic, stocked up on beers, and headed out to a lake. Obviously, after a few beers, the bravado took hold and everyone started jumping off the huge rocks we were sitting on into the lake. It was scary, but safe, and everyone was having a jolly time. Except for one of our gang, that is. Let's call him Dave. Dave really wanted to jump into the lake, but physically couldn't make himself do it. He tried everything; shotgunning a beer, smashing himself in the head, getting us all to count him down—everything. But nothing worked.

The vsible torment in his eyes suddenly changed to joy; he'd had his eureka moment. Out of nowhere, he started pissing himself intentionally, explaining the only way to get his boxers clean was to jump into the lake. Backwards logic, but it worked. So there's a lesson for you; if you're ever feeling nervy or apprehensive, just piss yourself—it makes everything a whole lot easier. 


So, this story has two sides. First off, mine: I remember waking up at my friend's house, sitting on the toilet, and feeling lost. I'd somehow forgotten how to open doors, so I banged the door until my friend came and let me out, then I went to sleep, happily tucked up on a blow-up mattress on the floor. 

The next morning, I was rudely awoken by the second version of the story. Apparently I sleep-walked into my friend's parents' room, whipped my willy out, and started pissing all over them, their bed, their floor, and their walls. It was a piss party and I was the master of ceremonies. The dad woke up to find me pissing on his pajamas. He leaped out of bed and guided me towards the toilet with my wang still out and the piss still flowing.

Cut to me waking up, confused, sitting on the toilet. I'm not totally sure why this happened; I don't usually piss everywhere in my sleep (I promise, ladies). Either way, his parents are still cool with me and are nice enough to not bring this up until we're all really drunk.

Illustrations by Sam Taylor. Follow him on Twitter @sptsam or visit his website at samtaylorillustrator.com.

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