Un-Potty Training (gg, ggg, bg, g-solo, ws, no sex)

by this guy (this.guy20@yahoo.com)

Summary: A young girl helps some of her friends not waste valuable playtime 
by running to the toilet every time they need to ‘go potty’…



Wetters rejoice!  I’m proud to say that by my tenth birthday I succeeded in 
‘un-potty training’ four of my friends.  

I should probably begin by saying that for as long as I’ve ever been able to 
remember I’ve always hated having to interrupt whatever I happened to be doing 
for any reason.  When I was a little kid, the interruption was almost always 
caused by needing to ‘go potty’.  So I generally just went in my pants.  And 
before you ask; no I didn’t have problems with wetting the bed at night.  For 
me, wetting incidents were never (with only a small handful of exceptions) 
accidents: they were cognitive choices.

***

My life’s mission as an ‘un-potty trainer’ began in the spring when I was 
five.  I was outside in the backyard playing with my friend Tina; we were 
playing a game a little like tag and I got a sudden urge to pee.  I didn’t 
want to stop playing, go inside, take off my shoes, walk across the house to 
the bathroom, to then pee in the toilet, walk back across the house, put my 
shoes back on, then go back outside before getting back to playing.  Not only 
would it have been a complete waste of time, it would have interrupted our 
game and there’s no way we would have remembered where we were in the game; 
which would have wasted even more time.  So, like I had been doing for over 
two years at that point I simply relaxed my bladder: allowing the pee to flow 
out of my body and into my pants while running across the yard.  Tina, who had 
been hot on my heels; stopped chasing me, got real serious and quietly 
informed me that I’d wet my pants.  Unfortunately, that did interrupt our 
game.

Since she had already made us stop playing our game, I proceeded to explain 
that I had wet myself on purpose so we wouldn’t have to stop in the middle of 
the game.  She seemed surprised when she heard me say that, but she didn’t say 
anything else about it and we went back to playing the game.  

A while later when we were squatting on the patio drawing with chalk on the 
concrete, she told me she had to “go potty”.  I told her to just go in her 
pants like I had.  She suggested she might get in trouble, and I told her my 
parents didn’t care so long as it didn’t make a mess in the house.  She 
seemed surprised but said “okay”.  

After a while Tina quietly, but flatly said, “I can’t make myself go in my 
pants.”

“Don’t feel bad about not being able to go in your pants,” I replied before 
suggesting, “If you can’t go in your pants, just go to the bathroom and pee 
in the toilet.”

She surprised me by declaring, “No: I WANT to pee in my pants.”

I thought for a second before suggesting, “You could go to the bathroom and 
pee in the toilet, then save the last few drops for you pants…”  Tina gave 
me a slightly confused look; so I added, “We’ll go together, I’ll show you 
how.”

“Okay,” she said through a little smile.

With that we went inside, took off our shoes, walked across the house and went 
into the bathroom together.  She pulled her shorts and undies down and sat on 
the toilet.  

“When you’re almost finished peeing, stand up and quickly pull up you undies,” 
I gave her the best explanation of what I thought would work that I could.

“Right,” she replied in a somewhat pensive tone, at the exact same instant 
the tinkling sound coming from the bowl of the toilet under her began.

Perhaps half-a-minute after she had started peeing, Tina quickly stood.  For 
that very brief second between when she stood and when she had gotten her 
undies all the way up, I saw some pee come out of her pee-hole: I’d never 
seen that before.  Almost immediately after she’d pulled her undies all the 
way up, I saw a little wet spot appear as she let out the last of her pee 
into her undies. 

Smiling, I informed her, “You just peed your pants on purpose.”  

A smile of accomplishment appeared on her face when she heard me say that.  
Mere seconds later, she pulled her shorts up and we went back outside.

A while later Tina commented, “Peeing my pants on purpose was ‘fun’.”  

At the time I viewed peeing my pants as more of a practical thing, but the 
warm wet feeling was kinda nice; so I responded, “It is ‘fun’.  But we don’t 
know how your parents will react to you peeing your pants: you should 
probably only admit to having peed your pants if you’re asked about it; and 
if that happens, say it was ‘an accident’.”  

“That what you do?” Tina asked. 

Nodding my head, I answered, “Exactly what I do.” Before adding, “Most of 
the time my mom doesn’t even notice that I’ve peed my pants…”

***

A couple weeks after the first time Tina saved the last of her pee for her 
pants, we were playing in my backyard again; this time we were playing with 
Babette dolls.  

She did something real funny: she pulled the pants and undies on her doll 
down to the doll’s knees and held the doll for a second in a sitting position, 
she then spit into the doll’s undies before quickly pulling them and the 
doll’s pants back up.  Before I could even open my mouth to ask why she had 
just done what she’d done, Tina declared, “Babette saved the last of it for 
her pants.”  

“Just like you did last time,” I giggled, thinking she was reminding me of 
what she’d done the last time we were playing in my backyard.

“And every time since then,” she beamed.  

I couldn’t believe my ears.  I mean sure I peed my pants quite often, 
averaging it out, it probably worked out to more than once per day.  Of 
course, I only peed my pants on purpose so I didn’t have to interrupt what I 
was doing by taking a trip to the bathroom; whenever I wasn’t doing anything, 
or doing something I didn’t want to do, I’d go to the bathroom and pee in the 
toilet.  So I asked, “You’ve done that EVERY time you ‘go potty’?” 

Nodding, she confirmed, “Every time I’ve peed since then,” before offering, 
“We could go to the bathroom and I’ll show you,” with a little giggle.

Like the last time she’d been at my house to play, we went inside, took off 
our shoes, walked across the house to the bathroom, and I went into the 
bathroom with her.  She pulled her shorts and undies down and sat on the 
toilet, “See,” she pointed at a wet spot about two inches long which went 
all the way across on the crotch of her undies.  Before I could respond I 
heard a tinkling sound coming from the bowl of the toilet under her; then a 
second later when she had almost finished peeing, she stood up and quickly 
pulled up her undies.  For the second time in my life I very briefly got to 
see pee come out of a girl’s pee-hole and then I watched the little wet spot 
expand about half an inch as she let out the last of her pee into her undies.  

***

From there things kinda progressed with Tina one step at a time.  Over the 
next month or so every time we were together we’d go to the bathroom together.  
Each time the wet spot in her undies was bigger than it had been the previous 
time and it expanded more: clearly she was letting out less pee into the 
toilet, and more into her pants. 

***

The first time Tina went completely in her undies was in the middle of the 
summer.  Both of us were playing with our friend Laura at Laura’s house.  We 
were in the little fort on the end of the swing set, Tina just let loose: the 
crotch area of her blue shorts got dark and pee began running down her legs.  

“You just peed your pants,” Laura commented.

“Yea…” Tina responded.

“Well… ah… but why?” Laura asked in a confused sounding voice. 

Tina gave the same explanation I’d given her: “Gotta go inside to pee in the 
toilet; I didn’t wanting to have to stop playing to do that, so I went in my 
pants.”  

The look on Laura’s face when she looked at me after hearing Tina’s 
explanation was more than enough to say she didn’t believe what she’d just 
heard.  I didn’t really have to go potty; but since Tina had done what I’d 
done and explained it the same way I had, I pretty much had to back her up: 
so, I said “I do too.” Before lifting the bottom of the skirt I was wearing 
high enough up that the bottom of my undies was visible and relaxed my 
bladder as much as I could.  Barely a second later, I felt the familiar warm 
wet feeling of my pee soaking into my undies.  

“And you don’t get yelled at for ‘going potty’ in your pants?” Laura asked in 
a voice that sounded both surprised and shocked.

Tina and I both said “no” at the same time.

Laura seemed to be deep in thought for a while before she half squatted.  
From the look on her face she must have been really concentrating hard.  Then 
a minute later she began speaking, “I can’t ‘just go’ in my pants: how’d you 
do it?”

I explained, “Tina has been going in the toilet then saving the last of it for 
her pants.”  

“Just now was the first time I’ve gone ‘completely’ in my pants,” Tina 
proudly informed us.

Laura told us she’d be back; then jumped out of the fort and ran to the back 
door of her house.  

Maybe three or four minutes later, Laura came back outside.  She kinda 
jogged across the yard then began climbing back up into the fort on the end 
of the swing set.  Just before she took the final step up into the fort, she 
proudly informed us, “I did like you said: sat on the toilet, got up before I 
was finished, so the last of it went into my undies.” 

Once she was fully inside the fort, Laura began to pull her shorts and undies 
down and asked, “Did I do it right?”
  
Tina and me both looked over the elastic waistband into Laura’s undies.  I 
couldn’t believe what I saw, and from the “ah…” sound Tina made clearly she 
didn’t either.  There wasn’t a little (or even a big) wet spot on the inside 
of Laura’s undies; there was a squished piece of poo in the bottom of her 
undies!

“I went potty in my pants like you did; why are you so surprised?” Laura 
asked in what is probably the most confused sounding voice I’ve ever heard.

“I never poo’d my pants on purpose,” Tina immediately replied.

A look of horror appeared on Laura’s face as she turned towards me.  “Pooing 
is ‘going potty’ though, right?” she asked nervously.

“Course it is,” I answered then added, “Since Tina and me both peed, we 
figured you were gonna be doing the same.”

“Oh…” Laura sounded like she was thinking out loud, “So you have poo’d your 
pants?”

“Yeah,” I answered.  I wasn’t lying, but I didn’t poop my pants nearly as 
often as I peed them: maybe once every three or four months.

Turning to me, Tina asked, “Really?” sounding like she didn’t believe me.

“Not nearly as often as I pee my pants, but yea I poo them on purpose, too,” 
I clarified.

The three of us sat there in the fort silently for a while before Tina said, 
“Prove it.”  

I told them the truth, “I don’t have to poo.”  Thankfully Tina seemed to 
believe me; and we went back to playing.

Then, before we went inside I made sure to give Laura the same advice I’d 
given Tina: that we didn’t know how her parents would react to her pooing 
her pants and suggested only she only admit to having pooed her pants if she 
was asked about it, and then say it was ‘an accident’.  Like Tina had, she 
asked if that’s what I do when I poo my pants.  I told her it was.  Although, 
that wasn’t exactly the truth: when I poo my pants usually I’d tell Mom ‘I had 
an accident’ when I go in the house so I can change clothes…

***

The next time I saw Laura was a few days later; at my house.  

“My mom asked if I’d ‘had an accident’ a little while after Tina and you left 
the other day,” Laura informed me. 

“You get yelled at?” I asked.

“No,” Laura replied, “My little brother has accidents all the time, so it was 
no big deal.”  

“That’s good,” I responded. 

“It gets better: my mom pretty much told me I’m allowed to ‘go potty’ in my 
pants as much as I want until I go inside after poo’ing my pants,” she beamed.  

“Really?  Wow!  You’re real lucky ‘cause my mom doesn’t like it when I poo my 
pants,” I responded.  

Laura used the bathroom a couple times while at my house that day.  Pee only, 
saving the last of it for her pants each time.  For the entire time Laura was 
at my house, I just peed my pants whenever I felt the need to ‘go potty’.   

***

A couple days after that, I was at Tina’s house.  

“I got an idea for a game: you wanna try it?” Tina asked.

“Sure,” was my reply even though I didn’t know anything about the game she’d 
come up with.  She had me wait outside while she went inside “to get what we 
needed to play the game”; she had two big bottles of water with her when she 
came back outside.  She told me there were “two parts to the game”: who could 
drink a whole bottle of water faster and who could go longer without peeing.

Those bottles of water were big, really big: both of us had trouble drinking 
the whole bottle.  And after we did, my tummy seemed to bulge out a little in 
the front, and it looked like Tina’s did too.  As for the question of who 
finished drinking the bottle of water faster; we both finished at about the 
same time, so we called that a ‘tie’.

A few mouthfuls before even finishing the bottle of water I felt like I need 
to pee.  But since we were trying to see who could go longer without peeing 
I tried to think about other stuff.   

A while after we both finished our big bottles of water, both of us were 
doing the ‘pee dance’ and holding between our legs.  Went on like that for 
maybe half an hour before I felt a little pee leak out, but since I was 
holding between my legs Tina wouldn’t have been able to see, and it was just 
a little that leaked out so I didn’t say anything.  

A couple minutes after that little bit of pee leaked out into my panties, 
Tina half groaned and kinda bent forward a little.  Before I could even open 
my mouth to ask if she was ‘okay’ a river of pee flooded through her jeans 
and began pouring down her legs.  Since she had already let loose in a way 
that was so impossibly deniable, I relaxed my bladder and moved my hands 
away as a torrent of warm liquid soaked through the crotch of my panties and 
jeans in an instant, before quickly racing down my legs.  

It was a few minutes before we stopped peeing; and by that time the jeans 
we were both wearing were thoroughly and completely soaked.  Not only was 
that was the most I’d ever peed in my pants at one time: that was the most 
I’d ever peed in my pants in an entire day!  And wow: that had been fun!  
The thing that really surprised me was that it took the jeans until supper 
time to dry out.  

***

Over the course of the year that followed; Tina began to use the same 
technique of saving the last of her poo for her pants whenever she was playing 
with me or Laura and continued peeing her pants whenever she didn’t want to 
stop to go to the bathroom, and Laura used the technique of saving the last 
of it for her pants with both pee and poo.  The three of us also played that 
pee holding game a number of times as well.  

Unlike my mom who wasn’t happy about me pooping my pants, Laura’s and Tina’s 
moms didn’t seem to care if they pooed their pants, as long as they didn’t 
make a mess in the house.  So all they had to do was be careful while they 
were indoors then claim they had ‘an accident’ while outside.  I might have 
been jealous, except for the fact that I rarely pooed my pants.

***

The first few weeks of the following summer almost seemed like they directly 
followed the end of the previous one.  The three of us; Tina, Laura, and I 
never stopped playing to ‘go potty’: we peed in our pants start to finish, 
no trips to the bathroom.  Of course that meant that our panties and whatever 
outer clothes we wore spent much of the day wet.  But it was a nice feeling 
so we were good with it.  Tina and Laura both seemed to have decided to never 
use a toilet at all: both of them would wait until they went outside to poop, 
filling their panties with a load of poop and leaving it there until they went 
inside.  Me, well I was definitely pooping my pants more often than I had 
before once every couple weeks, but I mostly pooped in the toilet.  

***

Then, right around the middle of the summer a new family moved into the house 
directly behind mine.  They didn’t have any girls, just two boys: one was 
about my age, the other was a baby.  The older boy, Ricky, and I became 
friends fairly quickly.  

One day, it must have been about three weeks after they moved into the house 
behind mine, when Ricky and I were playing (making little toy-sized forts out 
of twigs) in my backyard; he commented, “I gotta ‘go potty’.” He paused for a 
couple seconds before adding, “I’ll wait a little longer.” and went back to 
the twig fort he was building.  

“I hate having to stop playing, go inside, take off my shoes, walk across the 
house to the bathroom, to then pee in the toilet, walk back across the house, 
put my shoes back on, then go back outside before getting back to playing,” I 
informed him.  

“I hate having to do that too,” he agreed with me.  

After quickly glancing around to make sure no adults were nearby, I informed 
him, “Sometimes I pee my pants purpose so I don’t have to stop what I’m doing.”  

I was expecting him to be surprised by that statement, but instead Ricky 
really surprised me by saying, “Where I used to live a couple of my friends 
did that too.”  

“You ever do it?” I asked.

He shook his head ‘no’ and said, “I’d get in trouble ‘cause the pee will stay 
in my pants.”  

Confused by that last part I asked, “What do you mean?”

“My friends who peed their pants on purpose are girls, they pee out of their 
skirts or dresses; but you can’t do that with boys’ pants,” he explained

As luck would have it, I was wearing cut-off jean-shorts that day.  Remaining 
in the squatting position I was already in, I said “watch this” and relaxed 
my bladder.  Barely a second later, I felt the familiar warm wet feeling of 
my pee soaking into my undies.  A few seconds after that I felt the warm 
wetness spread down the insides of my thighs as my pee soaked into the crotch 
area of my jean-shorts.  As I continued peeing the denim fabric became 
saturated and steams of pee began running down the insides of both my legs.

It wasn’t until I stopped peeing about thirty seconds later, that Ricky said 
“wow”.  There were a few seconds of silence before he asked, “Won’t you get in 
trouble for peeing your pants?”  

Shaking my head ‘no’, I told him, “A lot of the time my parents don’t notice 
and when they do I tell them I had ‘an accident’.”  I took a breath before 
adding, “My friends Tina and Laura do the same thing,” but neglected to 
mention that they poop their pants as well.

After hearing my response; Ricky stood up, closed his eyes and took a deep 
breath.  An instant later a wet-spot began to form on the front of his shorts.  
Initially the wet-spot was fairly round but once it got to be about the size 
of a quarter, it began to elongate downwards; first to the crotch of his 
shorts, then down the right leg.  As the wet-spot reached the bottom of the 
right leg of his shorts, the bottom portion of it widened out to a little more 
than an inch before a stream of yellow liquid began to cascade to the ground.  

Once the flow of yellow liquid slowed to a dribble, Ricky opened his eyes and 
smiled.  Returning to a squatting position he commented, “Peeing pants is 
better than going inside to use the toilet.”  

“Much better,” I agreed with that statement.

“You ever pee while sitting or running?” he asked.

I told him the truth: “I’ve done both.”  He seemed really amazed by that.  

After about twenty minutes of us building our little toy-sized twig forts, 
Ricky surprised me by asking, “What if you gotta poo?”

“Usually I go inside and poop in the toilet,” I replied.  After taking a 
breath I added, “Sometimes, like when I’m doing something I really don’t want 
to stop, I poop in my pants.”  

As expected he asked, “You get in trouble for that?”

“I don’t do it that often,” I reiterated the relative rarity of me pooping 
my pants before explaining, “Once I’ve finished the thing I was doing, I tell 
my parents that ‘I had an accident’: generally they aren’t too upset.”

Ricky didn’t directly respond to me telling him that I sometimes poop my 
pants on purpose, but he did say, “None of the friends where I used to live 
who peed their pants on purpose ever pooped their pants on purpose.”  He 
didn’t give me a chance to respond to that as he continued speaking, “There 
was a boy in daycare who pooped his pants every day.”  

“Did he wear diapers?” I asked. 

“No,” Ricky explained, “He dumped out the poop on the playground.  The people 
who ran the daycare almost never noticed that he’d pooped his pants.”  

“Did he poop his pants on purpose?” I asked.

“No idea,” Ricky replied

***

Ricky and I continued playing together, and over the next few weeks, he began 
peeing his pants more and more frequently: two times per week, then every 
other day, then two days out of three, then every day.  Then finally each of 
the last few days of summer, just before the school-year began, he peed his 
pants multiple times per day.

***

Over the next few years not a lot changed.  I continued peeing my pants on 
purpose regularly, as did Tina, Laura, and Ricky.  Tina and Laura were pooping 
their pants less often, but they continued to do it about once a week.  I was 
pooping my pants maybe twice a year.  And Ricky, well to the best of my 
knowledge, he never pooped his pants on purpose; he did however see Tina, 
Laura, and me do it a few times.

***

It wasn’t until I was nine that I managed to ‘un-potty train’ another friend.  
Samantha, she may be my best achievement in ‘un-potty training’.  Like me, she 
was nine at the time.  

It was winter and we were on the bus for a school trip when I had to pee.  For 
the first few minutes I just tried to ignore the urge to pee.  Then I tried to 
hold it.  At a certain point I realized I had a choice: either have a very 
real and impossible to hide accident, or pee my pants a little bit on purpose 
to reduce the pressure.  Glancing down to see that I was wearing jeans which 
were such dark blue that they might as well have been black, I quickly picked 
that later option.  I shifted forward; planted my feet on the floor of the bus 
and half stood before taking a deep breath.  As I slowly exhaled I quietly 
uttered the work “okay” and released my bladder a little.  The instant I did, 
I felt the familiar warm wet feeling of my pee soaking into my undies.  

Some two seconds later, I began to feel the warm wetness spread around the 
insides of my upper thighs as my pee began to soak into the crotch area of my 
jeans.  My plan having consisted of just peeing a little to relieve the 
pressure, I stopped the flow of pee the moment I knew it was soaking into my 
jeans.  

Of course it was winter, and obviously, that meant it was cold on the bus.  
Obviously, the warmth of my pee felt nice on / around my crotch and upper 
thighs; so I let out a bit more pee.  As that additional pee soaked into the 
denim fabric, the wet area not only became larger, but became warmer as well: 
and that definitely did feel nice on the insides of both of my thighs.  

Ultimately I didn’t stop peeing until the warm moistness reached all the way 
down to my knees.  At which time I once again forced myself to stop peeing.  
The pressure on my bladder significantly reduced, I once again quietly said 
“okay” and sat back down on the seat.

Barely half a second after my butt was back on the seat, Samantha surprised 
me by quietly asking, “Did you just pee your pants?”

“Ah…  Yeah…” I quietly answered, doing my best to sound embarrassed.  

“Uhm…” she seemed more embarrassed that I was trying to appear to be.

“Makes my pants feel warm,” I commented with a little giggle.

She briefly seemed taken-aback, before questioning, “Really?” in a tentative 
tone.

“Yea,” I honestly answered.

“My pants do feel kinda cold,” she sounded like she was thinking out loud.  

“You could pee in them to warm them up,” I quietly suggested, doing my best 
to make it sound like I wasn’t really serious even though I actually was.

For several seconds Samantha sat there on the bus seat next to me completely 
silently.  Then, just as I began to think I should tell her ‘I was joking’ 
she opened her mouth and began to speak, “You stood…?”

“Yea,” I confirmed that I had.

“Why…” she quietly asked in a decidedly questioning tone.

For a fraction of a second I wondered how I should answer that question, but 
quickly decided to simply be honest.  “Standing it will soak into the pants…” 
I began explaining, before adding, “Sitting it will run off the seat…”

Putting two-and-two-together, she commented, “People would notice that…”

I nodded before suggesting, “And it won’t make the pants warm…”

“Hmmn…” she pondered.  A second later she shifted forward; planted her feet 
on the floor of the bus and half stood.  She half-stood there like that for 
two seconds before quietly questioning, “How do I…?”

“Try to relax: take a deep breath, close your eyes, and then think about 
peeing,” I suggested.  

An instant later I watched her eyes close as she took a deep breath.  Then, 
when she began exhaling, Samantha very quietly said the word, “Peeing…”  

Shifting my gaze from her face to her butt, I noticed the navy-blue color of 
her jeans begin to darken at / around her crotch.  The darker area began to 
expand down along the insides of her legs…  

I waited until the darker wet area reached her knees before I spoke, “You 
should probably stop peeing now.”

Samantha nodded her head, but remained in that half-standing position as the 
darker wet area of her jeans continued expanding down along the insides of her 
legs until it was only an inch above the cuffs at her ankles.  She took a 
quick breath and proceeded to sit back down on the seat next to me.  Turning 
towards me she commented, “It’s so nice and warm…”

I nodded in agreement.  

Then she asked the question I both knew and feared was coming, “How many 
times have you warmed your pants up by peeing in them?”

“Well…” I quickly trailed off before giving her a mostly honest answer, “I’ve 
been doing it since I was like, three,” followed by a nervous little giggle.

“Really?” she asked; the tone of her voice somewhere between shocked and 
amazed.  

“Yea,” I replied with a half shrug.

“How many times have you been caught?” she asked in a marginally nervous tone.

“A few,” I replied: technically speaking that was true, except for the fact 
that I never actually got caught during the winter…

“And…” Samantha sounded concerned.

Shrugging, I said, “Just said ‘I had an accident’; no big deal.”

“Really?” she sounded as if she didn’t believe me.

“Yup: really,” I confirmed.

“Cool…” she commented; judging by the tone of her voice I could only conclude 
that she was deep in thought.

***

The following morning when I arrived at school Samantha pulled me aside and 
asked, “How often do you pee in your pants to warm them up?”

“I don’ know,” I tried to be vague.

“Yesterday, I did it again on the bus home from school,” she informed me.  I 
half-nodded before asking, “Anybody notice?”

“No,” she smirked before adding, “Did it on the bus this morning too…”

“Cool…” was the only response I could come up with.	

***

Later that day, at lunch Samantha once again sought me out.  

“On the bus the other day you said you’ve been doing since you were three…” 
from the tone of her voice I wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or 
simply trying to verify what I’d said.

“Yea…” I responded.

For a couple seconds she didn’t say anything.  Then after glancing around she 
suggested, “It’s also kinda convenient.”

“Yea, it is,” I agreed before honestly informing her, “At first I only did 
it so I wouldn’t have to stop whatever I was doing.”

“And now?” Samantha asked.

“Mostly still to save time,” I honestly answered before adding, “Of course it 
does feel nice…” I stifled a giggle, “…which is more than enough reason to…”

For a full ten second Samantha sat there perfectly still and completely silent 
while looking at me.  Then she smiled, leaned in close to the side of my head, 
and quietly declared, “I’m never gonna pee in a toilet again.”