"I'm sorry, I have this phobia. You see, I can't go to the bathroom on my own. I need someone to go with me and talk to me while I do 'it' and tell me what a good girl I am for using the potty rather than doing it in my panties. I know, it sounds so silly doesnt it, but that's the way I am."
"How long have you been like this?" asked Jim.
"Ever since I was a child. I suppose I should have asked you, but it's a bit awkward to ask a boy you've just met to take you to the potty. I was trying to hold on and avoid having an accident but..." she looked down at her urine soaked pants, "I failed."
"Well, don't worry," said Jim, "nobody's perfect. I just wish there was some way I could help you."
"Well, maybe there is. You see, I still need to do a poopy. I've been holding on to that for the last ten minutes as well, and I don't think I can hold on any longer."
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