In honor of Halloween, I thought I would share with you something horrendous that happened to me some time ago. I present to you my debut short story that will surely win me a Pulitzer or something.

Manual Stopping

A short Story by FernGully.

I hate using a public restroom. It is the worst feeling in the world to pee in front of strangers. Even when you are alone, the fear that someone will walk in haunts me. I would rather hold in my own urine if a restroom is occupied by more than two people, and even then I walk away. However, during the summer months, the bathrooms at my university are unoccupied and I always feel better urinating without fear of being walked in on.
“I can pee in private” I told myself, and a smile came across my face. I prepared myself by placing my tablet at my desk, grabbing my work keys and proceeded to walk to the bathroom that was merely ten feet away.
As I walked into the bathroom, I realized something else… I could use a urinal instead of a stall. Why was I so happy to use a urinal instead of hiding within a stall you might ask? Again, I was alone, and the thought of peeing without being seen was glorious. I took the opportunity to position myself in front of the urinal and unzipped my pants. I felt liberated. It was as if a breeze blew gently across my genitals that I knew I was at peace peeing in a public restroom. No wonder so many guys like to pee in public. It was truly a feeling of freedom.
The freedom I had left immediately when I started to release my liquid waste. A spider appeared on the tile floor suddenly and proceeded to come towards me. I couldn’t understand why… why me? Why was my first true moment of peace being soiled by this horrible turn of events? I lifted my right leg off the ground to make sure the spider did not crawl onto me. It diverted its attention to my left leg, to which I progressed to lift said left leg up in the air. I continued to left each opposing leg off the ground as the sociopath on eight legs taunted me and made me its puppet.

It was the size of a dime, but fuck you... this is how I saw it!youtube.com

It was the size of a dime, but fuck you… this is how I saw it!

“Dance fat boy… dance!” I could easily hear him say to me as I terrifyingly lifted each leg. The worst part is I was still urinating… but no longer out of pleasure from releasing my waste, but from terror. I had to get away from this truly horrible tiny death. My only solace was the stall, unoccupied from other humans. Do I leave in mid-stream, to run in fear from a sadist beneath me?
I decided that it was now or never. There was one thing though; I was still in need of urinating. I had to do the worst thing imaginable. I had to manually stop myself from peeing. I couldn’t think of the way it would feel, as if a strong current of the lake pushing against a newly created dam. I gave in and fought through the pain. With my butt feeling the same gentle breeze that caused me peace, I waddled my way to the stall, penis in hand and attempted to close the stall door. I had finally escaped my captor.
Before I could celebrate, I saw the shadow of my enemy. It knew I was there, waiting behind the door. It could smell the fear leaving my body (luckily there wasn’t a physical representation of my fear; that would truly be embarrassing). I contemplated death by suicide at that moment. I didn’t want him to take me alive, and death seemed best compared to the trauma of being held for ransom by a spider. What do I do? Where can I go? It had me trapped on the other side of the restroom, the one space I truly never wanted to be in, and I knew… this is where I would die.

There's no way this can accurately show how scared I was, but it's good enough.flickr.com

There’s no way this can accurately show how scared I was, but it’s good enough.

Suddenly, I saw it. It was coming for me. I didn’t think of the fact the stall door was two feet above the floor and it was capable of barging its way within my tiny cell. Without reservation it came closer, faster and faster until I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t move. The spider started to come for my legs again, its best way to get closer to my head, and then to my brain. I squalled in horror and began to lift my legs on opposing steps to keep it away from me… penis in hand, my buttocks bare against the tile walls. I didn’t want to die like this.
I didn’t have to. It was dead. In my fit of scared flailing, I realized I had stepped on the creature that caused me pain. I soon realized it was the size of a penny and flat, as if it was a cut-out from a child’s drawing.
I was finally free to pee.

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