Did you say controversial or creepy?
Browsing through the toy aisle at the local Wal-Mart at 10pm can sometimes be a fruitless enterprise. The children are rarely there at that time of night and if I do happen to see one they’re usually being supervised by a hawk-eyed parent. Occasionally I get lucky though, like last Thursday.
It was almost ten-thirty and I was ready to give up when a ten-year-old boy in a blue Batman t-shirt rounded the corner of the isle I was sharking through. I stopped and tried to look interested in a display of Yu-Gi-OH! action figures.
His sneakers squeaked down the isle towards me and I made a quick glance in his direction. An overweight slob of a mother rolled her girth into the mouth of the aisle, casting a shadow all the way down to the Ninja Turtles. She bellowed, “You meet me at the front of the store in fifteen minutes, and don’t forget to potty before we leave.”
My eyes glowed with sinister victory upon hearing these instructions.
Mama Jabba rolled onward toward the camping and fishing gear and I went back to my ruse of browsing. The little boy disinterestedly picked and pawed at toys for a few minutes. He was doing the pee-pee dance and I knew it would be a short time before the toys could no longer hold his attention over the desire to release his bladder.
Keeping my distance, I watched and followed. He slowly made his way towards the bathrooms at the back of the store, meandering from aisle to aisle. My fingers began to twitch and I could feel warmth of anticipation spreading through my groin. Every step towards the restrooms sent a tingle up my spine. I grabbed at my crotch and readjusted myself.
Finally, the little boy pushed open the door of the men’s room and hopped inside. I waited a moment and then followed.
The restroom smelled like stale urine and cheap, pink soap. The dull glow of yellow florescent lights seemed warm and it reminded me of the task at hand.
I heard the ‘zzzziiip’ of the boy undoing his pants—like a dinner bell calling me in.
I stooped down to make sure there were no pairs of shoes dangling from toilets and found, with glee, that we were alone. I stalked towards the urinals and stopped a few feet behind the young boy. He was mid-urination and apparently unaware of my presence. His ears perked up when he heard me unzip my fly and he shuffled uneasily.
Grinning, I felt the warmth increase rapidly and finally, after a week of waiting for this moment, I watched as a stream of urine left me and landed squarely on the back of the boy’s sandy-blonde head.
He froze like a frightened rabbit, confused and unsure of what to do about this strange new sensation. My stream of urine slowly made its way down his neck and began to darken the back of his blue t-shirt.
Finally, after most of his back had been covered in sour yellow liquid, he built up the courage to turn and see what was happening. The fool.
As he turned to face me I blasted him in the eyes with renewed power. He opened his mouth to scream and I pivoted my hips with expert aim and shot a stream directly down the child’s throat. I let out a tittering, high-pitched laugh. It was a good thing I drank that entire gallon jug of apple juice with dinner.
When I was finally drained of urine, I zipped up my pants and walked out of the restroom.
I left the boy standing there, dripping with urine and in total shock. He just stood there staring ahead.
On my way out of the store I couldn’t stop chuckling to myself.
“I just totally pissed all over that kid!”
It was almost ten-thirty and I was ready to give up when a ten-year-old boy in a blue Batman t-shirt rounded the corner of the isle I was sharking through. I stopped and tried to look interested in a display of Yu-Gi-OH! action figures.
His sneakers squeaked down the isle towards me and I made a quick glance in his direction. An overweight slob of a mother rolled her girth into the mouth of the aisle, casting a shadow all the way down to the Ninja Turtles. She bellowed, “You meet me at the front of the store in fifteen minutes, and don’t forget to potty before we leave.”
My eyes glowed with sinister victory upon hearing these instructions.
Mama Jabba rolled onward toward the camping and fishing gear and I went back to my ruse of browsing. The little boy disinterestedly picked and pawed at toys for a few minutes. He was doing the pee-pee dance and I knew it would be a short time before the toys could no longer hold his attention over the desire to release his bladder.
Keeping my distance, I watched and followed. He slowly made his way towards the bathrooms at the back of the store, meandering from aisle to aisle. My fingers began to twitch and I could feel warmth of anticipation spreading through my groin. Every step towards the restrooms sent a tingle up my spine. I grabbed at my crotch and readjusted myself.
Finally, the little boy pushed open the door of the men’s room and hopped inside. I waited a moment and then followed.
The restroom smelled like stale urine and cheap, pink soap. The dull glow of yellow florescent lights seemed warm and it reminded me of the task at hand.
I heard the ‘zzzziiip’ of the boy undoing his pants—like a dinner bell calling me in.
I stooped down to make sure there were no pairs of shoes dangling from toilets and found, with glee, that we were alone. I stalked towards the urinals and stopped a few feet behind the young boy. He was mid-urination and apparently unaware of my presence. His ears perked up when he heard me unzip my fly and he shuffled uneasily.
Grinning, I felt the warmth increase rapidly and finally, after a week of waiting for this moment, I watched as a stream of urine left me and landed squarely on the back of the boy’s sandy-blonde head.
He froze like a frightened rabbit, confused and unsure of what to do about this strange new sensation. My stream of urine slowly made its way down his neck and began to darken the back of his blue t-shirt.
Finally, after most of his back had been covered in sour yellow liquid, he built up the courage to turn and see what was happening. The fool.
As he turned to face me I blasted him in the eyes with renewed power. He opened his mouth to scream and I pivoted my hips with expert aim and shot a stream directly down the child’s throat. I let out a tittering, high-pitched laugh. It was a good thing I drank that entire gallon jug of apple juice with dinner.
When I was finally drained of urine, I zipped up my pants and walked out of the restroom.
I left the boy standing there, dripping with urine and in total shock. He just stood there staring ahead.
On my way out of the store I couldn’t stop chuckling to myself.
“I just totally pissed all over that kid!”
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