This happened a couple weeks ago. (Or was it the week before? Nevermind). Charles and I went to pay Ayamas a visit. That poor guy’s apartment got burglarized a week earlier, and Charles was to bring him some state-of-the-art locks for him to beef up his home security. But at the time we arrived, Ayamas told us that he had to go out to attend a neighborhood community meeting or something, and we had to hang out all by ourselves inside his pad until he returns.
And hang out we did. We chatted, fiddled with his magazines, and even helped ourselves with his beers… you know, just to kill some time until he returns. A scant moment through the waiting, the beer got through my kidney filters and made its way to my bladder. I felt a wee tad of urge, wasn’t a critical one, but I decided to answer the call anyway… since I had nothing to do there. So I set out to his toilet to contribute something to the nature.
As I was about to pee, I thought of sparing myself some decency by closing the door and locked it. Like, it sure wouldn’t be nice to relieve myself at somebody’s house flailing my dick around without closing the toilet door. What if a shapeshifter relative of his were to suddenly barge into the toilet for emergency and plowed into my ass? It would be a disaster. I can imagine myself lying unconscious on the floor with pee still gushing out of my dick, while the middle aged rhino has her head wedged in between my ass with shit all over the floor. Mannnnn…
So, with the door locked, I could be sure that I was fended off from such potential embarrassing situation.
Anyway, after I did my thing, I unlocked the door and tried to push it open… nothing happened. Well, I thought maybe I didn’t unlock it properly, so I slid the lock button again and pushed the door – same result. Alright, maybe I was careless – I thought, I might have LOCKED the door instead of unlocking it, so I tried the other position of the lock button and pushed, to no avail. I repeatedly flipped the lock button and resorted to shake the damn door, but it just wouldn’t budge. Then it dawned on me that the unthinkable had happened – I WAS TRAPPED INSIDE AYAMAS’ FUCKING TOILET!
Just as I was about to set myself into the panic mode and scream, suddenly, my survivor instinct kicked in and got reminded of the little rectangular buzz box inside my pocket – my cellphone! No I didn’t call the fire brigade, but Charles’ number instead. It got through… but he didn’t answer his phone. He thought that I might have accidentally dialed his number, since it would be ridiculous for me to call him when we’re inside the same house. So, he kinda yelled out loud from the living room – “Hey, you calling my number?” and walked towards the cursed toilet and found out about the whole blooper.
As expected, that easily amused jackass had a good laugh at me before he undertook the rescue mission. (friends…) It took us 5 minutes worth of banging and prying, before we managed to loosen the jammed latch off the door frame… and finally got me out to see the light again, all in one piece. Thank god. Freedom couldn’t have smelt any better (literally).
We never spoke of that incident after that day.