You may have recently gone into a public restroom and found droplets of urine on the toilet seat. Congratulations, you’ve been dominated. Dominated by me.
You see, every chance I get, I piss on the toilet seat. It’s my little way of asserting myself over other, weaker members of my species. They see my pee on that white plastic horseshoe and they know I’m in charge. Sure, they may not know exactly who did it, but that’s one of the perks of being an Alpha: I don’t need them to know. It’s enough for me that I know.
The best part about this anonymity is the sucker I just dominated can’t retaliate. By the time my deed is noticed, I’m long gone. Large and in charge, baby.
I’ve asserted myself in latrines from here to Fresno, and as far North as Buffalo. You wouldn’t believe some of the toilet seats I’ve pissed on:
- Bob’s Big Boy burger restaurant in Cleveland? Check.
- Lucky’s Roadside Diner outside Bristol? Pissed on that seat last spring.
- That steakhouse off I-80 in East Texas? Friend, I left that seat covered in piss.
- My crowning achievement is what I like to call “The Ocean,” in which I peed on toilet seats in the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand all in one day.
Yes sir, I’ve dominated poor saps all across this great nation, and I have no plans to stop anytime soon.
For years, I wondered how I could let others know I am an Alpha. How could I make sure that everyone, even total strangers, knew I was in charge?
The answer proved elusive. I became downtrodden and hopeless.
Then one day the idea hit me like a droplet of urine. Actually, it was a literal droplet of urine. I forgot to lift my commode’s seat up and accidentally peed on it. Ironically, the humiliation I felt cleaning up was the exact answer I’d been looking for—if cleaning up my own pee made me feel this low, imagine how much lower it would make a feeble weakling feel! The rest, as they say, is piss-soaked history.
You might ask, isn’t there a urinal in most public restrooms? Or, failing that, couldn’t I at least raise the seat before I use the toilet?
Absolutely, and yes, easily, are my answers to those two questions.
But here’s the thing: I don’t want to use a urinal. I don’t want to lift that piece of plastic. I want to piss on the toilet seat. I want to live my life knowing that someone, like it or not, has to clean my urine off that seat while I’m miles away. Maybe it’s a local Wendy’s employee at the end of his 14-hour shift. Maybe it’s an exhausted parent at the end of his rope whose child needs to use the commode. My personal hope is that some guy who is desperately ill is lowered to wiping my piss off the toilet seat before he can expel his demons. The thought of it brings joy to my heart.
No matter who it is, they will walk through this life having been dominated by me. As soon as they see those drops of urine, they are forever beneath me, unable to gain the high ground. I have raised myself above all others with my simple act of defiance.
Speaking of which, do you know where the bathroom is? I really gotta go.