My Grandmother Lied to Me

📅 Published on April 8, 2021

“My Grandmother Lied to Me”

Written by N.M. Brown
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 12 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 2 votes.
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I sat at the ornately filled table with an involuntary smirk on my face as I absentmindedly fiddled with the discarded paper wrapper that had once contained my plastic straw, wasteful I know. My mind drifted to each member of the table, all family members (close and estranged alike) and friends gathered to celebrate Akira and I’s impending nuptials, before finally settling on the eldest members in attendance. My fiancé was blessed enough to still have both of her grandparents alive and healthy, while my family’s side of the table sat empty due to the fact that I had lost both of my grandparents during my teenage years. The thought crossed my mind that most of us wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t fucked and chuckled, much to Akira’s confusion. “What’s so funny?” she whispered.

The clinking of stainless steel against glass interrupted before I could answer as people began tapping their forks against the crystal clear cylinders their drinks were held in. I promptly took the hint and leaned in to kiss my bride-to-be. Her plush pink lips met mine tenderly.

That’s when it happened.

I couldn’t tell you if it was the chicken tempura, sukiyaki, or the beef tongue ramen, but something in my stomach definitely was not agreeing with me. A rumbling gurgle began low in my stomach, and there was only one direction it wanted to go, out. Despite preserving decorum, a tickle in my throat induced a cough, which was all the help it needed. My cheeks blanched as my asshole screamed in protest against what I’d eaten, smelling like the fetid breath of death itself.

Akira’s body stiffened and her eyes popped open in surprise. She didn’t seem offended, but this definitely wasn’t an ideal situation. I felt other eyes on me from around the table and felt like I had no choice but to address the brown, shitty elephant in the room.  I cleared my throat politely. “Excuse me,” I commented sheepishly, “some asshole was talking shit behind me. Moving on!” I raised my glass in a toast, desperately hoping my false charm would be enough to get me through an embarrassing situation. I’d hardly met some of the members of my fiancé’s family, I didn’t want them going back to their hotel rooms snickering about how their beloved Akira’s intended was uncouth and smelled like the inner lining of the devil’s anus. I squeezed my sweet girl’s hand as I waited to read the response of the room. Luckily chuckles hummed around the table like a domino effect and we all moved on with the rehearsal dinner.

Later on we laid in bed cuddling, discussing the events of the day and talking over wedding plans. “Your face turned four shades of red before it settled on a specific one” She giggled.

“I know,” I blanched. “I’m sorry! I’m not used to Japanese food, I loved it but it’s really doing a number on my stomach.”

She turned on her side provocatively, her brown, doe eyes taking on a bedroom glint as she absentmindedly traced a finger over my outer thigh. “You needn’t be so mortified, Eddie. It’s really not a big deal. Also… you don’t need to leave every time you have to go to the bathroom when I’m home either. Besides, it’s natural! We’re about to get married, how the hell long are you gonna be able to keep that up?” she queried.

She was right. We hadn’t even been living together for two months yet and I was already getting tired of taking the extra trips for vanity’s sake. “My family didn’t raise me that way,” I countered. “My grandmother literally told me that farts are the screams of trapped poop, and to expel them in public or even at home around food would be murderous to decorum.”

“W-Wait,” she interrupted. “She actually said that farts were the screams of trapped craps?!” Akira doubled over with fits of laughter as I wrapped my arms around her dainty torso. “Well, ya know what I think?” She raised an eyebrow impishly. “I think your Grandma was full of shit.”

My stomach gurgled audibly in response, feeling like a cold bomb of grease had just been dropped into it. The skin on my arms and legs became invaded with cold goosebumps of discomfort. It felt like two clawed hands had gripped the insides of my lower abdomen, refusing the quickly overwhelming order to expel themselves. I sat up sharply and clutched my stomach while murmuring an excuse. “Babe… I uh, I’m gonna run out and get soda real quick. Do you want anything?” I jumped to my feet and left the room before she could answer, walking as fast as my clenched asshole would allow.

A cold, tingly sweat had assaulted my entire body, causing insult to injury with a sudden onset of wretched swamp ass. I shuddered as drops of it made their way down my hair to the back of my neck. It wasn’t until a pounding resonated through my temples that I realized I’d been clenching my teeth as well. My shit strained brain relaxed my jaw as I despairingly searched for the gas station sign. My sphincter was clamped shut like a snapped bear trap, but I knew it wouldn’t hold for long. Impending rumbles resonated through my soured gut.  I knew that just one fart would bring so much relief but at the same time I didn’t dare. If I was going to walk through the front door with my lower half covered in the devil’s excrement, I may as well have just taken the lower hit on the rank of shame and shit at home.

I pulled into the closest parking spot to the entrance of the store a little faster than I’d meant to, but dirty looks from the clerk sweeping the parking lot were the least of my worries as my stomach threatened to purge itself down my legs and into the insoles of my shoes. There was no line for the restroom, thank GOD, so I ran into the nearest stall. I wrestled to release my belt with one hand as my fingers fumbled with the other to lock the door’s rusted slide latch.

Unfortunately for my pride and the attendants working this shift, the levee broke before skin met porcelain, splattering the back wall in excrement. It steamed as it hit the cool tiles of the bathroom wall and dribbled down helplessly. “Oh… my fuuuuuuuuck,” I groaned gutturally as my body hit the crescendo of its escape from my tortured stomach. It burned the outer lining of my anal flesh like acid, and just when I thought the torrent of fecal lava had ended, a sinister borborygmus assaulted my empty gut like an atom bomb, restarting the hellacious process. Sweat beads the size of nine-millimeter caliber bullets stung my eyes as they ran down my face as I prayed for it all to end… to be over soon.

I’ll spare you the details of my remaining time in the stall. Just know that I cleaned up after myself the best I could, bought the soda and vowed to have a serious talk with myself about the long-term effects of vanity on a budding yet understanding marriage on the drive home. Akira was just so goddamned beautiful. She was intelligent and exotic… completely different from a city-bred American guy like me. I questioned why she chose me as her future almost every week. If I could keep her from noticing as well, for as long as possible at least, that would be preferable.

My most sacred of places, where the sun doesn’t shine, burned with a white-hot heat. It affected my movement and especially the way I had to position my ass on the seat for the short drive back home. I was about a quarter of the way there when I saw a flicker of light moving around in the woods on the side of the road. There were no cars parked nearby, so if there was someone in there it was fair to make the assumption that they were wandering around lost and likely needed some help. So, I pulled my truck over on the dark, abandoned shoulder, left my headlights on and got out on foot to offer assistance if needed.

The flashes of light had vanished in the quickly setting sky, but the whistle of an unknown tune carried on the wind. Whoever was out here was close by, and I probably didn’t need to travel too far into the woods in order to find them. Dried leaves crunched pleasantly under my footsteps as I followed the sound. Before long a figure came into my line of vision. They were male and squatted very low to the ground, bracing himself against nearby trees with both hands. His face was red with concentration and before long I realized he was doing exactly as I had done not an hour earlier, only I had a bathroom stall to my advantage.

The man wasn’t nefarious looking in nature; he looked perfectly ordinary just like you or me. In fact, I would even go so far as to say he was plain-looking. His hair, beard and eyes were all the same dull shade of brown. As much as I hate to shame the man I have to admit that the stench was god awful and overwhelming. It felt like infinitesimal amounts of fecal matter had been carried on the wind from the man’s quivering asshole, their molecules clinging to each of my nose hairs for dear life. It left a terrible taste in my mouth, one that I’d have gratefully spat out if I wasn’t so afraid of inhaling more of the stranger’s anal invaders.

I cleared my throat and watched the man float to his feet, hitching his pants up hastily in surprise. “You should never sneak up on a man when he’s doing his business, you hear me boy?” he snarled, the veins in his face still throbbing angrily from exertion.

“I’m sorry,” I cringed, “Just so you know it’s nothing to feel embarrassed or ashamed of.”

He lifted a hand to cut me off. “Shame?! Ain’t no shame in my shit game, boy. We as a species have evolved to embrace everything artificial and reject anything that’s natural. Breast implants are shown off with pride while teary-eyed mothers are shamed for breastfeeding their children when they need to eat, shunning them to dark abandoned corners to ‘expose’ themselves in. People become shut-ins, trading physical relationships for those dependent on a screen or speaker. Companies are modifying the plants that feed us and the medications that bring us relief. Do you wanna know why we expel our bowels kid?”

I could have turned around and run; a part of me certainly had wanted to. But something in the man’s eyes and the conviction of his voice made me stay just a little longer than a sane person would have. I nodded my head dumbly, wanting to appear educated but at the same time knowing whatever answer I had to give wouldn’t be to the man’s satisfaction. “It expels toxins and rids the waste from our bodies.”

He raised a finger in the air triumphantly and stamped his left foot three times, the last of which landed in the pile of shit he’d just created. “TOXINS! That’s the word boy! You ain’t half dumb after all! Think of it in the more abstract sense. There’s so much negativity associated with the act of bodily cleansing. Everyone has such a stick up their asses about it that no one stops to think about why we do it in the first place.”

He paused, turning his back to me as if to prepare for a large monologue. “They say that man is born capable of both good and evil. However, society expects humanity to behave as if we are all of good nature. Love your neighbor as you love yourself, sharing is caring, recycle…all that shit, kid. So… what about the evil? Where does that part of us go? Does it just die off like an unchosen path of a road? Or does it lay dormant, consuming our bodies and souls until we have no choice but to release it a little at a time? You ever heard of a shit demon, kid?”

Well, at that point to me it was official. This man was a grade-A whacko. However, I had stayed this long, and apparently the lessons of politeness and social etiquette instilled in me from childhood were stronger than the stranger-danger speech I must have received at some point. “Y-you mean like in Dogma? The movie?” I stammered.

His eyes scanned my face and body wildly, like a methed-out Doc Brown. However sadly, I was sure this man wasn’t on anything. His body language was too still and he spoke too well, all assumptions of course. And you know what they say about those. “What?!” He barked incredulously. “No. However, they weren’t too far off. There ain’t no walking and talking lump of shit coming from the days of Christ. But the moral of the story is the same result. We release our evil through our backsides!”

Alright, this was now beginning to lose entertainment value. My ass still ached viciously and seemed the throb with every heartbeat. I just wanted to go home and sit on a damn bag of frozen peas. However, like the idiot that I am, I urged him to continue. “So… the shit demon?”

“Toilet demons, dammit! Ain’tcha been listenin’ to a word I’ve said? Little tiny cries of evil just itching to get out. Don’tcha ever wonder why you always break wind first before unleashing your waste?” I was again reminded of what my grandmother had said during my childhood and murmured the words aloud, “farts are the screams of trapped poop?”

“Naw,” he waved his hands at me disgustedly, as if I couldn’t possibly attain his level of intelligence on the matter. “They serve as a warning kid, a signal for the Kawaya no Kami to stay the hell away.”

“The what?!” I shrieked, desperately wishing this odd encounter would end.

“You heard what I said. Back before the days of modern man, a goddess named Izanami exiled to the sky, fatally crashing down here to Earth. She plummeted from the Heavens in the black of night, glowing like a shooting star as her body burned upon reentry. Izanami’s body died on impact, causing her bowels to release. From that encounter, a demon was born named Kawaya no Kami. It longs to be human and wants to feed on any form of humanity that it can. He was banned to the underworld, only being granted access to the mortal realm through our toilets and sewer systems. Fortunately for him, the act of defecation is when man is most vulnerable and ill-prepared for attack. It’s said that the blast of your fart against the acoustics of the toilet accompanied with the smell of the act keeps him far enough at bay for you to avoid harm. If you don’t however, you will be prodded with a spear so sharp, it will slice through your scrotal sack like a warm knife through cold butter. The women supposedly get the worst of it.”

The man suddenly swooped down and swiped the area that I’d originally found him squatting over with three fingers before making the sign of the cross on his forehead.  A shitter version of Charles Manson came to mind, but all thoughts were cast aside as he started to walk closer, his hand raised high in the moonlight ceremoniously. Undigested bits of orange pulp and slop-covered bits of corn glistened in the quickly setting sun as they dripped from between his fingers, each drop emitting the fresh stench of Hades as it hit the ground. Bile rose in the back of my throat, forcing me to inhale a breath to swallow it back down, one that I instantly regretted.

I began to back away, not daring to take my eyes off of him. “That’s the craziest goddamned thing I have ever heard in my life. You can get the fuck away from me now.” My feet bumbled over roots and stones as I hastily made my way back to my vehicle. My hands shook as I started the car, rattling the keys melodically. He stood, illuminated in red like a demon in the glow of my tail lights as I sped away.  I’d been around the block a time or two but this experience was one for the fucking books.

I was more than discouraged to find myself injured after the great gas station bowel dump of 2021. A small pocket of skin protruded from the side of my rectum, becoming more agonizing by the day. It made it excruciating to go to the bathroom, and upon further investigation, I was mortified to discover I’d gotten my first hemorrhoid. I tried various treatments, medications and home remedies to ease my pain and discomfort. Hell, I even went to the Emergency Room for it, only for them to tell me to push it back inside of myself… as if that was even possible without blinding pain.

It began to affect everything. I was always a sleep farter, and each involuntary release of gas caused enough pain to wake me from a sound sleep each and every night. I began to eat less hoping that if I ate less I would have to shit less.  Before long I just started to refuse the urge altogether. And you could forget it as far as any intimacy was concerned. Thank God that Akira had convinced me that we should celebrate the month before our wedding in order to make our wedding night more impactful, so that wasn’t much of an issue.

It had been five days since I had last had a successful sit down on the toilet. Five days of gut knots, head sweats and anal twinges. When I tried to go, nothing happened. I’d pushed until my ass bled with no result. And what was more, I was becoming consumed with sheer and utter panic in each waking moment of my day. What if I wouldn’t ever be able to poop again? What if I strained too hard and popped a vein, causing me to bleed out on the toilet and die? What would Akira think if she found me dead, covered in shit on our bathroom floor? Each question branched into a myriad of others, weighing on my soul heavily. My next doctor’s appointment was in eight days, laxatives had done nothing, and I couldn’t bring myself to go to the Emergency Room again for this.

This next part is going to be rough, but it’s necessary. I need to tell you everything so you understand the severity of things… so you don’t blow it off like I did.

Like a lot of households since the start of the non-literal shitstorm that was called 2020, I was lucky enough to have a surplus of rubber gloves on hand. My mouth tasted like a cherry malted nightmare from the Dulcolax I’d just chugged as I propped my feet on phone books I’d lain on the floor in preparation for what I had to do. Vanity be damned. She wanted me to shit at home, and believe me… at the time it was one of the things I wanted most in the World.

Bracing myself partially against the wall next to me, I leaned to the side, reached up inside and tried to… erm, dislodge some of the obstruction. I coaxed two fingers around the lump of shit I felt that had been stuck at the point of exit for the past five days and pushed with dear might. Nothing… not so much as a popcorn fart.

Grimacing and beyond mortified, I reached in a little further and grabbed a chunk off of the end. I threw it into the toilet after a vague inspection, everyone does it. The moment I went to pull my hand up, a searing pain radiated through it. The bowl began to fill with a deep crimson as I brought my hand back to my line of vision. A single deep gouge was cut into my hand between my second and third metacarpal. A new, stabbing pain spread through my left buttock and hip as more blood pooled into the toilet.

* * * * * *

The last thing I remembered before waking up in a pile of blood and my own shit, was peering behind me into the toilet and seeing a small, razor-sharp spear disappear into the cylindrical opening at the bottom of the bowl before dropping to my knees from the worst pain I’d ever experienced in all of my lifetime.

I now understand every single word of what the man said, also why he preferred to do his business in the woods. What he didn’t mention though, was the deep rumble of laughter echoing throughout the toilet just before the second jab. I hear it when I’m awake and also in my dreams as well as nightmares. I’m terrified of my bathroom now. In fact, I’ve moved out of the master bedroom and into the guest room with Akira. She doesn’t understand why. But as long as we’re safe, she doesn’t need to.

Rating: 10.00/10. From 2 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by N.M. Brown
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: N.M. Brown


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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