[WP] You go into a public restroom, enter the stall and sit on the toilet. Halfway into your business, you hear someone enter the restroom and lock the door behind them.

As every new transgirl knows, you have your good days and your bad days.
Some days you seem to pass almost perfectly; never getting called 'sir' or 'mister' and not getting too many odd looks or stares. But on bad days... well, they're bad days. You can probably figure out what happens on those days.
Today had been a good day so far. I'd been out shopping a little, got some new books, bought some perfume, found a pair of shoes I liked and put them on layby. I'd only had one 'sir' so far - from my regular bus driver who seemed to take it as a point of pride to always misgender me - and I was feeling relatively confident about how I was passing. I'd been working on my voice and my posture, watching youtube tutorials on make up and my hair was growing out pretty nicely now.
So it wasn't unreasonable of me to assume that I could use the women's restroom at the foodcourt without incident.
I'd gone inside, trying to appear like I belonged.
Scratch that, I did belong. It was a woman's restroom and I am a goddamn woman - if nothing else, I've earned the title for all the abuse I've suffered in public, at work and from my family.
I'd always been surprised by the mundanity of going into the women's restrooms. Fiction and myth has alway made them out to be somthing practically mystical, but the reality is hilariously plain; it's just a place to shit, piss and change your pad/tampon (if you're the menstruating kind of woman). That people get so worked up about people like me in there is laughable - it isn't some mystic sanctuary that bars men from entering; let's face facts here, if some creepy motherfucker wanted to go in the women's restrooms, he'd dress up in a janitor's outfit, not a skirt and heels.
Or worse, I thought, as I turned the lock and sat down on the seat, he'd just walk right in.
It wasn't as though there was anything stopping them.
That's when the main door to the restroom clunked as someone popped it off the hook and pushed it close with a click and a chock! as the bolt slid home.
Fuck.
I was in the stall second from the end, in a row of ten. I heard heavy footsteps squeak across the linoleum, then pause.
BANG!
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out someone had kicked the first stall door open.
Oh god. Shit. Fuck.
I knew what was happening; this was my worst fear made reality - someone had followed me into the toilets after figuring out I was trans and they were going to beat the shit out of me.
Paralysed, I didn't know what to do. If I moved, they would hear me and come straight to my stall.
If I stayed still, they would eventually find me, but with my knickers around my ankles and my skirt hiked around my waist.
BANG!
Another door crashed open.
BANG!
I was running out of time.
Fuck it. One thing about us trans girls is that we don't lack courage. If we didn't have that in spades, we would never have transitioned.
I pulled my underpants up and yanked my skirt down as I stood, my heart was hammering so hard I felt like I was going to pass out and adrenaline made my entire body shake. I gasped in a breath and yelled out in a shrill challenge,
"Over here, motherfucker, second stall from the end."

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