by kinkytim
Biker Bar Toilet #1
It was dark. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark interior of this Biker Bar. I didn't see a sign advertising its name outside - indeed, the place was quite old, the typical Florida cement block style building. It was not well painted or well kept. It was not in the good part of town. But it had plenty of parking for motorcycles, so I guess that was the main draw.
My buddy on the internet told me about this place. He said the routine was simple. I go in, and ask for "Frank". It's a code-phrase, and it will let them know exactly why I'm there. I was also told to bring plenty of money, at least $100 in cash. They would tell me the routine and then set me up.
I couldn't see much of the place. It was early afternoon, and the place wasn't busy. The place smelled of old smoke, and there was a distinct smell of piss in the air too from somewhere. In one corner, there was a biker woman, possibly a whore or something, playing video poker. I didn't want to look too close.
I walked up to the bar, trying to be casual about it. On reflection, I think that made me look like I didn't belong all the more. The bartender looked at me and said, "So, what do you want?" It wasn't really a very friendly greeting, but I don't think he cared.
"Um, a beer." I was nervous, and didn't want to say the name "Frank" right off the bat. "Id", he said. I hadn't been carded in ages. I nervously handed my driver's license to him.
He was a good looking man, a biker with a belly, big black beard, and a pierced nose. The kind you picture as a pirate. He frowned, saying "Hmm, better check this one". He walked into the back office. I heard him talking on the phone.
I studied the place a bit more. The bathrooms were off to one side, but sorta near the front of the place, hidden from the front door, was a wooden stall door marked "TOILET" that led to a small alcove built out of cinderblocks. I suspected that was the place.
The bartender came back, handed me back my license. He poured me a beer and gave it to me. I decided to be brave. "So, is Frank working today?"
He sneered, "No Frank working here, faggot. But if you got the money, you can start working here tonight."
I was caught completely off-guard. I stammered, "Um, yeah, how much was it again?"
"Tonight's a weeknight, so it's only $50", he said. "And make sure you address me as Boss."
I fumbled in my wallet and gave him a fresh $50 bill. "Ok, you need to be back here at 8. Knock on the back door. I'll let you in, and you need to get naked. I'll put a collar on you and a blindfold. I'll then take you and lock you under the toilet seat. You won't be allowed to get up until we close. You will need to eat shit and drink piss from anyone who gives it to you. You're not to turn down anyone. Your balls will be connected to a pull string - if they want to make you flush, they'll pull on your balls. I don't want to hear any sissy crying, otherwise I'll have one of the bouncers knock you out. Any questions?"
I was amazed. This place WAS for real. "Um, no Boss".
"Ok, faggot, see you at 8.", he took the beer back, obviously meaning for me to leave.
I stepped out of the place, and checked my watch. 6 hours to go. I went home, and wanted to jerk off, thinking about what I was going to experience. But I decided to hold my nut until later. I ate a very light dinner, only because I've found when I eat shit on an empty stomach, I turn green. I had a few saltine crackers, and was set to go.
Exactly at 8, I parked and went to the back door. I knocked, and the door swung open. I stepped in, ending my freedom.
The bartender, "Boss", was there. He waited as I stripped my clothes off, and then he took them and locked them away in the safe in the back. He put a leather collar on me and locked it in place. He then blindfolded me with a black bandana and tied a rope around my balls. He pulled on the rope, grunting "This way".
I could actually see out of the blindfold a bit. I walked back into the main bar. There were some rough looking men there, shooting a game of pool. They looked at me, and I could see their grins of pure malice. Boss led me to the door with TOILET written on it, opened the door, and led me inside. He turned on a red light bulb from somewhere overhead.
The stall was made entirely of concrete blocks, bulit almost like a throne. A wooden toilet seat sat on top of the largest section of blocks. He had me lay down, my face under the toilet seat - only about 3 inches from the seat itself. I could tell I was going to have my face up against some of the guy's asses if they wanted it that way. Boss wrapped a couple chains around my hands, arms and legs, and padlocked them into place. I couldn't tell, but somehow they were connected to the blocks. I would not be moving much tonight.
The boss swung the door shut, and I was alone. I tested my bonds, and they were secure. I wouldn't have any choice but to serve as a toilet.
At least I could see a little. I could feel that my ass was positioned right over a drain of some sort - probably for easier cleanup, in case I shit or piss myself during the night. I could also see my ball-rope was draped over the toilet seat, probably for easy access.
The door swung open, and I could hear someone come in. It was both of the guys at the pool table. The first one said "See, Rick, this guy will really be your toilet.". The second one said, "Damn, Jim, I can't believe anyone would do that."
Jim, the first one, had dirty blond hair, a short, messy beard, and bright blue eyes. He was well tanned, as most people in West Palm Beach, and looked like he did construction. I could see at least one tattoo on his left shoulder, but I couldn't tell what the image was.
Rick, the second guy, was younger, had a red bandana covering up a buzz black haircut, and a solid black mustache. He also was tanned, with black eyes, and looked a bit less blue-collar, but still quite butch.
Jim said, "Here, watch. Faggot, lick my boot!". He placed his boot on my face, and began to grind it into my mouth. I dutifully opened my mouth, and began licking his boot tread clean.
"Damn, the faggot is licking your boot, man!" Rick just couldn't seem to believe it. For that matter, I couldn't believe how good this was. I was getting rock hard.
Jim said, "See, the fag gets into it. See his tiny cock getting hard there? He loves it. Bill makes them pay to do this". So the bartender was named Bill, or so I guessed.
Rick said, "Well, shit, I gotta take a leak."
I felt a pain on my nuts. Jim said, "Hear that faggot, time to drink." He was tugging on the rope around my balls. He removed his boot, and I looked up. I could see Rick standing above me, with his cock out aimed at my mouth. The piss began to flow.
I opened my mouth and drank as fast as I could. Jim seemed to like the rope, as he kept yanking on my balls, shouting "Drink faggot!!" over and over again. Rick had a nice cock, and how I wish I could suck it off, but I wasn't there for that purpose tonight - I was there to be a toilet. Maybe I would see him at one of the adult bookstores sometime.
Rick finished up his piss, and Jim dropped the rope. Jim then leaned over and spit into my face. Rick laughed, and he did the same. The two of them walked out of the stall together, leaving me alone in the red-lit toilet.
Biker Bar Toilet #2
A couple hours passed. The piss on my face had long since dried, and I was actually getting pretty thirsty. I listed to the droning noise of Metallica, and could hear by the noise of people talking that the crowd had definitely picked up. Smoke hung in the air, quite thick. All I could see was the underside of the rimseat, and the glowing red light from somewhere above. I closed my eyes in spite of myself, drifting off.
The door to the stall swung open with a bang, as did my eyes. Someone was there, ready to use me. The toilet seat was shut, so I couldn't really see who. My dick sprang to attention, though.
I heard the mysterious stranger circle me. He put his boot on my cock, lightly kicking my balls. My erection came to full attention. I heard a snicker. He took the rope that was tied to my balls and pulled on it some, exposing my naked balls for him to see. Then I felt him pull the rope down, towards the ground, and away from my body. My balls were now resting on the hard floor. I felt a boot on my balls. It began to press down, getting my attention. I winced in spite of myself.
"Tell me your name". His voice was whisper soft, but had a deep rumbling quality to it. I actually had to strain to hear the words over the loud music.
"Tell me your name, toilet" he said again. He pressed more firmly on my balls with his boot.
"Um, Tim Sir" I said softly. I wasn't quite sure what he was going to do to me, and a brief wave of panic ran through me as I realized I was chained up in a biker bar, serving as a faggot toilet, and could get hurt if I wasn't careful - and maybe even if I was.
"You ever done this before, Tim"? I was surprised he was actually talking to me.
"No, Sir" I replied. "I mean, I have always wanted to, but... "
He pushed down with his boot on my balls a bit more. "Shhh. You talk too much. I know some fags need to be a toilet. I've used guys as toilets since I was 9 years old." He moved his foot from my balls, and his voice got closer. I think he was standing right in front of the toilet seat now, and talking to me through it. "Tell me, is it a need to do something taboo, or a need to experience filth, or a desire for humiliation?"
I thought about it. "I guess it's mainly a need for humiliation. For someone to degrade me." I replied. I was going to say more, but I remembered he didn't want me to talk too much.
"Ok." he said. I heard him move again, and then silence for a moment. Suddenly, I felt something warm on my cock - it was his piss. He was pissing on my hard cock! It felt so good, but also sort of degrading. Nonetheless, my cock danced and twiched, the hardon pulsing with the stream of urine he sprayed on it.
He finished his piss stream, and I heard him zip up. "I'll be back to use you later. You got potential. When I come back, you'll learn what it means to serve Butch". Was that his name? With that, the door banged open and he left.
Another few minutes passed. The door flung open again, and a guy lifted up the toilet seat, staring into my face. He had a long, rugged black beard, with just a bit of gray. He was probably early 40's, and very rough looking. His face was tanned from outdoor work and had a strong square jaw. He looked like a convict on leave.
"Damn, what do we got here! A fucking faggot!" He said it loud enough for the people outside the stall to hear it. "The faggot looks hungry, I bet he wants to eat some shit!"
From somewhere outside the stall, I heard some guy shout "Then go ahead and feed him, Ox!" This guy definitely looked like someone who would be named Ox.
He laughed hard, and then belched. He turned around, and my dick got rock hard again.
I saw the seat of his jeans as he undid his belt buckle. He lowered the jeans, and I saw his ass. It was a big ass, very hairy, and definitely smelled strong. "I'm gonna feed him!" he shouted to the guys outside the stall.
The door to the stall opened, and I could see the light from the outer bar area. Several shadows fell across my face as people gathered outside the opened stall door. The music became quiet as I had the sensation of many people staring at me. I couldn't believe it - these guys were all going to watch Ox feed me!
Ox lowered his ass onto the seat, and positioned his hole right over my nose and mouth. He grunted, and farted loudly, right into my face! It was a nasty, wet fart, that lasted for about 5 seconds. I felt his assjuice spray on my face and nose. The stench was horrible - this man was full of some of the nastiest, raunchiest shit I ever encountered. I'm a pig, but I knew this was going to be a challenge.
I heard a few people at the door say "Damn that stinks! What the hell climbed up inside you and died, Ox?" I heard another say "I bet $5 that the faggot doesn't eat it all." Another answered him saying "He doesn't have a choice, he has to eat it." Then I heard Butch say, "I take that bet - I bet you he swallows it all, and does it in less than 2 minutes." The first guy said "Hell, one of Ox's shits? No way he'll eat it that fast!, you got a bet!"
Something strange happened to me then. I felt a desire to please Butch, a very strong desire. Was this the first stage of Butch starting to own me? I didn't know, but I was going to make sure not to disappoint him.
He released another fart, and shouted it "It's coming!". I felt a tug on my balls as Ox pulled hard on the rope used for flushing. My mouth opened wide with a cry. People laughed.
I had about 3 inches of clearance between Ox's hole and my mouth. I could see his hole begin to expand. His ass smelled wonderful and nasty at the same time, in that paradoxical way that pigs react to shit. His asshairs brushed my nose lightly. I opened my mouth wide, waiting for it.
It emerged, an end of what looked to be a large, firmly packed turd. It slid out slowly, while I listed to Ox grunt above me. People were starting to shout "USE THE TOILET! USE THE TOILET!". I felt like such a spectacle, so low, so humiliated, but my cock was rock hard, because this is what I lived to do.
His turd suddenly picked up speed, and slid directly into my mouth. I opened wide, moving my tongue out of the way, and began to expand my cheeks, giving his turd lots of room to fill my mouth. I heard someone say "He's eating it!", and there was a loud cheer, and people began to clap. Someone started calling out times "5 seconds...10 seconds". My mouth swallowed the turd as fast as I could. I had the enjoyable sensation of staring at one part of the turd emerging from Ox's asshole while I gulped to swallow the end that had already entered my mouth. I began to chew and chomp at the turd, trying my best to get it down. He pulled on my balls again, and my mouth opened wide, forcing a large part of the turd down my throat against my will, before I was ready for it. This was one nasty, rotten turd, one that would normally take me some time to eat. I felt queasy, and felt an urge to gag.
From somewhere, I heard Butch say "Don't disappoint me, Tim". I came to my senses, and got my gag reflex under control. I began to eat for all I was worth. I felt my stomach begin to bloat, as a huge turd began to fill it. I felt so full - It was like trying to eat a large spaghetti dinner all at once, without stopping. His ass somehow seemed to sink lower, to where his hole was resting on my lips. I kept eating, and sucking his turds down. It was starting to get mushy now, indicating I was probably near the end. Man, it was so rank.
With a final fart, the shit was over. Everyone cheered again. Someone announced the time "One minute, 45 seconds, a new record!" And with that, I heard Butch say "Looks like he's a natural shiteater. Pay me that $5", and his buddy rustled some money out of his pocket and handed it over. Ox let me lick him clean, stood up, spit into my face, and closed the toilet lid.
"You're one sick faggot", he said. And the door banged shut and he was gone.
I could hear the music crank up again outside. I lay there, shit still packed between my teeth. I could taste Ox all inside of me, and still felt kinda queasy. But my belly slowly digested his shit, and the bloated feeling began to fade. I could feel some shit on my face and chin - one can't eat a shit like that without making some mess. But I felt a sense of pride. Pride that I served as a toilet, pride that I ate it all and kept it down, and pride that I did it for Butch.
Damn, I wish I wasn't chained up - I needed to whack off.
Biker Bar Toilet #3
The bar was closing. I had spent the last 6 hours chained up in the bar's public bathroom, drinking any piss given to me, and eating a couple loads of shit. These bikers liked watching me being used - they always threw the door open and gathered to watch whenever a biker came in and yelled "I'm gonna take a shit, who wants to watch me feed the faggot".
The night was winding down. Fewer and fewer people were coming in. The heavy metal 80's music was now playing on the jutebox, a clear sign things were coming to an end.
I took a moment to regard myself. The light was dim, and I was chained up so I couldn't move my head much or my arms. Another chain connected to my balls and was strung up over a pole above me, allowing the man using the toilet to yank on my balls to make me open wider and swallow. I could see my belly was quite full, I could see it unusually full, like a man who ate two helpings too many at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I couldn't smell the shit anymore, but I could feel the dry crusty bits of shit in my beard, and my mouth was dry and I could still feel bits of shit stuck in my teeth. I felt totally humiliated and spent, but I also enjoyed it. My cock was rock hard still. It has been since "Boss", the bartender, had chained me up at 8pm.
The door opened a few more times. Guys came in to piss their last beers on me - all in my face, or on my cock, or anywhere on my body. I was soaking wet with biker piss, and the air was cooler at this point so I was actually trembling a little from the piss drying on me. A couple bikers laughed at that, and spit on me in a few places to keep me warm.
Finally, the music was shut off. I heard the door bang shut, and it got quiet. The lights were shut off, and I was in darkness.
Damn, I hope they didn't forget about me. I had things to do tomorrow, places to go, had to visit family. I had to get home, get cleaned up. I couldn't stay here overnight.
Fortunately, my fears were unjustified. The door banged open again, and I heard a couple people come into the bar. Boss, the bartender, was talking. "Nice to see you, Joe. Here's your hush money. Thanks for not busting anything tonight - we had a wild one."
"No problem" spoke a voice I didn't know. It was low, rumbling, and had a slight Brooklyn accent. "Anybody get hurt?"
"Nah", said Boss. I had discovered his real name was Bill. "We got a faggot in there who got his balls busted a few times, but he won't talk."
"Oh yeah?" said the one named Joe. "Well, if he won't make a mess of my uniform, I gotta take a massive crap".
Wow, was this Joe a police officer? It made sense. A real cop, and he wanted to use me as a toilet.
"Best to take the pants off then, leave them outside. Don't worry, it's dark in here, he won't be able to see your face."
I heard a zipper, and the sound of pants being dropped. The door to the toilet opened, and I could sense someone come in, even though I couldn't see anything. I saw dark motorcycle cop boots move to either side of my head, but that was about it. He lifted the toilet seat.
Suddenly, a sharp bright light shined directly in my face. His flashlight was so bright, I couldn't actually see anything. "Damn," Joe said. "How much did this faggot pay you to get this way, Bill?"
"The standard, $50." replied Bill from somewhere else in the bar.
"Fuck, I can't believe how low faggots will go sometimes." He shined the light down to my cock. "Damn, and he's still rock hard. Most of your fags get soft over the night. He really needs this kinda treatment, doesn't he?"
"Yep, heard a lot of the bikers liked him, said he did a good job." said Bill. I felt real proud for a moment. "He'll be coming back. He also looked good on film - we'll get good money from the tapes".
I felt a sense of panic. I didn't know I was being taped. My god, what had they seen? Where was the camera? I looked around, but couldn't see anything. What if people I knew saw the tape? MY family or friends? How much did they know about me?
"Tape is off now, right?" asked Joe.
"Yep, you can crap in freedom, Joe".
The light turned off, but I felt Joe lower himself - all I really could see was his ass. He took the chain that was attached to my balls, and yanked it a little. My mouth opened instinctively, and his shit hole descended, directly resting on my lips.
He grunted, farted a fast but stinking fart, and then grunted again. I pushed my tongue to his cop shithole, and licked. "Damn... I need to do this more often." said Joe. "He's got a nice tongue".
He grunted again, and I felt his asslips part. A nice, hard turd tip emerged. I was fucking eating this cops shit. This was fucking heaven. He yanked on my ball chain, and my cock got harder.
His turd descended suddenly, filling my mouth from the back of my throat to the top of my lips. I tried to chew, but really couldn't, so I just bit the turd off at the base, and the entire thing slid directly down my throat. More of his massive turd filled into my mouth, slower this time, but it was a bit softer, and expanded to fill my cheeks as it poured in, like soft scoop ice cream. "Ahh, man, that's relief. He takes it all too, no gagging, no fuss".
"Glad you like him Joe. Be happy to let you know next time he's eating."
I gulped down the soft turds that had pooled up in my mouth. His shit was very strong flavored, with a texture that let me notice bits of corn kernels in the mix, along with maybe some nuts or something. I swallowed it, and he blew another fart down my throat. One last turd was blasted into my mouth, propelled by his fart, it went down so fast I didn't even have time to think about swallowing.
He sat there for a moment. I could hear Bill somewhere else in the bar cleaning up, moving glasses around. He said "You like that, faggot, don't you?" I could feel the chain on my balls tighten, and then I felt something touching them. It was hard, cold - it was his night stick. He started bouncing it against my balls and cock.
He lifted his ass a little, just so I could talk. "What's your name, faggot? he demanded.
"It's Tim SIR", I replied.
"What's your address, faggot?" he asked.
I gulped, wasn't sure I wanted him to know my address. He smacked my balls hard!
"Answer faggot, or it gets worse!"
I told him my address, and he resumed his gentle beating of my balls. I was starting to feel like I might cum.
"I got buddies," he said, in a quiet voice, "who would enjoy using a faggot like you. I'm a cop, as you guessed, and we got wifes and girlfriends. But they won't let us really abuse them, or they'll file a complaint with internal. We need to release when we get off duty, and we do that best by humiliating a faggot like you. You'd have to be blindfolded, at least at first, and do anything we tell you to. If not, we can really fuck up your life, and I don't think you want that, do you?"
"No SIR, I wouldn't." I replied, telling the truth.
"Would you want to get used like this? Once you start, there's no real way out, understand? You become a thing to be used until we get tired of you, or find a female slut we can use instead of you. You willing to do this?"
I thought about it. It was a little scary, what he offered, but man, my cock was getting harder and harder thinking about it. As he tapped rhymically with his nightstick, I couldn't hold it back any longer. Strands of cum started shooting out of my cock, covering my dirty piss soaked chest.
"I think that answers that question", Joe said with a laugh. "I felt him take out something from his shirt pocket - it looked like a notepad. "What's your phone number, faggot".
I gasped, recovering my breath from the intense orgasm. I told him in between breaths. He said "Good job faggot. I look forward to seeing you soon. I'll call in a couple days. We'll talk about it in more depth then. In the meantime, get yourself a good blindfold."
He stood up, took his boot, and rubbed it in the puddle of my cum. His bright flashlight came on again in my face, and he put the boot to my tongue. I dutifully licked my cum off his boot.
"Good faggot you got there Bill", shouted out Joe. I heard him exit the toilet and zip his pants back on.
"Yeah, I'm gonna let him out the back", said Bill. "Make sure no cops around for the next hour?"
"Sure Bill." replied Joe.
Damn, this was getting better. Being a shit eater was really starting to change my life.
Biker Bar Toilet #4
It was late. The bar had closed over an hour ago. Right after closing, a cop stopped by, a friend of the bartender Bill (who I have been told to call "Boss"). He fed me his shit before leaving, and promised more than I could handle down the road. I was hard as I smacked my lips, tasting his drying shit on my lips.
I was also pretty tired. I'd been chained up in a cold bathroom for the past 8 hours, mouth opened most of the time chewing or drinking. My belly was full, my mouth was nasty as can be, and I just wanted to go to sleep. I closed my eyes, and started to drift off.
I woke up to something wet splashing my face. Bill had come in, and was pissing directly into my face. "Wake up, faggot, you ain't done!" he said, as he continued to piss. I opened my mouth, grateful for something wet in my mouth again. My eyes stung from his sharp piss in my face, but I tried to keep them open. He had a great looking cock, and was sneering at me as his piss continued to shower my face. After about 2 minutes or so, he finally finished.
He began to unchain me - my cock and balls were unchained first (from the wall, he didn't touch my cock), and then he unchained the side chains keeping my arms sticking straight out. I pulled my arms together, stretching. He stepped out of the bathroom, then rolled in a metal bucket with a mop.
"You need to mop down the floor - get it all clean. Hose is here, fill it up and clean the floors. You got an hours."
"Um, Boss", I began. "I'm really tired and I..."
"Let's put it this way", he interrupted. "You don't get your cloths back until you finish."
He had taken my cloths and locked them away when I first arrived. He had my wallet, my keys, everything. Unless I wanted to walk home, naked and covered in shit, I was cleaning. I reached for the mop.
"Get to work, faggot. I'll be in the office, enjoying a cigar while you work." He turned and walked away, heading towards the back of the bar.
I took the mop, filled it up, and poured in the bleach. I started mopping up, first in the bathroom where I was - and even though I ate a lot of shit and piss, this place hadn't been cleaned in days, so it took some time. I then started mopping up the hallway outside, and the main room. There wa a spittoon in the corner that was missed a LOT by the dippers, so I had to scrub hard to clean that area.
"15 minutes!" I heard Boss say from the back room. The cigar smoke was fantastic, whatever he was smoking.
I scurried into the women's bathroom, and cleaned it. Amazing how nasty it was - thank God I didn't have to take care of any of them.
I then mopped up around the bar itself, polishing off the area. I heard his bootsteps approaching.
"You done, faggot? Your hour is up." he said.
"Yes SIR!" I responded. At least I hope I had gotten everything cleaned.
"Ok", Bill said. "Step outside the back door and wait. I'll bring your clothes in a few minutes."
So I stepped outside, and it was still dark, though it looked the sunrise wasn't too far away. It was the back alley of a strip mall, facing a relatively quiet street that lead to a cheap residential neighborhood. I didn't really have a place to hide, so I just kinda stood in the doorway, against the wall, and hoped nobody would see me there naked and my face covered in shit.
After 5 minutes, I saw a police car crawling up the street. When he got near the back door to the bar, I slinked up against the wall. My cock was standing straight out, my face was covered with shit.
The police car stopped, and suddenly I was bathed in a spotlight. I froze, looking at the car. They saw my shit covered face, and the light just lingered. I was aware how quiet it was.
They turned the light off, and the car slowly crawled away. I guess the police officer, Joe, who shit in my mouth 2 hours ago had indeed spread the word, and told the cops to ignore anything here. I licked my lips. I was real grateful Joe had shit in my mouth, and that I didn't have to be hauled into jail naked with shit on my lips.
The back door opened with a bang. Bill came out, carrying the mop, the spittoon, and a chain. He also had a black bag with some other stuff in it - maybey my clothes?
"Get down on the ground. lay down on your back." he said.
I did so. I wasn't sure what was going on.
He dragged over a cinder block, chained one end of the chain to it, then the other end to my balls and yanked tight. I wasn't getting my balls out of there. Damn, what did I fuck up? I was scared and started to tremble.
"You missed under the pool table, faggot," said Bill. "That's just disrepectful. You were doing such good work too. Do you want to come back? Do you want to be a toilet here again?" he asked.
I did, and he knew I did. I was embarassed more because I had missed a spot.
"Yes SIR, I am sorry Sir," I said, and I meant it.
"So, you're going to make it up to me. You're going to show me some respect," he said. He took my clothes out of the bag, and laid them down next to me - my shirt on the right side, my pants on the left side. He then unzipped his pants, and shit directly on my shirt. I was amazed. He had a wonderful looking, ass, and I loved watching the shit plop out onto my shirt. I had a feeling this was going to get really messy.
He put the spittoon on the ground beside my hips. He then took the mop in hand, and reached into his bag. He pulled out a Magnum condom, slipped it on the end of the broom, and secured it with a tight rubber band. He then dipped it into the spittoon, and walked around to my feet. "Lift up your legs and show me your ass," he said. Damn, this was going to hurt too. I lifted up slightly, and he poked at my shit hole with the mop handle. He rubbed the dip spit on my asshole, then dipped the rubber covered handle into the tobacco spit again. He then prodded the handle against my hole, and slowly started to push it in. "Open your hole", he told me.
He didn't push hard, but he did push firmly and with determination. I got the impression he had done this before. My ass was full of biker shit from hours earlier, it didn't take much for it to open. Shit from the bikers poured out of my hole, and then the mop handle went inside. I gasped. He looked at me and grinned sadisticly. He pushed it in about 6 inches and then stopped, lowering the mop to the ground.
He then took a seat on the cinder block. He was sitting directly between my legs, the cinder block less than 6 inches away from my balls. I wasn't going anywhere with his weight on the cinder block attached to my balls.
"So, this is what we're going to do. You're going to clean my boots," he said. He extended one boot tread towards my tongue. I opened up, and started to lick. I licked between the treads, and did my best job cleaning that I could do. He then removed that boot and put the other in my face. I started licking the second boot, and then I heard him stomping the boot on the side of me. He was stomping his boot in his shit, on top of my shirt. He ground his turds deep into my shirt, and really coated his boot treads. I knew what was coming next.
"Open up," he said as he switched boots from the clean one to the shit covered one. I stuck out my tongue, and began to lick his shit from between the tread. Damn, he had some real strong, raunchy shit. It was real firm, despite his mashing the shit into the treads. I had to work hard to clean it. I was real tired, my brain started to drift. I went on auto pilot, automatically cleaning without willing it, automatically serving and doing what came naturally to me. It was a relief to know I could serve so well, even when tired. I lost track of time as I licked and licked.
"Fag, you're a natural", Bill said. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. I had cleaned his boot completely. The look on his face was a cross between amused, impressed, and disgusted. "Nice work, we'll have you do more of that next time."
With that, he unchained my ball from the cinder block. He spit one time on my shirt, which had his shit ground deep into it with his boot. He then took the spittoon and dumped it on my pants. "Get dressed and get out of here, you're dismissed" he said. And he slammed the door behind him as he went back inside.
I jerked off there, in that dirty black alley. I had a mop up my ass, shit all around it, with shit in my beard and teeth and mouth. I came harder than I had ever shot before. I grabbed my shit covered shirt and wiped up the cum, pausing to lick just a little of it off my fingers.
The sun was peeking over the horizon as I hastily put on my spit covered jeans. I took the shit covered shirt with his boot marks all over it, and put it around my neck. I walked down the street, past a startled early morning jogger, and got into my car. I drove home, my mind a haze of euphoric joy from having served as the biker bar toilet.
Biker Bar Toilet #5
It was Sunday, the day after I served as a toilet in the bar - I had so much biker shit in my belly I didn't even eat anything the day afterwards. Just couldn't stomach any real food. I drove home in shame and pride that morning after, snuck into my apartment without being witnessed. Which was good, I had shit all over my face and clothes. I stripped off, grateful to have a washer in the place, and showered off the shit. I still stunk like shit that Sunday.
I had so much abuse the night previous, I didn't do much but veg, watching television, cop dramas, recalling that previous evening when the cop had used me at the end of the night. I kept thinking of the actors on the show, whether they had ever used a human toilet. I suspected some had - Hollywood has its share of kink, I'm sure.
Monday came, and I went to work. I work as a computer programmer at a bank, a very conservative environment but with a good paycheck. As I drove to work, I noticed a lot of bikers on the road. It seemed there were more than usual, or maybe I was just noticing them more. I wondered as they would pass me whether they had used me as a toilet that Saturday. I wondered if they would use me when I would return, because I knew I would.
Lunch came and I finally scarfed down some food, some real food. I thought about the shit again I had eaten, and that I hadn't needed any more until now. I wondered briefly if one could live off shit. I went back to work and round up my day debugging glitches in the payment system. Finally 5 pm came and I returned home.
My apartment was a simple 8 unit building, and I had the unit on the end, #8. Technically it wasn't mine. My uncle owned the building, so I got a real discounted rate on my place. As I pulled into the apartment, I noticed a real nice bike parked across the street. I didn't remember any bikers living in the building, but maybe it belonged to someone visiting another building. I wondered if he, if it was a he, would ever use me as a toilet. I parked and pulled out my keys, unlocking the door to my unit.
"Close the door and strip", came a voice from the living room. I froze, not knowing who was there at first, or why. I smelled cigar smoke, and I recognized that voice - it was Butch, from the bar.
I closed the door and locked it, and then stripped. "How..how did you get in here?" I asked.
He didn't reply to that, but said "Once you're naked, crawl in here and put your face on my boot."
I was naked, in my place, and crawled into the living room. He was sitting on the chair in front of the computer, but spun around to face me. He was in his biker leathers - chaps, jeans, vest (no shirt), and motorcycle boots extended out in front of him. I crawled to his boots and put my face on his boots.
"Lick." he said simply.
I did, I licked the first one, and there was silence, just the sound of his cigar crackling as it burned.
"Well, toilet", he began, "you were tied up there for a while eating shit. I took the liberty of having a copy of all your keys made. I also went through your wallet, got your address. I liked what I saw in you, and you're going to be very useful to me."
He moved one boot to rest it behind my head while I licked the other.
"You didn't just think your service to my biker buddies would end when you left the bar, did you? Hell no, you're useful to us - service is a way of life, and it is your new way of life."
I began to shake a little. This was more than I had wanted. I had basically compartmentalized my fetish and perverted play all my life. I enjoyed it in the moment, but I always enjoyed being able to return to my normal life afterwards. What he was proposing would destroy that barrier forever.
"You own this place, toilet?" he asked?
Since his boot was still holding me onto its mate, I didn't turn my head to talk. "No Sir, it's not my place. I just rent it."
"I see. Get up - get me a beer from the fridge" he said.
I'm not really much of a drinker, and I didn't have anything like that. "I'm sorry Sir, I don't have any beer here."
"Sure you do, toilet. Go get me one, open it, and bring it back." he said. He moved his boot, letting me up, and I could see a nasty grin on his face.
I crawled to the kitchen, and opened the door to the refrigerator. Sure enough, there was beer.
Other than that, the fridge was empty. And I looked and noticed that all the kitchen cabinet doors were open, and all the food I had was gone. And he was standing at the entry to the kitchen, same evil grin.
"I took the liberty of cleaning up the place. A shit eater like you don't need food."
I opened the beer and handed it to him. I sat there, stunned.
"But, what am I supposed to do?" I asked.
He kicked me, solidly, in the stomach. I fell over on the floor, gasping for air and in pain.
"I got a lot of copies of your key. Bikers will stop by regularly to feed you. You may lose a little weight, but you won't starve. Back to the living room."
He let me crawl in front of him, but he stopped behind me, picking up my pants, and then continued following me. He took his seat again, at the chair, and I put my face back on his boot.
"Let's see here…there's your wallet." He removed it from my pants and started going through it. "You won't need most of this anymore."
He was robbing me, right in my own house. In a panic, I got up, grabbing for the wallet.
He was ready and punched me across the face, hard. I fell hard agains the floor.
"Toilet, keep your place!"
I started crying. I didn't know what else to do, and I was in intense pain.
"Don't ever do that again!"
He kept going through my wallet. He took out my drivers license, some photos I had, and my credit cards, depositing them into a small paper bag he had.
"I'll leave you this one", he said, showing me a gas card. "You can eat greasy hot dogs if you really need food, and you gotta keep gassed up so you can get to work. Speaking of which, you like working at that bank?"
I was stunned. I had no idea he would know that. "Um, yes Sir" I said, not wanting to be hit again.
"Good, that works good for me. You'll be helping me out there then, from time to time."
He threw the wallet on the floor, empty of anything but a BP gas card.
"Now, you're not going to report this. You don't even know how to find me, and if I hear that you called the cops, well, you won't be making any more calls. And I got a little insurance making sure you don't".
He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. I saw it was opened to a paused video.
"Play it" he said. He pulled out another cigar and lit it.
I did. It was me, in the club. I thought it was a lot darker in that bar, but I guess it had enough light, or something. It was me eating turds, under the toilet seat, naked. Shit all over me. It showed a man, who I don't remember, coming in and taking a seat and shitting in my mouth. It was clearly me.
"If you report this, I also promise you that everyone at your bank will see this - we'll put pictures up all over the building, and email everyone there we can find a copy of that video."
He put his cigar in his mouth and put both his gloved hands on either side of my head, pulling me up to look him directly in the face.
"You understand? You gonna be a good boy?"
I nodded. I was scared as hell. I didn't know what else to do.
"Good toilet. Good. You get to eat tonight. But first, let's go to the bedroom." He got up, cigar in hand again, and walked into my bedroom. I crawled after him.
"Lay down in the bed, on your back, and hold up your legs. Show me your hole."
I did. I'm going to get fucked by this man, who robbed me, who used me, who owns me. I held my legs up, feeling totally exposed. And I wanted him.
"Good. Stay like that, and don't move unless you want me to beat you."
He pulled out his cock, and it was a magnificent cock. He got up on the bed, standing on the mattress.
And he pissed. All over me, all over my pillows, and all over my bed.
He laughed. "Your new home, your pig pen. It'll get much worse. You are to never clean it without permission, understand?"
I did, and I still wanted him to fuck me. But that wasn't happening. He got off the bed.
"Follow me", he said again. He walked into the bathroom, and I crawled after him, still wet and dripping on the carpet.
He took a seat on the toilet. Cigar in mouth. He pointed in front of him. I crawled there and waited, only inches away from his wonderful cock. I could smell it.
"Put your head between my legs", he said. I did.
He began taking a shit. A massive one, I could see. The first log emerged and snaked for a while before breaking off. He rested his cock on my head. It felt so hot, so wonderful.
More shit dropped into the toilet. He smoked on his cigar some more, a gloved hand holding my neck in place.
About 5 minutes went by, and more and more shit kept filling the toilet. He pushed me away then, and wiped his hand with his leather glove.
"Lick", he said. His glove was in front of my mouth. I did.
His shit was wonderful, bitter, so very bitter. The blood from him hitting me mixed with the taste of the shit, and made it even more delicious. He wiped again and gave me some more shit. Then he stood up.
"Ok, dinner. Chow down", he said.
I looked into the toilet bowl. I had never eaten shit out of a bowl before. I reached into the bowl with a hand.
"No hands. Put them behind your back."
I was confused. I did as he suggested, then I understood. He wanted me to get the shit by bobbing my head int the toilet.
I lowered my head into the toilet, and his boot was behind my head again, pushing me into it faster than I expected. I choked on the water some, my face mixing with his turds and getting more water than shit in my mouth. He let up, and I lifted my head out of the bowl.
"Show me". I turned to him with my mouth opened, but there was very little in it.
He had his dick in his hand and was slowly jerking it. He leaned into my face with his cigar in his mouth, and looked.
"Man, you must not be hungry. Try again. Get the big one there. If you don't, I'll flush your dinner away"
I loved this man. I don't know why. I wanted to do what he said, I wanted to please him. I dunked my head into the bowl again, and twisted some, but I managed to get his big turd in the toilet and pulled it up.
He laughed. "Ok, toilet, eat it. Keep eating until the bowl is empty. This will help." He reached into his vest and pulled out a straw.
I used the straw to drink up some of the toilet water, and then began to get to his turds again. It was easier now. I was rubbing my face agains the inside the bowl a lot to get to them, but I was getting them. I could hear him behind me, watching, smoking, jerking.
I don't know how long I was down there, but finally I felt something hot hit my back - his cum, as he shot all over me. I looked up at him. My god he was so hot.
He grunted for a bit after the orgasm, and I ate some more.
"Ok, let me see how you did."
I pulled back and he looked inside. The bowl was mostly empty, but there were some turds I just couldn't get to. My face was a mess. I didn't care.
"Not bad, but we'll work on it next time I bring you dinner," he said with a laugh. He then took the cigar and dropped it into the bowl.
"Ok, toilet. You got the rules. Play by them and you'll do okay. Break them and I'll break you, got it?" he said. I nodded. I had forgotten about how much my life was about to change, but I wasn't going to disobey.
"Good. You need to pack up any clothes you don't need for work, and put them in trash bags. While you're here, you'll be naked unless I bring you something to wear. You wear clothes at work, and that's it. Got it?" I nodded.
"Ok, I'm done with you. Someone will be by to bring you breakfast before work. Decide by tomorrow whether you want to be called 'shiteater' or 'turdbreath'. It'll be your name in our gang."
He walked out then. I heard his boots echo back to the front door and he let himself out. Then he locked the door.
I sat there for a few minutes, in front of the toilet. His cigar still smoldered in the bowl. I jerked myself off so hard and so fast. I came and then went to my wet, piss-soaked bed, and laid down. I didn't know what else to do, and I just lay there for hours before I finally fell asleep.
Biker Bar Toilet #6
It took a bit to get used to sleeping in the piss soaked bed, but I was still kinda stunned from the previous day's events. Butch made it clear that I would be used regularly as the biker gang's toilet, and that I didn't need to worry about food anymore. He had taken all the food from my apartment, and all that was left was beer in the refrigerator, his beer. I had one gas card left in my wallet, and BP junk food was going to be the only real food I would get. He had taken my other credit cards, my ATM card, my driver's license. And he had video to blackmail me with at work if I misbehaved. I was stuck.
I wondered how I would possibly live on just shit, and whether I'd get enough shit to avoid being hungry all the time. I wasn't even sure if eating shit all the time would be healthy for me. But I really didn't have any choice.
As I slept I dreamed of Butch's boots. I was licking them, and he was above me smoking his cigar. Somehow in the dream I could smell the cigar, it was really an intense dream.
I woke up as I heard my front door open, and could hear men talking in Spanish, I think. I don't speak Spanish, but living in south Florida you learn to recognize it. The door closed, and someone, or someones, were in my apartment.
"Get out here, toilet", said a voice in very clear English. My alarm said it was 5:30 am, and I got on the floor and crawled out of my room into the living room.
Waiting for me in the room were three people. They were obviously construction worker-type men. One was a weatherbeaten white guy in his early 50s, bald with a bit of salt and pepper in his full beard. The other two were Hispanic men who looked like day laborers, both in their early 20s with great builds. They all wore tan-colored construction boots, jeans, and t-shirts.
On the floor in the living room was some sort of cage, built out of 2 by 4s, that was 6 feet or so long. The slots between the cage were small enough that my arms wouldn't be able to reach through. A toilet seat with a cover was attached at the spot for the head.
The men said something in Spanish that sounded like astonishment, and the white man chuckled and replied back in Spanish. The white man went over to the cage and opened the top. "Ok, get in toilet. We need to make sure it fits you".
I was shaking a little as I crawled over to it and got inside the cage. The white man checked to see that I had my arms inside, and closed the cage. He took out a padlock and locked it in place. Snap!
The toilet seat was covering my face, and I couldn't really see what was going on, but they spoke more in Spanish. After a couple minutes, one of them lifted the toilet seat - one of the day laborers - and he spit in my face, then proceeded to drop his jeans and squat.
The fit of the toilet seat was such that I was very snug against his asshole, and actually couldn't breathe at first. The white man said something again in Spanish, and the laborer adjusted his positioning and I could get some air through my nose. My mouth was right against his hole, and he didn't waste any time. Almost immediately I could feel a turd starting to emerge.
I began to swallow, my dick still rock hard, but my hands were positioned such that I couldn't really touch it much. His turd tasted strong and was extremely firm, and it just kept coming. I swallowed the best I could.
He said something in Spanish again, and they all laughed.
I swallowed his first turd, but another one emerged almost immediately to begin to fill my throat again. I started chewing and swallowing some more, and gasped for air briefly as he changed his position so I couldn't breathe. He relented after a couple seconds, and continued to use me as his toilet. After the second turd a softer, smaller turd emerged and made its way down my throat.
They said something in Spanish, and the white guy said "Ok, clean him up, toilet paper." And I did, I licked and cleaned his hole spotless. All the while I was starting to realize this would be my life. A part of me wanted this, but a part of me was still terrified of what I had gotten myself into.
Finally the first laborer got up and the second one moved over to the seat. He dropped his pants and aimed his cock, a wonderful uncut latin cock, at my face and began to piss. His aim was not entirely accurate, and he pissed on my face, not my mouth, and I could feel the carpet under my head was getting soggy. My uncle, who owned the apartments I lived in would be really pissed if he knew about this.
After the second laborer finished his piss, he took a seat. I licked his hole for a few moments, and he made noises of appreciation and said something in Spanish. They all laughed again. His hole was relatively clean, but as I probed his shit hole, I could feel a turd inside, and it was starting to make its way down his shit chute.
His shit was nugget-like, coming out in hard chunks rather than a big log like his friend's. He grunted a lot and they would more or less shoot directly into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed, and there were a lot of nuggets. The other two laughed as the guy using my toilet mouth kept grunting, and finally he was done. There was no mess or slime, the shit hole was cleaned, but I worshipped and made sure it was. Finally he got off the toilet seat and closed the lid.
The white guy told the other two something more in Spanish, and they headed out, my front door shutting behind them.
The white man opened the seat again and sat down on it, but still clothed and looking me in the face. "Toilet, you did a good job. My name is Travis, and you're going to need to make sure you're up and in this cage by 5:30 each morning from now on. I'm responsible for feeding you breakfast, and will usually be bringing day laborers with me, so you're going to be eating a lot of hot burrito shit for breakfast. I'll be building some other things that I will bring here for you to learn how to service our gang. But so far I will report back to Butch that you're doing well."
He lit up a cigarette and unzipped his jeans, pulling out his cock. "I gotta piss", he said as way of preparing me for what I had no choice but to take. He rested his cock on my lips, but not letting the head actually enter my mouth. He began a slow piss, very strong bitter piss, and it was really hard to swallow. I gurgled but kept gulping, and my belly was feeling really full from the two loads of turds and now the piss filling me up.
He paused halfway through the piss and took his cigarette and shook off the ash in my mouth, then continued to piss. I tasted the Marlboro ash as it went down my gutter throat, pushed down there from the steady piss stream. He finished his piss and shook off new ash into my mouth. He then drooled a long stream of spit into my mouth.
"Feeling full, toilet?" he asked.
"Yes Sir, that was a lot of shit I ate" I said.
"Yeah, the laborers usually have pretty massive shits in the morning. This weekend we'll need to take you down to the construction site and let you serve all day as our porta-john. Hope you'll be hungry for it." he smirked.
Then he stood up and lowered his jeans. His hole was real hairy, grey and black hairs covering both cheeks and his crack. He lowered himself onto the seat. "Lick me slowly, toilet, worship my hole and make it feel good".
I did. He had a magnificient hole and it was amazing to lick. I could taste sweat on his hole - he must not have showered yet today and some of his salty sweat still coated everything back there. I licked his hole like I was french kissing it, and he cut loose with a massive fart and laughed. Then I felt shit in his hole and began to lick and probe with my tongue.
His shit was slow coming, but when it did, it came all at once. I had a log in my mouth probably 8 inches long, and it was firm. I tried to position it in my throat but there just wasn't much I could do. I tried to chew but just had no room. I gulped and suddenly his turd just slid right down my throat, all in one piece. I almost gagged then, and choked for air for a moment. But then it was gone, fully sitting in my esophagus as it made its way down towards my stomach. I licked his hole clean, which it was mostly clean to start with, and he stood up.
"Great work toilet, most faggots can't swallow my big dumps." He got up and put his jeans back on. He started heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow", he said.
"Um, Sir, I'm still locked in here, and I need to go to work", I said to remind him.
"Oh, we got one more guy coming by, he'll let you out when he's done with you. Hope you're still hungry!" And with that he walked out the door, and it looked like he was txting someone on his phone.
I noticed he didn't lock the door. I could hear a motorcycle start up and drive away.
My mind raced, fearful that someone could just come in and see me like this, in a wooden cage and with a toilet seat over my exposed mouth. I was full, very full, and didn't know how I could possibly eat another load of shit. I also had to piss, my morning piss catching up with me finally, especially as Travis' piss was making its way through my system.
My dick was hard, and that's about the only thing that kept me from pissing right there on my carpet. But I couldn't reach my dick to jerk it, and man, I wanted to jerk off so badly.
As the sun rose and light began to come into my living room, I wondered who would be next.
Biker Bar Toilet #7
I was waiting in my apartment, locked in a custom made coffin-like cage made of two-by-fours, waiting for "the next guy" to come by and release me. I had just been used as a toilet by two day laborers and their foreman, a biker who belongs to the gang Butch runs. I can see the clock, and I need to get to work soon. I'm going to be late. But the foreman promised there would be one more person to come by and feed me. Nervously I watch the clock. 7:15 7:20, 7:25. I needed to be at work by 9.
At 7:35, I hear the sound of a motorcycle outside. It comes to a stop, probably in my parking lot or on the street, and then the engine shuts off. The sound of boots, and I hear the door open.
From where I am, I can't see who came in, the cage keeps me from looking. The boot thuds are loud, getting louder. I look up from under the toilet seat in the cage, and saw the biker Ox.
Ox, the man who had fed me as a dare at the biker bar, looked down at me. I still remember his nasty, rotten shit, some of the foulest I'd ever tasted. I was only able to eat it because Butch, the biker gang leader, made a bet with another man that I could do it. I didn't want to disappoint Butch, I felt a strong connection to serve him. Even though Butch had taken total control of my life now, I still didn't want to disappoint him.
Ox had a very long biker beard, rough black hair showing signs of grey, and a mean look in his eyes. He wore a red bandanna around his head. He was very tall, maybe six foot six, and hefty. Even though he had a belly, he had huge muscles and a good number of scars. He was a tough man who looked like he had been in a lot of bar fights. He was a man who seemed used to hurting other people. The look he gave me was not a friendly one.
"Open", he growled. I did, and he spit, long drooling spit into my mouth. The spit was brown colored, and I realized he was dipping tobacco. The taste was strong and with all the turds in my stomach I had to fight not to gag. I swallowed it quickly, hoping it wouldn't be too much.
He grunted again. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his cock. No zipper, but I could see he had a couple buttons loose on his fly. He must leave his jeans slightly unbuttoned all the time.
He hauled out an amazing cock. It was easily ten inches soft, super thick, uncut and grimy looking. I couldn't help but stare at that cock.
"Stop staring!" he barked! "Close your fucking eyes and get ready to drink." I did so, embarrassed suddenly that I had been looking so openly at his meat.
A couple moments ticked by, then I felt his piss hit my face. He unloaded first at my closed eyes, then continued to drain his load into my mouth. It was strong, nasty piss, and tasted slightly off, like Ox used some sort of drugs or something. He unloaded the stream for a good two minutes, and though I tried to drink it all, I know some landed on the carpet behind my head.
Finally the monstrous stream came to an end. I heard him step away, and quickly opened my eyes again. When he returned, he had a small brown paper bag with him, the kind you take to work for lunch.
"Open your mouth, and keep it open", he said. I did so.
He reached into the bag and started pulling out wads of toilet paper. Used toilet paper, I could tell from the smell and the dark oily brown streaks. He took one piece and shoved it in my mouth, far to the left side. Then he put another in, and another. He was filling my mouth completely with used toilet paper. I could taste the shit on the toilet paper, and it wasn't fresh. The dry toilet paper started to pull the moisture out of my mouth as he loaded my mouth with more and more of the stuff. When he couldn't fit any more toilet paper in my mouth, he started sticking the toilet paper wads to my face. But he left my eyes uncovered. He then shoved two pieces up both of my nostrils, pieces with a lot of shit on them.
He stood back, pulled out his cell phone, and took a picture.
"Can you talk?" he asked. I tried but only muffled grunting noises came out.
"Good", he said. He then took a key and unlocked the two-by-four cage I was in. He pulled me up, walked me out of the cage, and turned to face me.
Out of nowhere, his fist hit my balls. I doubled over in pain, but could only grunt a little. If I wasn't gagged with the toilet paper wads, I would have yelled out. He quickly grabbed my wrists and pulled a pair of handcuffs from somewhere, and cuffed my hands behind my back. He then threw me on the floor where I landed with a painful grunt as my wrists hit my back.
He got on top of me, and leaned in very close to my face. "You made me look bad at the bar, faggot. I'm known to make turds like you gag on my shit, and you didn't do that. Now Butch has taken a shine to you. My orders are to make sure you to work, but I wanted you to know I'm going to do everything I can to ruin you. I figure if I take you down, I'll take Butch down. Then I run the club. And you're gonna help me do it! Otherwise, I'll do this to you every day.
And with that, he grabbed my balls in one fist, and smashed the other fist into them. I screamed through the toilet paper gag, and he hit me again and again. He squeezed my balls tight in his hand, and I saw stars from the pain. This went on for a minute or two, maybe more. Then he took his hands off my balls and leaned in close to me again.
"You understand, faggot? You get that every day for the rest of your life if you don't help me take down Butch. And don't mention a fucking word of this to anyone!"
I grunted and nodded. He pulled me to my feet with one hand, unlocked the cuffs, and said "Now get dressed for your queer-ass job. I'll follow you there on my bike. No detours."
And with that he stomped out the door, slamming it shut.
I crawled to the bathroom and showered, pulling toilet paper wads off my face and out of my mouth, dumping them in the toilet bowl. Then I made it to my bedroom and got clothes on for my job. When I came back out to the living room I was still walking funny from the pain. I looked at the room. A two-by-four cage with a toilet seat, some piss soaked carpeting, and the place smelled like farts. I knew I should clean up, in case my uncle who rented me the place came by, but I didn't have the time or the strength. I limped to the door and walked out, my belly full of shit and my balls full of pain. I could hear Ox's motorcycle outside, revving up to follow me as I drove my car to work.
This war between Ox and Butch....what the hell had I gotten myself into?
Biker Bar Toilet #8
I made it to work, and had mostly stopped walking funny from having my balls smashed around by Ox. I got to my desk and started my day, grateful for a bit of time to think about everything that had happened to me in the last couple days.
It all started because I decided to pay $50 at a biker bar that I heard would let people serve as toielt slaves for that fee. I seemed to run into a biker gang there that for whatever reason took an interest in me. Their leader, Butch, showed up at my place a couple days later, and basically took charge of my life. He took my credit cards, bank cards, and my dignity.
Truth be told, I felt a real bond to Butch. He was a brutal and masculine man, but one I would give anything to serve regularly. I wasn't quite prepared for how much he was sharing me with his biker gang though.
This morning, a construction crew showed up at my place early, unloaded a wooden bondage cage of some sort, and put me inside. They then used me as their toilet first thing, and left me locked up.
Another biker, Ox, a man who I met at the bar and ate all his shit he gave me, a fact that impressed Butch, showed up, freed me, then smashed my balls so much I was sure he did permanent damage. He and Butch seem to have some kind of rivalry going, and Ox wants me to help him take down Butch.
Butch had left me with one card, a gas station card. I took advantage of it at lunch hour to go to the nearby station and get a greasy hot dog and soda. I had so much shit in my belly over the last couple days it felt good to have some real food in me, even if the food was crappier than the shit I was getting.
The afternoon seemed to fly by. I worked at my desk at my computer programming job at the Bank, kinda avoiding the other guys there. I wasn't sure if I might still smell like shit, so decided to play it safe and be a hermit.
At quitting time, I headed out to my car in the parking garage. And I stopped dead in my tracks when I got to it.
Someone had smeared shit all over the windows and windshield. I looked around and though I didn't see anyone near me in the garage, I know some of my coworkers must have seen it. I opened the car door and discovered that the handle was also smeared with shit and it was all over my hand now. I got inside quickly, looking around for anything to use as a rag to clean my hand, but didn't find anything. I decided I would wipe it on my pants, rather than get shit all over the steering wheel.
I turned on the car and activated the windshield wipers. Slowly the windshield came clean enough for me to see well enough to drive. I got a lot of odd stares from people as I left the parking lot and drove down the road. Shit on a window looks like shit, and people walking by could probably smell it. I went to the gas station I had the card for and used it to buy a automated car wash. My car came clean, but the inside still smelled like shit because of the stains on my pants from cleaning my hands.
I didn't drive home immediately. I decided I needed some time to think. I drove out towards the beach and got out. I looked out at the waves as they crashed against the shore and considered my options. I felt a little like I was living in terror. Not knowing when they would strike next, what they would do. I thought about going to the cops, but what the hell was I going to say? Plus I knew there was a cop that the biker bar paid off to look the other way. What if he tipped the bikers off to me going to the police.
I couldn't handle much more I didn't think. But I didn't have many options. This was a bit too real for me now. I decided my best course of action would be to hope they get bored soon. Maybe they would. Having them occasionally using me, rather than regularly, that would be okay by me.
I headed home finally. When I got there, I saw there were three bikes on the street near my apartment complex. I didn't have to guess what that meant.
I got to the door and more shit was smeared on the handle. I reluctantly turned the handle and opened the door.
Inside there were 3 men I didn't recognize. They were watching TV, laughing and drinking beer as if they owned the place. I came in.
"Ah, good you're here. Close the door and lock it." said one of them, a white guy with a shaved head and goatee.
I looked at the other two. They looked almost like twins, blond buzz cut hair, clean shaven, and about the same age.
"I'm Slasher," said the one with the shaved head. "That one's Drumbeat and the other is Banger. Don't bother telling them apart, nobody can."
He took me by the shoulder and guided me back to the couch where they were sitting. There was no space for me. "Sit," said Slasher. I reluctantly sat down on the floor.
"Butch sent us over to see how you're doing. So, how are you doing?" asked Slasher. I was surprised how friendly they were.
"I'm...grateful," I said.
"But...?" asked Slasher.
"It's just a little overwhelming, " I admitted. "All of it. I didn't figure I'd get all of this."
"Yeah, I get that," said Slasher. "Normally whenever a faggot like you comes to the bar to be a toilet, we use him, then beat him up and rob him and have a good laugh. But Butch was impressed by you, and the way you showed up Ox. Ox thinks his shit is the nastiest stuff out there, and it really brought him down a peg or two to see you eat it. Butch wanted you. It's not easy to impress Butch."
I didn't know what to say. I felt confused, a bit humble, and a bit proud at the same time.
"Butch wanted us to make sure you knew how much he values you. You're an important asset to him. He told us to make sure you jerk off tonight." He produced a bottle of lube and gave it to me. "So, get to it."
I looked at the bottle of lube, and looked up at them. "You mean right now, here?" I asked. Slasher nodded.
This seemed somewhat surreal, erotic, but suddenly I was a bit self conscious about jerking off in front of them. I slowly stripped out of my work clothes and set them aside. I laid back down on the floor, and started to lube my dick. It sprang to live immediately, despite that my balls were still sore from the morning with Ox.
As I started to jerk off, Drumbeat and Banger took out their phones and started to video tape. I stopped when I realized what they were doing.
"Butch wants proof. Keep going," said Slasher. He sat back drinking a beer and watched.
I was so overwhelmed by the experiences of the past few days that it didn't take me long, even with being video tapes and watched. Soon I was cumming harder than I had in a while. I was exhausted and collapsed when done.
"Bravo," said Slasher. He came down to me then, and suddenly Drumbeat and Banger were there, holding down my legs and hands. Slasher pulled out a chastity device and grabbed my cock. I struggled a bit, but I was too tired to fight, and Drumbeat and Banger were too strong.
As he was getting ready to put the chastity device on me, he stopped. "What the hell did you do to your balls?" he asked.
I looked down, and my balls showed black and blue marks on them from when Ox had used them as punching practice this morning.
"I...um," I said, and then stopped. I was worried about Ox hurting me again, and even though I wanted to tell them what happened, I lied. "I smashed into a door at work," I said.
"Hmm," said Slasher. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. But he put the chastity device on my cock and locked it into place. "There you go. Hope you enjoyed that jerkoff, because it's the last one you'll have for a while."
He rubbed his hand in the cum all over my chest, and put it up to my face and began to feed it to me. It's had for me to eat my cum after I shoot, but I didn't have much choice.
"There you go, lick it all clean," said Slasher. When I was done, he smiled, and then nodded at Drumbeat and Banger.
Both of them took off their jeans. Neither was wearing underwear, and I could see they were sporting boners. They were twins, at least in the cock department. Both large, white cocks, rock hard and cut.
I was about to get raped by these guys. My orgasm and horny feelings were done, and I needed to rest. I started to get up, but slasher produced a switch blade from nowhere and held it to my throat.
"See, all three of us spent time in prison, and learned to appreciate a good piece of man ass. Butch said we're allowed to fuck you all night. I'd hate to have to make a mess, so roll over and give us your ass," he said.
I didn't have anything in me to fight with, and I think they had me orgasm first so I would be weaker. I nodded, and slowly rolled over on my stomach. I just hoped they would be quick about it.
They weren't. The three of them spent the next 7 hours taking turns fucking my ass. After each time they orgasmed, they had me clean the shit off their cocks. Shit that was no doubt the shit from the day laborers earlier that day. They fucked me until 2 in the morning, and when they were done, my hole was raw and sore.
After they were done with me, they carried me to my bed, which was still wet from the night before. The three of them then pulled out their cocks and pissed on my bed again, mixing their warm piss with the cold piss from Butch the night before. They laughed as they left and I heard their bikes speed away. I couldn't think anymore and I couldn't really move. So I did the only thing I could...sleep.
Biker Bar Toilet #9
The brutal fucking I got last night from Slasher, Drumbeat, and Banger the night before left me so sore I couldn't get to sleep very easily, especially from the warm and cold piss that now made my bed like a sponge. I did eventually fall asleep though.
It's now Wednesday, 5 days since my life changed forever. I woke at 5:00 am and didn't get out of bed immediately. The piss smell was so strong, and the bed was cold in spots from old piss, but I just laid in bed.
The previous day was intense, I lost count of how many shit loads I ate that day, and everything about me seemed to smell like shit. To top it off, someone, likely the gang, had smeared my car with shit at my work parking lot, and I was sure some of my coworkers had seen it. I didn't want to deal with that, I had no idea what I would say, so I decided to call in sick. I left a voice mail on my boss's phone, hung up, and looked around.
My whole place looked like a mess. I could smell the scent of men, sweaty men, everywhere, and it smelled like a sex club from all the sweat, piss, shit, and cum. I almost loved it, but there's such a thing as too much fantasy in your reality, and I was starting to get worried. I had no control anymore. I was getting used even if I wasn't in the mood, or didn't want to do anything. My entire life was starting to revolve around the bowel movements of others.
I started to clean up the place, getting everything back to order as if that would fix my life. I was definitely in over my head, and the reality of being a toilet all the time was starting to sink in. I really couldn't get together with friends anymore, or go any place. Butch had taken all my money except a gas station credit card. How would I ever explain to people that my money wasn't mine anymore?
Suddenly I remembered, 5:30, that's when Travis was coming by with the day workers? What time was it? The clock showed 5:26, and I am glad I remembered. I stopped cleaning and ran to the cage, getting myself inside. I couldn't get to the padlock to lock myself in, so I just sat it next to the cage latch. I was in the cage, ready.
The next four minutes creeped by slowly, and I found myself actually starting to cry some. I was scared, aroused, worried, overwhelmed, and every other emotion all at once. I was here, in a cage in my own apartment, waiting for men to come in and use me at their discretion. I kept thinking of Butch, and how hot he was. He was definitely their leader, he commanded respect, mine and others. I wanted that man worse than I wanted anyone, I wanted him to use me anywhere, anyplace, and anytime. But I was still a bit scared.
I heard the front door being unlocked and opened, not actually sure if it was 5:30 or after, and I heard some people shuffling in. Sure enough, Travis was there, and two more day workers, Spanish speakers. They had a McDonalds bag with them and the laborers were shoving breakfast biscuits into their mouths. Travis came over and looked down at me.
"Good fucking toilet!" he said with a wicked grin. He said something in Spanish to the other men and they all laughed. He then hocked up a big chunk of phlem and spit it directly into my eyes. I closed my eyes at that point.
"Good, keep your eyes closed. And stick out your tongue", Travis commanded. I did so.
I felt something metal on my lower lip, and realized they were screwing on a wrench of some sort. It was small, but not too small, and when it was tightened down all the way, he gave it a tug. My lip was in sudden pain as I involuntarily opened my mouth wide. He laughed again.
"Keep it opened, we're not done yet," Travis said.
Two pieces of wood were put on either side of my mouth in my cheeks. The wood was sloped and acted like some sort of ramp. He wedged it a bit to the side and it was now pushed between my top and bottom back molars. The slope of the wood was narrow in back but then widened, and it effectively was forcing my mouth to stay open. There was less clearance into my mouth but it still opened wide enough to take shit from an asshole. I realized I was in a lot less control of my life than I was ten minutes ago.
They had finished whatever they were doing, and I heard them talk in Spanish again.
"Ok, open your mouth...oh, wait, it's already opened!" laughed Travis. "Hold your head still then. We're going to have to get something to keep your head immobile, but we'll do that later. Now, don't swallow until I say so."
I held my head still, and it was silent for a moment. Then I heard them all begin to spit. One at a time, into my mouth. Their spit accumulated in my mouth and I kept my throat tight to prevent swallowing. They sometimes missed and hit the side of my mouth, but for the most part each spit was getting into my mouth. One of them was definitely chewing tobacco, as I could taste the dip spit accumulating with everything else. I wasn't used to that strong flavor, and had to control my stomach for a moment. But I didn't lose it.
They stopped after a few moments. "Ok, we're gonna finish our breakfast, don't swallow anything until I give you permission", said Travis. I couldn't nod, and couldn't talk, so sorta grunted my acknowledgement.
They then switched to Spanish and spoke for a bit. I could smell the fast food they were eating, and I realized I was desperately hungry for real food. But I wouldn't, I couldn't, buy any fast food anymore, only what junk food and crap they sold at the gas station down the street.
After about ten minutes I heard Travis shout "Ok, swallow". And I did. I couldn't actually close my mouth to swallow, but I swallowed using my throat muscles. It was an enormous relief, and I started breathing through my mouth again. But that passage was soon cut off as I felt an asshole being lowered to my lips. The one on my face said something in Spanish.
"Hmm, maybe we can try some sort of hook instead", said Travis.
The guy on my face got up and I felt fingers poking into my mouth, brushing against my tongue, then another finger on the top of my mouth. Then I felt a cold metal piece touch my mouth, and realized it was a small tape measure. They were measuring how wide my mouth was held open. More talking in Spanish.
"Well, it was an idea. There's only so much we can do without piercings", said Travis. "I'll talk to Butch about that." Then he addressed me. "Ok, breakfast time, Turdbreath!"
My eyes were still closed, so I am not sure who went first. But one of them lowered their ass onto my forced-open mouth and grunted. A loud powerful fart escaped his hole, and then the shit began to flow. Hard, fully formed shit started to enter my mouth.
I was used to pushing shit against the sides of my mouth to handle it when I was fed, but I couldn't do that with the wedges. I instead had to use my throat muscles again, swallowing as best I could. It was a hard way to eat shit, and again I realized I really had no control. No control over eating shit, no control over my own life.
I swallowed several times and my eyes were shedding tears as I worked hard to eat it all. Finally he finished and I heard Travis say "wipe", and I licked my first feeder's shithole clean. The second one took his place. It took that guy a moment to get going, but once he shit, it all started flowing in at once.
It was a lot softer than the other guy, but not runny, and was easier to swallow. I could feel my belly extending to accommodate the large shit loads I was getting. I also felt some of the shit on my lips that would have to stay there for the moment as I couldn't really get to it. He finished quickly.
"Wipe again", said Travis. I did so. Then the guy was off my mouth, but spit once more into my mouth before putting his jeans back on. Travis said something again in Spanish and I heard them walk off and then front door open and shut.
"Ok Turdbreath, open your eyes". I did so and Travis was kneeling beside me, looking in my eyes. He was a hot man, and my dick reacted to the sight of his sadistic grin.
"You're doing good, very good. Butch has had some other toilets in the past, but you're definitely doing great", he said. "Now, don't swallow this", he said as he pulled back his lip and took out his used dip, dumping it into my mouth. He wiped his fingers on my nose. Then he produced a can of Copenhagen and loaded up another fresh dip.
"See, I think you're a pretty good toilet, and I'd offer to buy you from Butch, but he's taken quite a shine to you". He spit into my mouth, fresh nasty dip spit. He looked into my eyes and said "Of course, so has Ox, and that kinda puts you in the middle
"You ever dip before, Turdbreath?" I shook my head slightly to indicate that I hadn't.
"Ah, well, you're gonna feel pretty light-headed in a moment. Don't swallow it though. I wanna watch you suffer through your first spittoon experience. Just another service of a toilet, eh?" he said with a laugh. He then leaned over me and let a very slow, very long stream of spit slowly drop into my mouth. For a moment we were connected by that rope of spit. He looked into my eyes again, watching, waiting. Then he let the spit fall fully into my mouth.
I started to feel a bit lightheaded, buzzing really. I knew I couldn't keep this up for long.
He saw it in my eyes, and suddenly he stood up, unzipped, and dropped his jeans. His prick was rock hard, beautiful long and skinny. He positioned himself laying on top of my cage with his prick right at my mouth. Then he started to slowly fuck my face. He pushed his cock into the spit in my mouth, then pulled out, then a little deeper, then he pulled out again. Over and over, going just a bit deeper each time.
Finally he said "Ok, you can swallow!" and he pushed his cock all the way down my throat. The dip spit, used dip tobacco, and his prick pushed past my gag spot and they all entered my esophagus at the same time. And he stopped pulling out, just pushed deeper and deeper into my mouth, blocking my breathing. I could breathe a little through my nose, but not much - his cock was suffocating me as I felt it begin to spasm, and he grunted hard for a few moments. I kinda blacked out, not sure how long he was like that, but I knew he had cum down my throat past the point where I could even taste his sperm. An orgasm entirely for his benefit and not mine.
Then it softened a little and I could breath again, but I felt fluid moving in his cock again, this time piss and I could taste a little of it, though again most of it was bypassing my mouth and tongue on the way to my stomach. He stayed like that unloading his bladder for about two minutes. I felt the stream of piss subsiding. My whole stomach was very full, and I was getting kinda dizzy from the tobacco buzz. He stood up again and looked at me.
"Damn, I hope either Butch or Ox let me use you like this all the time. That was fucking amazing. You are a good toilet!" he said.
He turned and picked up the padlock that was beside the latch. "Damn, forgot to even lock you in. You must have been wanting all of that." He laughed and walked away, but I didn't hear the door close.
My head was spinning and I was starting to feel a little nauseous. Travis returned with a big plasicc bowl from the kitchen. He opened the cage and held out the bowl. "Go ahead, I know you're going to lose it."
I did, I puked piss, floating bits of tobacco, and shit back into the bowl. I couldn't stop myself, and I felt weak and vulnerable. Travis grabbed a chair and took a seat next to me, watching me.
Finally I was done. He took out his dip and dumped it into the bowl, then reloaded more Cope into his lip.
"You puked up quite a bit. I don't know how long it's gonna take you to swallow that all again," he said. I looked up to see if he was serious, and his wicked grin told me he was.
"Come over here, put the bowl between my legs, and put your back up so I can rest my boots while I watch. Take your time, I don't have to be at the construction site for a couple hours."
I realized he was totally serious, and so I did as he said. I put the bowl between his legs, and arched my back while I was on all fours, face in the bowl. He lifted both boots and rested them on my back. I looked down at the mess in the bowl and realized it was all going back down my throat.
He flipped on the TV and watched that while I worked. It took me a good hour to get it all back down my throat, and it was tough. Travis kept using the bowl as his spittoon so while it started out tasting mostly like shit, towards the end it tasted mostly like tobacco juice. He jerked his cock slowly and when the bowl was almost empty he shot one big load into the bowl, which made my desire to clean it all up go easier. I loved the taste of his cum with the bits of Copenhagen floating in them. I also felt completely used and spent. And I still had to go to work.
"Ok Turdbreath, good job. I gotta go. Tomorrow will be a big day, six laborers needed for the job so you'll be eating a lot of turds tomorrow morning. So have a light dinner." He laughed again and got up, put on his jeans, and left.
I rolled over on my back and just rested, unable to do much of anything. I was wore out, slightly buzzing from tobacco, and felt like shit and spit and piss was in every part of my body. Which it was. I tried to jerk my cock but I was too wore out. So I just laid there, digesting everything that had been given to me and everything that had happened. I was glad I decided to take the day off.