Part 1
by: amam9000
They went to so much trouble to punish me for their grades.
I’m a grad student, not that much older than the frat boys who abducted me. I was their TA here at the university, teaching the discussion group for a class they didn’t care anything about. There were about three or four of them, all in the same chapter. On days that they actually bothered to show up, they typically dicked around on their phones or dozed in their chairs. They put no effort into it at all, and, as a result, they were failing the class.
Of course in no way did they see this as their fault, and I guess they decided it was time to get even with me. Halloween offered the perfect chance for what they had in mind.
They had figured out where I lived, and were waiting for me along my route home that afternoon. The biggest one, a 6’4” blond guy named Tyler who wore nothing but Under Armour and had a permanent face full of scruff, came up behind me. “Hey Mr. _____!” he said cheerfully, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t you take a ride with us?” And with that he pushed me into the back seat of what had appeared to be a parked car, following in behind me. I abruptly found myself wedged between him and Ryan, a clean-shaven dark-haired kid with a slight beer gut. The car sped off as they held me down and cuffed my hands together.
Within minutes, we were pulling up the drive to their frat house, and it looked like they were planning some big party for the night. Halloween was always a big drinking night around here, and they were certainly ready for it. Decorations and fake spiderwebs covered the house. The car pulled into the portcullis, and I was rushed out Ryan’s door and inside.
I was taken into a bedroom, where my four students got to work. They pushed me onto the bed, where Ryan pinned down my arms with his knees, sitting his ass down on my face. My field of vision was nothing but his jeans pockets, and I could smell his crack through the fabric. The other guys held down my legs while Tyler undid my cuffs.
“Don’t get your hopes up, brah, we aren’t letting you go so quickly,” he said. I could feel thick rope going around my wrists, as he tied them together, and then ran the rope around my torso. My hands were useless to me now, bound close to my body. A loud fart erupted through Ryan’s jeans, and they all laughed as I choked on the fumes.
“Let me go! Fuck, get off of me!” I protested. Jason, a brown-haired guy about 6’2”, just slapped me on the belly and said “nah motherfucker, its about to get a whole lot worse for you. We got a costume for you so good nobody will even know you’re here!” That seemed ominous, and I expect he meant it to.
My hands tied to my body, they proceeded to pull off my pants. I suddenly found myself naked from the waist down with Ryan’s ass still in my face. He lowered it even further, burying my mouth between his cheeks. “Mfffmffffmmffm!” I protested again. They all laughed.
“Dude, I can’t understand you with a mouthful of ass!” Ryan said, wiggling his hips back and forth. I felt my legs being lifted in the air, and a greasy finger touching my asshole. “Mfffmmffngh!” I yelled again. And then I felt something entering. Smooth and rubbery, a slick, thick plug was being pushed up my hole. It painfully widened as they forced it in, and I screamed into Ryan’s ass. And then when it felt like any wider would tear me open, it crested the thickest part and my ass snapped shut around the base. Fuck!
I felt them tying my legs together, and suddenly I was completely unable to escape. My guts throbbed with the plug lodged in my butt, and I groaned. And with that, Ryan lifted himself up off of me, and I saw the four of them looking down at me. “Almost done, motherfucker,” Tyler said to me. He snapped a rubber gag of some sort in his hands, and shoved it into my mouth. A thick tube penetrated my mouth, and he fastened it behind my head with a tiny lock. The rubber wrapped around my chin and up around my ears, forming a sort of half-mask with the tube in the middle. Ryan held me in a headlock as Tyler applied a ring of superglue to the inside of the mouthpiece, and then slid a thick (and I mean thick!) plastic tube into it. He held it there for a minute, letting the glue take hold, and then released it. About two feet of tubing the same size as the mouthpiece extended from my face. I had no idea what this was, but I hated it. And with that they picked me up and carried me outside, the plug bouncing around painfully in my ass, the tube wagging from my face.
There was a wooden shed in their backyard, with a sign on the door that just said “Guys.” It looked like something they had just built. Whatever they lacked in study skills they certainly made up for in craftsmanship. Two other frat boys I had never seen before were drinking cheap beer on their porch. Clearly they were all aware of whatever it was that was happening. They carried me inside the shack, and I was surprised to discover that it was wired. A dim light came down from the ceiling, and I could hear a recording playing from several speakers randomly placed inside, the sound of groans and muffled cries. Ryan and Craig (the fourth student of mine) hung back, while Tyler and Jason carried me in the rest of the way. “We thought it might be a fun Halloween thing to make this outhouse sound haunted,” Tyler said grinning. “That way nobody will think anything of whatever noise you might make down there!” Wait, did he say outhouse?
He and Jason grabbed me by the ropes closest to my shoulders, and lowered me down into a pit dug into the ground. Though I was standing up, my head was now several inches below ground level. The inside appeared to be lined with a clear plastic tarp, and on the other side of it at eye level, there appeared to be an iPad or some similar device. They had taken care to wrap it so it would get neither wet nor muddy, and on the screen there appeared to be a shot of Tyler and Jason above me. There was a camera up there? I never saw it. I yelled into my gag, and they laughed. “You were right,” Tyler said to Jason, “you totally can’t tell that’s different from the recordings.” The tarp hugged my body closely.
On the screen, I could see Tyler and Jason exiting, and Ryan and Craig entering with some kind of wooden platform. Above me, most of the light disappeared. I could hear a screw gun activate, and on the iPad I could see Ryan securing what looked like a two-seat latrine shelf to the interior walls. It took him a few minutes, but soon he finished, and setting the screw gun down, he reached into a hole above me and grabbed the other end of the tube that protruded from my face. I watched him on the screen attach the other end to some gigantic funnel, which slid right into the seat hole above me. After that, he picked up the screw gun again and bolted a pleather toilet seat to the top of the funnel. I realized now what they had in mind; unless a constipated giant took a shit above me, that tube was wide enough for anything to slide down. Fuuuuuuuck!
He did the same thing to the other hole, except the tube dangled into the inside of my tarp. Ryan managed to angle it so that the end of the tube pointed toward my face. I couldn’t believe they had put this much effort into building me a toilet prison when they could have just done their goddamned homework.
It was dark above me now, and all I could see was the iPad in front of me. On the screen I could see Ryan and Jason looking at the seats, and Tyler and Craig poking their heads in. Craig was talking to someone offscreen who I couldn’t see.
Tyler pushed his way in, crowding Ryan and Jason, and yelled down the hole to me. “All right faggot, I think you’ve got a pretty good idea now what’s in store for you. Tonight we’re throwing a party, and we’ve told everyone that we’ve reserved the house bathrooms for the girls. You know, to be nice. Every guy who comes tonight will be pointed towards you. If you’re lucky, we might let you out tomorrow morning. I hope you’re grateful for the monitor!” he said, flipping off the hidden camera, “I thought you might want to see who exactly is shitting in your mouth.”
On screen Ryan raised his hand. “Me!” he said, “I’m shitting in his mouth!” And with that I could hear thick laughter from above. On screen, Ryan dropped trou, and I could hear the wood creak above me as I watched him take a seat, his jeans and boxer briefs around his ankles. His piss hitting the funnel sounded like rain on a tent, and warm acrid liquid flooded across my tongue seconds later. It was nasty, but I tried to swallow it down, knowing that there wasn’t any way for me not to. A fart echoed through the funnel, just inches above me, and I could hear what sounded like thick mud hitting the plastic. He made a face on screen each time he plopped another blob above me, but none of it entered my mouth. He seemed to be done, but he kept sitting there, looking into the camera, knowing that I could see him. About a minute later, the first thick mess of his shit oozed into my mouth. The taste was horrifying. I gagged and groaned, and he could hear me through the funnel. Anyone but these guys would mistake it for the recordings, but he knew better, and he flipped me off through the camera.
I watched him wipe his ass with toilet paper as I tried desperately to chew the shit so I could swallow it. The gag was thick and covered the bottom half of my face, but the back of the tube rested against my teeth, so I could still use them. I’d never be able to get the mask off, secure as it was and bound as I was, and since I couldn’t close my lips, there was no way for me to block off the flow. The toilet paper he wadded up on camera, and dropped down a hole between the seats. I hadn’t noticed that before, but I felt his shitty paper land on my shoulder and tumble down my back. Presumably guys would know to do that, which I was thankful for since I didn’t want to choke to death on nasty TP.
I wasn’t finished getting through the first mound of his shit before the second one made its way into my mouth. I started chewing faster, trying to keep up with it. The taste was hellish, and my eyes watered. Ryan’s paper kept collecting at my feet.
The other guys were talking shit above me, about how much I was going to have to handle tonight. They clearly thought this was the best thing ever. Ryan hadn’t gotten up yet when Jason stepped up to the other seat and undid his fly. Aiming his dick at the other basin, he let out a stream of heavy yellow piss. It rocketed down the tube, blasting across my face. Drips of urine rolled through my hair and eyebrows, running down my nose. I could smell it. In fact, I couldn’t stop smelling it. In 50 seconds, Jason had rescented my face as his urinal. Most of it soaked into the shirt I was still wearing under the ropes, and some collected around my feet. I could feel Ryan’s shit paper getting soggy. On camera, they high fived each other.
My mouth coated in nasty shit, the taste inescapable, I knew it was going to be a long night. How many guys were coming to this party? And I was their only toilet? Fuck. The plug was snug in my guts, and in no danger of moving.
To Be Continued (maybe, if I have time.)
Part 2
Chunks of Ryan’s shit still stuck to my teeth, and I knew there was no way I would get them off. I was pretty sure the bulk of his dump was still stuck to the inside of the tube connected to my mouth. My cesspool prison glowed dimly from the screen of the iPad that broadcast video of my captors down to me, and drops of Jason’s piss clung to the plastic sheet. The walls of the pit were close, and I had barely room to move – maybe an inch or so in each direction. That was probably for the best; tied up as I was, I would probably just fall over if it had been bigger. My legs ached from being constrained, and my feet were clammy from the puddle of piss and used toilet paper chilling around them.
I watched the screen. Ryan and Jason had both retreated from the two-man outhouse. Moments later, I saw Craig enter. He was on the shorter side of these guys, maybe 5’7”, with brown hair. Fairly ordinary looking and dressed in red Nike basketball shorts and a t-shirt for a local bar. On the video feed that broadcast everything above me, I watched helplessly as he pulled down the waistband of his shorts, aiming his thick dick at the left bowl. I heard the sound of his piss hitting the funnel directly above my head, a few seconds before the liquid started flowing into my mouth. It was far worse than before. Ryan’s piss was the only time I had ever drank any, and it had been disgusting, but the pipes had still been clean then and so it was unadulterated. Now as Craig’s cascaded down the plumbing into my mouth, I struggled to consume it – the sticky mess of Ryan’s shit that was stuck to the inside of the pipes was flavoring Craig’s urine. Without warning, a thick mass of Ryan’s earlier dump rolled onto my tongue, unexpected and tasting strong. I wanted to throw up, but struggled to hold it back, knowing that it would have nowhere to go if I did.
Craig finished up, and the last brown trickles of piss came rolling down the tube. I worked up my courage and chewed Ryan’s shit enough to swallow the horrible mess. My stomach gurgled from the foul slurry collecting in it.
Craig left, and I was alone for a few minutes. This was among the worst things that had ever happened to me. Apart from the buttplug, and my cramping muscles, it wasn’t that painful, but I was completely horrified knowing that Ryan had made me eat his shit, and knowing that my night had hardly started yet. I stared into the actionless screen, unable to look anywhere else.
And the door opened, and Tyler strode in. Big blond Tyler, who had forced me into the car and who seemed to be the most aggressively interested in my torment. He had another iPad in his hands, and he held it up to where the hidden camera was. On it I could see my own face, dimly lit, wide-eyed, the heavy rubber gag connected to my mouth. Fuck! The screen in front of me was broadcasting video. “That’s right motherfucker,” I heard him say, the sound penetrating down the funnel above my head. “We’re gonna be watching you all night!” Behind him entered another guy I hadn’t seen before, presumably one of his frat bros. He was dressed in grey shorts and a volcom t-shirt, dark black hair. If Tyler stood 6’4”, then this guy was probably 6’2”. He was drinking a tall can of PBR.
On the screen, I saw Tyler turn around and shove his thumb under the waistband of his under armour shorts, and with some difficulty, tug them down below his knees. He sat his bare ass down on the seat directly above me, the seat that fed the tube in my mouth. The wood creaked under his weight, and I saw him look into the screen that had my face on it. He was going to watch me become his toilet. Volcom took the second seat, and the wood creaked again. He took a big swig of his beer and looked over at the iPad in Tyler’s lap.
Above me, a fart echoed through the funnel, and then the rain of Tyler’s piss. I grimaced as it flowed into my mouth, and above me I heard Tyler laugh. The frame shook when he did. I was so distracted from trying to gulp down his piss that I was unprepared when Volcom’s piss came splashing out of the other tube into my face. I flinched, and I could hear the two guys laughing again above me. On my screen, I saw them same-side high-five each other without getting up.
Then I heard the heaviness drop into the funnel. I saw Tyler make a face as he shit above me. But the funnel and tube were slick with piss now, and so unlike Ryan’s dump, Tyler’s slid right down. A well-formed log of shit shot into my mouth and hit the back of my throat, I had to struggle to move it forward with my tongue so I didn’t choke on it. I was ready to cry, but I knew that survival meant getting through this. I bit into it. It was thick and dense, like a milky way bar. I could see Tyler staring at his screen, fascinated by watching me chew up his shit. I was adjusting to the terrible taste, and his was easier to eat than Ryan’s had been. Trickles of piss ran down into my mouth, adding moisture to it.
Halfway through, I saw Volcom scrunch up his face and unload. The sound of an unpleasant mess echoed through the second tube, the one pointed at my face. Carried by gravity, the soft mess of a beer shit came oozing down the tube. While the piss had shot straight into my face, when Volcom’s dump emerged, it sort of slopped out the end, only grazing my cheek, before rolling down my shirt and landing on my feet. Volcom leaned over to watch Tyler’s screen better, and Tyler angled it toward him. “Gross,” I heard Tyler say. “Meh, not enough though,” said Volcom. And then he poured his beer into the bowl.
I was puzzled at first, until it emerged. A slurry of shit and foamy beer blasted out of the end. Fuck, he was fucking flushing! Bits of his shit now stuck to my face and hair, and the smell was overpowering. I almost retched as the spray hit me, before dwindling to a trickle. Above me I heard them yelling. “Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Fuck.
“How’s that, faggot?!” he yelled through the tube. I groaned in misery. “That’s what I thought, motherfucker! I’m betting when this is all over, we’re all going to see an improvement in our grades. Unless you want this going on the internet. Hell, I still have another year left, and Ryan and Jason both have three. I’ll bet you see us in your future classes too, and I’ll bet the A’s you’re going to give us are going to really help our GPAs. I’m sure some of the other brothers wouldn’t mind getting in on that, too.”
They were both wiping themselves now, and their used wads of toilet paper dropped down from wherever the fuck that chute was. I could feel it cling to my feet and calves as it soaked up the liquid mess down there. I continued chewing up Tyler’s thick shit. I was still getting through it when he and Volcom stood up , yanked up their shorts, and left the outhouse. And when I finally thought I had reached the end of his shitlog, I realized that it had been the only thing holding back the second, smaller, softer one behind it. I moaned into my filthy gag, wondering how I would possibly make it through the night as these dudes’ sewer.
Part 3
For several hours, nothing much happened. Many of the frat brothers continued to make their way to the outhouse to use me instead of the house bathrooms that would be reserved for the ladies, but the party didn’t start for what felt like an eternity. I watched on the screen as guy after guy pissed in the funnel above me that drained into my mouth, and I swallowed it all since I had no choice. Being forced to drink that much, I soon found myself pissing into the tiny sewer they’d built around me.
My guts were churning too, upset by the foul meal they had fed me. I’d never eaten shit before Ryan and Tyler dumped in my mouth and my stomach wasn’t enjoying it. My ass throbbed around the plug they’d stuffed me with, and I fought hard to put nausea away. For the moment I was winning. I put out of my mind the smell of the man-waste I was standing in, and I tried to ignore the septic taste that caked my tongue.
I could hear nothing of the party outside other than the dull thump of a loud bass that traveled through the ground into my cell. I lost track of time, but of course I noticed when the traffic started to pick up in the outhouse around me. Some of the guys now were in costumes, which made sense since this was a Halloween party.
For the first hour there was typically only one guy in the bathroom at any given time, and I was always thankful when he chose the toilet on the right, the one that drained into my prison. Sure, it meant I got splashed in the face with some guy’s warm piss, but at least I didn’t have to drink it. Of course just as often they chose the one that drained into my mouth – a guy dressed in military fatigues pissed down my throat for what felt like forever. Only one guy took a dump in that first hour – a thin kid who looked like he was probably a freshman – and to my luck, he chose the rightmost seat. A couple minutes after he finished a thick log slowly slid out of the tube and brushed my face before dropping down and landing in the mess that was now up around my shins.
The next time I wasn’t as lucky. Half-drunk, a big guy dressed up like Tim Tebow stumbled into the outhouse. The screen wasn’t the clearest, but the guy actually looked a bit like him – dark hair, bible verses scrawled in the eye black. He fumbled with the strings on the football pants he was wearing and succeeded in pulling them down to his knees, and the frame above me shook as he dropped his weight on the seat directly above me. I watched on the screen as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the knees, staring vacantly at the wall. A massive fart vibrated the funnel above, and maybe it was my imagination but I thought I felt it travel down the tube and brush my tongue. Then I heard something heavy hit the bowl, and then again a moment later, another wet splat, and another. I knew this was going to be bad. His piss trickled down, and then flooded my mouth, but only one solitary turd flowed in with it. I chomped it quickly and used the flood of piss to wash it down. If I had to eat it anyway, I might as well get it done quickly, right?
Another guy came in while he was shitting. Tebow kind of looked at him, then looked away, and they never acknowledged each other. While I was still drinking the last of Tebow’s piss, the other guys started splashing against my face – strong smelling and plenty of it. He left while Tebow was still wiping. Bits of paper drifted down the hole above me. The shit splotch on one stuck against my ear momentarily, before gravity tugged it away into the pool of sewage swelling around my legs. He finished and stood up, pulled up his pants, and left. I knew at this point that it could take a bit for the shit to descend the tube, especially if it was sticky. Piss ran straight down, but there was more traction with shit.
After a few minutes, I wondered if maybe he hadn’t shat as much as I thought. Nothing new was entering my mouth. But then a trend started, where guy after guy after guy chose the toilet on the right, the one that sprayed my face. But as I was getting splashed for the ninth time in a row, I could see on the screen that a second guy had entered. The party was heating up now, and with the outhouse being the only male toilet, traffic was getting heavier. The second guy took the bowl above me, whipped out his dick, and started pissing. But strangely, only a foul, shit-tainted trickle dribbled into my mouth. And then I realized why the guys were all taking the one on the right: Tebow clogged the bowl. I could hear the guy’s piss collecting up above me, and small amounts of it I drank. But eventually even that stopped.
The guy left and as the door opened, I could see that there was a line. Fuck.
A new guy sidled up to the bowl, some ginger in a toga. There were a lot of guys in togas, I guess it must be a popular costume for a frat party. He made a face as he saw what was already there, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. He added his piss to the bowl and left, but I tasted none of it. A moment later, a new guy replaced him. Dark and bearded, without a costume. About thirty seconds into his piss, I heard a gurgling sound above me. Under the growing pressure of the piss collecting above it, Tebow’s shit was dislodging in the tube, and soon enough a disgusting mass of filth blasted into my mouth. There wasn’t time to chew, the toilet had basically been turned into the world’s grossest beer bong. I swallowed as the mess hit the back of my mouth, and choked a bit as the piss flowed down my throat. I was horrified at the amount of it, and I couldn’t stop it. I just kept drinking and swallowing, and I thought I was going to pass out from lack of breath when it finally slowed down. I fought the urge to puke it back up, fought it hard. I panted and heaved, and was nearly immune to the sloppy shit that was flowing out of the second tube across my face, dripping down my chest. The air around me reeked, but it was life, and I breathed it in. I had a moment’s rest before the next guy started draining a new batch of urine down my tube. I gulped it quickly, and simultaneously pissed at the same time. I was up to my knees now in warm frat boy sewage, with no way out.
Tyler was the next one in line to use my mouth. He looked into the hidden camera as he stepped up to the bowl. He had dressed up as Thor for this party, and holding a fake Mjollnir in his hand, he braced himself against the wall as he stood above me. He knew I was down there, his living toilet. He spit straight into the hole before he sent his piss down after it. I drank it down. There was no alternative.
Part 4
I lost all sense of time, so I can’t tell you exactly when Jason came in and hung the sign above the toilet bowl that was draining into my mouth, but it was about 2/3 of the way through the night. He nailed it to the inner wall above me, with each pounding of the hammer vibrating through the navel-high bag of sewage that I was bound and standing in. It was hard to read on the screen in front of me, but it appeared to read: “PISS ONLY! (unless it’s an emergency)”
There must have been some concern about how much shit a man could eat and survive, and none too soon. My guts ached as they tried to process all the filth I’d eaten, and the rubber plug they had stuffed up my ass kept me from expelling any of it. The piss I swallowed down and emptied straight into my prison, but the shit had nowhere to go but my guts. I felt bloated and disgusting, with a taste I couldn’t escape.
An hour passed like that, with most dudes pissing down either bowl, half of which I drank and half of which poured out a tube pointed at my face. At this point everyone had drunk enough beer that the piss was becoming more uniform in taste, and I couldn’t distinguish one guy from another. Pretty mild, compared to the raunch that had colored the first part of my sewer experience.
But then came one of the worst interludes of the night.
Jason had just started taking a slow dump on the rightmost bowl, the one that emptied out against my face, and a short blond dude who wasn’t wearing any costume was pissing down the one that drained into my mouth. On screen, I saw the door swing open and the tall guy dressed like Tebow poking his head in—the one who had already shit in my mouth earlier that night—looking uncomfortable. He held a hand against his abs, and was standing kind of crooked with the door held open. The blond guy glanced over his shoulder and shook the last few drops off, and as soon as he stepped away from the bowl, Tebow made his move to take it. He pushed past him, anxiously undoing the strings on the football pants, and with one quick motion, he yanked them and his underwear down to his ankles, and rapidly sat down on the bowl.
Muffled and distantly above me, I heard Jason ask him something like “you alright ***?” (I could not quite make out the name.)
Tebow made a pained face on screen and above me, I heard his ass erupt. It wasn’t really liquid, but it was definitely the sloppiest shit anyone had taken all night, and it flooded my mouth remarkably quick. I choked and nearly vomited trying to swallow it down, bits of vegetable matter sticking to my teeth on the way down.
“Fucking Chipotle, man” Tebow said to Jason, oblivious that I was being forced to recycle his lunch. It just kept coming, foul, hot, and thick. Jason laughed, ostensibly at Tebow’s comment, but his upward glance at the hidden camera let me know it was meant for me. None of the crap I’d eaten that night had been fun, but somehow the consistency of Tebow’s Chipotle-and-beer dump was more nauseating than the flavor. And it just kept coming.
I swallowed it nonetheless. It was the only choice I had; even if I had tried to let it stew, I couldn’t – the weight of it just pushed it right down my throat. Eventually the post-burrito slurry came to a slow, my mouth full of what felt like very soggy mud. On screen, Tebow finally started wiping his ass, forgetfully dropping the first one into the bowl above me, but then remembering to deposit them down the chute that emptied into my sewer bag.
I was so focused on Tebow’s shit in my mouth that I hardly paid attention to the Jason’s long thick log that was slowly emerging from the pipe against my face. It snaked out, gliding slowly on the wet piss that aided it’s journey toward me. One end poked against my nose before bending downward, smearing against my face. It broke off and dropped into the slosh around me, raising the level just a little higher. Another piece followed it down, while Tebow’s nasty TP fell down in little wads above me. The only silver lining to this was that with the outhouse in such high demand, the mess I was standing in was now much warmer than the cold hole I had been in when it was empty.
I choked down the last of Tebow’s second dump of the night. The remnants oozed into my mouth, followed finally by that single piece of toilet paper, which was now a soggy mush. I chewed it up and swallowed it, because what else could I do?
Part 5
The party was ending, and I was in hell. I had long ago lost count of how many times I had to drink some guy’s watery beer piss, but the worst had been the amount of shit I had been forced to consume. My captors had succeeded in turning me into a toilet for a hundred drunk frat boys, and the taste of that lingered. Much of it had been dumped down the second tube that drained into my tiny, plastic-lined, subterranean holding cell, and the nasty slurry of unadulterated sewage was up to my pecs. They hadn’t taken my shirt off before tying me up and dropping me down here, and the fabric of the lower half floated in the ooze around me while the parts above the waterline had soaked the sewage up to my shoulders. Much of it had spattered my face as it came down the pipe, but the space was so humid with the stench of a toilet that it wasn’t drying.
But returning to the amount of shit I had eaten, there was no way to expel it, because they had crammed that plug up my ass before they stuck me down here. Apart from the fact that the shit I had been forced to eat was fucking with my digestive system and my guts felt like they were going to explode (but couldn’t), the amount that I had consumed meant that I was painfully, disgustingly full. Had it been a Christmas dinner instead of frat boys’ shit, I would have stopped eating long ago. Thank god they had hung that “piss only” sign up when they did, because I don’t know that I would have survived if I had been forced to eat much more.
But visitors to my outhouse prison grew fewer and fewer, and eventually stopped altogether. I was completely exhausted, but too uncomfortable to really fall asleep. I floated in the waste, losing touch with awareness and soon snapping back to reality, moving in and out of real consciousness. Hours passed in a haze, though I was unaware of time’s flow.
At some point later—who knows how much later—there was motion on the screen in front of me and I was startled back to reality as the door slammed shut above me. I saw Ryan up there, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a plain undershirt, drinking a can of beer. He reached up and flipped a switch on the ceiling, and the sounds of voices that had been looping all night (intended to prevent anyone from realizing that the agonized sounds I made below them were actually real) finally stopped. The space was silent for the first time since I’d been put down here, and I could hear Ryan’s movements more clearly. I moaned into the gag, and he smirked.
“Mornin’ shitbreath,” he said looking into the camera. “I thought you might be ready for some breakfast.” He pulled down the shorts and took a seat above me. Fucking hell, I was still so full, just knowing that I had to eat again was brutal.
I watched him on camera. He wasn’t built like Tyler was, but he wasn’t weak either. He had some muscle on him, and he wasn’t really fat except for the beer gut. But I soon forgot that as his morning piss started flowing down the tube. I gulped it down, and was surprised at how much stronger it was than what I’d had to drink last night. It wasn’t as bad as the shit I knew was coming, but it was foul. I choked on it, but swallowed it down. He could hear me choke now that the masking sound effects were off, and he laughed a little.
“Ready, faggot?” he asked. “Here it comes!” I heard him fart into the bowl, and then a heavy thud. I watched him take a sip of his breakfast beer, and I could hear the continual cracking sound his shit made as it left his body. Fifteen seconds later, the first end of his shit was sliding down the tube into my mouth.
It wasn’t as bad as Tebow’s Chipotle shit had been, but it wasn’t like I was happy about eating it – I mean, it still tasted like shit. It was thick and I chewed through it. It stuck to my teeth and the roof of my mouth, but most of it I was able to swallow, before the next part forced its way into my mouth. This wasn’t fun, and I fucking hated it, but at least I had reached a point where I didn’t feel like throwing up from the taste anymore. I kept chewing Ryan’s shit, and he kept making more for me to consume.
Finally he started wiping himself, and dropping the bits of paper down the chute into the mess floating around me. I was still working through my “breakfast” when he left, and in fact, I didn’t finish it until several minutes after he had already left the shack. I was so full that when the last few inches of his morning dump plopped into my mouth, I just left them there. Suffering through the taste of his shit filling up my mouth was better than swallowing another bite of anything.
An hour later, Tyler and Jason came in together, and started disassembling the seats above me. They both wore yellow rubber gloves, the kind you use for heavy cleaning. Clearly they didn’t want to touch anything they had been feeding me. The seat came off, and the room was suddenly better lit, and I blinked to focus. Tyler winced at the stench of the sewage I was floating in. “Fuck, that’s nasty,” he said. Jason nodded in agreement.
They hauled the seats out, leaving me tied there in the cesspool, a long hose dangling from my face. Jason came back and reached down between the plastic sheeting and the hole, pulling out the ipad that had served all night as my security monitor, letting me see exactly which guy I was serving as a toilet. A few moments later, I heard a bunch of guys talking outside, and the shack above me began to slide away. I was blinded by sunlight, but to their eyes I was a disgusting mess – coated in the shit and piss and soggy toilet paper from every guy at their party, with my feeding tube now dangling into the pool like some kind of proboscis. Tyler grimaced as he and Jason grabbed the ropes that bound me, hauling me out of the hole, chunks of wet shit sliding down my body as gravity tugged it back. They dropped me on the grass, and Jason started cutting away the ropes. I tried to stand as I was freed, but my legs were asleep and wouldn’t cooperate.
“You’re not done yet, fag,” Tyler said to me. “Tug the plastic sheet up so all that crap slides into the bottom of the hole. You can leave the plastic on top of it, unless you want to take it home and use it as a blanket. After that, there’s a wheelbarrow full of dirt around the back, you can use that to fill the hole back in.”
Fuck, I was finally free and they were making me work? I reached up and tried to take off the gag that was dangling from my face.
“Did I say you could remove that?!” Tyler yelled at me. “Leave that shit on.”
Exhausted, uncomfortable, and covered in shit, I started doing the work as ordered. While it was really warm for being November 1, that’s still pretty cold when you’re soaked in sewage and half-naked. I bent over the edge of the hole, and tried to tug up the plastic, but the weight of the nasty mess collected at the bottom made it difficult. I tugged and it moved a couple inches up. I gave it another tug, but I had almost no footing in the wet grass, and I slipped headfirst into the mess. A few moments later I felt rubber gloves grip my ankles and drag me out, though now I was even grosser than before.
“Fuck!” Tyler yelled at me. “Do it right!”
I knelt this time to give myself more leverage, and got a better grip on the plastic. I strained as bits of shit dripped down my face, and soon the plastic gave way. The sewage slid down into the hole, and joined the two inches of groundwater at the bottom. I left the plastic on top, as instructed, as the mess started diminishing, the piss soaking into the soil.
I stood up and started waddling toward the wheelbarrow they had pointed out. It was hard to walk, not only because I had been in bondage for so long, but because I still had a rubber plug still lodged in my asshole, and a lifetime’s supply of consumed shit trying to force its way out. But I managed to get the dirt over to the hole, and using my hands, I filled it back in. All in all, it took me about twenty minutes to finish the jobs they had given me. They stood around and kept drinking while I worked.
As I patted down the last of the dirt, I felt a blast of cold water on my back. I cried aloud, startled, as Craig began to hose me down. I writhed on the ground as the pressurized water sprayed the sewage from my body. The guys laughed as I thrashed around in the cold spray.
Finally satisfied that I was clean of shit, Jason undid the gag from my face. It had trapped a thin layer of brown beneath it, which prompted a “whoops, missed a spot” from Craig, who promptly sprayed me in the face with the hose again. Clean on the outside, from my mouth to my bowels, I was still their septic tank on the inside.
“Alright fag,” Tyler finally said to me. “Here’s how it goes. We have this whole thing on tape. You should see the faces you make as you eat shit for eight hours straight. We could probably make a lot of money posting this to the internet, there’s a lot of motherfuckers out there who would pay to see this. Would you like that, becoming one of the internet’s biggest scat celebrities? We could make that happen. We don’t really need the money, but it never hurts to have a little more.”
Tyler paused to let that sink in. “Also, don’t think about going around tattling on us. Craig’s dad is on the violations board here at the university, and Mark’s works for the police, and we will be happy to say that you separately offered all four of us A’s if we’d suck your dick. Who do you think comes out on top if you try to challenge us? Save yourself the headache and don’t bother, because you’re the one who’ll end up paying if you try. We basically own you now.”
“Here’s how it goes: we actually ARE getting As for the rest of the semester. Thanks in advance, it’ll be nice to not have to show up to that fucking class ever again. Second, we’ll allow you the privilege of keeping up with your own work, but apart from that, your schedule belongs to us. Like I said, we fucking own you now.”
Tyler threw my jeans and shoes at me, the pair they had stripped me of yesterday. “Put these on; you can keep the plug as a special present. We’ll see you again on Tuesday. For now, get dressed and go home. And for fuck's sake, clean that stench off before you come back, you smell like a fucking toilet.”
Part 6
It had been a few days since the frat boys had captured me, forced me to become a toilet for all their friends, and then released me. Bloated with the fresh sewage I had consumed from them and their friends, I had left their place, a giant plug still lodged in my asshole. Tyler had left me with ominous words, threats of exposure unless I complied with their demand of what amounted to slavery. “See you again Tuesday” had been one of the last things he had said to me before sending me home. I had been feeling dread since then.
I had recovered some since then. Reaching my apartment, the first thing I did was try to remove the rubber plug that stoppered my ass. My guts were wrecked from what they’d fed me; I felt like I was going to explode, and that plug was what held it all back. It hurt trying to pull it out, and it took a little time before I finally managed to extract it. A foul torrent had been released, exacerbating the pain left from the sudden absence of the plug. I’d rather not say more, it was unpleasant.
I had been queasy for a couple days, but my system balanced out and I had finally gotten my appetite back. Just in time for Tuesday.
I checked my email first thing that morning, part of my normal routine. There it was, an email from Tyler, time stamped 2:21AM.
“Hey fag – hope you’re ready for tomorrow. Be at our back door at 6:30. T”
Short and mysterious.
I thought about not going, but the consequences would be dire. He had made that clear, and as sadistic as he was, it seemed likely that he would exceed the threats he had made. Life-ruining consequences, the inescapable kind that follow you. I was fucked, and there was no way out. I barely concentrated on my work that day, preoccupied with the unknown of 6:30.
And so it arrived, and I found myself walking toward their place. Arrived at the back door at 6:28, and knocked.
Ryan opened the door. “You’re early,” he said. “Kneel there and wait until it’s time.” He slammed the door without waiting for a reply.
I knelt on their back porch, as the two minutes ticked by. It was getting dark out, and I was getting cold. Much more than two minutes passed by, and I waited. Finally at 6:40 Tyler opened the door. “What are you doing faggot, I told you to be here at 6:30, and you’re just out here hanging out? What the fuck?” I saw Ryan snickering in the corner. I thought about responding, but decided that could only make things worse. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Whatever faggot, crawl in here.” Fearful, I did as Tyler told me. 6’4”, built, and mean, I think that fear was well-placed. Fuck, they’d turned me into a toilet less than a week ago.
Tyler closed the door as I knelt in their kitchen on my hands and knees. He kicked my ankles apart and tapped his foot up against my ballsack. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know that he could.
To my left was a round wooden table, big enough for about six guys to sit at. A guy I didn’t recognize was there, some brown-haired dude in jeans and their frat shirt. 5’11” maybe 6’0”? Couldn’t tell from this angle and with him sitting down. Ryan leaned against the wall, drinking a Miller tall boy.
Tyler strutted to the front of me, looking down from above. I looked up at him, a tower from my viewpoint. He spit and let it dangle, finally releasing it to slide down my face. “Listen up faggot,” he followed with. “The first thing you do whenever you get here is you kiss the ass of any brother you encounter. Don’t discuss it, don’t hesitate, just fucking do it. And you crawl everywhere while you’re here.” I stared up at him blankly. Tyler looked back and kicked me in the chest, toppling me over. “What are you waiting for, fucker? Do it!” He turned around so his ass faced me.
Shit, I didn’t realize he meant it literally. I sat up from where I was and pressed my face against the round cheek of his white basketball shorts, kissing his ass through them as instructed. “Better,” he said. “Not just me though.” I got back on my hands and knees and crawled over to the unknown guy. He didn’t stand up, so I sat up and got my lips as close to the bottom of his ass as possible, almost kissing his chair. He smirked and looked at Tyler, but said nothing. Finally, I crawled over to where Ryan stood. “What up, faggot?” he said to me, and turned around. He pulled his shorts down so that his bare ass hung out. I sat up and kissed the right cheek, quickly pulling back.
“No way dude, get down in there!” Ryan snapped at me. I leaned forward again, and put my hands on his cheeks, pulling them slightly apart. I leaned forward, my face wedged in his crack, and kissed him closer to his asshole. Shortly after my lips made contact, he let a loud fart loose against my face. They all started laughing as I choked on the fumes.
“Damn dude, that shit is nasty!” the seated guy responded, as Ryan pulled his shorts back up.
“Whatever man,” Ryan retorted, “it’s not like yours smell like candy.”
I recovered my composure, and remained crouched in front of Ryan. As I sat there, he pulled down the front of his shorts and whipped his balls out. “I got a little present for ya,” he said, rubbing them against my face. I turned away slightly, grimacing, and Tyler laughed watching my discomfort. Eventually Ryan bored of the teabagging and put his junk away. “Actually, we really do have a present for ya,” he said, and Tyler threw a tiny, light blue rubbery thing at me. It took me a minute to figure out what it was, but it was a male chastity device.
“We found that on some super gay site that I’m sure you’ve already been to 1000 times,” Tyler said. “Your dick is ours now,” he said to me, “but we don’t want to touch it. So put that fucker on yourself and then Ryan will give you a little padlock to snap on it.”
This sounded like a terrible idea. “Please don’t,” I pleaded. “Don’t make me do this.”
Ryan slapped me in the face. “Shut up motherfucker,” he said. “Put it on. You’ll spend some time in the penalty box for that.” Penalty box?
“Drop ‘em, fag,” Tyler said to me. Resigned, I stood up and obeyed. My dick hung exposed, and I felt vulnerable before them. I looked at Tyler, and he nodded at me, indicating to strap myself into the device. It took a minute to figure out how it worked, but soon a thick sheath of silicone held my dick in place, immovable, trapped, and flaccid. Ryan flourished a tiny brass lock between his fingers and handed it to me. I took it and held it for a second, before regrettably locking it through the pin.
“Good job, fag,” Tyler said. I was happier with him happy, but that was less because I wanted him to feel good than that I felt safer with him happy. “Might as well take those all the way off,” he pointed at the pants around my ankles, “you won’t need them again until you leave.” I complied.
“Alright fag, you can start with the dishes,” Ryan said to me, giving me a hard slap on the ass. He gestured to a huge pile of plates and plastic cups that filled their sink. “Then the punishment box.”
I moved to the sink and began working through the dishes, bare-assed with a brass lock slapping against my sheathed dick, while the frat boys hung out behind me. I heard other guys come and go while I worked, but I didn’t turn around to see who they were. Clearly though there was no surprise to anyone that a half-naked man was doing their work for them. I was thorough, taking my time with them – the longer I was washing dishes, the longer I was not being abused. I didn’t know what the penalty box was, but I was certain that cleaning was less trouble for me.
Finally, I reached the end of them, and I turned to meet my fate.
“Nicely done, bitch,” Ryan said. “But that took way too long. I’m adding an extra hour to your time in the penalty box for wasting our time. You think we want to watch your naked ass milk dishwashing? No dice, motherfucker.”
“Get on your knees and follow me,” Tyler said. Resigned, I complied.
I moved slower than them, not used to crawling on the floor. “Keep up,” he barked at me. At least the floor was carpeted once we left the kitchen.
They took me up a flight of stairs, and led me into a bathroom. Shit. I had an idea where this was headed. These guys were fucking disgusting.
In the corner, near the shower, was a padded box on wheels. A door hung open, and Tyler guided me inside of it. Once in, he snapped a piece around my neck, effectively trapping my head at the top of the box, then closed and locked the door with a carabiner.
“You know the drill, motherfucker,” Tyler said. “You fuck up, you spend time here. You fucked with our grades before, that’s how you started with the heaviest penalty. Tonight you’ve only fucked up a little, so it won’t be as bad as that. You’ll only be up here for about three hours. We’re going to try this without the tubes and gags, but if you’re uncooperative, we’ll dig ‘em out. And you can count on an extra two hours if you make us do that.”
Tyler paused and looked at me for a moment. “Alright fag, open up.” He tugged down the front of his shorts and whipped his dick out, a thick piece framed by trimmed blond pubes. I reluctantly opened my mouth and let him get the head close. Moments later, an acrid stream of yellow piss hit the back of my throat, and I raced to gulp down what felt like a firehose. A firehose with a disgusting flavor. I instinctively tried to draw back, but my head went nowhere.
I mostly kept up, dribbling only a few drops, and when he finished he shook the last drops out against my face. “Nice work, fucker,” he said. “I guess you’ve had a lot of practice, though.”
“I gotta use the head, too,” Ryan said. Wordplay. Didn’t expect that from him, he wasn’t that sharp. Tyler and Brown Hair (whose name I still didn’t know) hung back a bit, while Ryan stepped forward and waved his dick in my face. I kept my mouth open as he flooded it with his beer piss. Milder than Tyler’s, much better. Better? I meant easier. I drank it down as fast as he gave it to me.
Tapering off, he shook the drops off on my face as Tyler had done. “Fuck,” he said, “I gotta take a dump here too,” he said. Tyler grinned to see the panic on my face. I wanted to escape, but there was no way out. Ryan pulled his shorts down and backed his ass up against my face, resting his thighs against the edge of the box. “Open up and put your lips around my shithole, faggot,” he said to me. I did my best to angle, my nose wedged in his crack, and finally I got my lips near his pucker.
As the party toilet, I had been forced to eat shit already, but it typically took a little time for it to slide down the tube into my mouth. There was no warning this close up, though. I heard Ryan fart and suddenly my mouth was full of thick, hot, mushy shit. I gagged as the smell hit my nostrils, as the shit clung to the roof of my mouth, the taste of his filth abusing my tongue. I choked and almost vomited, but they were right, I’d had some practice. I fought the urge to throw it up, and instead I started chewing and swallowing. But moments later Ryan’s ass erupted again and my mouth was even fuller. Panicked, I started swallowing the thick mess, but I couldn’t keep up. I pushed against the door from the inside, trying to press it open, but it held and did little more than rattle the carabiner. Ryan’s ass had the advantage – the shit started pushing down my throat, and I choked again. “I think we’re going to need the equipment,” Ryan said to the other two. “He’s doing a fucking terrible job here.” I swallowed as fast as I could get it down, but Ryan’s shit squeezed out against my lips and started dropping onto the box that encased me. Brown chunks rolled down my chin, joining the accumulating mess and streaking my face with shit. I salivated copiously, instinctively trying to liquefy the nastiness I was being forced to consume, and slowly it turned muddier, and I started getting more down. Ryan was finished, but my mouth was still full of his shit. He stood up and I saw the brown slime I’d gotten all over his ass. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper and angrily started cleaning himself up. “Fucking fucker slobbering shit all over my ass,” he shot my way. “Little bitch can’t do this without the gear.” I coughed with my mouth full of crap, locking eyes with him as he glared at me.
I was still chewing as Brown Hair left to get "the gear." No real idea what it was but I was sure that it wouldn't make things better for me.
Part 7
Note to readers:
Hey guys, thanks for all the positive feedback. I've enjoyed writing this story -- this has been a great way for me to think through some fantasies that could never turn into a reality -- but I've also enjoyed knowing that other guys besides me are enjoying it too. I post new entries when I can, but I actually am a grad student with teaching duties at a university here, and my free time isn't all that plentiful. You know my main reason for being on this site was in order to read other kinky stories, and if you've been enjoying this frat story, I'd love to see what twisted forcefeeding stories some of you other dudes can create :)
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As I sat there, locked in the penalty box, I struggled to swallow Ryan’s disgusting shit. I wasn’t sure what it was, but one of Ryan’s frat brothers had gone to get “the gear.” When they had first imprisoned me as their party toilet, I had been locked in what amounted to a man-sized sewage pit with my mouth connected to a toilet bowl above me, forced to watch a hidden camera as strange guys unwittingly used me as their outhouse. It had been both repulsive and elaborate at the same time, so I had some frame of reference for their creativity in “gear.” It also had to have been expensive to make; at least one of these sadistic motherfuckers had a nice amount of money to bankroll that kind of torture.
I was swallowing the last of the shit in my mouth when Brown Hair (the frat brother whose name I didn’t know) came back carrying a giant cardboard box. Ryan meanwhile was putting on two sets of rubber gloves, one over the other. As Brown Hair set it down, Ryan started picking up bits of shit that had escaped my mouth and shoving them back in. He was pissed and rough about it, forcing his fingers past my teeth and wiping the shit chunks directly on my tongue. I could taste the strong flavor of latex behind it, and his thumb left sticky brown splotches on my cheek. He made sure I finished the entire portion before finally tearing off some toilet paper and wiping down the box below my face. “You’ll get out the windex and clean that properly before you leave,” he told me, “but it’s good enough for now. I’d have thought you’d had enough practice the other night to do this right, but I guess you need more training. Good thing I thought ahead on that.”
Tyler watched Ryan show off his sadism with a smug smirk. I was starting to get a feel for their personalities a bit better now as their captive than I had as their instructor. It wasn’t that Ryan was more sadistic than Tyler when it came to this stuff, it was that Ryan was just more vocal about it. Ryan liked reminding me where I stood and who was in charge; Tyler approved of that arrangement, but just didn’t give a shit about putting it to words. Pissing down my throat didn’t require a conversation for Tyler.
Back to Ryan. His college beer gut was more noticeable as he bent over the box Brown Hair had retrieved, but he wasn’t really fat. In fact, he had quite a bit of muscle on him, but he liked to drink and his body had absorbed it. After a few seconds of rummaging, he started pulling “the gear” out.
“I went looking online last week for equipment that would help us teach you properly,” he said to me, “but the closest thing I could find was something called a ‘urinal piss gag’ and it wasn’t going to work for what you need to accomplish. So I found a guy who custom makes shit like this, and told him I needed something to turn a faggot into a full toilet. He came through, and this arrived today.” Ryan held up something that looked like some kind of mask with a short pipe coming out of the mouth, with most of the extruding part covered in plumbing threads. Sure enough, Ryan wedged a piece of a wide black plastic pipe about three quarters of an inch into my mouth, before wrapping some kind of attached heavy rubber mask around my jaw and the lower half of my head. He tightened some kind of straps over the top of my head, transforming the bottom half of my face into a watertight rubber container – the rubber pressed flush against the skin, so that even the saliva prompted by the pipe in my mouth was contained, no drool able to escape. I started swallowing my spit instinctively. Ryan finished locking the straps in place, and I turned my head to look at him. I must have looked ridiculous, because all three of them laughed.
“I think you got an idea about how this works,” Ryan said to me as he pulled out the next piece. It looked like a shallow toilet bowl made entirely of black rubber, with a moveable toilet seat attached to it. Another piece of plastic pipe emerged from the back, and Ryan took a kind of threaded coupler out of the box along with it. Brown Hair helped him hold the bowl in front of my face as Ryan screwed the piece onto my mask. When he finished, he let go and the weight of the device tugged my head forward as far as it would go. I could hear him getting more stuff out of the box as I was forced to look at the floor. The seat was level with my nose as I stared down the two curving sides. I sat like that for a couple minutes while Ryan and Brown Hair did something directly behind me; I could hear them threading some sort of metal items into the back of my penalty box. Soon Ryan was hooking coated airline cables into some bolts at the base of the bowl which I hadn’t noticed until that point, and moments later the weight was removed from my head as the slack tightened on the cables and the bowl was raised level with the floor. There must be some kind of frame behind me to handle the weight of the bowl—it hadn’t occurred to me, but that would be necessary if they were going to do what I expected.
Ryan tested the structure out by leaning onto the seat with his body weight, and while it held, it was a little shaky. He scowled a little and fished a rubber block out of the box, wedging it between the contraption and the front edge of the box. He tried his weight on it again and this time it held more stably. I swallowed more of my collecting saliva, still flavored with Ryan’s earlier shit. A passing thought made me wonder why he had decided to shit directly into my mouth before when he’d clearly gone to all sorts of trouble to make this. I didn’t dwell on it too long though, this kid was both unpredictable and a dick, so who knows why he did it that way.
“You wanna christen it?” Ryan said to Brown Hair.
“I gotta piss man,” he replied, “but I just shit a couple hours ago.”
“Go for it, bro” Ryan responded. Brown Hair stepped up to the bowl and lifted the seat. My view was completely blocked now, but I could hear him unzip his fly and pull his dick out. A few moments later a light mist began to graze my face and I could hear the heavy sound of his piss hitting the bottom of the bowl. Another moment and I could taste his urine cascading into my mouth. I couldn’t believe that I was actually grateful for it—not because I enjoyed the taste nor the abuse I was receiving at the hands of these motherfuckers (none of this was really voluntary on my part, after all)—but because it helped wash away the flavor of Ryan’s dump. Given a choice between recycling Brown Hair’s beer or recycling Ryan’s pancake breakfast, it would always be the beer.
“Nice man,” Ryan said to him as the flow tapered off and I gulped down the last of it. “Looks like this thing works—it didn’t leak at all. Fuck man, we need to test out the heavy duty part of it though, I wanna know if this was worth what I paid for it.”
“I’ll go ask around,” said Tyler. I could hear him leave, but with the seat remaining up, I saw nothing that was happening. Ryan and Brown Hair hung around talking to each other as though I wasn’t there—from what I gathered, Brown Hair was trying to bone some girl in his calculus class, but she wasn’t all that into him and so he was thinking about giving up on it.
The two of them talked about that for several minutes before I heard Tyler finally return with a couple guys in tow. “Sean needs to take a shit,” Tyler said to them. Ryan and Brown Hair let out a “Heeey!” like someone had just taken a shot. Fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to doing this yet again.
“Blake, you too?” said Ryan. I heard another unfamiliar voice, “not yet man, I just want to see how this works.” A round of laughter.
Another unfamiliar voice. “Dude, I can’t believe you guys are going to watch me take a shit in this guy’s mouth. This is so messed up.” Another round of laughter. I pressed my hands against the inside of the door again, instinctively checking to see if it would budge, but nope. I was good and fucked.
“It’s kind of high off the ground, dude,” said the unfamiliar voice again (presumably Sean). “Is there like a footstool or a chair or something? I don’t want to dangle my feet off the floor like a little kid.”
“Yeah, hold on,” said Brown Hair, who I could hear temporarily leaving the bathroom.
“It’s a shame you can’t be in two places at once, faggot,” Ryan said to me. “You’d be perfect as a footstool.” More laughter.
Finally, I heard Brown Hair return again and drop something on the floor in front of me.
“Perfect,” said Sean. I heard him step up on the block or whatever Brown Hair had brought before following it with “oops.”
“I got you bro,” said Ryan. I was startled when there were suddenly fingers in my field of vision. It was just Ryan’s hand, dropping the toilet seat back down. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to my new field of vision, and when they did, what I saw was a round, bare ass descending onto the seat in front of me.
My head was pulled forward ever so slightly with Sean’s extra weight on the bowl, but it remained steady in place. My perspective was such that the top of the seat was maybe an inch or two below my eyes, and Sean’s ass maybe five or six inches in front of them. The end of my nose was almost touching the back of the seat, the space between them so small as to be nearly invisible. I looked up above me and saw a muscular back underneath a white t-shirt, and the back of this Sean guy’s head, a field of close-cut black hair. My eyes dropped back down, and I could see the bottom hem of his t-shirt and the bare skin below. His asscheeks were sparsely covered with more black hair – neither a forest nor a desert. He sat only inches from my face, with the seat pulling his cheeks and legs slightly apart.
He sat for half a minute without doing anything, finally saying “this is so fucking weird to have you guys watching me like this.”
“Come on man, you can do it,” I heard Tyler encourage. “Just play on your phone or something and pretend we’re not here.”
“Yeah, but do you have to keep taking pictures, man? I don’t want to be seen doing this online.” Wait, what? Who was taking pictures?
“They’re just insurance, and we’ll blur your face out,” Tyler said. “And I got enough for now.” That didn’t sound good, but my immediate preoccupation remained Sean’s imminent dump.
“Alright dude, that’s cool then,” he said. Every time Sean spoke I could feel the vibrations of his voice through the mask. “I guess I will just play on my phone. This’ll go faster if I can pretend like you’re not here.”
“Take your time,” said Ryan. “That little bitch isn’t going anywhere right away.”
Moments passed, and I heard only the sounds of other guys sipping beer or Sean playing some game on his phone. I stared at his spread asscheeks pressed against the seat, nervously anticipating the terrible moment when they would begin to feed me.
A minute passed and finally a stream of piss began to trickle out and build up. It quickly ran into my waiting mouth, and it was much stronger than Brown Hair’s had been. I coughed once, but was getting better at the piss-drinking, and so even with so sharp a flavor I managed to get it down without too much trouble. Forty seconds into his piss, I heard a crackling sound from Sean’s butt. I wasn’t used to being so close to emerging shit; before, at the party, it had been too distant and the noise too loud for me to note this kind of detail. Somehow being able to hear Sean’s dump beginning made it even worse.
I could smell it too; the scent wafted up from the bowl and straight into my nostrils. It was gross and pungent, and I was glad I didn’t know any details about his diet. Soon there was a thump and a vibration as a thick chunk of shit dropped into the bowl mere inches from my forced-open mouth. I momentarily panicked, wondering how I would be able to swallow it whole, when I realized that I had just enough room to pull my teeth past the edge of the pipe to chew. I couldn’t pull back so far that anything could escape, but at least I wouldn’t choke to death on some frat boy’s shit.
I could hear Sean’s ass open up and deposit more shit into the bowl, and as it began to collect in a pile at the bottom, the first chunk started to protrude into my mouth. It tasted as bad as it smelled, and I started to dry heave at the flavor, which, of course, provoked another round of laughter from the guys watching. “That’s gotta taste so gross,” Sean said to the rest of them.
“Yeah man, you couldn’t pay me to touch that,” Ryan said. “But that motherfucker deserves it.”
“Oh yeah?” said Sean. “Well in that case—” He grunted and his ass erupted, noisily splattering the bowl with softer shit than had first emerged. The room filled with uproarious laughter.
“Fuck dude that smells so bad!” said Tyler. “That’s fucking disgusting.” The first part of Sean’s shit had been just barely too thick to slide down the pipe into my mouth, but with the moister stuff that had followed, I now had a mouthful of a soft mushy dump. It was gross as fuck, but I got to chewing the parts that required it and swallowing it down. Better to soldier on and get it over with than drag it out. Meanwhile the guys commented further on the smell and the nastiness of what I was doing.
I kept swallowing the shit as it slowly sludged into my mouth. Finally Sean spoke up again. “We can’t feed him toilet paper, right?” he said.
“Nah man,” said Ryan. “The internet said a little wouldn’t hurt him, but we could wind up with a lot of problems if we fed him too much of it. Just toss it in this wastebasket and he can take it home with him.”
“Cool,” said Sean. I swallowed another bit of his shit as he shifted his body and reached between his legs with some TP. A few more wipes and he was done, and as he stood up, I watched him. His muscular ass, rounded cheeks with that light coating of dark hair was bare for a second or two before he tugged up his boxer-briefs and jeans. For a minute I thought he must have been 6’6” or something insane before I remembered he was standing on something, and he stepped off, I decided maybe 6’1” or 6’2”. Of course my frame of reference was totally skewed, given that I was locked in a box with a fucking toilet full of this guy’s shit immovably strapped to my face.
As he stepped away, Tyler moved in with his phone raised, snapping a picture of my face trapped behind that nasty bowl. “Just making sure you stay in line,” he said to me.
“Alright guys,” Ryan interjected, “here’s how this next part works. Most of Sean’s crap is just piled up there in the bottom of the bowl, but this hungry little fucker is eager to finish it off, and we can’t deprive him of that. The guy who made this sent along this thing.” Ryan raised up something that I could only barely see in my peripheral, but which would have been visible to everyone else. “It’s made to help push your heavier dumps down to where our little fag here can consume it. It’ll get messy as we use it, but if we keep it inside this handy little container that came with it, we can keep it from getting all over the bathroom. But if you drop a little, remember that our favorite toilet is also happy to clean it up for you when he finally crawls out of here. Anyway, watch and learn.”
Above me, I saw Ryan’s smug face towering over me, and what looked like a kind of rounded black rubber baton being shoved down towards my mouth. One side of it was concave like a spoon, and Ryan started scraping the sides of the bowl down into the bottom. “There you go,” he said to me. “Nice and accessible now.” He flipped the thing over and pushed some more, and suddenly a giant mass of shit pushed into my mouth like dough through a pasta maker. I had thought I was close to done, but now the bulk of this Sean guy’s crap was stuffed inside my mouth. I panicked and worked quickly, trying to get it down, chewing through the thicker parts and swallowing the drippier globs as I was able. It was revolting work, but once again, I did it. Soon I was chewing up the last of his thicker chunks and getting it down.
“Looks like it works perfectly,” Ryan said. “Let’s go see who else wants to try it out.”
Fuck.