Story: The Toilet

[kochel428]

Author's note: I've written something pretty sick this time. I should include a trigger warning for rape, and a disclaimer that this is NOT how any of this would go down in real life. It's a fantasy, and no one should ever have this happen to them in real life. That said, if my girlfriend wanted to pretend to be Emily here for a day, I'd be down.

I've written this all at once, but I'm publishing it here in three segments just because it's looong. The first two contain copious amounts of sex and wetting, and the third contains messing. I feel like wetting-only fetishists will still enjoy the first two parts even without getting the resolution.

Part One: Emily

You're going to be scared for me, I'm sure. But look, here I am! I went through
an ordeal and I lived to tell the tale. And in truth I got lucky, I think. It
could have been worse.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm here to tell you about a really, really
bad date.

Emily's profile was generic enough that I had forgotten I'd swiped right when
the match notification popped up on my screen. But there she was, pretty in a
girl next door sort of way—long straight brown hair and a sweet round face.
Not particularly glamorous, but you could say she was my type. Her
description was something like "Just looking for a fellow weirdo to nerd it up
with me, without talking about what nerdy weirdos we are all the time."

I sent her a message.

Chatting was easy. She had watched Deep Space Nine and read all the Game of
Thrones books. Her politics were indistinct but seemed to lean liberal, and
she had a penchant for clever wordplay. We agreed to meet up on a Friday night
for drinks.

In truth I don't remember the date very well. Whether that's because of the
trauma that came later or because she had already drugged me right at the
start, I'm not sure. But I remember seeing her face, prettier than it had
looked in the pictures, and her big flashy smile, and thinking she seemed
kind. I was deeply wrong about that.

I remember confusedly getting into a cab with her, and her apologizing to the
cabbie that her boyfriend was so drunk. My mouth felt slow and stupid, unable
to form words. I tried to say I wasn't her boyfriend but no words came out. My
arms were heavy. I woke up vaguely when we were en route, and dumbly observed
that I was peeing my pants. "Oh honey," she whispered, her hot breath in my
ear, "you're doing just fine, don't worry about that."

Somehow I was in her bed, and inside her, enveloped in warm sheets, my wet
pants around my knees, Emily riding on top of me. I remember her moans, and
that she squirted profusely when she came. And I remember coming inside her
and realizing I wasn't wearing a condom.

Some time in the night I came into blurred consciousness. She was lying next
to me stroking my hair gently, and a puddle was growing under me. It took me a
while to realize it was coming from me, and that my pants had been pulled back
up. She was whispering to me over and over, "Such a small bladder, and a
nice sized dick. Baby it's ok, you're gonna be perfect. Perfect. Such a
small bladder..."

****

First I was aware that it was light outside, and then that I had something in
my mouth. Then I felt that I was lying under a warm, heavy comforter, and that
I was soaking wet.

Then I realized I couldn't move.

The ropes were tied expertly, bending and spreading my knees, keeping me from
rotating my body side to side. My arms were tied spread-eagle, and I had a
loop around my neck that was tied off in multiple places, keeping my upper
torso from moving far at all. Whatever was in my mouth was holding it open
without blocking the flow of air. I couldn't see it but I imagined it was a
sort of plastic ring, held in place by straps that went around behind my head.

I had a raging hard on, despite not being turned on in the least, and my
bladder felt full to the breaking point. That was when I started screaming.

It sounded ridiculous, with my mouth propped open like that. I sounded
inhuman, some wailing beast. But it was enough to summon Emily, who came into
view after a few seconds. She sat down at the bedside and stroked my cheek.
"Aw baby, shhhhh. No one can hear you here but me. No need to get yourself
worked up when no one can hear you." Her voice was weirdly soothing--
nurturing, even.

I tried to ask her why she did this to me, would she let me go, but it came
out garbled nonsense with the gag in place. "You have questions? Honey I'm
sure I would too, but you're not getting answers. Just relax and try to enjoy
yourself, it'll be easier for you that way." I wasn't sure what was coming,
but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be enjoying myself.

Emily pulled back the covers and wrinkled her nose at the stale smell. The
sudden cold air snapped my bladder into focus. I had to pee worse than I could
ever remember. Then she giggled. "Oh good! The little blue pill I gave you did
just what it was supposed to!" She massaged my hard penis through the damp
crotch of my jeans, then traveled up and gave a sharp thrust into my abdomen.
I choked out a weird open-mouthed gasp and felt a big spurt of piss surge out
of me, warming the front of my pants and snaking tendrils of cooling wetness
down my hips to the bed.

"Oh and the other pills I gave you are still working their magic!"

The she climbed on top of me and straddled my hips. At first I tried to
struggle, but I only succeeded at rocking my pelvis forward and back in a way
that stimulated me, and apparently her too. She exhaled generously and then
leaned down so her mouth was next to my ear again. "Listen to me," she moaned,
"this place has a bed, and a kitchen, and even a shower, though I don't think
you'll ever see that." She abruptly pulled back and grabbed my hair, hard. Her
face leaned in so our noses were almost touching. Her voice became cold. "But
there's no toilet here. Except for you. You're the toilet in this place, and
the sooner you understand that the better it will beeee..."

She trailed off, and her expression shifted from dominance to bliss—her eyes
fluttered, her lips parted. I felt her piss spreading over my crotch, on my
legs, pooling under my butt. She was completely emptying an apparently very
full bladder.

All that wetness and I felt my control starting to slip. If only I could
change positions, or even hold myself, I was so desperate. At some point I
felt my body push, and then I was peeing along with her, a good 30 second
stream.

Emily gasped with delight when she felt what I was doing. "Yes! You're getting
it! Oh good job, oh you're doing so well!" She was rubbing her clit on my
crotch and suddenly she shuddered in orgasm, spurting again a flush of hot
liquid. She sat up then and unbuttoned my jeans. "We can't let a good erection
like this go to waste," she murmured.

She sprung it free, and a sudden spurt from it sprayed out and seemed to
tickle her vagina. She laughed and guided me inside of her. I didn't want any
of this, but the feeling was overwhelming, the heat of her of wet pussy, my
bladder full and pressing urgently still. I was coming then, what felt like
endless spurts of semen filling her and then squishing out of her and down the
shaft of my penis.

"Mmm did that feel good, baby?" She kept moving up and down on my cock, and I
desperately wanted it to stop, but there was nothing I could do. She played
with my swollen abdomen while she rocked back and forth. "You still have to
go so much, why don't you just let it out?" I realized then I was hollering
like a wounded animal, and she was pressing relentlessly on my bladder, and I
couldn't stop it. I was peeing, and she was screaming "Fill me up! Fill me
with your piss!" It ballooned inside her, and then poured out of her, making
the puddle bigger, and she came again, the contractions of her pelvic floor
harder than before. I hated it, but I was coming too, my dick held hostage to
the viagra she had given me.

I stayed hard for the next two hours while she rode me, as she came again and
again. Finally, exhausted, she fell down limp beside me. I was crying, I
think, but she pulled up the covers and cuddled against me as though we were
lovers. She pet me. As I drifted off to sleep I heard a patter on the sheets
and could feel that she had let go of her bladder as though she hadn't a care
in the world.

[kochel428]

Part 2: Drowning

The light through the window was shifting to afternoon orange when I drifted
back into consciousness. I shivered in my soaked clothes. Emily was fiddling
with some contraption just out of my vision.

"Oh darling! You're awake!" She wheeled over what looked like a hospital drip,
but the bag was much bigger than usual, and the liquid inside was a pale
green. "Do you like it? I made it myself." Then she slapped her face, "Oh
silly me, you don't even know what this is for yet!"

She produced a tube hanging from the bottom of the bag, with an odd connector
at the tip, and brought it to my mouth. I felt it click into place. Then she
turned the nozzle on the end of the bag and the liquid snaked through the tube
and started dripping steadily into my mouth.

She was practically jumping with excitement. "This way I can fill you back up
again when you get empty! You're clearly running a bit low." I noticed then
that my penis had finally gone limp, and I wondered what was in the bag
besides water. I felt the liquid filling my mouth, but I absolutely didn't
want to swallow it.

Emily was busy explaining how the connector worked when she realized I wasn't
drinking. She sat down next to me and gently caressed my cheek. "Oh sweetpea,
you're gonna have to swallow. I mean, if you want to keep breathing anyway."
She pinched my nose firmly.

My body reacted without thought or reason. I tried to shake my head but
couldn't, I tried desperately to breathe through her fingers, I was wetting
myself again. I tried to breathe through my mouth and suddenly I was coughing
fitfully, my body bucking up and down like an out of control hose.

And then it was over, the connector removed from my mouth, the liquid
spattering over my face and dripping onto the pillow. I kept coughing and
coughing, hoarse and pathetic.

"See now, that's just so complicated, and no fun for either of us," Emily
scolded. "If you'll just drink like you're supposed to, there won't be any
problems." She ran her fingers through my hair while I coughed out the water
from my lungs. When I'd finally settled down, she dabbed the tears from my
cheeks and the sweat from my forehead, and finally snapped the hose in place
again. "I bet you need some water after all that, don't you?"

I tried to whimper, but as the liquid drizzled into my mouth, I swallowed.

It probably took an hour to go through the first bag, and when that was gone
she switched it out for another one. This one was clear, though who knew what
might be in it. Then there was a third bag, smaller than the others, that was
filled with cold black coffee.

I was growing increasingly desperate to pee, and by the time the third bag was
gone I could feel my control slipping. My bladder was tired from being so full
before, and as little spurts started wetting my already soaked underwear, I
began to wonder: was it worth holding on? What dignity did I have left, that I
stubbornly refused to use the only toilet in the apartment?

By then it was clear that the bag had been spiked. My hard on was back even as
I struggled to hold my bladder. Emily was delighted to see this when she
pulled the covers back again, and to pass the time she climbed atop my hips
and rocked absentmindedly while she played with her phone. Every once in a
while she would feel a spurt of piss in my pants and she would let out a
little sound, like "mm."

So much of my focus was on holding my urine, that when the doorbell rang I
startled and instantly poured what must have been a pint of piss into my
pants. Emily jumped up excitedly and ran toward the door, saying "Oooo now you
get to meet Jen!" I felt the wetness trickle down and pool under me, before
gradually soaking into the mattress.

The door squeaked open outside my field of view, and I heard a muffled voice
in the hall saying, "I neeeed to use your toilet."

Emily led a petite blond woman into the room. She was jiggling and crossing
and uncrossing her legs, and there was a distinct wet patch in her crotch that
seemed to be growing. "This is Jen!" Emily said, "she's my best friend in the
world and we share everything. I hope you don't mind but she needs to use the
toilet." She nodded at Jen's glistening jeans, "Hun you don't need to go in
your pants, the toilet is right there."

Jen fiddled with her jeans button for a moment, but as the wetness reached her
knees she gave in and jumped on my midsection fully clothed—the jolt caused
me to lose control of myself for a few seconds. Her hot pee flooded my shirt
and pooled in my belly button, and she gave a relieved sigh as she emptied
herself all over me. Emily watched and giggled.

When she was finally done Jen made eye contact with me and smiled. "Ohh
thanks so much, I needed that." Her voice was low and smooth as silk. In
another context I might have thought it was sexy.

Emily was clearly feeling playful. She hopped back on my crotch where she had
been before, and hugged Jen from behind. She started rocking again and
whispered to Jen, "if you thought that felt good you should try him out down
here." I was quivering with desperation, despite all my leaks. There was a low
ache in my bladder, and the weight of the two women finally broke me. I peed
full force into my jeans.

In a fit a laughter they both jumped off of me and watched the spreading
wetness on my pants. "Here here, give him a try!" Emily shouted, and she
unzipped my jeans and freed my cock while Jen shimmied off her tight jeans. I
struggled to regain control, but by the time Jen had mounted me, naked from
the waist down, I was still peeing in an arc onto the sheets to my left.

Jen grabbed my dripping penis and worked it into her pussy. I had finally
stopped peeing, but my bladder was so tired that every thrust caused a spurt
to seep out into her.

Emily stripped down naked and joined Jen on top of me, sitting on my belly
facing her friend. She was bigger and taller than Jen, so all I could see was
her back and butt, and her long hair tumbling down. I could feel hands
reaching crotches, playing with clits, but I couldn't tell whose was whose. I
spurted piss rhythmically while they rocked together. Jen came, and then Emily
came, and then I came too, despite myself. Then they switched places and did
it again. I closed my eyes and let it happen. Let my body come, because I
couldn't stop it. I don't know how many times I did it, or how much time
passed. They kept changing positions. At one point Emily was going down on
Jen, who was lying on my stomach crosswise. At one point Emily was fucking me
slowly while Jen perched on my mouth and pissed in it. I swallowed
dutifully—what else could I do?

When it was all over Jen was lying on top of me. With my cock inside her, her
head only came up to my chest. She rose and fell with my breath and seemed to
sleep. It was almost sweet.

Emily tiptoed around the bed and re-attached the drinking tube, before
crawling back in the soaked bed to cuddle up against me. She whispered in my
ear how good I was, how she wanted to keep me. I felt ill hearing that, but I
couldn't change it anyway, so I let myself be comforted by it. The two women
drifted off to sleep together, and I struggled to stay awake to keep from
drowning as the tube dripped liquid in my mouth.

When the bag was finally depleted I dozed too, the naked bodies around me warm
and wet. I started awake realizing that I was peeing again inside Jen, and
then she stirred too. "Good toilet," she murmered, and kissed my chest. She
wriggled slightly and then released her bladder as well, and our pee mingled
and soaked into the bed.

****

When I woke again my penis had finally gone limp. Jen felt like she had become
thirty pounds heavier, and Emily was gone. It was dark outside.

Jen yawned and snuggled in tighter against me, but after a moment she lifted
her head and shivered. Reaching back, she pulled the covers over us and began
kissing my neck.

"Mm, toilet," she whispered in her low purr, "I need to get fucked again." She
began rubbing herself on my crotch, and to my surprise I found myself hard
against my will.

She didn't stop riding me when Emily came in with several plastic bags of to
go food, bustling in the kitchen area that was next to the bed. She finally
came as Emily brought plates and started laying them on the bedside table.

"He needs rest, hun," Emily admonished her.

"But he's such a sweet toilet, Emily, I wanted him to fill me up again." She
was still rolling her hips with me inside of her, keeping me just on the edge
of orgasm. It was agony until she finally slipped up and down quickly enough
to let me come. Jen gave a little gasp and smiled down at me. "There, now he
can rest." She lifted off of my cock, too soon, and swiveled around to
position herself over my mouth. I felt my own semen dripping onto my lips, and
a moment later my mouth was filled with her hot piss. I drank the acrid stuff
as quickly as I could.

Emily had brought a small feast of various ethnic cuisines—Thai and Indian
food, falafel, pulled pork burritos, and a some kind of mediterranean grain
bowl. It smelled amazing, and I realized then I hadn't eaten since our date
the night before.

They loosened the ropes enough to prop me up with a pillow, and I felt a
squish of wetness when I sat up. Emily leaned forward so she was right in
front of my face. "I'm going to take this thing out of your mouth. You're
going to want to talk, maybe ask questions, maybe just beg to be let go. But
here's the deal: if you want to eat you won't say a word. If you ever want to
get back to your pathetic life you'll stay silent. One peep out of you and
you'll stay my toilet forever, baby. It's a position of honor, I'd think, but
you may think differently."

And then it was out. I didn't realize how sore my jaw was until I was able to
close it, but as soon as I did shooting pain ran through my cheeks and up the
back of my head. It was worth it to get to eat though. I scarfed down every
bite that was offered, anything to get the taste of piss out of my mouth, but
as I started to slow down, Emily just produced another plateful of food.

While Emily fed me, Jen lounged beside me and watched TV with her plate in her
lap. The screen was at an awkward angle for me, but by straining my eyes I
could see the Seinfeld episode she was watching. Every once in a while she
would lean her head on my shoulder for a while, before going back to her food.

After two plates of food I was so full I could barely chew. I assumed the
overfeeding meant I might not get food again for a while, but even so I didn't
want to be sick. Halfway through my third plate, I closed my mouth and refused
another bite. My stomach bulged absurdly. And then I felt my insides turn
over.

I had been asking myself what ounce of dignity I'd been holding onto, and now
suddenly I knew what it was, what I refused to do. I'd been peeing carelessly
all through dinner, but I would *not* shit myself. Never.

After Emily had her own meal she climbed onto me and used the toilet, her pee
splattering freely and caressing my balls. Then she replaced the plastic ring
in my mouth, strapped it in, and pulled the ropes tight again. She sat on
the right side of the bed, with Jen in between us, watching TV. I heard Jen
whispering to Emily something about how she was worried that I hadn't done
something, and Emily responded, "Oh don't worry, he will. And then it'll be
your turn." At some point they started fingering each other, but thankfully
they left me alone, and I fell asleep as they gave each other orgasms beside
me.

[kochel428]

Part 3: Falling

I woke in the middle of the night with a knot in my guts. Maybe something they
had fed me had been a laxative, or maybe it had just been two days since my
last BM—I was usually quite regular. But whatever it was, I felt full, and
like I wouldn't be able to hold much longer.

Emily and Jen were asleep next to me, Jen cuddled up in my armpit, and Emily
spooning her. I knew waking them and making a scene wouldn't help me. Hell,
they'd probably enjoy it. I couldn't change positions to lessen the pressure,
so I did the only thing I could think of to make room: I emptied my bladder.

It was a challenge to let my piss go without soiling myself, but I finally
found the right set of internal levers, and soon I was soaking myself yet
again. It did seem to make it easier, once that was done. Relaxed, warm, and
wet, I drifted off—

—And woke abruptly with hot piss pooling in my crotch and belly, snaking down
my butt and teasing my aching anus. I felt a dead weight in my belly, and it
wasn't just that Jen was sitting on it emptying her bladder.

Emily was behind her on my crotch, and they both burst out laughing when I
startled awake. They sat there casually pissing on me, and when they were done
they pulled up their pants and busied themselves with breakfast. I was fitted
with a bag of cold coffee first, and when that was done a bag of the pale
green liquid.

By the time the women had finished their own breakfast, Jen was getting
impatient. "I need to use him *now*" she whined. She was pacing the room and
breathing heavily, stopping every once in a while to double over sightly.

Emily came and sat beside me. First she checked to see that my penis was
hard—the drugs in the bag were doing their work. Then she rubbed my arm like
she was consoling a sick child. "I have rules, honey. No using the toilet for
number two until the toilet messes himself. Unfortunately for you, Jen really
needs a shit, so I'm going to ask you to go ahead and do it."

I panicked. Would she drown me again to make me do it? I gulped down the water
that was dripping in my mouth as quickly as I could, but she didn't make any
move toward my nose. She just calmly said, "C'mon babe. Just do it. Look at
her, poor kid, she's desperate." My eyes flicked to Jen as she paced past the
foot of my bed, letting out a dramatic moan. I tried to shake my head but
couldn't move it far. Emily cocked her head to one side. She looked
disappointed. She started to move and I let out a strangled cry, ready for the
drowning to start again, but instead she pulled back the covers of the bed,
and the cold stung my wet, raw skin. She left for a moment outside my vision,
and when she returned, she undid my pants and slid her hand past my hard cock,
down below my balls, and slipped something up my anus. Then another, and
another. Then she zipped me back up again and asked one more time: "Just go
now, you're going to go eventually. Why not now?" But that was the line I'd
told myself I wouldn't cross, and I knew somehow I would hold on. I just had
to.

The knotting in my bowels started up again almost immediately. Every few
minutes I'd feel a great push low in my gut, and the pressure felt unbearable.
But I thought if I held it long enough the drugs she'd given me would subside.
I was certain of it.

Jen's whining had gone up an octave since it had started, until she was just
standing next to me jiggling up and down, emitting a high-pitched
"Mm-mm-mm-mm" and staring at me intensely. Finally she managed to squeak out,
"It's not fair!"

"No it's not," Emily responded. She sat down beside me again, betraying a bit
of anger, I thought. "Look, sweets, I gave her the same laxative I gave you
and me last night, and obviously it's hitting her hard. You've gotta give her
a break here. You're the only toilet and you're not doing your job."

But I just closed my eyes and tried to ignore her. I held on.

I didn't know how long it had been, or how many waves of desperation I had
staved off, but at some point Jen's howling abruptly stopped. She gave a
little squeak, and I opened my eyes in time to see a look of surprise on her
face, and a crackling sound. She was filling her pants. Her eyes rolled back
with pleasure, and the crackling sound went on. She must have shit herself for
a good twenty seconds. When she was done she glared at me. "Don't think you're
off the hook, toilet, there's plenty more where that came from."

Jen turned around and walked off and I saw a massive bulge in her pants. She
looked like she was storing a melon between her ass cheeks.

Perhaps it was the sight of someone else losing control, or maybe that was
just my time to go. I felt my intestines twist, and then something dropped
deep inside me. I wailed wordlessly, but it was no use—I was opening, what was
inside was rushing out. My pants were suddenly full of hot mush, filling my
crack and resting against my taint. I struggled to stop it, but it was too
late.

"Oh thank goodness," Emily gasped. She dropped her pants and jumped on top of
me, as Jen called after her, "Hey, it's my turn!" But Emily already had my
pants undone, my cock free. She directed it inside her and started riding me.
Before I knew what was happening, she was leaning back, pulling my underwear
open behind her, and I felt something caressing my balls. First I thought it
was her hands, but then I knew. She was shitting in my pants.

It felt like a lot, at least as much as I had done. My underwear was full.

"Come on, Emily, hurry up, I'm going again!" Jen cried, and I could hear the
sound of her pants filling more. Emily was still riding me, and there was
sudden pressure in my guts. She was coming as I lost control again, jetting
more shit into my pants, and as I did that I hit some precipice and found
myself coming too, ejaculating and defecating at the same time. I tried to
catch my breath while Emily kept fucking my tender cock. She had a look of
concentration on her face, and I realized she was going more, this time not
caring about making it into my pants. It fell down my jeans and formed a small
pile between my legs.

By the time Emily had emptied her bladder as well, Jen was practically pushing
her off of me. Her pants fell to the floor with a thud, and as she jumped on
top of me my insides heaved again, pressing even more mess into my pants. Jen
fumbled with my slippery penis before getting it inside of her. Then she held
open my pants and contributed to the mess. She moaned demonstratively while
she dirtied me: "Oh goddd that's good." Then she leaned over, working her
hips, playing with my nipples with her tongue. I felt sick, and terrified, but
my senses were overwhelmed with pleasure too. When I felt the next wave coming
I didn't fight it, I just pushed it into my pants. And when Jen came, I came
with her. And when she rested there on my chest and opened her bladder, I
pissed inside her. When she kissed my chest and whispered "good toilet," it
felt warm where her lips had been.

****

I lost track of the days. When I was good they would wash me every once in a
while, and give me new pants. The first few times this happened I treated the
fresh jeans as sacred objects, refusing to soil them until Emily forced me to.
First would come the drip bags, until I flooded my nice dry pants helplessly,
and then would come the force feeding and the suppositories until I filled the
new underwear with filth.

One day they bathed me, and before putting on fresh pants Emily inserted the
suppositories. "I like you, honey bunch, but you become a faulty toilet when
we put new pants on you." After that I made sure to fill new pants as soon as
they were put on to avoid the pain.

They rode me whenever they felt like, usually at least twice a day each. By
then they had stopped giving me pills, but I got hard for them anyway. Emily
had said it on the first day: there was nothing I could do about it, so I may
as well make it easy on myself and enjoy this part of it, at least. Right?

Then, one morning, just as I had started to resign myself to being a toilet
forever, it was over.

There was nothing in retrospect that made that night special. No sense that
they were planning something, or that they would miss me. I've tried to search
my memory for an extra wistful glance, or whispered conversations outside my
earshot, but I remember none.

What happened was: one night, I went to sleep with Jen and Emily wet and
spent, my pants full as usual, my balls as drained as my bladder. And then a
stab of light woke me, and I was lying somewhere new. My wrists were free. And
my legs! My first impulse was to run for freedom, but my legs were too weak to
stand. Instead I managed to flip myself onto my belly and crawl. I was in an
alley, I thought, and craning my neck I could see people walking by. I tried
to call for help, but my mouth couldn't remember how to form words. So instead
I crawled on my belly to the end of the alley, out onto the sidewalk. It must
have taken me half an hour, but when I finally reached the open air, I let out
a formless wail and collapsed, exhausted. I could feel my bowels release and
fill my pants, and some voice in my head was whispering, no, you're not
supposed to do this out here. But then another voice in my head, a louder
voice, said yes, toilet, this is what you do. Here is as good as anywhere.

****

The police came to visit me in the hospital to ask me questions. Emily had
long since disappeared from Tinder, so they had me work with a sketch artist.
They didn't seem confident they would find her or Jen.

I would wake from nightmares trembling and wet, sometimes in the middle of
messing myself. I had been gone so long I had to sue my landlord to reverse
eviction proceedings, but even after I got home, after weeks of rehab and
months of therapy, the nightmares didn't stop. Sometimes they were dreams of
drowning like when Emily had held my nose shut, or of being tied and unable to
move. But just as often they were dreams of falling off the bed in Emily's
apartment and finding no floor beneath. I would fall and fall, the wind
whipping my limbs around and untying the ropes, the gag falling away from my
mouth, and always I would be falling. And when I woke up with a sore throat
from screaming in my sleep, it was somehow a comfort to feel a mess in the
seat of my pajamas. The alternative was falling.

I didn't get a hard on for months after coming home. I had a vague tension of
horniness sometimes, but try as I might I couldn't make things happen. Then
one night, awakening from another dream, the piss in my pants, I let myself
fill my pajama bottoms on purpose, hoping it would lull me back to sleep. To
my surprise, I found myself erect then, and I ground my hips into the wet
mattress until I came in my pajamas. After that, whenever I was horny I would
fill my pants first.

It's been nearly a year since I found myself in that alley and crawled to
what I thought was safety. My unemployment is running out soon, and I haven't
been to a job interview since the one I had two months ago, when I wet myself
without thinking while reviewing my resume with some poor HR rep.

So it's safe to say I've been ruined, I guess. I sit at home and use my pants
as a toilet more often than not, and rub myself off in them like some kind of
pervert. The only difference is now I don't have the two beautiful women who
taught me what I am, and then didn't even say goodbye.

What I'm trying to say is: Emily, Jen—if those are even your real names—if
you're reading this, come find me. You must be awfully desperate by now, with
no toilet around.

I'm ready for you to use me.