The reporter was a tall young man of about 26 or 27 years old. He looked a little unsure of himself as he followed the two Sheriff deputies down a white, sterile hallway that looked almost like a hospital corridor.
"From the holding cells up front, prisoners are lead down this hall," the strong looking blonde female deputy was walking in front of him, next to the male deputy who seemed to be a silent partner in the tour. "As you saw the cells have one way doors; once in the cell the only way out is through this hallway. Even so, some prisoners realize what is happening and will resist. In that case they are either strapped and carried, or stunned until they are secured in the sewer."
"The sewer?" The reporter questioned.
"That's what we call this room, for a variety of reasons." She held the door open and the reporter stepped through. He was almost physically assaulted by the strong smells of amonia, bleach, feces, and a vague waft of decaying meat.
"Oh my god..." The reported was experiencing what he had come for and felt excited and almost aroused by the horrible smells and sights. He believed his journalistic career could be made right here, in the lowest cesspool of humanity. Documenting and reporting on the new capital punishment procedures first hand. Most reporters avoided even admitting what went on here but the reporter was determined to expose the truth behind the horrible torture that was administered in this very chamber.
The male deputy chuckled and the female smiled, making her cute face even cuter. The reporter had a fleeting sense of curiosity about what would possess someone with her attractive qualities to work in this pit.
"Yes, you are smelling the reality of this place. While we learn to live with it, you never get completely used to it." The female, whose badge advertised her name as "Officer Leary", led the reporter down a short flight of steps to a concrete floor and then pointed to a row of metal tables placed against one wall at about chest height.
"There you have it. The people on those tables are human toilets, and most will remain there until they die of it. Not many survive."
There were about 10 tables made of a stainless steel, polished and curved slightly. Six of them were occupied. Five men and one woman, easily identifiable because of their complete nudity, lay strapped securely with leather restraints at their necks, shoulders, wrists, hips, and ankles. The tables were tilted slightly with the legs lower than the heads; the heads themselves were not visible as they were embedded somewhere in an orifice of the wall, obscured from view.
One of the men was shaking uncontrollably, and muffled cries and moans could be heard as he strained against the straps that held him in place. It was clear that he had been there for some time, judging from the stains of feces and urine that had slid down the table to a drain at the bottom. The only other sound in the place, other than the sound of an exhaust fan which kept the stench from getting too bad, was from the woman, who did not struggle but was sobbing quietly.
"Are all of these prisoners condemned to death?" The reporter looked at each curiously.
"Well, whether they are or not, it is a common or expected side effect of serving as a human toilet for any period of time. It just isn't healthy, you know. So yes, anyone condemned to serve as a human toilet for more than a few hours is likely to die. In this case, I think all of these castoffs are condemned except for that one in the middle. His time will be up in... " she looked at the clock on the wall, "an hour. If he doesn't choke to death in that time, he will be free and clear."
The reporter examined the naked bodies strapped in before him. Here was what he sought, the raw experience of the condemned, the horror of human torture and execution. He would write the greatest piece ever. A Pulitzer was within his grasp.
"Let's get to it then," he said, turning to the two officers.
Officer Leary looked at him with a strange look for a moment, and then said, "So you are actually going to do this? You can die, you know."
"Yes, I know. But an hour isn't likely to kill me, and I had my medical and shots, I am ready for this." He was breathing faster, and could feel the adrenalin churning. He wanted this, now.
"Strip." The command came from the beautiful lips of the woman with a suddenness that made the reporter jerk into action. He unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off as the two officers stood on either side. His pants slid off and the male officer kicked his clothes to the side. "All of it!!" barked Officer Leary.
Socks, underpants, watch, rings, they all came off and were placed in a metal bucket that looked like rats lived in it. As the reporter stood naked he noticed how cold it was in the dim dungeon of "The Sewer", and he also saw that his cock had grown and was becoming hard. Whether it was his nudity, the proximity of the beautiful officer Leary, or the adrenalin surge of being processed to become a human toilet, he wasn't sure. Maybe all of them. He just knew he was cold but still had a raging hard on.
The two officers took hold of him by the upper arms and shoulders and shoved him backwards roughly. His thighs hit something painfully and he fell backwards onto a steel table. With the efficiency of well designed machines, he was strapped down and immobile in a matter of seconds. The sensation was not at all what he had imagined; it hurt. The straps dug into his flesh and a feeling of claustrophobia began to creep over him as he realized he could not move and was completely helpless.
Officer Leary smiled at him and almost lovingly stroked his face and shoulders with her hand. He could see the sadism in her eyes now, and he no longer wondered what this woman was doing working here. She liked it. She liked making people suffer, as she was about to make him suffer.
"Well, Mr. Reporter, how do you like it so far?" She smiled and slapped him, hard. "You want to know what it is like to be tortured and humiliated, just like all the rest of the scumbag convicts in here? Glad to help."
She left for a moment and then returned to his side. He felt her hands as they took hold of his scrotum and pulled it gently up. He couldn't help but struggle, the feeling of helplessness as she took his most private parts in had drove him crazy with fear and arousal. "I have a little something here for you. It isn't exactly approved by the court, but we like to use it. In the spirit of the law, you know."
With a soft snap, something surrounded his left testicle and then squeezed hard. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAgggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!" The reporter cried out in pain that shot through his hips without warning. Another snap, and his right testicle had been enclosed and intense pressure caused a doubling of the pain he was feeling, forcing it into a wider circle from his knees to his stomach. "Oh, oh... god, no.... no, please, this wasn't part of the..."
"You talk to much. I think it is time for you to take your place in society. Your rightful place." As the reporter opened his mouth to protest, Officer Leary grinned and slipped a small ring gag into his mouth, forcing it into a permanently open "O". The two deputies rolled his table to the wall. The table was raised even with an empty hole in the wall, and then he was pushed in. His head slid into the narrow opening and his whimpering cries of pain were echoed back to him briefly in the pitch dark.
Then he saw it in dim light above him. A relatively small hole just above his face; roughly oval. Light shined through it. He saw clean white porcelain, and the reality of his situation began to set in. His world had narrowed to the small porcelain bowl above him, his body remained attached, floating somewhere else, and in pain. But his reality was focused here, on the toilet bowl above him.
A slight hydrolic hiss accompanied an upward pressure on the back of his head. His face was slowly and evenly pressed up against the smooth lips of the opening above until he was tightly wedged into the opening. The metal cradling his head kept him pressed tightly against the oval hole in the bottom of the toilet bowl, and he found he couldn't move his head even a tiny bit. His mouth gaped open and he looked up at the toilet seat which was closed above him. Light leaked through the wide cracks where the seat and lid rested on the bowl.
He was positioned and ready, but his mind was slowly slipping way. He felt the pain of his crushed testicles throbbing and the straps cutting into his arms and legs as he struggled, but these sensations were far away. His reality was the dim interior of the toilet bowl, and he was waiting... waiting for that first person to choose his stall and use him in the most disgusting and humiliating way.
After a few minutes, he heard a door open and the sound of shoes on tile. Someone was just above him, and he could not keep himself from grunting and crying a little. The lid opened, and he saw the face of the first person that would use him and force him to consume their body waste.
Elise walked down the street, cursing her heels. The walk across downtown was too far and she had forgotten her walking shoes. She stood slightly over six feet tall in those heels, and together with the trim business suit, straight silky black hair and beautifully austere face, she was an intimidatingly erotic sight. The business suit was tailored to show off her figure while still meeting the strictest of corporate dress standards. She kicked ass in her job as a marketing agent, and was on her way to become a VP. Her looks, and the way she used her looks, had a lot to do with that. As she crossed the street she took a large swig of water from a bottle she carried.
But Elise hated men. She used her body, her looks, but never dated more than casually and preferred the company of women. Since she had heard about the new justice initiatives she had felt a pull, a desire to see what it might be like to observe and perhaps even participate in the punishment of criminals. Of course, all men were criminals to Elise, but the new initiatives made it socially acceptable to participate in the punishment process. She had decided that today would be the day.
She arrived in front of a new three story building and looked up at the polished metal sign above the entrance, "Social Justice Center". Considering whether to go in, she decided to wait just a few minutes. She needed to release her bowels badly; she had not gone that morning and had been holding in the urge until now. She clenched her ass cheeks for a moment and then felt slightly better. The feeling of needing to go excited her and reminded her of what she was about to do. She didn't feel the need to urinate though, and decided to wait a little while before going in.
A can of diet cola from a minimart across the street did the trick; the caffeine ran through her body and pushed fluid into her bladder until she felt her entire lower body would burst. In this state she walked carefully into the Social Justice building, through the modern lobby and following the signs, to a small room labeled "Human Toilets". There she approached a bored receptionist who looked up at the impressive woman before her and said, "Are you here for anyone specific?"
"Uh... oh, no. Just a male." Elise remembered that specific prisoners could be requested, usually by victims and victim's families exacting revenge.
"OK. Through that door. Any stall labeled with a blue name tag." The receptionist looked up at Elise with an interested gaze. Elise returned the gaze for a moment before heading through the door.
Inside was a bathroom, much like any other. A series of five wash basins lined the wall on the left, and to the right was a series of stalls; eight of them. Her bladder and bowels were bursting, and she forced herself to slowly walk down to find a stall door that had a fresh blue label on it. The person's name meant nothing to her, so she opened the door and entered the stall. A sparkling clean toilet stood before her, just like any other; except it wasn't separated from the wall, an enclosure of tile presumably hid where the victim's shoulders would rest.
Victim... Elise thought of this word for a moment, enjoying the thought. As she stood looking at the toilet lid she heard something. A moan or gasp of some sort. She lifted the seat lid and looked down. Where the water of a normal toilet would be was a human face. A man that looked like he was in his late 20's. His face was crushed and compressed against the hole in the bottom of the toilet bowl and his mouth was held open with some sort of device.
Elise was surprised that the bowl was really the same size as any other toilet. The face below was scrunched but was remarkably small. She had wondered what it would be like, whether she would have to aim, what choices and games she might play with her victim. There was that word again... victim...
The man below her was crying, sobbing and moaning. She had the feeling he would try to talk if he could. The gag which held his mouth open prevented it, and it wouldn't have made any difference.
She slipped down her skirt, and then her panties. Turning around she sat on the toilet. Her body was about to explode with the pressure to relieve herself, but she held it for just a moment to raise the tension in the male filth hole under her. Spreading her legs she looked down past her pussy and saw the frightened male face below her. She let urine loose then, and it sprayed against the bowl just at his forehead. Quickly adjusting her hips slightly, the urine stream blasted his forehead and then went to the bridge of his nose. The stream was going strong, she had to go so badly it was shooting out almost like a fire hose. Moving slightly she spread the stream across his eyes, soaking his face. Urine gathered quickly around the sides of his face where it met the bowl and she wondered if it might actually reach his mouth. Just as her bladder emptied, she moved back on the seat and saw the last stream enter his wide open mouth.
The sound he made as the urine entered his mouth excited her more than anything she had believed. He made a choking, gasping noise as he swallowed the warm liquid. His eyes were squeezed shut, as he gulped and coughed and gulped more.
The woman peeing on him was majestic. He had seen enough of her beautiful face, full lips, dark eyes and long hair hanging down above his toilet bowl to understand that. She had turned and lowered her clothes, exposing first her ass, and then as she descended onto the toilet seat, a quivering, fleshy pussy that seemed like heaven. Under different circumstances he would have thought of nothing but wanting, demanding, to eat her out. He would never have taken no for an answer. As it was, he suddenly experienced something completely different.
Her urine had suddenly sprung from the top of her soft folds which were only inches from his face (but might as well have been miles, for he could not touch them). It sprayed hard and hot and splattered all over his face. He let out a low moan of agony, knowing that his painful humiliation had begun. The urine seemed to travel across his face, stinging his eyes and filling his nose. He couldn't breathe and snorted out urine from his nose. The musky stench soon became a taste as the urine flooded his mouth and he drank quickly to keep it from choking him further. His sinuses were filled with her urine and breathing was becoming difficult.
Looking up he saw the beginnings of the next stage. Directly above him, her ass cheeks were spread and anus pulsed. Little contractions tightened and loosened and then tightened, teasing, taunting him with what was to come. Then he saw it. Seeping like a viscous fluid from the loosened sphincter came the feces, not quite squirting but oozing out quickly. He reveled in the lovely sight above him, the image of this beautiful woman's ass and pussy just two or three inches from his face was too much for him to ignore, but the horror of the brown ooze descended on him and fell with a plop into his wide open mouth.
The taste was worse than anything he could imagine. Rotting flesh came to mind, concentrated disease, every awful texture, taste and smell assaulted him as the soft mush began to fill his mouth. He refused to swallow. He would not take the foul feces into his mouth... but it kept coming. There was more, and more...
It felt so amazingly good to evacuate her bowels after holding it in for so long. At first there had been a bit of shyness because of the disgusting male's presence below her. But her need to release overcame her and she relaxed, letting the feces slide out and down. She wasn't looking, it was too difficult, but she imaged and heard what was going on below her. A loud groan and muffled cry of agony followed by choking as more of her shit filled the male's mouth.
She pushed to empty her bowels, letting go of all inhibitions as the feeling of relief flooded her body. It felt good. Really good, to release all her body wastes after holding them in for so long; and it felt especially good to know she was dumping them on some man that she didn't know and didn't really care to ever know.
He couldn't chew. His tears flooded and cleaned his eyes as he tried to deal with the human waste that was filling his mouth and then heading to cover his nose. From research he knew that most human toilet deaths came from asphyxiation, and he could not allow that to happen. The shit in his mouth needed to go. He pushed some of it out, but more of it covered his nose and his breathing came harder.
Finally, he pressed the soft brown disgusting mush with his tongue, and swallowed. The horrible vomitous taste went down his throat and pervaded his entire being. He continued pressing and mushing and swallowing, gagging and swallowing. He didn't actually swallow that much, but it was enough to clear his air passage.
In the back of his consciousness he felt a hand taking hold of his cock and stroking it to erection. The perverse sensation conflicted with the agony and suffering that he was experiencing, but also somehow supplemented it. He felt his arousal increase as his hardened cock was manipulated.
Above him, the stream of shit had stopped. She saw the woman wipe, but she didn't get up...
The feeling of gratification, of pleasure, from torturing the male below her and hearing his desperate cries and gagging was too much for her. She felt the flood of sexual arousal through her body, and spread her legs even further as she leaned back on the toilet seat. Her hand slipped between her legs and began spreading pussy lips and massaging her clit. She was already wet, aroused beyond belief.
The male below was trying to clear his nose and mouth of shit so he could breathe. She slowly ran her fingers over her pussy and felt the gratifying surge of pleasure encompass first her hips, then her breasts, and finally her whole body. Rubbing faster, faster, faster, she felt the orgasm come. She looked down and saw the encrusted shape of the face below her as she climaxed, moaning and grunting through the most amazing orgasm she had ever felt.
When it was over, she stood and looked down at the pitiful sight below her. One eye covered and closed, the other eye open, the man's face was smeared with brown fecal matter. He was breathing better, the sounds she heard were sobs. Hearing the sounds of a man in mental anguish made her sigh with pleasure as she pulled her panties and skirt back up.
She blew a kiss and smiled and then flushed the toilet.
She washed her hands thoroughly and then left the restroom. As she entered the reception area, she could hear the distant sounds of gurgling and spluttering.
Dropping by the receptionists desk, she handed her business card to the girl behind it. "You are cute. Give me a call sometime."
The girl looked flustered and then said, "OK. I would like that."
The sudden flood of water took him by surprise. Water streamed down the sides of the bowl and quickly filled up past his mouth, filling it full of dirty feces mixed liquid that choked and cut off his air. A second later, it went over his nose and he was drowning in a bowl of water mixed with urine and feces. He reacted automatically and without thinking.
Gulping water down his throat, swallowing huge chunks of floating shit in the diluted urine, he sucked as much as he could as fast as he could. It was the only way to get air. Swallowing, water, feces, fast, as fast as he could as his body screamed out for oxygen.
He managed to get the water level down to expose his nose and took a huge intake of air. He also breathed in filthy water and immediately coughed and choked up whatever he had breathed in. He swallowed more, getting the water level down to where his nose and mouth were both clear. He swallowed his own vomit as it came up and threatened to block his breathing once a gain.
As he did this, he felt the continuing stroking of his cock and arousal came to a climax as he spurted semen out over whatever hand was torturing his genitals. The sensation of orgasm just as he had survived the horrible cascade of shit and pee was perverse beyond all belief.
But he had survived. The pain from his testicles was a throbbing, all consuming drum of agony as he began to think about other things than simply staying alive. He realized his arms and legs hurt horribly because he had been thrashing about and straining against his bonds. He also felt the wet, sticky evidence that he had lost his own bladder and bowel control. Somewhere, in another world, Officer Leary was looking at him struggle and laughing, enjoying the horrible torture he was enduring.
How long had he been here? The agreement had been for one hour. He began to wonder if that time was up, and they were going to leave him. Who would know? He was the only one there, he had signed the waver, it was voluntary. He might be doomed here, spending days... he might not survive. He screamed out in fear and agony and then collapsed, exhausted.
A few minutes later he heard footsteps. They stopped, and the now familiar sound of high heels accompanied the sound of the door to his stall opening...