The Hapless Bartender

To Wayne’s eyes, squinting to make out what was happening beyond the glare of the spotlight that bathed him, the cacophony of activity in front of him was incomprehensible. The club’s partygoers were all animated and he could see that most of them were holding small square devices with blinking lights on them that they poked at excitedly. The Manager’s voice cut through the hubbub,

“The first round of bidding is complete! Will number 64 please step up to the stage and accept your prize?”

One of the club’s denizens separated himself from the crowd and climbed onto the stage alongside the Manager. He was a tall brute of a man with a broken nose and was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket over a tight t-shirt. Wayne watched nervously as the Manager handed the man what looked like a remote control and informed all present that the bid had won him 2 minutes of fun.

The man approached the crib and wasted no time in selecting a button on the remote and pointing it directly at Wayne’s trapped form; squished up against the Perspex bars by the weight of sodden diapers with nowhere to hide.

The effect was immediate and Wayne became aware of a tingling sensation from the rubber ring around the base of his cock and balls. He’d completely forgotten this item of apparel but the tingling became increasingly uncomfortable and he realised he was receiving small, rhythmical, electric shocks to his manhood. He tried to look down at himself but the heaviness of the compressed and filthy diapers around him made this difficult. He could only make out the disgusting brown bulge of the plastic pants as they were pushed through the crib bars and couldn’t see to establish what was happening to his dick.

The tall brute came closer and brought a meaty hand down to Wayne’s inflated pants and grabbed the lad’s dick, through the excrement, and began squeezing it,

“No! Please don’t!! Get the fuck off me! Uhhnn!” The combination of the electrical stimulation and the man’s hand stroking and tugging his cock soon had Wayne erect within the pants and he risked a look down to see that his cock was jutting out through the bars of the crib, the pink head visible through the brown murk of his shit and piss as it tented the plastic. The crowd was applauding and cheering as his priapism continued.

“Please stop! Don’t do this to me! Ohhh!”

A buzzer sounded and the man reluctantly let go of the bartender’s erection and stepped away from the crib. The electrical pulses didn’t stop however and Wayne could feel his cock jerking against the plastic of the pants.

The Manager announced the next round of wagering to great excitement from the assembled patrons and the little devices were brought out again and the men started their bidding anew. Wayne tried to will himself soft but the insistent pulsation from the rubber ring kept him evidently hard. He attempted to move to hide his predicament but the sheer mass of the soiled diapers around him kept him firmly pressed against the bars of the crib and even prevented him from bringing the comical mitts down to obscure his unwanted hard-on.

Somewhere, out of the muscular lad’s sightline, the results of the latest bidding were reached and a call went out for Number 12 to ascend to the stage to continue the teasing of the befouled hunk. A short, fat man in his late fifties lumbered onto the stage. The newcomer was coated in a greasy sweat that made his lank grey comb-over stick to his head. He wore a pitted-out shirt and track pants that were stained from his own emissions earlier as he had jacked off while Wayne helplessly shat himself in front of the crowd. Wayne shuddered as the vile man accepted the remote from the Manager and approached the crib.

The tap of a button or two and Wayne stiffened as the intensity of the electrical pulses increased dramatically. He shouted out in anguish as the stronger current took the tingling to a pounding throughout his cock, and his balls tightened up protectively. The greasy man reached for Wayne’s throbbing dick and began squeezing and jerking the poor lad, standing to the side so all could witness his miserable humiliation.

Wayne could feel himself slowly starting to respond to the ministrations of his tormentor and knew that it was only a matter of time before he shot his load into the swamp that filled the hated plastic pants. His breathing started to become laboured and no amount of awkward struggling could get him away from the dual stimulation he was forced to undergo.

The man then moved directly in front of Wayne and, reaching up, grabbed his hair and moved in to plant a sloppy, wet kiss on Wayne’s mouth,

“No! No! Please don-muuufffhh!!”

Even above the stench of piss and shit Wayne could smell the acrid sweat of the man as he smooched and sucked at him. He attempted to recoil but there was nowhere to go and he had to endure as the man attempted to part Wayne’s lips with his tongue and enter him further, all the while jerking the younger man’s dick through the effluent-filled plastic.

Finally, blissfully, the buzzer sounded and the sweating man disengaged from Wayne. Wayne immediately spat to try and remove the taste of the man from his lips even as he thrust his hips to try and gain relief for his now massively engorged cock.

The club once again busied itself with bidding and it was clear from the conversations being held in front of the stage that the stakes were really high this time around. Swaddled in the wet and fetid warmth of the diapers Wayne could only watch, humping furtively, as the excitement levels rose amongst the patrons.

Eventually, the Manager announced the winner and a youngish guy in jeans and a T joined him onstage and they commenced a hushed negotiation. It was clear that the winning bid had more choices than the previous two as the guy was gesturing and explaining with the older man and whatever it was he was asking for was met with smiles from the Manager.

The Manager summoned one of his goons and whispered something to him. The goon left the stage and Wayne watched as he headed towards the corridors that led to the holding cells. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he figured there was no one down in the cells as the cages above the dance floor still held their soiled and exhausted cargo. Wayne was heavily aroused by the continued thumping shocks to his pecker and knew that he was well on the way to adding more spooge to filth around his loins.

The goon returned to great applause from the club. He dragged with him a familiar figure but it took Wayne a few beats to realise that he was looking at one of the cops from the other night; the one who’d been knocked out by members of the crowd and then been forced to join his colleague onstage to piss, shit and cum all over his uniform while the spectacle was broadcast around the club.

He no longer sported his uniform and looked terribly the worst for wear as he was half-dragged up onto the stage. The burly man was gagged, tied, hobbled, and dressed only in a once-sparkly speedo that left little to the imagination. Once onstage and under the spotlights, the exhausted officer’s predicament became painfully obvious. The front of the speedo was appallingly stained with dried piss and cum as it hugged his sizeable package. But it was the rear of the garment that drew attention as it sagged low with the weight of an enormous load of poop that swung between the man’s hairy thighs as he was moved, crab-like, into front and centre position.

Trapped against the bars of the crib Wayne could only watch as two goons took up position on either side of the unresisting officer and then, with a bit of flourish, both produced scissors and grabbed the speedo from either side at the hip and cut it along the seams. The garment fell away from the policeman and landed on the stage floor with a heavy thud, exposing his grimy and sweaty body, and huge cock, to the crowd. From his vantage point behind the captive man, Wayne was treated to the view of his hairy butt, matted and dirty from who knew how long wearing that vile speedo and trapped in his own messy hell just as Wayne was even now.

The cheering lasted only a short time as the poor officer was then led offstage and back towards the cellar area; men lining up to slap his arse and tweak his prick as he was guided through the mob.

All the while this interlude was happening Wayne had forgotten about the winner of the bidding contest and barely even noticed that he’d been absently grinding his hips to achieve relief for his throbbing dick as the electricity continued to pump through it. He was snapped back to his own awful reality as the young man who’d placed the winning bid moved slowly into place in front of the abused bartender; taking up position next to the discarded speedo and its horrible cargo. The Manager gestured and two goons appeared and, gingerly, picked up the fouled lycra and advanced on the crib.

Wayne’s eyes widened as he realised, too late, what was about to happen,

“What are you doing?! Oh god, no! NOOO! Humffffllllggghhh!!” The offending garment was lowered around and onto Wayne’s head and there was nothing he could do to stop the men as they positioned the speedo and tied the cut sides together to secure it tightly in place; upside and down and back to front. He had to close his mouth quickly to avoid eating the heavy mound of shit that now covered his nose and mouth; the garment’s waistband ensuring it remained in place as it was tied tightly under his chin. Wayne could just about still see through the leg holes but this gave him no comfort as his view only included the club’s depraved patrons, some of whom were yet again furiously jacking off to his new predicament. The tightness of the lycra did an excellent job of keeping the weight, and the smell, of the poop, squished up against his face and pushed the firm crap into every crevice.

Wayne’s screams for help were unintelligible in all but meaning, muffled as they were by the load of crap held tight to his face and his need to keep his mouth firmly shut,

“Eeeeeehhh! Eeeehhh eph eee!” He tried in vain to shake the speedo off but only succeeded in moving the poop around and drawing it tighter to his face.

The Manager sauntered centre-stage and playfully tweaked Wayne’s still-priapic cock through the shit-filled plastic causing the lad to cry out from behind the sparkly, lumpen load trapped against his head.

“Gentlemen! It’s time to bring this evening’s festivities to a close and so I’m handing over to bidder number 81 to complete the claim of his winnings.”

The Manager left the stage and the young man in the jeans and T approached Wayne’s sweating, stinking form; remote in hand. He pressed some buttons and Wayne cried out from behind the stifling load of shit as the current assaulting his balls and cock ramped up dramatically and knocked the wind out of him. Wayne’s movements became part thrust, part spasm and he began helplessly grunting in time with the throbbing rhythm as he jerked his hips to gain release. By now his cockhead was tenting the brown balloon of effluent to the limit and the plastic pants gurgled and sloshed as he fought his way towards orgasm. Every shit-muffled grunt and groan was broadcast around the club and soon the speedo-clad lump of poop that was Wayne’s head was thrashing helplessly as his hips bulged and rammed against the bars of the crib; the contents of his other garment distending obscenely between the Perspex bars with foul sucking and squelching noises.

With a final hoarse, yet muffled, cry from behind his mask of crap, the crowd were treated to an explosion of silver within the confines of the pants as Wayne launched wave after wave of hot spunk into the plastic.

The crowd went wild with appreciation but Wayne barely heard them as the stress of his revolting ordeal finally took its toll and he descended into exhausted unconsciousness; the speedo-clad pile of crap lolling comically as his head sagged.