Jamie knelt trembling on the cold motel tile, pink cage straining uselessly, lace panties already soaked with fear and excitement. Darius loomed over him, thick black cock swinging like a weapon.
"Look at this pathetic little white sissy bitch," Darius sneered, grabbing Jamie's chin and forcing his head back. "You really think a worthless faggot like you deserves my superior black dick? You're nothing but a walking cumrag and toilet."
"P-please, Daddy..." Jamie whimpered, voice high and broken.
"Shut your cocksucking mouth, fag." Darius turned, spread his muscular cheeks wide, and grunted. A thick, steaming log cracked out and slapped heavily across Jamie's pretty face, smearing instantly. "Open up, shithole. This is the only meal a sissy pig like you deserves."
Jamie parted his lips obediently, moaning as the bitter mush filled his mouth. Darius ground back harder, forcing more in. "Chew it, you disgusting toilet whore. Swallow my nasty prison shit like the human sewer you were born to be. Bet you've been dreaming of eating real man's waste your whole pathetic life."
Jamie gagged, tears streaming, but nodded frantically, chewing and swallowing as ordered. "Y-yes, Daddy... thank you for feeding your worthless sissy toilet..."
Darius laughed cruelly, then unleashed a hot torrent of piss straight into Jamie's overflowing mouth. "Drink it all, piss rag. Don't spill a drop or I'll beat your fairy ass raw. That's it—choke on my piss while my shit slides down your throat, you filthy cumdump."
When Jamie was drowning in it, Darius yanked him around by the hair. "Ass up, boypussy presented. Show me that loose sissy cunt begging to be ruined."
Jamie arched desperately. Darius scooped handfuls of the mess and packed Jamie's hole brutally. "Feel that, fag? I'm stuffing your shithole with my waste so everyone knows what a nasty toilet you are."
He slathered his massive cock thick with it and slammed in without warning—balls-deep in one vicious thrust.
Jamie screamed.
"Shut the fuck up and take it, you sniveling little bitch boy!" Darius snarled, pounding mercilessly. "This is what sissies like you were made for—getting destroyed by real men while covered in shit. Beg for it, whore. Beg me to breed your dirty guts."
"P-please, Daddy!" Jamie sobbed, pushing back desperately. "Ruin your worthless white sissy toilet! Breed me with your superior black cum! I’m nothing but a filthy shit-eating fag for you!"
Darius pulled out and forced Jamie's face down onto his filthy cock. "Clean it, cumrag. Taste your nasty boypussy mixed with my shit. Suck it like the desperate cocksucking pig you are."
Jamie slurped greedily, gagging and drooling brown. "Thank you, Daddy... thank you for letting this pathetic sissy clean your perfect cock..."
Darius straddled his chest and bore down again, shitting directly into Jamie's open, begging mouth until it overflowed. "Hold my load in that slut mouth, toilet. Don't you dare swallow until I say."
He fucked Jamie's throat raw, shit spraying from the corners of his lips. "That's right, choke on it, you disgusting waste bucket. Real men shit, sissies eat it and say thank you."
Finally, he pulled out and exploded across Jamie's smeared face. "Look at you—covered in my cum and shit like the lowest fucking scum on earth. You're not even human. You're my personal disposable toilet."
Jamie whimpered, broken and blissful. "Thank you, Daddy... thank you for using your worthless, shit-eating sissy fag..."
Darius pissed one last degrading stream over him and locked the cage packed with fresh shit. "Crawl home like that, bitch. Let everyone see what a nasty, broken toilet you really are.
Few more shit weeks and meth slamming.
The meth had turned Jamie into something barely recognizable—a twitching, hollow-eyed wreck whose entire existence revolved around the next pipe and the next brutal use. The gang no longer bothered picking him up; he showed up on his own now, pounding on Darius’s door at 3 a.m., makeup smeared, cage leaking, begging in a cracked, desperate voice: “Please, Daddies, I need it bad—slam me, hurt me, destroy me.”
They’d drag him inside the trap house, a filthy squat reeking of smoke, piss, and old cum. No warm-up, no mercy. The second the door slammed shut, the violence started.
Darius grabbed a fistful of Jamie’s hair and smashed his face into the wall—once, twice, three times—hard enough that blood trickled from his nose and lip. “You pathetic tweaked-out sissy whore,” he snarled, spitting in Jamie’s open, gasping mouth. “Look at you—fiending like a crack rat for our black cocks and waste. You’re lower than dirt now.”
The slaps came in a storm. Open palms, backhands, fists—across his face, his tits, his caged clit until it swelled purple against the bars. Each impact made Jamie’s wired body jolt with masochistic electricity, the meth turning pain into a sick, throbbing pleasure. Marcus held his arms behind his back while Tyrone rained blows on his ass until it was a map of welts and bruises. “Cry louder, bitch,” Tyrone laughed. “Let the whole block hear what a broken meth toilet you are.”
They forced the pipe to his lips again and again—huge clouds that sent him spinning into paranoid, horny oblivion. Eyes rolling back, Jamie babbled incoherently: “Use me, ruin me, please, I’m nothing, I’m your filthy junkie pig—”
That’s when the real degradation began.
Darius squatted over Jamie’s upturned face and unloaded a massive, runny load straight into his mouth—no warning, no pause. The meth-shit was foul beyond words, loose and burning from whatever cheap food and drugs Darius had been on. Jamie gagged violently, but Marcus clamped his jaw shut, forcing him to chew and swallow while tears and snot streamed down his bloodied face. “Eat every bit, you disgusting sewer slut,” Darius growled, grinding his ass back and forth to smear it deeper. “This is your only food now—real men’s hot prison shit straight from the source.”
They took turns shitting on him—piling load after load onto his face, chest, and caged crotch until he was buried under a steaming mountain of waste. Then the piss started: endless, hot streams from five, six, seven guys at once, drowning him in it. They aimed for his eyes, his nose, forced his mouth open and held it until he was choking and retching yellow torrents back up—only to be slapped senseless and ordered to drink it again. “Drown in our piss, you worthless meth rag,” one of them barked, kicking him in the ribs when he sputtered. “You live for this now.”
The gangbang was savage. They didn’t bother lubing—just scooped handfuls of shit and piss sludge and crammed it into his gaping hole before ramming in dry. Triple penetration became routine: two massive cocks in his ass, one down his throat, while others slapped his bloated belly and bruised face in rhythm. They fucked him for hours, the meth keeping him conscious and begging through the agony. Blood mixed with shit and cum as they tore him open, laughing at his broken screams. “Tighter, fag—clench around our dicks while we breed your ruined guts,” Darius roared, slapping Jamie’s face with his shit-smeared hand until it went numb.
They made him clean every cock straight from his destroyed ass—deepthroating until vomit and filth sprayed from his nose. When he collapsed, they pissed on the floor and forced his face into the puddle, slapping the back of his head to make him lap it like a dog. “Lower, bitch. Lower than a dog.”
At the peak, they held him down and hotboxed him again—one massive cloud after another until his heart hammered like it would explode. Then Darius straddled his chest and shit one final, enormous load directly down his throat, plugging his nose so he had no choice but to swallow or suffocate. Jamie’s body convulsed, eyes bulging, as the gang jerked off onto the overflowing mess, painting his face in thick ropes of cum.
When they finally tossed him out at dawn—naked, bleeding, coated head-to-toe in layers of dried and fresh shit, piss, blood, and cum—Jamie crawled down the street on shattered knees, twitching and muttering thanks to no one. The cage was packed so full of waste it bulged obscenely, leaking down his thighs with every movement.
He didn’t even try to go home anymore. He just curled up in an alley, fingering the filth on his skin, already aching for the next hit, the next beating, the next total destruction.
Jamie wasn’t a person anymore. He was a meth-ravaged, gang-owned hole—a permanent, drooling, bruised-up sissy toilet whose only purpose was to be used harder, dirtier, and more violently than the last time.
