It was a behemoth of a vehicle. A flesh of metal with wheels. Industrious machinery. Filling you with dread and nausea.
I saw nothing. They wrapped my head in a cloth. All I could feel was my body. Bundled into a cage. Constricting. As a boa around your neck.
Movement was futile. I felt the bars on my skin. On my stomach. On my back. Unable to grace an inch from left to right.
The cloth was tightly bound. My eyes practically squashed in their sockets. But I heard voices. Muffled at first. But then they came closer.
How many Shit Shackers were on the vehicle, I didn’t know? How much personnel, I didn’t know? This wasn’t the platoon to house me. Just the one who would transport me. To the factory of hell.
“Sergeant, what about this one?”
“Keep it boxed for now. But fucking get it in the cargo hold.”
“But, sir, is it to be fixed to the unit, or just to the side, I … I …?”
“How many fucking times, private? Start listening. We are on a timed schedule.”
“I didn’t mean to-“
“Shut it. I’ve already had to haul our asses down here on a quick-fire demand from the ministry. I don’t need idle slackness impeding it now.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Sorry the fuck off and get the job done. I’m not here to wipe your ass.”
“No, the toilets can do it with their tongues,” came another voice from behind my cage.
I was a sardine in a can. Claustrophobia maxing out.
My head span. Visions of the not too distant future. How long to the factory, hours, days? I was a shitting duck.
I heard the scrape of a box being moved. It scratched and scuffed the floor. That metal to metal. Hideous to my senses.
Then the lowest of sounds. Human ones emanated from within. Oh lord. Oh Christ. Did they have one already? A tester? A show before you go to be made as one? Oh shit.
Nobody breathed a word. To dare would be erroneous. We said nothing. If the Shit Shacks had taught us anything, it was that stepping out of line had severe consequences.
“Faster private. Faster, faster.”
The scraping seemed to elongate as a word of sound. Perpetual motion. Ceasing to stop.
“I’ll get it in eventually,” huffed the young private.
“Come on. It’s not hard to move one of them. After all …”
I heard more commotion arising from the back of the vehicle.
“Where the fuck are they?” shouted one of the platoon.
“What now?” the sergeant bellowed.
“Where are the docking pipes?”
“It’s inside it, numbnuts!”
Docking pipes? Oh god. It wasn’t hard to work it out. A box. A human. A pipe. Shit, shit, shit.
“Oh, yeah. It’s on the inventory chart. I can see it now.”
“Thick cunt. And get that coffee on whilst you’re at it. We have a long journey ahead. I don’t want to get caught up in the ice-plains. It’s gonna get fierce frozen when we get there.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
“And less of the lark. We have a job to do.”
It went quiet. I heard footsteps move away. All I could hear were the wheels in motion as we sped down a highway. It was sticky warm. As a boiler room. But ice plains? What the fuck?
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t say anything. And I was aching. Terribly so. I never thought I’d utter these words, but I wished I was smack-bang, right back in the Shit Shacks. Eating copious amounts of shit from some loser on a state collective objective. This was the road to nowhere. Literally.
And then the metal opened. I heard a cage near me unbolting.
“Argh. Argh. Please don’t.”
“Shut the fuck up, shit ditch. It’s time to give you a box office seat to your future.”
I heard several of them pull him outwards. A thud. He landed on the floor. In a heap.
“Get up, maggot. Or should I say faggot with all that shit they shat in your asshole.”
“Eww. It’s nasty. I don’t wanna-?”
“TOUCH THAT SHIT?” glared the sergeant.
“No, sir. I meant, I won’t, I mean I will.”
“You bet you will. Everybody gets their hands dirty in my platoon.”
They grappled the fallen man up from the floor and dragged him away to the back of the vehicle. I heard nothing after except the sounds of weary men. Heaving and huffing in cages. My fellow shit slurpers. Bound as toilets.
Then screams. Raging screams. Human agony emitted. It was tense.
The voices got closer.
“Did you see it? Did you love it?”
Shouted a younger sounding private as they brought the man back and thrust him into the cage. It had been a matter of minutes. But then another cage ripped open, and they took another man to the back. Frightful fret swam inside me. It cowered like a chicken preyed by the fox. Final moments before the slaughter.
I heard aggressive shouting. Cries of fear. Prisoners subjected to that box! That scrape. The low muffles. A platoon plaything. Right here and right now.
Then footsteps. Crash, bang and open. It was my turn . . .
They led me down a walkway. My bare feet on the hard floor. My naked body held from either side. One on each arm. The grip of merciless men.
They thrust me into another area. It felt cooler. But quieter. Then abruptly, the cloth on my face, shielding my eyes from the surroundings, was whipped off. In an instant. It took me a second. My head was woozy. The light intense as my eyes accustomed to it.
My head shunted downwards. Held firmly at 90 degrees. I couldn’t look away.
Oh my god. It was open. Lid up. Seat down. I could see its face. It had no limbs. Oh my god. Oh my god.
A metal toilet box. In the flesh. For my very own eyes. “Argh, what the fuck?”
“That’s your life from now on,” spat one of them.
“Yeah, dick hole. For a platoon. Maybe even ours, faggot,” snarled the other.
“This is fucking crazy,” I blurted.
But no. Oh no. My gape. Shit began spilling onto the floor. In droves. Angst shit.
They both let go of me. Astounded in the moment at what I had done.
“What the fuck? It’s dripping shit all over the place.”
The other private took me by the neck,
“You some freak or somethin’?”
“They did it to me. At the Shit Shacks.”
“The shit what?”
“He means the shitting units. They call them that.”
I stared at the poor toilet beneath me. They had gagged his mouth. I could see into his eyes. The pain and suffering, the humiliation. All bundled into one endless nightmare in a box. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nothing to love but shit.
Its face splattered. They must have had a field day with it. Cum too. Streaks layered on its face. Sick bastards.
But then the private jabbed me in the back. “You nasty fuck. Down on your knees and slurp that shit the fuck up.”
“I heard they love it so much they treat it like gravy.”
“Yep. Shit guzzlers. It’s all they are.”
I didn’t think. I felt invincible. Whoa. What in the fuck? I did it. Down on my knees. Slurping my shit back into my mouth. Worse than a dog. Worse than a pig. Just a human toilet who was going crazy.
I began dragging it with my fingers into my mouth. And my dick. Oh shit, it was getting hard. I had a rock on. From eating my own shit. I had transcended all boundaries. Nevertheless, my arms, my legs. No. No. No.
I used my mouth to suck it up. Again and again. Slurping it. My lips as a nozzle. Off the bare floor. Slurp slurp.
“Dude. Look at that. It’s got a fuckin’ hard on!”
I felt a thud at the back of my head. My face crashed into the floor. Thrust into a shitty heap. My dick raged. What was this head-fuck scenario? It was a sexual phenomenon. It had to be.
They both began kicking me, but I got up. I gyrated around in my own shit like a buffoon, sliding my ass backwards across the shitty floor. I hit the front of the toilet box. Upright with nowhere to go. I cowered, covering my face, expecting more blows...
“Wank it. Right now.”
“Dude. Don’t ask it to do that.”
I looked down and saw my huge erection jutting up before me. At full mast. Fucking hell, I was a freak of nature.
“Why not? It gets turned on by eating shit. Let the pig stew in its juices.”
“Fucking grab that thing and bash it!”
I had barely two seconds. But I worked the muscle with my fist. Grinding it upwards and downwards. Choking it like it was my very first time.
They both laughed. Watching a human toilet who had just eaten his own shit masturbate himself to death.
“Oh shit. It’s really enjoying it.”
“Cum. Cum. Cum. Go on, do it.”
I carried on. With vigour and vim. It was exhilarating. I was a sexed-up, shit-eating freak. A moronic piston machine in motion.
I bashed it like a feral beast. It began to mount. Ready to cascade and burst in a final encore.
I was close. So close. Oh fuck.
My body shook. Erratically, as I shot wave after wave of cum all over myself. Shit and cum. Everywhere.
It was the biggest orgasm I’d ever had. As a self-inflicted loser human toilet. What the fuck.
I heard murmurs from the shit box. The gagged man attempting to gain attention. But who was bothered?
They both began spitting. Heavy gobs of mucous all over me.
“Just adding a little extra,” the taller one said, grinning.
“Those things will soon be pop pop gone and those things will soon be pop pop gone. Makes sense for the dock box.”
I crumpled. My legs spread out. My shit gape exposed.
They both looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was hell. Sex hell. Shit hell. All three . . .
“Wow. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. What man gets off from eating his own shit in front of two other men?”
“A human toilet, dude. They love it.”
“Get the fuck up shit rag. It’s back to the cage.”
“I think we should let the lieutenant know it’s got a massive gape?”
“Seems fair.”
“Yep. Maybe we can hook him up and take turns shitting in its throat. The dock pipe will easily slip up that cunt.”
“True words. True, true. The grease we had to use on this one was bad.”
“You mean shit. We used shit to grease its hole.”
“Oh yeah. Shit I meant. Well, it took ages, and I got shit all over my hands. This holes hole will be easy. That thing is worse than a hooker’s pussy after 10 thousand men.”
“Ha ha ha! Good one.”
“You hear that, bitch? We are gonna test you out. Be nice before your restoration. Like a settling-in period. There are 20 of us in here. That’s 20 loads of shit. And 20 loads of cum. Sounds good to me.”
“But my arms and legs won’t fit in the box?”
“Who said anything about the box? We like how stupid that gape looks. We can have a lot of fun. You’re a fuckin faggot as well, I can tell, so no guilt whatsoever.”
“No guilt whatsoever?” remarked the smaller one with a smile.
“Ha. I know.”
I had no time to talk before they reassembled the cloth. My eyes squashed once more. And my gape. My big fat gape. Fuck you invigilator. Fuck you metal plate. Fuck you!
They told the lieutenant all right. And the opportunity to have lots of fun came less than 24 hours later.
I was on a slab. On my back. Legs spread. Gape open.
Surrounded by the platoon. Shit and cum everywhere.
Face fucked. Legs either side, knees bent, thumping down my throat. Jabbing it with brute force. I was gagging phlegm and gob everywhere. He was relentless.
At the same time my asshole was getting rammed, like a jackhammer — but my gape was so loose it just gave way completely. Flopping in and out like a a woman’s vagina.
“Fuckin’ hell, I can’t even feel it now. It’s so loose around my cock.”
“Then youngen will throw his arm up it. Fuck it like a sock puppet!”
Oh shit. An arm … what the fuck! Shit piping, dick piping, arm piping. What next, horse piping?
“Funny we have it on the back of this slab,” the troop joked as he annihilated my face. Balls slapping my chin as he drove home his massive dick.
“Pounding it into what it will become.”
“A shit box and a sex box. The two greatest functions in existence,”
“I think your dick might be a tad more important …”
He picked up speed as a locomotive on a railroad.
“It is now. Ahh, that’s it, fag, drink my fucking cum. Yes, yes, yes, come on you amazing whore, slurp that seed.”
I could barely breathe as he emptied the contents of his balls down my throat.
HE’D WORN ME THE FUCK OUT . . .
I was in a disused warehouse. On the back of a Soopy gloopy machine. The toilet ripped from its drawer, long gone. Now in a metal toilet box. Serving a platoon somewhere. The moment the order for a reconnaissance mission came - they thought, oh we know who we can bring with us - the BIG GAPE. That was my nickname now. It killed.
But there was no time to contemplate my whereabouts - or the unfortunate metal they were using to fuck me on. As I lifted my neck, I shook in horror as I saw the next obstacle to tackle.
“Argh, Fuck. Oh shit, it’s big. It’s too big. It’s too big.”
“Don’t worry toilet. He will fuck you just fine. Nothing your hole can’t handle!” said the private pulling out. Dissatisfied with my inability to clench his dick.
The young private’s arm was greased to the eyeballs in shit. After all, the sergeant was stern in his requirements: the platoon must get their hands dirty. Truly so.
“Am I meant to just shove it in? I never thought …” he asked, unsure. “It dunt make you a fag or anything. Just smash that gape to kingdom come.”
The private readied himself. Gaining momentum. Basking in the moment’s ritual. Twisting his fist in the air in anticipation.
My ankles clamped wide apart at either side. My hole a goal. A perfect target.
There was no time to think. I was about to get fucked by an arm. That’s all I knew. Oh fuck.
Seconds passed. And in one full swoop, he thrust his fist into the moneymaker! His whole arm rocketed in — a perfect assault.
“Ahh — ah — ah — ahh — uhh — ahh –“
“BULLSEYE!” one of them shouted. Hooting as the event unfolded. Wolf whistles to match.
“Whoa. Fuck, it took it like a mare in the meadows.”
“Dig it, jab it, dig it, jab it! Go on young one, for the victory march.”
“I USED TO BE A TOP!” I cried at that top of my lungs in regret.
“A top? What the fuck is it chattin’?”
“Some faggot shit,” a smaller private, with glasses, said. “It means he used to fuck, not get fucked.”
“You’d know, fag boy.”
He fist punched me like a rag doll. Elbow deep. Again and again and again. His arm was absolutely trashing my wrecked hole. It battered the walls. Smacking my love nut. The pain seared, but my dick lurched.
A head-fuck haunt. Pain and pleasure mixed into one. As a human toilet. It was crazy.
“Twist it next time. Ball your fist inside. Give him the iron hand.”
“Ha ha ha. Iron hand. Good line.”
There were 6 of them. Shit and cum layered all over me. They had fucked me. They had shit in me. They had cum on me.
“Argh. Argh. Argh. No.”
He did it. Twisting his wrist from left to right. Clenching and unclenching his fist. In the depths of my rectum.
It was then that I saw the private who had just cum in my mouth remove his pants. He hopped up onto the slab and casually squatted over my face.
“Keep your mouth open. I’ve got a big dinner. It’s time for log o’clock.”
I opened up, readying my tongue. His asshole expanding, ready to pop. He dropped it. A big steamy clog of shit. It was symmetry. Into my mouth in seamless tandem as they fucked my asshole to oblivion.
“We better give it a moment. We might kill it,” came the concerned words of the geeky troop.
“It’s just a toilet. We can get a replacement at the factory.”
“You are a funny guy, but the sergeant won’t see it like that.”
“Shut up, you bore.”
The pummelling rolled on as I chewed down my latest meal. A mare to the slaughter. By the big angry arm of a young colt. What if they all wanted a go? 6 arms in 60 minutes? Damn, that could be a film. Even my imagination was destroying me. Oh fuck.
His arm was ramming me ragged and raw. If anybody saw this, they would think I was a blow-up doll. Only a none human entity could endure this obliteration.
POUND. POUND. POUND. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM!
“Argh. Argh. Argh.”
“KEEP TWATTING IT. ABSOLUTELY NAIL THAT SHIT.”
My mind went into a frenzied whirl. Torpedoes, missiles, cannons and fists.
“WEAR THAT CUNT OUT,” shouted the private, who had a grip on my right ankle.
My mind hurtled into another dimension. It was insanity.
PUMMELLED BY 20 INCHES OF A HUMAN ARM.
He retracted it. Then smacked it back. Entering, exiting. Entering, exiting. Interchanging; sometimes fully fisted, sometimes trussed, like a fist dagger.
My love nut was fucking loving it. I was half-hard, but leaking. Christ, I was dribbling all over. My heart raced. A sexed-up human toilet, pounded by a synchronised arm piping.
It went on forever. He was a relentless machine. 10 minutes. 15 minutes. I didn’t know.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUD. THUD. THUD!
But eventually it stopped. He ran out of steam. His face pouring with exertions. He pulled it out. A big schlurp sounded. His arm covered in shit that had been shat into me.
“Raaa, it’s fuckin’ nasty. I need a wash. And everything is hanging out,” said the young man with a wry smile.
“We better get BIG GAPE back. Just push the mush inside it.”
“It’s a human toilet. It feels only joy.”
He mangled the distended skin inwards, pushing the tragedy back up. Prodding it with both sets of fingers like it was jelly. The torment and pain of getting fucked on a gloopy machine; that hurt fierce.
But my asshole, once tightly budded, didn’t have a stopper in it. How would I prevent the shit from falling …
As they escorted me back to the vehicle, I could barely process. I had just been punch fisted by a teenage private. His whole arm had clocked up inside my disgraced anus. It had literally hung out. And it was true, my asshole could now take anything. I dreaded to think about what would happen at the farm. ‘NEIGH, NEIGH, NEIGH’ and ‘NO, NO, NO.’ Thank fuck it was armoured tanks and artillery, the days of platoons on horseback behind us.
“Sergeant?” cut a voice from one of the platoon in ear shot. It was the one who had been called a bore.
I stood naked, with shit all over me. Well, cum too, if that made me feel better. Which it didn’t.
They had chains connecting my ankles and my wrists. One of the younger members of the toon had attached them around a post.
It was a barren wasteland. We were in a very desolate place. The long road to the factory of hell awaiting.
The other detainees had been, of course, used. Not forgetting the limbless one. He was a 24/7 toilet. He got it worst. A permanent fixture, fixated in the shitting room. The dock pipe embedded in his hole. There to eat shit and excrete shit. Just as the invigilator had said. And as my ex had quipped. I wondered where he was now? Hopefully captured by the enemy and turned back into a human toilet. I was nasty and vengeful by now. It kept me going, just.
I drifted off, upright. I was so tired. Freakish dreams ensued...
I was an indescribable mammal. Not quite human — nor animal. I couldn’t tell. I was in a beautiful ravine, surrounded by woodland — the type elves would grace. In serene harmony of existence.
I was being jabbed by something, or something’s. It didn’t hurt. They were brown, little creatures dusted in confectionary sugar. In every opening. It felt lovely.
A shower of tears fell down my face. All over my body. But the little things sucked them up into their mouths. They took the sadness of the droplets and replaced them with happy tears. That smiled back at me. Each one, a little face, in a little tear of sunshine.
But such beauty, in tandem with symmetry, dies. They died, and in their place were born tanks. Droves of them chasing me. They caught me. Thrust up to the cannon’s edge, teetering at my gape. Then boom. It fired. My body tore in two.
But in the distance, the sugary brown things appeared.
Tears, tears, tears...
Baby boy. Baby boy. Baby boy.
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