Toilet Trained II
by Archaic Ragnarok
Lori’s eyes fluttered open to an immediately unfamiliar sight. It took her groggy mind several seconds to realize she was even awake, since her limbs seemed oddly unresponsive and her view was savagely detached, as if she wore thick goggles and gazed outwards along a tunnel of ever dwindling diameter towards a single elliptical smudge of light in the distance.
In fact, that was a frighteningly accurate description of the scene before her, and as she realized that her head was locked in place, unable to move in the slightest, widening eyes frantically examined the seemingly featureless tube for some further clue to the nature of her surroundings—panic rapidly setting in as her hands continually refused to come to her rescue.
Long and distressful minutes passed as Lori fought with abandon against binds she couldn’t see nor even truly feel, her body all but invisible from the highly-restrictive viewpoint, eyes drawn inexplicably towards the small haze of light so very far away. It was only as she eventually forced herself to relax somewhat, chest still heaving uncontrollably, that she became acutely aware of her back pressed up against a soft spongy surface, and—with her feet seemingly unburdened by her admittedly petite frame—she correctly judged herself to be lay horizontally, arms fixed somehow along her sides. Since the circle of light imitated the radiance of the Sun, and the pressure against her back seemed to imply work done against gravity, her reeling mind made the reasonable assumption that the other end of the tube must be skywards. The orientation of her legs was much less clear, so far away as they appeared to be, and whilst she felt no random movement of cool air against her skin, she couldn’t even be entirely sure whether she was actually clothed or not.
She opened her mouth to call out, but the usual simplicity of words eluded her. Either that or she couldn’t hear her own voice. It was surreal. Synapses fired, and the tiny lip muscles around her mouth seemed to imitate the appropriate shapes, but nothing further came of the seemingly futile endeavor. Silence remained stoically triumphant. Given the alarming helplessness of the situation, a second flurry of desperate struggles against her unseen restraints was psychologically inevitable, and Lori performed admirably for several fitful minutes before her psyche managed to calm down once more and accept some small sliver of her predicament, at least for the time being.
So, she was lay down, her entire body restrained in some unforgiving manner, without any real hope of releasing herself or even finding out where she was being held; limited only to the bare essentials of momentary life: to breathe, think and seek an escape back to something more familiar. The light at the end of the tunnel was her only apparent salvation, and that seemed far too small to climb out of, as if only her head were physically inside the tunnel itself, the rest of her buried alongside. She was grateful that she had never exhibited prior symptoms of claustrophobia, because this surely would’ve qualified—at least perceptually—as the smallest, most enclosed space she had ever been forced into.
How long could one stay so completely immobile and environmentally-deprived like this before a perilous decent to insanity took root..? She couldn’t think it; had to assume someone, somewhere, was behind her imprisonment—that they were watching—and that some as-yet-unknown goal existed whereby she would no longer be left as such. There was a reason for everything, after all; a simple matter of cause and effect; but all she had so far were questions. Answers were sure to come, she would gamble her very sanity on it. With her freedom so clearly misappropriated, it was all she really had left anyway.
And just as suddenly as she’d woken to this hellish nightmare, darkness consumed her senses once more. But she became aware that she was still breathing, and her mind was still racing, and she sluggishly deduced that the light at the end of the tunnel had gone out. Despite Lori’s world plummeting into near complete darkness, some sliver of conscious thought was almost upbeat at the prospect, since it had to indicate some action on the part of another human being relatively nearby.
A new sensation jarred her numbed senses awake with a sudden vigor that arced her back and sent her mind into free-fall. There was something pushing into her cunt, something decidedly penis-shaped, thick and not at all smooth-surfaced, thrusting gently inside, before reeling back out most of the way and entering her fully once more. But even as shocking as that were, it wasn’t the only violation taking place, for there was a similarly-sizeable girth sliding in and out of her ass as well, both holes being penetrated with a regular systematic movement that she realized with a twisted half-relief could only be provided by a machine of some sort, incessant and mindless as it strove to fuck her like only a man (or in this case, two men) should really be permitted to achieve.
But despite everything, rationality would seemingly be damned, because those robotic instruments really were guided and shaped to her apparent preferences, and her distant fuck-holes were responding even before the intense vibrations kicked in to confirm their artificial status. With nothing else to distract her senses, the unremitting forms of considerably above-average cocks in her cunt and ass effortlessly filled the void. Lori was a good girl for the most part, certainly not the kind to indulge in double penetration of the more natural variety, so it quickly became a stimulating experience beyond her capability to deny. As Lori’s fragile resolve crumbled, her ability to even think straight began to melt away. And then, it hit her.
In the featureless darkness and utter silence there had been no warning at all. Right atop her, just beyond the apparently-sloping glass panel between her face and the outside tube was a chunk of something solid and cylindrical in shape, darker than the tubing itself but that was perhaps only due to its immediate proximity. There was a flutter of light far above, Lori’s gaze momentarily drawn back to this uneven movement, a shuffling and somewhat ordered sequence of fluctuations, and then suddenly an unblocking of the circle of light altogether—was there someone up there..?
A question readily answered when the return of light to her world brought fresh and truly horrific enlightenment: the fallen object could only really have come from a person, a person sat at the very top of the tube, a tube that seemingly existed to carry their disgusting excrement directly down to her, where she could only watch as it proceeded to slide across the glass surface directly above, mere centimeters from her horrified expression. She was thankful that she couldn’t smell it despite its extreme vicinity; couldn’t be completely nauseous at its presence; and the vibrating, pulsating dildos continued unabashed in their efforts to arouse her, even as it slid slowly downwards right before her eyes.
She was secured at the bottom of a toilet bowl, some considerable distance below the seat itself, an occupant of which could block out her sole source of light simply by unknowingly perching over her, Lori’s face looking directly up from the lower end of a one-way refuse pipe as they relieved themselves, forced to watch as freshly deposited filth rained down from the sky, before gliding along the gentle gradient of the smooth glass sheet. By tilting her eyes downwards, tracing the sliding path of this foul delivery, she managed to spot the outlet just beyond her chin, where it was presumably carried off elsewhere, lingering briefly to taunt and disgust helpless Lori, even as the fucking machines provided contradictory sensations of their own.
Maybe it was the sheer primal fear—perhaps it was something incomprehensibly sordid welling up from deep within her own psyche—maybe it was just the deep and thoroughly unrelenting fucking she was receiving; but Lori felt herself getting excited, shamefully responding to the unique cocktail of intense stimuli, embarrassed to be sexually aroused in such a vulnerable state; though as far as she knew she had no visible witnesses to her abject humiliation—fucked senseless whilst a large chunk of a complete strangers’ shit hovered in plain sight, eyes transfixed, glued to the only object that presently existed in her restricted little world. The lofty heights of orgasm beckoned; heart rate soaring, her cunt shockingly wet. Her whole body tingled in unreserved anticipation, giving over to the moment—and then her mouth stretched itself wide open, face muscles tight around the fixed opening, contorted almost painfully wide.
Her mouth was open. She tried to close it, but was seemingly unable to control her jaw. A previously-unseen transparent panel at the base of the sloped glass slid open in turn, directly over her mouth, and a dizzying mixture of cleaning chemical odors and retched stinks assaulted her nostrils all at once. The freshly-deposited shit continued its gracefully slow slide towards the reclined slot—now a sizeable chasm between it and the outlet beyond: towards her very much open and inviting mouth. The true horror of the situation hit her and she struggled anew, watching intently, Lori’s apprehension rising with each passing second as gravity brought that revolting turd ever closer to the last place in the world that she intended to allow it anywhere near. To add to her frustration, the machines fucking her cunt and ass increased their pace twofold, ramming into her with renewed vigor, doing all they could to swing her thoughts back to the pounding she was receiving between her legs; to keep her excited and orgasmic even as the inevitability of tasting some random persons fresh shit loomed closer and closer.
And something new trickled through the fog of conflicting emotions: her breasts were being somehow massaged and vibrated, casually emulating the very best sensations that a pair of wandering hands could produce, her body fully at the mercy of these machines designed to beguile her senses.
Then it unceremoniously tipped over the edge, fell just a few short centimeters and entered her pretty little mouth—absent lips closing tightly behind it; the small panel recessing into the slope of the transparent sheet above her; sickly smells from the toilet above cut off once more. The rhythmic pounding of her cunt and ass ceased instantly, a wickedly choreographed set-up that happened to find both dildos shoved firmly inside her holes, vibrations there and across her tits cruelly deactivated, leaving her with no pleasurable sensation left to escape towards, and only a completely irrational yearning to climax left in its wake.
Well, not only that, for there was also the small matter of that nasty piece of shit filling Lori’s mouth, sitting so innocently as speckled cheeks bulged and heaved around this highly unwelcome addition, pursed and delightfully-kissable lips crammed so unwillingly full of filth with absolutely nowhere to go. Or was that really true..?
Without warning, her senses were barraged in a whole new way, sound in the form of a strict girls’ voice crashed into her universe, forceful and all-encompassing. Nothing familiar or friendly; no passive attempts at humor or humility—just crude intimidation at a primal, almost subhuman level, dominating her senses, subduing every stray thought that didn’t agree with its assertive demands, and effortlessly reducing a responsible and analytical Lori to a silly little girl, at once timid and confused.
‘I AM A HUMAN TOILET,’ boomed the harsh female voice—reeling off each syllable deep into her auditory canal, ears apparently covered by headphones with the volume up far too high, the crude message unavoidable as it repeated incessantly and without delay, ears bombarded with forceful phrases masquerading as her own thoughts.
‘I WANT TO BE THE BEST TOILET A GIRL CAN BE,’ the words bore deep into her very soul, their thundering contempt for her unwillingness to oblige persistent and unrelenting. The sheer forcefulness of the audible stimuli tore away at her very being, and no amount of focus—what little she could muster at any rate—would convince her mouth muscles to spit it out, or to just plain retch at the thoughts being rammed into her, and all the while she hovered perilously on a precipice of orgasmic bliss that simply refused to pass by, her cunt throbbing with maddening discontent at its recent cruel denial.
Over and over the crushing litany played through, cycling around without pause; a never-ending cacophony of sound, imprinting itself onto her senses, and in turn becoming her thoughts, thinking for her as she lost the strength to try and think of anything else, unable to disagree with what seemed to be her own inner voice, urging herself to remember what increasingly seemed to make perfect sense.
She had no idea how much time passed before she surrendered to the unconscionable. It could have been hours for all she knew, or perhaps she hoped, unwilling to accept that she might have faltered so readily. But what could possibly come from trying to fight it: the whole system was clearly automated, synchronized to so fundamentally expose her most intimate of sensitivities, to use untold pleasure to induce the harshest of submissions, to turn her body against her mind in a protracted struggle that she couldn’t dare hope to win if she couldn’t even hear herself think, her flailing subconscious crushed beneath the ubiquitous layers of filth. Mindless and uncaring, either the system broke her now or later—it was all the same to the machines directing her torment—but the difference to her was between making a rational choice in the present or being later reduced to a mere shell of her former self. Of course, the coherence of her decision in this regard was questionable at best, since she was somewhat lost inside the unpalatable narrative by this point, only some faint glimmer of intuition pulling her back into the light of reason.
So she bit into it, chewed at it, every second a microcosm of shame and revulsion. Realizing just how incredibly long it was going to take to finish it all, she started to take larger bites—as awkward as it was with her lips sealed shut—swallowing her first piece with disgust written in every contour of her contorted face. But the vibrations timidly came back on, and the machines fucking her delectably tight holes resumed their slow in-out grind, almost as if in rallying support of her tenacious obedience. The toys seemed to fuck her in proportion to the rate of shit that went down her throat, so they naturally drove her onwards, eating it with a quickening pace, disgusted beyond measure, but thankful that no-one was witness to the sickening act, especially since—beyond anything she could have ever convinced herself was possible—she was actually somehow getting off whilst she hesitantly tucked into a complete strangers’ firm but saliva-moistened turd, her mouth and throat smothered with this unmistakable off-brown filth that found its way everywhere except beyond those stubbornly locked lips.
She hit orgasm with only a small few pieces left to swallow, the audio onslaught reinforcing her utter humiliation, cumming whilst performing a depraved act reserved for the most immoral of sluts and whores, not pretty little brunettes such as herself, academically accomplished and typically found only amongst the mature, reliable type of guys. But sensibly-inclined Lori came harder than she ever had, chewing on shit as the twin vibrating cocks pounded every sensible thought into oblivion. She came harder than the one time Andrew had flipped her over and taken her from behind, and much harder than when Peter had introduced her to a ‘bit of rough’. The words ‘human toilet’ left their mark, etched into her otherwise-cautious mind, latent association with a memory of the most intense of pleasure: a permanent reminder of the deed just performed.
She barely even noticed that the voice was now gone, so exhausting was the body-spanning orgasm that she’d just received, but the various toys had ceased their soulless violation of her senses. Waiting, with limitless patience to be triggered into action once more, the fucking of her sensitive holes completely at the mercy of whatever programming brought them to life and shut them down again, sexual arousal and denial effectively hard-wired to a switch in a circuit, industrious and finely-calibrated, her body responding exactly as if it were the missing piece of an elaborate artefact, girl and machine functioning as one.
It was reasonable for Lori to expect some respite following the sheer torment of the sickening act that she’d just been forced to endure, but that would’ve been sorely underestimating the cruelty of her predicament’s designers. Even as her chest still heaved from the effort of accommodating the depraved orgasm she’d been manipulated into experiencing, Lori was hastily introduced to her next ordeal, gasping as electric shocks began emanating from the twin rods buried tightly inside her throbbing and thoroughly sensitive fuck holes. The shocks to her nipples followed soon after, and Lori’s body responded the only way it could by heaving violently against her unseen restraints, inaudible cries escaping her lips as she fought with renewed strength against her inexplicable helplessness.
The periodic shocks continued unperturbed, her sopping wet cunt contracting sharply with each surge of electricity coursing her most delicate of regions, the recent orgasmic bliss quickly replaced by the horror and apprehension of a torrent of pain, her slim body viciously and repeatedly punished at the worst possible moment, deeply penetrated and high on post-orgasm euphoria. It took Lori some long seconds of exposure to this new hell to realize that the intimidating voice had resumed its obscene litany, deafening though the woman’s words were.
‘AFTER USE, A GOOD TOILET SHOULD ALWAYS BEG TO BE USED AGAIN.’
Despite the seemingly omnipotent command, repeating over and over as the piercing shocks continued to surge through her well-fucked holes and the susceptible flesh of her breasts, Lori did not immediately grasp what it was that she was expected to do. A long anguished minute of flailing against her bonds passed before some flicker of consciousness managed to concentrate long enough to decipher the message lancing into her mind. Between bouts of involuntary jolts, her lips trembled open and words started to roll out.
‘Pl—Please use… use me… again…’
There was a hint of the shocks subsiding, the cyclical pain in her cunt and ass just a little more bearable.
‘Oh fuck—Please… please… use me as a toilet… please…’
Her mind eagerly registered the correlation as the threshold of pain decreased, and her words become clearer and more confident, sound filling the tiny space between her face and the glass sheet directly above her, the booming voice in her ears falling silent whenever her own lips managed to form words.
‘Please use my mouth as a toilet!’
The shocks stopped completely, leaving Lori suddenly very sore and wholly abused, both physically and mentally, her body having been put through intense pleasure and then pain almost immediately afterwards, the very same instruments used to elicit tantalizing excitement and then excruciating agony, her senses never allowed any modicum of normality, or degrees anywhere between. Her chest heaved with the effort of struggling against her restraints, as futile as that had apparently remained. Her thoughts cascaded incoherently amongst her previous torments, sanity lost however briefly in the immeasurable powerlessness of her plight.
And then the shocks to her tender holes started up again. The voice once more insisted that she plead for the very thing she least wanted. To beg to be allowed to eat more shit. As the electric current mindlessly surged through her weary body, Lori somehow managed to realize that she would be shocked whenever she stopped demanding to be used. As horrifying an idea as this was to her ailing mind, she would’ve done literally anything to stop the shocks from happening at that very moment, so naturally any recourse was leapt upon almost too keenly.
‘Fuck! Please… please… please… I’ll do anything, please use my mouth. Oh fuck! Please make me eat shit. Please make me. Please… I’ll do anything… please make it stop…’
As hurriedly predicted, Lori got exactly what she had hoped for. The more she pleaded; the louder she begged for it; the more vulgar her choice of words—the sooner the shocks subsided, and the longer they remained absent altogether. It was almost like she was being steadily nudged towards a particular arrangement of words, taught through fear of unbearable pain to defy all sensible rationale and instead call out repeatedly for her mouth to be used as toilet, swallowing shit piece by piece, over and over again.
Unbeknownst to poor Lori, who had reasonably lost all sense of time during her captivity, she convincingly begged for her mouth to be filled with shit for nearly twenty minutes before a flicker of movement caused her sole light source to be extinguished. As darkness took her, the paralyzing fear of the electric shocks gave way to an almost unfamiliar sensation, the twin shafts now delivering only pleasure once more, vibrating whilst sliding into her and fucking her with wanton abandon.
Aching though her tortured fuck-holes were, Lori was subjected to a wholly different kind of powerlessness: her own body betraying her—as it hungrily succumbed to the agreeable sensations that were in such stark contrast to the merciless shocking administered between her legs not so very long ago. She hated how effortlessly she became lost in arousal, unable to refuse what little relief her deprived or overwhelmed senses were being afforded. No less than three huge pieces of fresh shit soundlessly struck the glass in front of her widening eyes as the fucking machines pounded Lori into submission. She lacked the strength of mind to fight the inevitable. Her legs started to tremble as her limited resolve buckled, and on cue her mouth forced itself open, wide and unobstructed, the glass sliding away to allow the first deposited filth to drop into her mouth. Her lips closed tightly behind it, the panel slotting back into place.
On the very precipice of orgasm, Lori once again thrashed against the restraints keeping her immobile. There was no apparent escape from the cycle of events, no time to evaluate her situation, no reprieve from the sensory barrage that manipulated her into doing precisely as she was told. She tried to forget about the voluminous turd lingering inside her pretty mouth, but the need to orgasm was so great, and the memory of the previous euphoria so vivid, that she was almost angry with herself for being so reluctant. The all-encompassing voice continued to masquerade as her own thoughts, urging her to remember what she had apparently forgotten:
‘I WANT TO BE THE BEST TOILET A GIRL CAN BE.’
She wasn’t even entirely sure that it wasn’t her own subconscious, so difficult as it was to think of anything at all under the assault of the thundering words, repeating over and over without hesitating, imprinting itself onto her psyche. Any attempt to question her plight or attempt to formulate a way out just ended up quashed beneath this potent declaration.
One small idea managed to squeeze itself through—if she took her time eating, then maybe she could delay the time spent in fear of electric shocks to her besieged and increasingly exhausted holes. This sounded reasonable, as far as she was capable of thinking reasonably—but then it struck her that it might just make her a “better toilet” instead. What if she was just responding to subliminal triggers that were making her choose to eat it exactly the way her imprisoners intended, somehow watching and relishing the sight of her taking her time to savor each and every piece of shit that entered her mouth. Was that their perverted definition of the “best toilet a girl can be”? Was this really the only thing that mattered to her now—futilely rebelling against whatever her captors had intended for her…?
This inner argument only served to postpone the inevitable—one way or another she was going to have to swallow it. The longer it was in her mouth the longer she mentally tortured herself—and the sooner she devoured it, the sooner she would be highly motivated by electric shocks to beg for more. Either way, her pussy throbbed with abject need, her cunt juices pooling around the exposed part of the shaft so deeply penetrating her. She bit into it, nibbling around the edges, and was instantly rewarded by a slow movement of the vibrating fuck toys. She tried so hard to make it last, to eat it as slowly as possible, but the steady fucking drove her onwards, knowing only too well that she could speed up the machines by speeding up the rate of consumption. She felt the need to retch, but apparently she couldn’t, and the sickness in her stomach didn’t quell her wanton need to reach orgasm one bit. She couldn’t continue to allow her most overwhelming of orgasms to be associated with the depraved act of eating shit, but what choice did she actually have…?
By now the light had returned to her world, and the two other pieces of shit had slid unceremoniously downwards to the escape chute safely beyond the sliding panel and her increasingly shit-stained lips. The last of her “meal” was forced down with an unflattering gulp, and the fuck machines sped up accordingly. She felt the pressure grow between her legs, desire blinding her once more, Lori eagerly awaiting the orgasmic reward that provided her some momentary escape from this living hell—and then her mouth forced itself wide open.
The machines stopped hammering into her, and the taunting words echoed around her head as the two other pieces of shit were apparently pumped upwards somewhere alongside the main refuse pipe and descended again via the main shaft, where Lori’s desperate eyes could only watch as the nearest turd edged towards her seemingly inviting mouth. Now sexual frustration was added to her growing list of torments, her cunt aching in every way possible, sore to the touch yet still desperate to climax. The feeling didn’t pass, and it couldn’t, because she’d been conditioned to ensure it didn’t—not until the toilet had been adequately cleaned of all waste, at least. Lori was much quicker this time, inhibitions beginning to be desensitized, working through the remaining filth to get to what she felt unfairly denied. Only when every single chunk of waste had passed down her throat, promptly followed up by the warped convulsions of orgasmic bliss, did she truly register what had she just been forced to do. She tried to scream out, but no sound could penetrate the glass sheet. She tried to close her eyes—to shut out what little existence she had been afforded, but they refused to oblige her request. She tried to gently test her restraints, to find some weakness that might give her hope or a means of escape. To somehow attract the attention of someone up above, unknowingly relieving themselves directly above her ever-watching face as machines fucked her senseless…
But then those mindless fuck-toys once again delivered unbearable electric shocks to Lori’s writhing holes and exposed breasts, and everything else was instantly forgotten.
‘FUCK! Please make me eat shit!’
‘Please… please let me eat it!’
‘Oh fuck… please give me more shit to eat!’
‘…’
‘Please let me be your toilet! I promise to be good at it!’
‘I’ll be so good at it… please!’
‘I’ll be the best toilet… that…a girl can be…’