It was a Saturday afternoon and I had just stepped out of the shower after sleeping late when the phone rang. “Hello!” I said.
“Hi Mindy!” the voice on the other side said.
I answered, “Oh, Hi Sherry! What’s up?” Sherry was my best friend. We can talk for hours about work, guys, shopping, clothes, parties, who got kicked off the model show, and too many other things to list. “Not much,” I said. “Maybe thinking about going to the mall. How about you?”
“Want to crash a party tonight?”
“Sure! Whose party?”
“I overheard one of the computer geeks talking about it at work yesterday. I even overheard the address. Wanna go?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “How much fun can a party by computer geeks be, Sherry?”
“c’mon, Mindy! It’ll be fun! If it sucks, we’ll leave, okay?”
That night, Sherry drove us to the address she had scribbled down on a sticky note–a large split-level house out of town by itself on a rural road. We walked past a dozen cars parked along the road and in the dirt driveway.
We heard music and crowd noise coming from behind the house, so we followed the walkway around the side, through a breezeway between the house and the garage, through some bushes, and into the party.
A cute blond guy saw us walk through the hedges and came up to us. “Hi, ladies! I’m Brad.”
“Hi!” we both said.
“I’m Mindy.” I said.
“And I’m Sherry,” Sherry said.
“You know Guy?”
“Yeah!” Sherry said. “I know him from work. Is he around?”
“Yeah.” Brad pointed to a bunch of guys standing by the pool. “He’s right there!”
“Oh,” Sherry said, “We better go and say, ‘Hi!’”
“Yeah, but can I get you two some drinks? The bar’s right over there by the patio door.”
“We see it,” I said. “Thanks!”
“c’mon, Sherry,” I whispered.
We took a few steps toward the bar and Sherry whispered, “What’s the matter, Mindy? He was cute!”
“Oh, I don’t know. He was cute, I guess. Just a little pushy.”
One guy was handing out bottles of beer–the good stuff, Heineken, Guinness, Coors, etc.–from a Styrofoam cooler, so with beer in hand, we continued to mingle.
The deejay started to play _It’s Raining Men, _ so Sherry and I got out there and danced together.
By then, we both had to use the facilities, so we followed some people into the house. There was stuff going on inside the house too. While the house wasn’t huge or anything, just a normal-sized split level, there was a bunch of people in the living room sitting and talking.
There was a separate media room where a bunch of guys were watching a football game on a big screen TV. We found a bathroom down in the finished basement.
After leaving the bathroom, I joined in a game of Trivial Pursuit that a few people were just setting up. Sherry said it was weird to play board games at a party, so she went back upstairs. I think she went back outside to hook up with that guy.
Some guy came around with a cooler of cold beer, handing bottles out to everyone. I was feeling a little giddy from that first bottle, so I took another.
The game lasted for about an hour, the other team got their last pie piece before us, but we beat them to the center of the board.
“Play again?” one of the girls asked.
“Now, I think I have to look for my ride home.”
“You live around here?” someone asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Okay. Thanks.” But I still wanted to find Sherry.
Just as I thought, Sherry was groping that guy to _Layla_ on the dance floor.
I waited for the song to end and caught Sherry. “You going home with him?” I whispered.
She grinned and whispered, “Maybe. Be ready to go, okay?”
But I wasn’t ready to go yet. It was a kind of laid-back, easy-going party, a _fun_ party, and I just made a bunch of new friends playing that game. I told Sherry, “You go on, Sherry. I’ll get my own ride home. But you got to tell me all about him in the morning! Promise?”
“Promise!” Sherry whispered back.
I had to use the facilities again, but there was a waiting line to use the bathroom in the finished basement, and for the lavatory off the kitchen, so I headed up. The top of the stairs turned into a hallway that ended in alcove with about five doors. Which was the bathroom?
I opened one door a crack and looked inside. I gasped at what I saw. I looked over my shoulder and went inside and closed the door behind me.
The room was lined on one wall with bookcases full of paperback novels, old magazines, and computer games. Neat, in a messy sort of way. A computer was on a computer table against the opposite wall. But in the middle of the floor was the oddest-looking contraption.
It was a large rectangular wood box, painted all glossy white, about 3 feet wide 6 feet long and 2 feet high. But the oddest thing is that it had a kind of homemade toilet attached to one end. There were two slots underneath it, one directly under the toilet, and one sort of in the middle of the thing. Those slots contained Tupperware tubs.
It looked to have about the same proportions of a large coffin. That freaked me out, but my curiosity was raging. That’s my compulsion–my fetish. Figuring out odd contraptions. I could see that the rectangular box section was hinged horizontally along one side. I had no choice. I set my beer cup on the corner of the computer table and opened the coffin.
I stood there for about a minute in awe at the innards of the thing.
With the top of the toilet and the box open, it was a long platform about six inches above the floor, about six feet long and two feet wide. There were open stockades that looked to be for a person’s ankles at the far end, and what looked like handcuffs for a person’s wrists on each side.
Numerous leather belts lay across it every few inches. Right in the middle was a 6-inch hole under where a person’s butt might go, and a plastic pipe stuck up out of that hole where the person’s crotch would be. One of those plastic Tupperware tubs was directly under the butt hole.
The toilet mechanism on the near end looked like a toilet with a toilet seat and everything. The toilet seat was higher above the floor than a normal toilet seat, but I saw that it had a step in front of it where the users’ feet would go. I glanced into the toilet. Under the seat was a large diameter white plastic funnel. The small end of the funnel opened into darkness below.
That’s when I noticed that the toilet was also hinged horizontally, independent of the coffin box. I swung the top half of the toilet up and over and looked inside. The upper half, of course, was the underside of the funnel, now pointing upward. The bottom half was lined with white plastic, and had a drain pointing into that other Tupperware tub under the toilet section.
My heart pounded. I even felt myself getting moist down there.
I sat in the middle of the platform directly over the hole. Then I stood. I opened the hinged stockades where my ankles would go, and then I sat again. I lay back and rested my head in the lower half of the toilet box and placed my legs in the lower half of the stockades.
I was panting heavily. I suddenly realized that I had already unbuttoned the top three buttons of my blouse. I jumped up and listened. The party was still going on downstairs, but this part of the house was quiet. No one was around.
I just had to try it. Maybe if I undressed quickly and then dressed again, no one would know I was here.
I unbuttoned my blouse and removed it. Then my bra. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my jeans down. Oh, girl! I was standing in just my panties in some total stranger’s house. So there was only one thing to do: I removed my panties. I folded my clothes neatly and placed them on an empty bottom shelf of one of the bookshelves, along with my purse.
I examined the ankle stockade closer. The top half slid into the lower half and had a set of brass latches to hold it in place. Before getting in it, I closed the ankle stocks and latched them. Then I unlatched them
The toilet box also had a set of brass latches opposite the hinged to hold it closed. I closed it, latched it, then unlatched it, and opened it.
Then I lay back in the contraption and wiggled around. It wasn’t at all uncomfortable.
I sat on the bench and lay down. I placed my ankles in the lower half of the stockades and lowered my head into the bottom half of the toilet box. I was pleasantly surprised to feel that it was padded under the back of my head under the plastic.
I sat back up and placed the stockade over my ankles and latched the latches. Then I unlatched them, just to make sure I could. Then I latched them again.
Then I found that PVC pipe and slit it between my legs into a slot in the platform into the Tupperware tub below. Its purpose was suddenly obvious. A slit cut into the pipe pressed against my sex so that I could relieve myself into the Tupperware tub below. The hole in the platform under my behind was large enough so that I could also do poo-poo into the tub.
Next I reached up over my head and swung the toilet box down over my face. It formed a sort of stockade snugly, but not tightly, around my neck
The underside of the funnel pressed against my lips. It was actually a short section of PVC pipe cemented to the bottom of the funnel with Epoxy, and had sawed two slits into bottom of the pipe. I opened my mouth to admit the pipe into my mouth and the toilet seat closed completely, plunging me into complete darkness.
It stretched my jaw to let the pipe into my mouth, but the slits for my teeth let me close my jaw a little, so it wasn’t uncomfortable. I reached up and pushed the top half of the toilet up, removing the pipe from my mouth. Then I lowered it again. I reached over and latched the brass latches holding the toilet securely closed.
I was now fastened to the device by my neck and my ankles. The rest of my body was still free to wiggle around.
I reached up and closed the full cover over the device, completely enclosing me inside it to the outside world.
I reached around and buckled each of the belt straps around each of my thighs, then across my belly and chest.
At that point, only my arms and wrists were free. I could still undo everything I had done and let myself out of this thing.
I placed my wrists in the handcuffs, but didn’t latch them. I just lay there, breathing through my mouth that was held open by that pipe attached to the bottom of the funnel.
What a rush!
I heard a click. I heard another click. Without thinking, I latched the handcuffs onto my wrists. Oh, girl! What have I done? What have I done!
Maybe the cuffs didn’t really catch. I tried to gently open them; but they wouldn’t open. I tried to pull my wrists through; but my wrists wouldn’t fit.
I struggled, but I was belted in tightly. The ankle stocks and the head box, I knew, were sturdy and latched securely.
I was so wet down there; I bet I was dripping my own juices into that pipe like I was peeing. That’s when I remembered why I had gone exploring. I relaxed my bladder and let my pee flow into that pipe. I heard it dribbling into that Tupperware tub below my butt.
My body was now a part of the machine. So now what do I do?
There was nothing I could do. I thought about calling out, but the party was still going on. What would someone make of me locked into this toilet device? Maybe Sherry hadn’t left yet and was looking for me. She was the only one who knew of my bizarre fetish. If she stumbled into this room and saw this contraption, she would know instantly where I was.
Hours passed. I heard the party noised subside.
Maybe if the party ended, the owner of the house would be alone and would let me out. He would have to understand! His fetish had to be as bizarre as mine is for him to have built this thing, right?
I tried to yell out, but with that pipe in my mouth, all I could make was a wispy, “Aaaaaaah…” sound.
More hours passed. I peed a few more times into that pipe. This device seemed to be designed to keep a person locked in it as a permanent component. That was a sobering thought.
I eventually dozed off. I think I slept for a good while until I heard a door open.
“Oh shit!” I heard some guy in the room. The voice was muffled through the thick wood of the contraption. “Who was messing around in here? Left their beer on my computer table. Jeez!”
The mention of beer made my mouth water. I’d been locked in this think all night and I was so thirsty!
I heard more footsteps leave the room and return a few minutes later. Then I heard the familiar musical tone of a Windows PC turning on.
I thought about calling out, but I was terrified with him in the room. I didn’t even know him. I bet he doesn’t even know I’m trapped inside his device. I don’t curse very often, but _Shit! I’m screwed! _
A little later, a phone rang. That same male voice said, “Hello!”
…
“Oh, hi Brad? Did ya’ like my party last night?”
…
“Really, man? You got lucky? Who was it?”
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“Yeah? That girl you left with? What was her name?”
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“Hmmm, Sherry?”
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“Uh, huh. Uh, huh.”
…
“Never saw her before last night.”
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“Uh, huh.”
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“You don’t say! Her friend never came home?”
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“Nope.”
…
“Mindy? I don’t recall the name. What does she look like?”
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“Oh, yeah, I saw her and that other girl dancing together a little bit, and then I never saw her again. I think she left around the time you left with Sherry.”
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“So You gonna call her again? Okay, later, dude.”
…
“Yeah. Bye.”
I heard him typing on his computer after that. He still doesn’t seem to know I’m there. Maybe I should call out, but I’m so freaking scared! I can’t let a guy I don’t know see me naked locked inside this thing. What if he rapes me instead of letting me out? I tried to be as quiet as I could. Maybe I could try to work my hands loose on my own again tonight.
About an hour later, the phone rang again. He said, “Hello!”
…
“Detective Jones?”
…
“Yeah I had a party at my house last night.”
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“The missing girl? Mindy? No, I don’t know her. She and her friend just kinda crashed my party last night. Not that I minded. Glad to have more people, you know. But I never saw her before last night.”
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“Uh, I’m not sure. I think they showed up about 9:00. But there was so many people last night; I didn’t even get to talk to them.”
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“Well, her friend, Sherry, went home with a guy I know. I thought they all left at around the same time.”
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“Uh, a little after 11:00 I think Mindy and Sherry left with Brad.”
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“Yeah. His name is Brad Walker.”
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“Sure, no problem. 123 Main street. 867-5309.”
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“You’re welcome, Detective. I sure hope you find her!”
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“Yeah, If I hear anything about her I’ll call you.”
…
“Okay. Bye.”
Oh girl! The police are looking for me! I’ll just lie low and try to escape from this thing again tonight. He’ll never know I was here.
He returned to his computer. I could hear the clickety-click on the keyboard for the next few hours. It was getting uncomfortable with this pipe jammed in my mouth, though I was feeling so horny strapped into his device. Yet, my mouth was so dry from breathing through my mouth.
I was dying of thirst, and my stomach was starting to growl. I wasn’t sure I could wait until night to escape. He left the room, and I tried to pull my hands through the cuffs. I pulled and pulled until it felt like my wrists were raw, but I couldn’t free my hands. I’m so fucked!
I had to take a dump, and I was again glad for the thorough way he designed this device. I let my poop fall into that Tupperware tub under that hole under my butt. Then I peed a little more into that pipe.
I was so incredibly thirsty. My mouth was parched. I understood now why people adrift at sea drink salt water, knowing it would kill them.
I heard footsteps again.
“What’s that smell?” he said.
A few more footsteps. “What the? whose shit is that?”
Another two footsteps. “Holy shit! I see a tongue wiggling down at the bottom of the funnel! Is that you Diane?”
_Diane? No! I’m Mindy._ “Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh!” I screeched with that pipe jammed in my mouth.
“I can’t understand what you’re saying, Diane. But this is such a surprise! I know you said you wanted to try my toilet slave machine, but I never expected you to put yourself inside it like this last night.”
“Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh!” I screamed. _I’m not Diane, you idiot! I’m Mindy! Let me out! _ “Ahhh! Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!”
“Well, I guess you’re thirsty, huh, Diane?”
_Oh girl! I’m so thirsty! But_ please _don’t piss in my mouth! Please! _
I heard movement and shuffling. A zipper zipped open. _Oh girl! No! _ Water splashed against the funnel, echoing loudly inside that toilet box.
I tried to close my mouth. I clamped my teeth down on that pipe with all the strength in my jaw. The PVC pipe held my mouth wide open.
A stream of warm liquid dribbled into my mouth from the pipe. It tasted salty. Then, _gaaaa! _ It tasted like piss! It tasted like a smelly pissy bathroom in a dirty bar.
His filthy urine collected at the back of my throat while he continued to pee against the side of the funnel. My mouth was nearly full of piss when he stopped. Then he squired a short stream against the funnel. Then another.
I heard him zip his pants back up and leave the room. Oh, girl! I couldn’t breathe with my mouth full of his pee. I tried to blow it out, but that just swished it around inside my mouth. Now, I had to take a breath even worse.
I had no choice. Okay, I had a choice. I could swallow his filth, or I could die. As hard as it was with my jaw held wide open, I swallowed, and swallowed again. The only way I was going to take another breath was to chug it all down. Every drop.
Finally, I took a sweet breath. Then I felt like puking. I resisted. I knew that if I puked, I’d just puke it up into the pipe in my mouth and have to swallow it again to breathe. Don’t puke! Don’t puke! Don’t puke!
_Oh, this is so sick! How could I have done this to myself? At least I wasn’t thirsty any more._
Some time later, he came in again and unzipped his pants. The taste of his piss was still in my mouth from the last time he peed.
“Ahhhh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed.
He said, “What does ‘Ahhhhh. Ahhhhhh. Ahhhhh’ mean, Diane? That’s not the Morse-code safe-word you said you would use, you know.”
His hot salty piss splashed against the funnel and into my mouth again. It wasn’t so bad this second time.
Yet, my stomach hadn’t stopped growling for hours. I was starving! He had to let me out to eat! Or drop some food into the funnel. He couldn’t let _”Diane”_ starve!
It must have been night, for I eventually dozed off again. But something woke me. I heard footsteps again. I was so thirsty that I sucked down his salty piss. Then I heard a soft bump and felt the head box wobble a little.
I heard a short hissing sound echo inside the funnel.
A moment later, I heard, like a sucking sound, followed by a thud against the funnel. Something soft, wet, and sticky dropped into my mouth. _Gaaaaaaa! No! _
I felt like puking again. Just knowing that there was a lump of someone else’s shit in my mouth made me feel flush and nauseous. It was resting against the back of my throat. Then another banged against the funnel and slid into my mouth a moment later.
I pushed it out of my mouth back up the pipe with my tongue. That was the most disgusting thing I ever had to do in my life–push shit out of my mouth with my tongue. But all the shit blocking the pipe blocked air from getting in. I couldn’t breathe again.
Then he shit another turd into the funnel.
I realized my mistake too late. Now I would have three huge turds of shit in my mouth to chew and swallow before I could breathe again. I moved my tongue aside let his shit drop into my mouth.
Oh girl! It was stringy, lumpy, and syrupy, and chewy, all in one! And the taste! The taste of shit! Shit tastes worse than it smells! I must be one of the few people in the world who knows what shit tastes like–bitter and smoky.
At least it was so soft that I didn’t need to chew it. I just swallowed it little by little until it was all down, then I took a sweet breath of cool fresh air. Then he dropped another turd into the funnel and into my mouth. This one, I swallowed right away.
I think he stood after that, because the box wobbled a little again. Then he peed once more, rinsing a few bits of shit into my mouth. At least it helped wash the taste of shit down, if just a little.
I dozed again after he left me in my misery. I awoke surprised that I could fall asleep flat on my back with a pipe jammed in my mouth. I dozed off and on during the night with the acrid taste of his shit in my mouth. Eventually, I was slept out. I lay awake for hours, not hearing a sound. Was it Monday morning now? Where was he? Oh, the boredom!
_Ah, beautiful footsteps! Give me your pee! I’m so thirsty again! _ I heard him walk up to me, then his warm pee splashed against the funnel and into my mouth. His pee was so refreshing! Am I sick?
Hours passed before he came to use me again. As the day wore on, he peed a few times, satisfying my thirst each time.
Every so often, I would moan “Ahhhhhhhh! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhh! Ah!” trying to hit upon that random Morse code safe-word that Diane told him she would use.
That evening, he dropped a pill of some kind into my mouth. It was chewy and tasted like strawberry, like a multi-vitamin. Then he gave me a squirt of piss to wash it down.
The following day, my own poo was loose and watery into that Tupperware tub under my ass. Cleaning that up serves him right!
I gradually lost count of the times I drank his pee and ate his shit. I had no idea how many days had passed, even.
The phone rang one evening (at least I thought it was evening) while he was typing at his computer in the room.
He said, “Hello?”
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“Hey Brad! What’s up?”
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Really?”
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“Yeah, the cops came around here a few days ago, too; crawling through the woods behind my house all day long.”
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“Yeah, I was talking to one. He said that the odds make it unlikely they’ll find her alive after 48 hours. They said they’ll probably close the case if they don’t find her soon.”
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“Then the reporters came around too.”
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“Yeah, even a TV crew from Network 21 was out in front of my house yesterday.”
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“Yeah! Monique interviewed me! Man, she’s hot!”
“Yeah.”
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“So you going with that girl? Sherry?”
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“Great!”
…
“Okay. See you. Bye!”
After untold days, weeks, and months had passed, I had been subsisting entirely on his piss and shit. I had lost count of the time that I had been built into his toilet slave machine. I hated to think what my complexion looked like.
Forget my complexion, I must have been fired from my job, missed a rent payment or two, and a couple of car payments. All my other bills, too. Oh girl! My life is totally screwed!
His phone rang while he was typing at his computer again. “Hello.”
…
“D-D-Diane? I, I?”
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“No, I’m just really, _really_ surprised to hear from you.”
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“Well, er, I suddenly seem to have a little mystery on my hands.”
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“I don’t know.”
….
“Look, Diane. This isn’t a good time to talk. Can I call you back a little later?”
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“No! Nothing’s wrong!”
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“I’ll explain when I call you back, okay. I gotta go!”
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“Yeah, love you too, bye!”
_Was that_ the _Diane he was just talking to? _ He stepped up to the toilet and said, “You’re not Diane! So who the hell is in there?”
I heard him fumble with the latches on the outside of head box next to my ear. He lifted the box, pulling that pipe out of my mouth for the first time in weeks. Sweet relief!
He looked down at me and said, “Who the hell are you?”
I coughed a few times and answered, “I’m Mindy.”
“Holy shit! You’re that missing girl!”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“What are you doing in there?”
“When I saw your thing here. I just couldn’t help myself. Are you gonna let me out now?”
He didn’t answer. He just stood there staring off into space.
“Please!” I begged. “Please! You have to let me out! You have to! Please!”
He sighed. “Where do you live?” he asked.
“I live–uhm–how long has it been since your party?”
“Hmmm, a little over two months.”
“Oh shit! Then I don’t live anywhere. My landlord is such a jerk. He would have rented my place out by now. My car is probably repossessed. Everything I ever owned is gone. Maybe Sherry will let me live with her.” I started to cry. “I don’t know what do to any more.”
“Mindy,” he said slowly. “Everyone’s looking for you. If I let you go, suddenly the police, the newspapers, and everyone is going to be into my business.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded. “But?” I asked.
“I can’t have that.”
“Please!”
“I’m sorry Mindy, but your body is now part of my machine. Permanently.”
He lowered the toilet back onto my face. “Noooo!” I screamed until the pipe forced itself into my mouth again.
He gave me some pee to drink, and then walked out of the room.
* END *
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