Chapter 1: By Invitation Only
Summary:
Holly, a little 14-year-old redhead, experiences her first day in Advanced Biological Applications class. What starts as a normal, boring lecture quickly turns into a nightmare when the true nature of the class is revealed.
Notes:
This first chapter is a looong one, sorry! I didn’t feel there was a good break once the “action” started, and I didn’t really want to cut the first chapter off before things got rolling. Oh well.
Chapter Text
Holly’s stomach twisted in light anticipation as she waited for her third period class to begin.
The first day of school was always a little gut wrenching, a little terrifying, a little exciting. The bitter feeling of freedom lost had already passed over the three days since Holly’s parents dropped her off at the boarding school, effectively ending her summer break. Today was the day new friendships were made, old ones were re-kindled, and mountains of homework were unceremoniously heaped upon her and her peers’ heads.
This period in particular had Holly somewhere between excited and anxious. She wasn’t quite sure how she made it into such a prestigious class; sure, she was studious enough to land a spot in this academy year after year, but Dr. Fletcher’s Advanced Biological Applications class was invite only. There she sat, sandwiched between some of the best minds in her whole school, unsure of how exactly she had earned her invitation.
At first she had thought it a mistake. She had never interacted with Dr. Fletcher, much less had a chance to impress him. But, after speaking to several of her teachers from the previous year, Holly had been convinced the choice was intentional. The motives were unknown, but who was she to question it? For all she knew, the work she would do in this class could set her up for a future of which she had always dreamed.
Holly glanced to her left, sweeping aside a curtain of straight copper hair to meet gazes with her friend. Thank God that Jade had made the cut for this class as well. Ever since the two had first arrived at the academy years ago, they had been inseparable; Jade was as close to a sister as Holly had ever had. Never mind the sharp contrasts in appearance—Jade’s dark hair over tan, smooth skin seemed the opposite of Holly’s own freckled body in just about every way—the two may as well have known each other since birth.
The dark haired girl gave Holly a tight-lipped smile. It seemed she too was fighting down a stomach full of butterflies as they waited for the bell to chime.
It was hard to believe they had already reached the ninth grade. Three whole years had passed since that first meeting, with four more to look forward to, assuming both girls kept their heads down and their grades straight. The academy accepted little less than perfection from its students, and the two girls’ parents had standards even higher.
Such thoughts had nearly tied Holly’s stomach in knots by the time they were interrupted by the bell.
At last, in strode the handsome—if somewhat older—doctor, the appearance immediately hushing chatter around the room. Dr. Fletcher was often the subject of late-night whispers and giggles throughout the girls’ dormitories, and it was no wonder why. Tall and lean, he had a face chiseled from stone; no, he was not exactly young, but such taught musculature wrapped over such a severe structure was hard not to fantasize about. At least a little.
“Quiet, girls,” he said with a warm tone as he strode across to the teacher’s desk. The room—already hushed—fell to silence.
It was only then, from her teacher’s first words, that Holly noticed the peculiarity. The class was all girls.
Holly’s parents once had reservations about sending her to a co-ed boarding school. (She was only now reaching an age where she understood parts of the “why” behind that attitude, but the truth was that very little in the way of, well, mischief, ever came to fruition at the academy.) Ultimately, the academy became Holly’s parents’ choice of school when they learned of how the genders were divided: while the dormitories were strictly single-gender, classes were always mixed.
Apparently not today. Perhaps Dr. Fletcher had opted to separate the genders between different periods of the same class (Holly was aware of at least one other hour this class was held). Or perhaps every one of the students chosen by name to fill these seats were girls. Either way, it seemed a deliberate choice.
“Did you notice-“ whispered Jade, looking around the room.
“Yeah, just did. You know why?”
Jade hummed a quiet negative, turning back to the teacher.
“Welcome, ladies, to my special Advanced Biological Applications class,” Dr. Fletcher was saying as he removed his suit-jacket. “I hope you’re all as excited as I am to get started this year. As I’m sure you all know, the coursework in this class has always been unique, but this year I have decided to take our lessons to new heights. This will certainly be a class unlike any you have taken before.”
A murmur went around the class at that, though some of the girls hardly seemed to be listening to the doctor. Holly spotted two girls in the front row that already seemed lost in some elaborate daydreams involving their new teacher.
“Yes, this will be a unique course. Trailblazing. Which is why I am required to ask each of you to fill out one of these waivers today.”
Jacket removed, Dr. Fletcher began walking the rows between the desks, handing out thick packets to each of the girls.
“It’s a dense read, I must apologize for that. And should any of you take issue with it, there’s no shame; however, I cannot teach this class to any party that has not signed a waiver, so hold-outs will be assigned to a different course for this period this year.”
Some of the girls had flipped to the back page of the packet and signed before Dr. Fletcher had finished his sentence. Holly herself began to thumb through it, remembering something her father had said about “never signing something before reading it.” This waiver, however, was nearly impossible to read. Holly always excelled in English—in fact, she had just come from her advanced-placement English course in the previous period—but the words in this document were almost exclusively detailed medical jargon and 6-syllable words Holly had never seen before.
The class was given several minutes to make their individual decisions, with Dr. Fletcher assuring the girls that there was no need for haste. By the first fifteen minutes of the class had passed, every packet had been handed back in, and every girl had remained in her seat, having signed and dated the back page.
“Good, good,” Dr. Flecher said, thumbing through the completed documents. “I had worried such legalities would dissuade some of you, but this is a case in which I am glad to have been proven wrong.”
He strode to the front of the class, spinning to face his new students.
“Well, girls, I suggest you look around the room. Greet your neighbor. You may not all be acquainted as of yet, seeing as I have pulled from just about every grade-level to form this class. These will be your closest allies, your best of friends over the next two semesters. Possibly for life.”
A rumbling of greetings and introductions slowly began around the room. Holly and Jade met each other’s gaze again, smiling in reassurance. To Holly’s right, she found a girl she had never spoken to, but whom she knew already by name: Jessica, one of the more popular girls in her grade. Holly attempted a quiet “hello,” but received nothing but an icy silence in response. That figured. Holly had never heard pleasant accounts of the girl, despite just about every student jockeying for the “honor” of being her acquaintance.
While chatter picked up around the room, Dr. Fletcher walked to the classroom door and flicked off the lights. Quiet fell once again, and the doctor continued his introduction.
“I have a short presentation for you girls. It should shed some light on the subject of our class this year. Following this, there will be a demonstration, then—time allowing—we’ll get down to some initial hands-on activities.”
With a click and a whir, the classroom projector came to life, the front board displaying a simple “Welcome to Advanced Biological Applications with Dr. Fletcher.” With this, the doctor cleared his throat and began.
“Water conservation. Waste management. Eco-friendly disposal systems. Year after year, peer-reviewed research is published both in defining the problems faced by our society today and in outlining possible solutions. Careful study-“
Holly tried to keep up with the lecture, but many of the concepts—let alone the words—went well over her head. As Dr. Fletcher flipped through the prepared slides, Holly retained small facts about absorptive membranes, reuse of blackwater, evolutionary biology, and so on. By the time Dr. Fletcher flipped on the lights, Holly felt as though she had far more questions about her new course than answers; looking around the room, she suspected she wasn’t alone.
Dr. Fletcher made a similar sweep of the room and came to the same conclusion.
“I see the theory portion is lost on most of you,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Perhaps we should move on to the demonstration?”
Seeming to find agreement among the class, the doctor left the room, returning shortly with two bulky carts, both shrouded in cloth.
“I have here two apparatus of my own design. Over the course of the year, each of you will become closely… integrated with them. As you are all doubtless aware, Advanced Biological Applications has always been a hands-on, real-life-application-oriented class. Participation is obligatory, of course.”
Yet again, the doctor was met with confused stares.
“Right. On with it, I suppose. Who would like to be my first demonstration for this year’s project?”
That elicited a response. Hands shot up around the room, Holly’s and Jade’s among them. Dr. Fletcher selected two girls—one, a brown-haired older student (perhaps grade 11?) whom Holly had never met before, and one being Jessica.
Of course. Always Jessica.
Holly watched Jessica’s golden curls bounce their way to the front of the room, where she took her place next to the older student.
“Good. Now then. Will you girls help me with the reveal? Grab here. And here. Pull on three. One, two, three-“
At once, the two bulky cloth coverings were whipped away, revealing the contents underneath: two somewhat complex setups. The larger resembled a table—or, no, a bench like the one Holly had seen at the doctor’s office, only shorter—sandwiched between two flat sections of wall at its head and foot, as if the display intended to show how the table looked in a narrow hallway. The other contraption looked sort of like an oversized, porcelain urinal (Holly had never been in the boy’s room, but it certainly had the overall shape she had seen in pictures and in passing). It was rectangular and tall, with a too-large trough at the bottom, and stood suspended on a stand as if it were meant to be installed along a wall.
Holly had no idea what to make of either one of them, and, seemingly, neither did her peers.
“What… is it?” One girl asked from the second row.
“That wasn’t clear?” Dr. Fletcher asked earnestly. “I tried to explain thoroughly… Here, lets do the demonstration. You’ll get it quickly enough.”
He turned to his volunteers in the front of the room. “What’s your name?”
“Jessica.”
“Jessica,” he repeated. “Lovely. Grade? Age?”
“Uh, grade 9 sir. 14 years old. Sir.”
“Wonderful. Jessica, you’ll go first. Kindly remove your uniform.”
There was a beat of silence throughout the room before awkward chuckles began.
“I uh… good one, sir.”
Holly had never seen Jessica off balance like this before.
“That wasn’t a joke. Doff your uniform please, we haven’t got all day.”
“Here?”
Dr. Fletcher looked around the room in apparent confusion.
“Well, I suppose you could leave to undress, but you’ll need to have your uniform off when you get in the apparatus, so… I don’t think it will save much face.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” the doctor said, adjusting his glasses as if to prove his sincerity.
“My father will-“
“Jessica,” her teacher cut in, his voice stern. “You have already signed the waiver. Participation is now obligatory—in fact, as I’m sure you read in the waiver, you’re legally bound to participate. Your father couldn’t do anything, even if he were in this very room with us. So please, get on with it. Now.”
That final word came with surprising force, causing Jessica to jump back a foot. Slowly, as if clinging to the hope that her teacher would announce that this had all been a cruel prank, Jessica’s hands began to undo her white uniform blouse. Shaky fingers worked to undo buttons, one by one, until a strip of skin and a peek of white bra were visible to the whole class. Jessica looked up at Dr. Fletcher pleadingly, but finding no solace, she shrugged out of her top.
Next came the skirt, which fell to the floor around her stocking-clad legs. Holly had seen her friends in such a state of undress plenty of times before—after all, Jessica was probably less naked than she tended to be around the pool or at the beach—but something about the context of this interaction made Holly blush. She had seen girls in underwear before; why did it suddenly feel so wrong?
Bright red in the face, arms crossed over her developing breasts, Jessica looked back up at her teacher.
“There. Happy?”
Dr. Fletcher crossed his arms.
“All of it. Off.”
Tears began to stream down the little blond girl’s perfectly-made-up face as she kicked off her shoes, then her stockings, then—with a tear-filled glare at Dr. Fletcher—made to unclasp her bra. It fell away with a sob from Jessica as her perfect pink nipples came into view one after the other. Holly hadn’t seen many of her friends topless before, at least not in living memory. She found it hard to look away from the beet-red blond girl standing before her class. Though Jessica probably wasn’t fully developed yet, her bouncy, pale tits were of a modest size even for a grown woman.
Not as big as mine after all, Holly thought, catching herself halfway to a smirk. What was that? Jessica was in distress; no matter how icy the bitc- the, uh, woman had been, Holly shouldn’t be taking pleasure in this. But they are smaller than mine. That’s kinda fun to know…
Trembling arms folded over her nakedness, Jessica glanced down at the last piece of dignity she had left; she wore plain white panties and nothing more. From the girl’s expression, Holly guessed that Jessica had never been so naked in front of anyone before, let alone in front of an entire class. She looked around the room of young women, her face trying hard to force a glare through the mess of tears and streaked makeup, cupping her breasts in crossed arms. At last, Jessica hooked one shaking thumb into the waistband of her panties and slowly lowered them to the ground.
Silence had long since filled the classroom. Holly couldn’t really see anything, from this angle, and Jessica seemed determined to keep it that way. Her small hands did their best to hide what they could, and Holly suddenly felt ashamed for trying to catch a glimpse of the girl’s womanhood in the first place. At last, the silence was broken by the teacher’s soothing voice.
“There, that’s better. Now hop up on the bench here.”
He patted the short medical-style bench at the center of the larger “apparatus,” and Jessica slowly complied. With the girl seated atop the table, Dr. Fletcher guided her into a laid-back position. The bench seemed only long enough to barely fit the girl’s torso; her legs bent uncomfortably against the wall at the foot of the bench, while her head crooked oddly against the opposite wall.
Dr. Fletcher bent over Jessica, strapping her down firmly to the bench with a number of restraints that seemed permanently attached to the apparatus itself. As he did so, he guided Jessica’s head through an oval hole in the wall, a cutout seemingly designed for just that purpose. At her lower end, the doctor lifted her legs, bending them to fit into two raised stirrups. The resulting position had Jessica’s knees practically touching her bare, heaving chest, her ankles strapped tightly in above her torso. Though her upper body could still lay flat on the bench, the girl was bent severely at the waist, in a position Holly could only imagine was uncomfortable.
“Perfect. Class, pay close attention; this is how you will lay when you’re in your ‘pod.’”
Jessica all strapped in, Dr. Fletcher wheeled the entire apparatus, rotating it until one of its side walls faced the class. From Holly’s seat, only Jessica’s head was visible, poking through the wall upside-down, a little lower than waist height. Her golden hair hung below her head as mascara-stained tears streaked up her forehead. Despite the distress, this aspect of the so-called “pod” didn’t look too uncomfortable; the oval cutout through which Jessica’s upside-down head protruded was clearly padded in such a way as to cradle her head; it looked to reduce the strain on her neck to near zero.
“So! how it works,” the teacher continued to the class, speaking with the casual voice of an experienced lecturer, as if nothing irregular was happening. “‘Pods’ just like these have been installed in bathrooms throughout the school. Actually, that isn’t quite right. Pods aren’t installed in the bathroom, but rather in the wall between two bathrooms. You see, when you lay down and strap into a pod, your head pokes through the wall here. Right now we’re seeing Jessica as if the whole class were in the women’s restroom! Aaaand…”
With dramatic flair, the doctor spun the apparatus again, until the opposite wall faced the class. Here, rather than her head, Jessica’s bare backside poked through another padded oval hole in the wall. The position caused her cheeks to naturally spread, leaving her entire pussy and the bud of her anus on display for the whole class. As they watched, her barely-pubescent labia separated slightly, leaving the girl more vulnerable and exposed than Holly had ever believed a woman could be.
“…aaaand on the men’s side, your, ah… lower portions stick through.”
Nothing of Jessica was visible from here, save for her hips, her butt, and her holes; not even her legs could be seen from here, save for a bare expanse of thigh. Holly had never really seen another girl’s private areas before (except perhaps glimpses in showers and locker rooms here and there). Jessica’s was similar to her own; round, puffy labia forming a smooth, hairless white mound. The tiniest hint of a lip poked out from her slit, which seemed to be the biggest difference between Jessica’s pussy and Holly’s own.
It was pretty, in a perverted way. Holly knew it was wrong to think so—wrong to even look at a woman in such a way—but she couldn’t help a little bit of admiration for her classmate’s delicate young flower.
“Note that not a hint of the girl herself is visible here,” the teacher was saying, pointing and prodding at Jessica’s lower half as he explained. “Everything is out of the way, leaving only her holes. But, in the interest of individual pride and class spirit…”
Dr. Fletcher took a notecard from his desk, scribbled on it with pen, and taped it above Jessica’s disembodied ass. The scrap of paper simply read “Jessica Howard, Grade 9, 14 years old.”
“There,” he said standing back to admire the setup. “In the real pods, you’ll have a fancy, engraved metal nameplate instead, so anyone in the boys room can tell exactly who you are. In fact, I’m trying to finalize the logistics behind having your student ID portrait beside it… Anyway. Hopefully, this will encourage some pride in your work, yes?”
He looked around the room at stunned, shocked-into-silence faces before clearing his throat and continuing. From a metal lockbox in the apparatus, Dr. Fletcher produced a series of black ring-shaped devices of varying sizes.
“Now, the inserts. I’m quite proud of these; they required quite a bit of engineering to get juuust right.”
He held the largest one up to the class. It was only an inch or two in diameter, and appeared to be made of a sturdy material coated in rubber or silicone.
“This is a plug that you will all come to know well. I’ve made them in just about every size we should need, and there should be plenty to go around. Can everyone see?”
Stunned murmurs were taken as a general “yes,” and he continued.
“Good. Now: these differ from your regular body plugs in several ways.”
Regular body plugs? Holly thought. Is that something other girls use?
Glancing around, it seemed most of the class was just as confused as she was. The teacher sighed.
“I see. Let’s start with the basics: this little ring goes inside your holes. Like Jessica’s pussy here; it’ll take a ring about… this size. Observe.”
As he spoke, Dr. Fletcher selected a small black ring and inserted it into Jessica’s waiting vagina, seemingly only pushing it a short way in. When he stepped back, the so-called plug was nowhere to be seen, entirely engulfed by the girl’s pussy.
“Note how the plug is entirely invisible from the outside. As I discussed in the slide show—which I’m beginning to suspect none of you payed attention to—our initial research shows that users prefer to be ignorant of the plugs themselves. That is to say, when a boy walks into the restroom, it will appear as if an unadorned ass and pussy are on display, despite these inserts.”
He held up his larger model again, urging the class to look at the black ring.
“These plugs form a watertight seal when inserted into a human orifice, assuming the right size is selected and all. Now, you may be wondering: how can a ring be watertight?”
With a beep and a whir, the ring seemed to close. The mechanism reminded Holly of the way old camera shutters functioned; when the whirring noise stopped, the black ring was now a solid black disk.
“Like so. Normally the mechanism is much faster—nearly instant, in my opinion—but I’ve slowed it down for demonstration purposes today.”
The disk whirred again, opening back up to its ring shape. When it did so, Dr. Fletcher handed it to one of the seated girls, instructing her to pass it around so each of her classmates may touch it and see it up close.
“Now, when these plugs are inserted, they’re set to keep all fluids inside, but still allow… er, penetration. The seal can be opened and closed remotely, or, if something attempts to penetrate the hole, the plug automatically allows the entry. If you get my meaning.”
The older girl seated in front of Holly finished examining the plug and passed it to her, blushing and avoiding eye contact. The plug was softer than Holly expected; in fact, while in its ring form, it was surprisingly flexible and pliable. She stuck a few fingers through it and found that the ring stretched around them with barely any effort.
Meanwhile, in the front of the class, Dr. Fletcher was busy pushing a ring an inch or so into Jessica’s exposed anus (which earned a yelp from the girl), then one additional plug which disappeared somewhere into Jessica’s pussy as well (which earned a louder yelp).
Why would she need two plugs in there? Holly thought as she passed the plug on to the girl behind her. Isn’t one enough?
Apparently content with the girl’s inserts, the teacher spun the whole set-up once again, bringing Jessica’s bright-red face in view of the class.
“And this,” he said, producing a small device Holly couldn’t quite make out. “This goes in the mouth. It’s not quite a gag, not quite not a gag; it will allow her full range of motion, as well as the ability to speak and swallow, but if she has her mouth closed for more than 5 seconds at a time, it will spring and force her to open her mouth again.”
Another insert, another noise of discomfort, and Jessica was left staring at the class upside-down, mouth agape.
“…And that’s the whole setup! Any questions?”
“Yeah, WHY?!” Jessica yelled before anyone else could be called on.
“Didn’t I explain? I-“
Just then, a knock on the classroom door rung out.
“Ah,” the teacher said, walking to the door. “This will answer your question, Jessica.”
Chapter 2: Efficient and Multi-Use
Summary:
Holly watches as Jessica is raped and used as a urinal. Multiple times.
Chapter Text
The visitor was a boy perhaps 15 years of age, with a mousy look that his mid-length haircut did little to fix.
“Hi uh, Dr. Fletcher?” he asked. “I need to pee. Miss Kelley said you told her to send me here?”
“That’s right. We have a new urinal for you to try out. Right this way.”
As he spoke, Dr. Fletcher spun the apparatus again until her backside came into the class’s view, the wall hiding the rest of the girl.
“Uh, Dr. Fletcher?” the boy asked, face reddening at the sight. “I don’t understand. I need to pee, not… uh…”
“No misunderstanding at all,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “Jessica here is a urinal. Go ahead, use her! Stick… well, stick it into any of these holes and just, y’know, let loose.”
The boy looked around the room as if looking for hidden cameras waiting to catch him in a practical joke.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
After a moment’s thought, the kid wandered behind Jessica’s exposed ass and began to unzip his pants.
“please don’t,” Jessica whimpered from the other side of two walls. “please. please. please don’t.”
Either not hearing the girl or not caring, the boy produced his cock from his pants. This was yet another first for Holly; she had never kissed a boy, let alone seen what they had down there. It wasn’t as long as she had expected, but not exactly short either. The kid’s penis was quickly growing, changing size and shape, hardening as he approached Holly’s exposed classmate. He prodded at her with the tip, wavering.
“Either hole, sir?”
“Any you want.”
Coming to a decision, the boy poked the head of his cock into Jessica’s pussy. Holly thought she could hear a faint whir as the plug allowed the boy past the watertight seal, then he was inside.
Holly couldn’t hear when the boy started peeing, but after a minute or two, Jessica began to squirm.
“Oh God. Oh God! I can feel it! Inside-“
The boy seemed to go right on using her for a few moments, before letting out a small grunt.
“It’s filling up kinda quickly, uh, sir,” he said, cock still penetrating the protesting girl.
“It’ll do that, especially the first several times. You’ll need to push a little; mechanism inside her will help. If she’s really too full, you can always switch to the other hole.”
The boy grunted, not seeming to want to leave the warmth of the teen pussy. Holly could only guess, but after a moment it seemed that he had pumped every last drop of his piss into the girl’s waiting cunt. After a few minutes, he looked around—still balls-deep in Jessica’s slit—and got the attention of Dr. Fletcher.
“Hey uh, since I’m here…” he said, sheepishly. “I mean. Can I…?”
“Well, there’s no line to use her just yet, so feel free. Fuck her. Just keep the noise down so I can continue the lesson, and don’t be late getting back to your class.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No! Nonononono-“ Jessica began to yell from the other side of two walls.
The boy began to buck his hips, pumping his length in and out of Jessica’s piss-filled cunt. Though Holly could glimpse a glimmer of fluids on his cock, not much piss seemed to be escaping the girl, even while having active sex.
“That was a wonderful start to the demonstration,” Dr. Fletcher continued, stepping in front of the teen rape to address his class. “With any luck, we’ll have a chance to observe the women’s side before long. But until then… what was your name, girl?”
The teacher addressed the other volunteer, who had been waiting in shocked, blushing silence at the front of the room since the display had begun.
“Valerie, sir.”
“Grade and age?”
“11th, sir, and sixteen.”
“Wonderful. Go ahead and lose your uniform as well.”
The girl visibly gulped, having clearly guessed this would eventually happen.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
Staring at the floor, the girl began to remove her clothing, piece by piece, until she was as naked as Jessica. Holly couldn’t tear her eyes away; despite mounting dread, despite the bile her stomach threatened to upheave, these were the first people she had ever actually seen nude, and her curiosity got the better of her.
Valerie was certainly more developed than she or Jessica, but this mostly only showed in her curved hips, thinner face, and slightly-hairy slit. Valerie had hardly any breasts to speak of, though Holly imagined that was the least of her embarrassments at this point in time.
“Now, please seat yourself in the urinal here. Don’t worry, it’s quite clean and sanitary.”
At the teacher’s guidance, Valerie sat down in the large porcelain trough, jumping as her bare butt touched the surface.
“I-it’s cold, sir,” she stammered.
“It’ll warm up. Sit.”
She did. The urinal was just a bit shorter than Valerie’s torso; seated in its trough, the top of the porcelain came up to her collar bone. As she did, Holly found herself confused at the setup once again. None of the many straps lining the urinal seemed to be aligned with the girl’s body; if this contraption was to follow the example made by the previous, well… Holly had expected her to be strapped into the urinal itself. That didn’t quite seem possible, at least not with Valerie’s current position.
Holly’s questions were answered when Dr. Fletcher approached the girl and gently guided her into a new position. Rotating her body upside-down, the doctor strapped her into the urinal such that her head—bent at the neck—lay at the padded bottom of the trough, her abdomen lined the back, and her butt touched the very top of the porcelain. Her thighs were strapped to her sides, but her calves and feet were allowed to dangle free, sticking out at ninety-degree angles from her body.
The second girl strapped into place, the doctor once again addressed the class.
“Unlike the highly-efficient dual-use pods—like the one Jessica is in—this model is for the men’s room only. Though inefficient in that sense, this model allows for much faster, impersonal use; note how none of Valerie’s holes are accessible. They need not even be plugged, really.”
Though this seemed true, Valerie’s little slit was nearly as completely exposed as Jessica’s. Hanging out in the air, it still seemed vulnerable, even if it was at a height no man could reasonably penetrate.
“Despite appearances, this urinal actually does not need to be connected into the main sewer line. Note the trough curvature: I spent many hours perfecting it. With this setup, any urine deposited anywhere within the device will be funneled to Valerie’s mouth. Again, in the interest of personal pride and school spirit, I have done my best to design this device to obscure as little of Valerie’s face as possible, and she too will have a fancy name plate above her installation.”
He turned to the class, arms behind his back, his face alight with pride.
“Any questions, class?”
There seemed to be none and many at once. The girls’ reactions ranged from barely-contained sickness to mild, obscene curiosity. As the doctor attempted to rein in his class, the boy using Jessica’s pussy apparently finished. Zipping up his pants, he mumbled a thank-you (though whether this was to Jessica or the doctor was hard to tell) before ducking back into the hallway.
“Ah! Note this,” Dr. Fletcher said, returning to Jessica’s exposed holes. “See how not even the semen escapes? A perfect seal. You’re doing quite well yourself, Jessica.”
“Fuck you.”
At this, Dr. Fletcher laughed, continuing with his lesson.
Before long, another knock at the door announced the arrival of a girl. Younger than Holly—perhaps twelve, or so?—the girl made the same sheepish announcement as the boy before her, and received a similar invitation.
However, rather than asking the girl to attempt use of Jessica’s holes, Dr. Fletcher spun the apparatus around once again, until Jessica’s disembodied head aligned with the little girl’s crotch.
“Um, sir?” the newcomer said, uncertain.
“It’s easy,” the teacher explained, taking her by the hand and pulling her close to Jessica’s waiting head. “Just raise your skirt, lower your panties, and put your vagina against Jessica’s mouth. She can’t close it—at least, not for more than a couple seconds each minute—so she’ll have to let you do it.”
As the little girl began to comply, Dr. Fletcher addressed Jessica.
“You are to suck down straight from the source, is that clear, Jessica?”
The bound girl’s mouth was already engulfed in preteen pussy, so her response was nothing more than a muffled grunt of protest.
Holly couldn’t see the actual action this time; the little girl’s skirt was long enough to hide both her own private parts and Jessica’s head for the duration of the act. For her part, the girl blushed, and seemed to take longer than what was probably normal to release, before finally letting go. A quiet hiss followed by a gulp-gulp-gulp sound filled the classroom as the crowd of stunned girls watched the interaction unfold.
At last, the preteen seemed to finish her business. She moved off of Jessica’s head, looking around the contraption as she hesitated to pull her panties back up.
“Is there a problem, miss?” the teacher asked.
“I uh… toilet paper, sir?”
“Oh, of course. I forgot that part. For that, you can use her hair.”
“Oh.”
The girl gathered a lock of Jessica’s golden curls in one hand, seemingly whispering an apology to the sobbing girl as she did. With a careful wipe, she left a streak of darkened yellow amongst the blond, and left without another word.
Chapter 3: Training: Day One
Summary:
A class full of girls are forced to stretch their pissholes for unknown reasons while their classmates get raped and pissed on/in in the background.
Chapter Text
“See class?” Dr. Fletcher said, resuming his lesson as the little girl left the room. “Zero waste. Jessica here is the model of ecological efficiency.”
He patted the girl on her upturned jaw as if she were an especially functional piece of machinery.
“Now then, we have some training to get done before this class is over. There’s a reason I required two consecutive periods for this course. Let’s begin, shall we?”
From his desk, Dr. Fletcher produced several leather cases. Opening these, he produced an array of shining metal rods in a variety of sizes.
“Jessica and Valerie are exempt from trainings today, but I expect them to catch up in their free time. They’ll remain in use for any students needing a urinal for the rest of this and the next period; hopefully the demand will be low today, otherwise we may need to rig one or two more of you up.”
Dr. Fletcher selected a handful of the smallest-looking metal rods and began to pass them out to each girl in the class.
“Keep this clean,” he said as he did so, ensuring each girl had an identical rod, as well as a small hand-held mirror. “That’s for your own safety. Now, why don’t you all disrobe your lower halves? I suppose you may keep your skirts on, but you’ll need to at least hike them up so your holes are visible and accessible.”
After a few moments of silence, Dr. Fletcher barked a “Now!” which got most of the girls moving. All around Holly, trembling fingers dropped panties, faces blushed, words of burning hatred were whispered under breaths. She turned to Jade, who had receded into herself over the course of the class, looking more terrified and vulnerable than Holly had ever seen her.
“I guess we have to,” Holly said quietly. “I really don’t want to know what happens if we don’t…”
“Y-yeah,” was all Jade said.
Holly decided to go first, sliding her pink-and-white patterned underwear down her thin, pale legs and off her body entirely. At their teacher’s direction, each of the girls was removing their lower undergarment completely, placing each on their respective desks as proof. Holly could feel her cheeks burn as she followed suit, terrified of what may come next.
Jade resisted, hesitated, but eventually gave in as well. Holly pointedly didn’t watch, but before long, she noted a pair of baby blue panties adorning her best friend’s desk.
“Good, good,” the teacher said as the last few girls placed their discarded underwear on their desk. “Now, I think this may be easiest if we sort of reverse the usual direction of class. Each of you, sit on your desk please. Yes, like that—feet in your chair, face the back of the classroom.”
Dr. Fletcher strolled past the rows of pantie-less girls to reach the back of the class, where he turned and regarded them. All the girls now faced him, seated upon their wooden desks.
“This should work nicely, yes! This way you aren’t hidden by your desks. I can make sure you’re doing things right. Now: everyone either discard or flip up your skirt, please. Hurry up, we have much to get to today!”
Once again, the girls were slow and hesitant to follow the instruction of their teacher, but it seemed that they had little choice in the matter. Within a few short minutes, every girl’s bare butt touched the wood of their desk, none of them (Holly and Jade included) willing to look one another in the eye.
“Wonderful. Now if you will each spread your legs—feet on the desk with you, please—then use your fingers to spread your labia. For our younger classmates, those are the ‘lips’ of your pussy, or whatever your parents told you to call your ‘special place.’ Yes, everyone needs to do this, go on!”
Thankfully, Holly could see very little from her seat on her desk, but she could imagine the view from Dr. Fletcher’s position all too well: dozens of pussies, their owners ranging from eleven to eighteen, all spread wide for his viewing pleasure. What sort of sick game was this?
“OK, now grab your mirror with the other hand. Just like that, Elana, yes—take a look at your spread holes. I want all of you to locate your urethra; that’s your ‘pee hole’ if you’re unaware. Older girls, help the younger ones if they can’t find it. It should be small on most, if not all, of you.”
All at once, the girls explored their own holes, prodding and searching until they had a good view of their urethral opening. The older girls indeed had to help one or two of the younger ones, and Holly was thankful to find her own opening quickly enough to avoid such an embarrassment.
“Everyone got it? Yes? Good. Keep track of it with the hand you’re using to spread; place a finger right over the opening. Now set down your mirror and grab your rod. Good, good.”
The girls fumbled about with their private parts, then with their respective tools. One by one, each picked up their rod, their expressions ones of pure anxiety. Holly shared their apprehension; could this really be going where she thought it was?
“Now girls, fit the end of the rod into your urethra and push it inside. I want to see each of you start by taking about an inch of it into you. Don’t go further than that until I say.”
Protests were made, then laid to rest with reminders of punishments and contractual agreements.
“Listen, girls, I promise you that this training is for your own good. I know you have little reason to trust me thus far, but I do assure you that girls who take this training seriously will be thankful for it in the end.”
As he spoke, another knock came at the classroom door, announcing the entrance of an older boy. The doctor left the girls to their task as he directed the boy on the use of Jessica and Valerie; the boy ultimately decided on the use of Jessica’s asshole, which he began to penetrate and piss in right away.
“Anyway,” their teacher said, returning to the back of the class. “Has everyone gotten it? No? Here, I’ll come around and help.”
Dr. Fletcher began to walk down the aisles of desks, occasionally stopping to spread a little girl’s cunt and help her re-find her pisshole. Not wanting to have her first such touch to happen here and now, Holly scrambled to fit the end of her rod into her own urethra, missing the hole several times before she finally accepted it.
Once each girl had taken an inch, the doctor returned to his place at the back of the class and continued his instruction. As he did, Holly looked over her shoulder to see the older boy pounding Jessica’s ass relentlessly. The wet slap of flesh-on-flesh made for a terrifying background for such a “training.”
“As some of you may well know,” her teacher was saying when Holly turned back to face him, her pisshole throbbing around its intruder. “The female urethra is short, only about 1.5 inches on average. However, you will all need to utilize the whole of it; as such, I need each of you to push your rods in until you hit the 3 inch mark. This may be pleasurable to some of you; certainly it will be painful for others. However, each of you will need to take the full three inches. This is for your own safety.”
Holly’s hole seared as she tried to push past the inch mark. It burned, throbbed, and yet… fuck. She couldn’t deny it; there was pleasure there. Why? What in the world would cause her body to actually enjoy such an unnatural act? Struggling, she pushed to about two inches, then two and a half, and finally three. The last inch seemed somehow easier than the first two. Had she just penetrated her own bladder?
Her own humiliating “training” complete for the moment, Holly looked around at the other girls. Some, such as Jade, were crying, with barely half an inch of their rod inside them. Others seemed embarrassed, but not affected much beyond that. Most kept their eyes to themselves. As they worked, their teacher came around once again, thrusting rods here and there until each girl took three inches, whether by their own hand or by force. During this time, the bell for the period rang, signaling the halfway point of the class.
Oh God, thought Holly. We have a whole hour left. God help us.
“Great job, class!” her teacher was saying as he wandered the room again. Holly flinched as he passed, a metal clank sounding on the desk beside her. Looking down, she found another metal rod, identical to the first, except with a slightly wider girth.
Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck.
The hour progressed in this way, with the girls being forced to take wider and wider sizes as they listened to Valerie and Jessica getting used in the background. Holly forgot to ever watch while Valerie was getting used, but by the time class began to wrap up, she found the girl looking dazed and slick, her whole body slimy with piss and streaks of Holly assumed must be semen.
At long last, the horrors relented, and Dr. Fletcher allowed the girls to put their underwear back on and pack up their bags. As for the two demonstration girls, the doctor finally allowed their release, handing each girl back their respective clothing.
Jessica looked somewhere between horrified and humiliated, numb and ablaze with fury. She snatched her clothes at the first chance she got and put them on in a rush, running out of the room the second her body was covered. Valerie hesitated to get dressed, her now-released body still a mess of fluids.
“Can I get a towel, sir?”
“Hm? Oh, I suppose, if you’re comfortable walking to the locker room naked.”
“You won’t… you don’t have a way for me to clean up?”
“No, sorry,” her teacher said, spreading his hands. “You’re supposed to be a urinal, Valerie. There’s no reason to waste water on things like showers and clean towels when you’re just going to get dirty again. Now put your clothes on.”
After a long moment of hesitation, Valerie did so. The piss and cum slathering her body instantly soaked through the white of her shirt. She hadn’t been wearing a bra when she came in (Holly supposed a girl so flat needn’t always wear a bra), so the girl’s chest quickly became visible through the yellow-white staining.
As she did so, Jessica burst back into the room, her face redder than ever.
“I can’t piss!”
“Excuse me, young lady?” her teacher said, eyeing her over his glasses. “Ahh, that’s right. Forgot to release you.”
“I’m full to bursting thanks to this goddamn bullshit,” Jessica went on, stomping her foot for emphasis. “I feel like I’m wetting myself right now, even, except nothing’s fucking coming out!”
“Yes, yes, calm down. It’s the plug in your urethra, keeping it all in.”
Dr. Fletcher turned to address the class on the subject.
“Normally, these plugs will be on a timer; assuming you aren’t actively being used, they’ll release at the top of each hour. Since this was just a demonstration, I completely forgot to set that up. Jessica, if you’ll kindly bend over I’ll remove your plugs.”
Jessica’s face looked ready to explode with rage, but—seeming to realize that she didn’t know how to remove the plugs herself—she reluctantly did so. Her teacher callously flipped up her uniform skirt, pulled down her plain white panties, and began to dig a finger into her asshole.
“Clench up, young lady. If you release your fluids on me and my suit, I’ll find a suitable punishment.”
Jessica’s face reddened further from the unseen effort. With a soft pop, the doctor removed one, two, and finally three plugs from the girl. Within moments of him walking away from her bent-over form, piss began to leak down Jessica’s legs in a torrent that seemed to be building significantly.
“I suggest you go take care of that,” her teacher said, dismissing her.
Jessica once again ran from the room in tears of fury as her teacher addressed the class.
“Now girls, I have some homework to assign, as well as some general hygiene practices. Please listen closely.”
As the bell rang, Dr. Fletcher addressed the class one last time.
“Now, girls, I expect you all to be here promptly tomorrow. I realize some of you may have reservations, but I assure you that the school will not look kindly upon truancy, let alone breach of contract. Class is dismissed.”
The bell rang moments afterward, and the girls scurried into the relative safety of the hallway, far away from the clutches of the deranged doctor.
“I understand the contract bit,” Helen was saying around bites of her sandwich. “But how can he get away with it? It sounds absurd!”
“You weren’t there,” Jade whispered as she halfheartedly pushed peas around on her plate.
Holly was beginning to fear for her best friend. She had never seen Jade in such a state before. Sure, neither girl had ever been put in such a bizarre, humiliating circumstance, but still; she worried far more about what this program was going to do to Jade than to her own self.
“But I don’t get it. It can’t be legal.”
“Maybe not,” Holly cut in. “But it does seem there will be extreme consequences if we don’t participate, legal or not.”
“Yeah, until someone tells the principal, then the whole charade is over. Think about it for two seconds!”
“We have,” said Jade quietly.
“We have,” agreed Holly. “And someone already has. Seems the administration has already allowed this… experiment to take place.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Silence lapsed between the three girls as they ate—or pretended to- eat—none very eager to talk about what that might mean for the days to come.
“So… you really saw Jessica naked? The Jessica Howard? How’d she, y’know, look?”
Jade looked like she was going to puke.
“Yeah, drop it,” said Holly. “Something tells me you’ll get your chance at seeing her yourself before too long.”
As they ate, Holly caught a whiff of something acrid, something she had been forced to smell for the last two hours. Turning, she noticed the still piss-and-cum-stained Valerie hurrying through the mess hall, tears streaking her face as she tried to cover her see-through top.
“Wow,” Hannah said, following her gaze. “Guess they didn’t let her go to get a change of clothes. Brutal.”
“At least she didn’t get, y’know,” Jade mumbled, apparently not wanting to say the word “fucked”. Holly could only nod in agreement.
“Sure, I guess.”
Silence fell again, until Hannah decided to prod further.
“It true you had to stretch your you-know-whats?”
“Yeah,” said Holly, blushing. “And he assigned it as homework, too.”
“What?”
Holly shrugged. “We have to be up to size 5 by class tomorrow. Some girls could already do it by the end of the two hours, but the rest of us…”
“Why the hell would you need-“
“I don’t know and I don’t want to.”
“Fair. And the thing about fasting, is that true too?” Hannah asked, before looking down at Holly’s plate. “Oh, guess not.”
“Only half,” Holly said. “We can’t eat before class. Apparently we have to go through a whole cleansing too. It’s… sick.”
Chapter 4: Three Pees in a Pod
Summary:
Holly prepares for her first shift as a urinal.
Chapter Text
Holly’s heart raced as she approached the door to the Biology room.
The second day. Only the second day. How was she going to suffer an entire year of this, let alone a single week? She had hardly slept the night before, and when at last she dozed off, her dreams were filled with horrors only slightly exaggerated from their real-life inspiration. Would she become a urinal today too, just as Jessica and Valerie did the day before? The thought churned her stomach and seemed to fill her shoes with lead as she walked down the academy’s hallway.
Word was that Jessica almost didn’t go to classes today, but Holly could see her entering the Biology room just a few feet ahead of herself. At last, Holly came to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open. Inside was no apparatus, no sign of the horrible rods, no sign of any unusual equipment at all.
She went to take her seat, but Dr. Fletcher called her name before she had the chance.
“No need to take a seat, Holly,” he was saying. “You too Jade. All you girls, please line up and get your assignment.”
He had just finished taping a paper list to the classroom’s front blackboard. As Holly approached, she saw that it was a list of names, each paired with a location and a job title. Her eyes scanned the page until her own name popped out to her:
Holly Edwards: Floor 2 bathroom, Pod #3
Her heart sank. Oh God. That can’t mean…
It seemed that the “assignment” meant precisely what she feared it did. With a short word to “keep moving” from her teacher, Holly was on her way out the door and towards the second floor bathroom. Trailing behind her was Jade, silent and sullen.
“What did, uh,” Holly started, fighting back tears of frustration and terror. “What did you get?”
“Me?” Jade asked, despite being the only person present. “I uh… second floor bathroom. Mop number three.”
“What’s that mean?”
Jade just shrugged.
The two shortly arrived at the restroom in question. To the left was the girls’ room, to the right the boys’, and in the center was an unmarked door Holly had never questioned before. Today, this door stood open, with several of the girls from her class standing awkwardly inside.
“Is this where we go?” Holly asked the one nearest the door, getting a curt nod in response.
Before them lay a dark room lined with the “pods”: an array of benches, straps, and stirrups, illuminated only by the light flooding in through the oval-shaped holes at the head and foot of each setup.
They waited there, a quiet and visibly nervous group, none willing to make eye contact or strike up a conversation regarding the inevitable, impending events. Within a few minutes, their handsome, jovial teacher arrived, ready to walk them through yet another humiliation.
“Great, everyone made it!” said Dr. Fletcher as he approached. “I was worried about holdouts. Now let’s see, who has pod duty today?”
Three nervous hands rose slowly, as if forced.
“Right, right. OK girls, let’s get you strapped in. Each of you strip and place your clothing in the associated locker. You’ll need to climb over the benches to get to your own station.”
Finding no alternative, each girl made their way to their respective bench and began to remove articles of clothing. One girl, Holly thought her name was Rachel, spoke up.
“Sir, do we really need to remove our shirts?”
“Hmm, good point—I suppose those of you assigned to pod duty do not. Those two of you on male-only urinal duty will need to strip completely, of course. Now get to it.”
Holly had already removed her uniform shirt, but was still in her bra. With a shrug, she left it at that; no one but these girls should see her chest anyway, and she got the impression her teacher would not have the patience for re-dressing. With a sigh, Holly sat upon her bench, awaiting instruction.
No further instruction came. Once the girls had appropriately undressed, Dr. Fletcher made his way to each of the three stations, strapping each girl into place as he had with Jessica. Holly’s face burned as he touched her naked lower half, even though his hands never strayed from her legs. Within a minute of the humiliation beginning, it was over, and a new one had taken its place.
Holly’s head was thrust through the oval-shaped hole in the wall, and her vision filled with the familiar interior of the second floor girls’ bathroom, her copper hair hanging below her head. At her other end, she felt a breeze as her ass aligned and protruded from the opposite hole, presumably into the adjacent boys’ room.
Holly had never been kissed. Before yesterday, not a single person—save for her parents and doctors, perhaps—had ever seen her “special place” before. Now, those virgin holes were bare to the world, ready and available for anyone and everyone to do with as they pleased.
She had never felt so humiliated in all her life.
She could hear Dr. Fletcher continue strapping each girl into place, moving down the array of three beds until each girl was utterly exposed and horribly vulnerable. Holly had to guess at what exactly was happening at each point of the process, as sounds were muffled between the two rooms. On this side, the womens’ side, it seemed Holly had a stall all to herself; she wondered if the same could be said about the opposite side, or if there was simply a wall of… of exposed teen and preteen asses hanging, disembodied, ready to use.
Then there was several long, excruciating minutes of silence. What was happening? Were they already starting? Would the next sensation she felt be the loss of her precious virginity? Suddenly, she felt a warm hand grip her butt.
Oh fuck, she thought, trying in vain to squirm out of the reach of her assaulter. Oh God, please help me. Get me out of here!
Something pushed against her anus, then finally popped inside and… stayed there? That didn’t feel like a penis, or at least it didn’t have the throbbing warmth that Holly had read about.
Oh, duh. It’s the plug. Dr. Fletcher is plugging me up.
Sure enough, a second, identical feeling entered her pussy, followed by a third in her urethra. Holly was glad—despite herself—that yesterday’s class and homework had involved such extensive training of her pisshole. Otherwise, she wondered if this final protrusion would have hurt far more.
The little redhead’s face burned as she imagined what the doctor must be seeing on the far side of the two dividing walls. Her most private places, on display, open for him to do… anything. He could get away with anything right now, and she couldn’t even begin to fight back. She was helpless under his gaze, under his touch.
Holes plugged, Holly suddenly felt something else enter her anus. For a moment, her heart raced, thinking that her own teacher had decided to give her virgin holes a test-run, but the shape and texture of the insert felt… off. Like plastic.
The whatever-it-was released a long spout of fluid into her cavity, filling her and filling her until Holly was certain there was no capacity left in her. Then the protruding device exited her hole and… nothing. Despite an overwhelming pressure, not a drop seemed to escape her plugged butthole. She even tried to push it out, to no avail.
After a few minutes, Holly felt a click, a whir, and fluids rushed out of her system all at once. Her plug must have been released.
Was this the cleaning regimen the doctor had mentioned before? It seemed to have done just that. Between fasting for the morning and the flood of fluids leaving her anus, Holly felt strangely and completely empty.
Whatever this process was, the doctor seemed to repeat it two more times, flooding and evacuating Holly’s hole until he seemed to decide she was appropriately clean. Minutes crept by once again, and finally she heard shoes on tile. From her upside-down view, Holly watched Dr. Fletcher enter her stall, his friendly, attractive face smiling down at her.
“Hey there, Holly, how are you feeling?”
“I… honestly? Not great, sir. I hate this.”
He chuckled. “Well, just one more insert and I can leave you to your business. Open up.”
Reluctantly, Holly did as asked, opening her mouth for the doctor. Just as with Jessica the day before, Dr. Fletcher inserted the “not-quite-gag” into her mouth, stepping back to admire his work.
“Try it,” he urged. “Shut your mouth.”
She did, and found no resistance doing so. For five short seconds, at least. Suddenly, a force pulled her jaws apart, forcing her lips open against her will.
“Good. Perfect. You’ll be able to close it again in a minute.”
“Ho’ long do I ha’ to shtay here?” Holly tried to ask through an immobile, open mouth.
“You’ll stay here the duration of the class, plus lunch,” her teacher answered. “Your plugs will release for ten seconds at the top of each hour; feel free to… evacuate at those times. At the end of lunch, I’ll come release you and send you on to your next class. Oh, and remember to suck.”
“Hhhuck,” Holly sobbed. “Oh God. ‘lease, don’t do thish, I-“
Dr. Fletcher walked away, smiling to her as he left.
Chapter 5: Fancy Seeing You Here
Summary:
Holly awaits her first use as a urinal. Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Amanda runs into an ex boyfriend.
Notes:
I originally intended for this chapter to be about the first hour of Holly's installation as a urinal, but a fun idea struck me and I simply had to explore it. Holly's shift will resume after these degrading messages...
As I continue filling out this work, I'm thinking more and more that I'm only going to follow it through a few days of Holly's life. After that, I intend to sequel this work with others set in the same school, some/most with the same characters. This will let me change things up, bringing new girls to the spotlight and allowing for the doctor to invent some more ridiculous ways of humiliating teen girls.
If you have anything you'd especially like to see in this or in sequel works, please do let me know!
Chapter Text
The girls’ bathroom was all but silent.
Holly could do little but stare straight ahead, her field of view blocked by two thin walls and a stall door, the latter of which hung slightly ajar. At any moment, a girl—one of Holly’s own friends, even—could walk into this room and do the unspeakable to her. There was no way to avoid it.
From the other side of one of the walls, Holly could hear the sound of choked sobs as the girl beside her broke down.
The girl could hardly be blamed; Holly was barely holding her own tears back, after all. She blinked, clearing her blurring vision and tried to calm herself, tried to think through the situation.
Holly had been in this bathroom a number of times over her years at the academy. She could remember there being a toilet once, where her head now hung upside-down and immobile. She couldn’t look straight down to confirm it, but Holly suspected the toilet had been entirely removed, leaving her as the sole option for any girl entering the stall.
Several times over the minutes, Holly accidentally activated the not-gag in her mouth, forcing her to endure another minute of her mouth achingly agape. Eventually, she found herself settling unconsciously on a position where her mouth hung open a certain degree, keeping the device from activating needlessly.
Aside from this, the setup was actually somewhat comfortable, strangely enough. The hole through which her head protruded was padded with what felt like a vinyl cushion, though Holly couldn’t bend her neck enough to actually catch a glimpse of it. She was immobile, yes, and strapped in such a strange configuration no less, but no part of her body ached from her position, nor her restraints. Holly could lie here for hours.
She would lie here for hours.
She tried not to think about that.
Really, the entire situation would only feel a little bit silly, if it weren’t for the fact that Holly could actively feel how exposed her lower regions were. The air in the boys’ bathroom felt too cold on her privates, and the sting of violation from her plug insertions and enema left a fading impression of discomfort.
She tried to keep her mind off of how it must look on the other side of the walls. The images of Jessica’s utter humiliation in front of the class yesterday still burned at the back of her eyes. It was all too easy to imagine herself in Jessica’s place, her disembodied butt—and worse—naked and vulnerable, ready for use.
Tears finally fell as the helplessness of her situation fully set in. Holly’s arms strained at her restraints, her legs kicked, her body rocked in the desperate hope that any one of the dozen straps sealing her fate would give. None did, and tears began to stream up her temples and into her copper hair.
Holly immediately began to regret crying. She tried to stop, tried to bottle up the tears and take the situation like a grown-up. She even succeeded for a moment. But terror, embarrassment, and no small amount of anger boiled up in her, and before long her lip quivered and the tears began anew.
She had no way to wipe them away.
What was that?
Distantly, Holly thought she could hear footsteps. The sound was very muffled, barely audible over the sobbing girls in the neighboring stalls. Was someone coming? Was this it?
As the all-but-inaudible sound grew ever-so-slightly louder, a sickening feeling grew in Holly’s stomach. Those were footsteps alright, but they weren’t coming from the girls’ bathroom.
Please don’t pick me, Holly thought, hating herself for the desperate selfishness. Please, please, please…
Could she make herself look less attractive? What did a boy look for in a urinal—was there something she could do to ward him away?
But no, Holly couldn’t move her lower half even a fraction of an inch. Try as she might, the only motion she could muster was that of clenching her pussy, and that—she suspected—was the opposite of what she wanted to do.
The other girls had stopped sobbing, all three of them listening in terrified silence as they waited for the boy to take his pick. Holly hardly breathed, expecting to either hear one of the girls cry out or to end up being the one screaming herself.
The steps slowed to a stop. In the distance, Holly could hear the muffled voice of a boy. What was he saying? Could he see her?
Oh God, Holly thought, mind racing. Don’t look. Don’t look at me. Turn around and leave.
Silence. The three girls waited, and waited.
Finally, after several minutes, the footsteps retreated and the sound water rushing through pipes seemed to signal the boy was washing his hands. He left shortly thereafter, and Holly practically broke back into tears from the sheer relief.
“Oh thank God,” the girl beside her whispered.
Had the boy been as disgusted with this inhumane situation as he should have been? Did he just enjoy the view, not daring to touch? What could have possibly happened?
Amanda had always been proud of her looks. At only fifteen, she was more developed than many girls her age. Though this certainly meant far more unwanted attention from the boys in her class, Amanda had quickly learned to funnel such attentions directly into her ego.
Damn it, she was hot, and she knew that everyone could see it.
Over her years at the academy, Amanda had had her share of fleeting relationships. Boys came and went, and though the girl had worked her way through half of the more attractive boys of her class, she still hadn’t kissed a single one.
The other girls giggled when she admitted to holding out even for her first kiss, but Amanda had grown up on princess movies and cheesy meet-cute romances. If she was going to kiss a boy—let alone do any of the things her older sister sometimes talked about—she was going to do it right. The moment would be loving and quiet, yet spectacular enough to be remembered for a lifetime.
At least, that’s what Amanda would have said the day before the semester started. Things had obviously changed.
At the moment, Amanda was immobile, staring up helplessly at her own naked body bound within an oversized porcelain urinal. Her virgin pussy, her most private of places, hung helplessly over her head, bare for all to see.
For the first time in her young life, Amanda cursed her early development. Her chest, her generous D-cup breasts which she had been shyly proud of only yesterday, now pressed against her own face. Pink nipples—ones Amanda had always been embarrassed of due to their size—now pointed at the ceiling. The puffy folds of her untouched pussy sat at the center of her view, angled slightly towards her unmovable head.
She felt like she was going to die of embarrassment when Dr. Fletcher forced her to undress, then manhandled her body into this position. No man (nor woman, save for a medical doctor or two) had ever seen her so exposed, and yet the teacher had felt with her so callously, wide adult hands gripping and positioning her body as if there were nothing remarkable about the situation at all.
Then Amanda had watched him leave while she lay helpless in her porcelain prison. She could see him visit each of the other girls before he left, though their shame was hidden from her by stall doors. She didn’t want to see what they looked like anyway.
The only thing Amanda had to be thankful for was the fact that her ability to be violated was extremely limited. Her pussy positioned so high off the ground, even an adult man would be unable to penetrate her; that would leave her purity intact, at least. Her face, too, should endure no more than piss; though that was horrifyingly humiliating in its own right, at least nothing worse could be done.
But somehow…
Somehow all of that only made the whole situation feel worse. Before she would even have her first kiss, dozens of boys would already have seen her privates, let alone used her. Her stomach turned over at the thought.
And what if, she thought, hating every idea that floated through her head. What if I’m wrong? I couldn’t stop anyone from doing anything to me. What if they used a stool, just so that they could… they could…
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared up at her vulnerable body, her innocent little world shattering before her eyes.
Amanda flinched as footsteps sounded on the tile floor, ringing through the otherwise empty bathroom.
Oh no, she thought, squirming at her restraints. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, please—
“Woah! What the hell is- Amanda?!”
FUCK.
The voice was a familiar one, though Amanda couldn’t quite see the boy from her position. It was near impossible to move her head more than half an inch in any direction, and given how every attempt so far had made her breasts wobble enticingly, Amanda decided not to try turning to look.
“That is you!” The boy stepped up to Amanda’s naked body, staring down at her in disbelief.
Oh no. Amanda did know that voice. It was Derek, one of her ex boyfriends.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“Nothing, Derek,” Amanda hissed, hoping to scare him off. “Go away. This doesn’t concern you!”
But the boy had stopped listening. His eyes had found the sign above the urinal. Amanda had seen it as she entered, shivering and naked, and the sight had nearly caused her to puke:
“
Amanda Porter
Grade 10
Age 15
THIS PUBLIC URINAL IS PROVIDED FOR YOUR USE AND PLEASURE
Instructions: the girl in this station is here to serve as your urinal. Please urinate anywhere on her body. No need to flush; all fluids deposited here will be drunk by the girl. Use her how you wish; no action short of damaging the girl will result in punishment of any kind.
“
Amanda could see the gears turning in Derek’s head as he finished reading the sign.
“Huh, ‘says here I can do anything I want to you.”
“Please, Derek—I, uh…”
“Oh shut up and let me enjoy this for once, Amanda,” said the boy, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So this is the real you, huh? And this is the precious little pussy you were so protective of.”
Amanda whimpered as he stepped closer. Reaching out, the boy began to explore her intimate areas, fingers pinching and pulling and prodding uncomfortably. Amanda’s face was ablaze with shame.
“Please, Derek—“
“Please, Derek,” the boy said mockingly. “Always with that shit. ‘No Derek, I want to stay pure until marriage.’ ‘No Derek, I don’t think you’re good enough for my first kiss.’”
“I’m sorry, I—“
“I’ll bet you are now. But that doesn’t mean shit now, does it, bumblebee?”
Something bring inside Amanda as a boy she once thought the world of—a boy she had once begged to pick a cute nickname for her, just so she could feel like a girl from a romance—spat that very nickname at her while he violated her. Her vision began to blur with tears again, but Derek seemed not to notice. Or care.
“I always knew you’d have a pretty pussy. I mean, everyone knows you have fat cow udders—” as he spoke, Derek lifted one leg and brought it down on her, pressing the heel of his sneaker into the soft skin of her breast. “—fat cow udders. But I always figured you probably had a cute hole too. And look! I was right.”
Amanda gasped as the boy crushed her sensitive breast under his heel, the pain making her body lock up.
”…in fact,” Derek continued, fingers roughly pinching Amanda’s labia together. “It’s so sexy, I think I’ll give you your first kiss after all, right… here.”
The boy’s rough lips met the lips of Amanda’s pussy. He made a show of “making out” with them, of locking his lips with hers, of pressing his face “lovingly” to her crotch. Eventually, the boy began exploring her with his tongue, the wet sensation of penetration making Amanda’s face heat up as she watched.
Amanda’s world swam as her ex boyfriend violated her untouched hole, tongue flitting into areas she herself had been too scared to touch. Eventually he broke the “kiss,” making eye contact with her over the string of spit and fluids that momentarily lingered between his lips and her pussy.
“Well, bumblebee? Was it everything you dreamed of?”
“You can go f— gaaah,” said Amanda, her sentence cut short as Derek jammed two thick fingers clumsily into her waiting hole.
Amanda’s world had shattered. Leering down at her jiggling tits, the boy continued mocking her, making light of every boundary Amanda had ever tried to set. When she attempted to protest again, Derek just spit on her, landing the disgusting glob of saliva along her lower lip.
Amanda wanted to wretch. To run. To be or do anything than to be here, to take this abuse. Again she strained her arms and legs, trying desperately to free herself. Again she did little more than waggle her chest, causing Derek to laugh.
“Well Amanda,” he said at last, three fingers now lazily violating her pussy. “It’s been fun, but I need to piss. Open up.”
Amanda did no such thing; she clamped her mouth shut. For five seconds.
Then the all-but-invisible gag within her mouth snapped open, forcing her jaws apart. She squeaked as it did so, feeling a string of saliva stretch over her mouth from where Derek had spit on her.
He didn’t hesitate. One hand still stretching at Amanda’s holes as if they were toys, Derek put both feet on the floor and began to unzip his pants with his other hand, reaching into his underwear and pulling out—
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut before he could finish the motion. She had never seen a man’s… thing before, and she had no intention of her first sight of one being Derek’s dirty, disgusting—
The worst taste Amanda had ever experienced flooded her mouth as the steam hit her square on the tongue. She gagged, coughed, sputtered at the vile fluid, her eyes clamped shut as piss spilled over her entire face.
True to the word of her teacher, however, there appeared nowhere else in the porcelain contraption for fluids to go. Amanda’s mouth was the only drain, and—save for some necessary cut outs behind her head, which were already filling with piss as well—it was the lowest point in the urinal’s trough.
Urine began to fill the bowl, overflowing her mouth and beginning to inch towards her nose. Amanda writhed, her body acting on impulse to try and flee the acrid stream, but this only let a trickle of piss down into the crevice been her head and the urinal itself, wetting her hair but doing nothing more to alleviate the situation. Piss began to enter her nostrils, the smell overwhelming her senses.
Finally, reluctantly, Amanda gulped down a mouthful. Even within the circumstances, it wasn’t a graceful act; mouth forced wide, the act was as much a swallow as it was a sputter and a cough, spraying urine over her already-soaked breasts.
Before she had time to take a single breath, her mouth was full once again, lips overflowing as they had seconds before.
She swallowed, and gulped, and spluttered, until at last the stream subsided, the gag released, and Amanda was at last able to breathe normally again. She coughed the last few drops of piss from her mouth and lungs, her body feeling as if it had been drowning moments earlier.
“Damn, bumblebee, you do make a good urinal. You must really like it, the way you sucked it down.”
“Go—cough—go to—cough—hell, Derek.”
Amanda refused to open her eyes, partly still because she hated the thought of seeing this monster’s cock before any other, but partly now because pools of piss had gathered over her eyelids. She tried to shake her head, but still found it difficult to clear her face of urine.
As she did, she heard a strange sound above her head. She had expected to hear the sound of Derek’s zipper again, perhaps followed by a few insults and, at worst, more fondling of her privates. What she heard instead was the dry stroke of skin-on-skin.
Oh no, she thought, eyes still squeezed shut. He’d better not be…
“You know you had it coming, don’t you, Amanda?”
“What?”
“Being such a tease. Toying with so many boys. I can’t wait to tell them all. You’re going to be a mess…”
The stroking continued and Amanda desperately wished she could be anywhere else. Be anyone else. She couldn’t handle what came next, she just couldn’t.
“Well, more of a mess, anyway. Come on, say something hot.”
“Fuck you.”
“If only. Come on, cow-tits, I don’t have all period. I’m missing geometry.”
“Fuck y—“
“Let me put it another way,” Derek said, cutting her off.
There was silence for a moment, followed by the sound of tapping on a screen, then the electronic click of a phone camera’s fake shutter.
Had he just…?
“Say something hot or I’ll post you online.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Stop me, bitch.”
Amanda seethed, but refused to try to struggle again. There was no use; maybe if she played along he would go away.
“What do I say?”
“I don’t know, tell me you liked it.”
“Liked…?”
“Being my urinal. Letting me touch you. See you. I don’t know, just talk.”
Amanda took a deep breath (at least, as deep as her restraints allowed her), and indulged the blackmailer. She simply couldn’t have her current state posted publicly.
“I… loved being your urinal. I like the way you, uh, peed. On me. I guess.”
“I’m about ten seconds away from hitting ‘post’.”
“Okay! Okay. Thank you, for your piss. And for touching me. And for my first 'kiss'… I—” tears mixed with piss as Amanda was wracked with a sob. “I love being your urinal! I… I like you peeing on my big fat c-cow tits.”
“Almost…”
Amanda hated herself. Hated Derek. Hated Dr. Fletcher. She cursed every man in this school who had opted to let this happen.
“Please,” she said, her voice a whisper as she repeated words she had only heard in videos she should never have watched. “Cum on me. Shoot it all over me. M-make me your… your…”
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t say it.
Wet, sticky warmth landed on her already-soaked breasts as she tried not to hyperventilate. The sensation made her jump at first, but by the second, third, fourth rope of cum, she had—shamefully—accepted the feeling. Her skin crawled. What was she? Has she really asked for that?
“Good girl,” said her assailant as he zipped his pants back up again. “I think you learned a lesson today.”
“Please don’t post the photo.”
“Oh don’t worry, I won’t.
Amanda breathed a sigh of relief, lungs filling with the reek of cum, and exhaling with a spray of urine. Thank God.
“There’s no need to post it. The video I got of you ‘dirty talking’ is much better. It’s already getting some attention from your friends.”
“You didn’t! You wouldn’t—“
“Would. Did.”
Amanda finally opened her eyes. The boy smirked down at her before turning and walking away. Amanda heard the sound of the sink turn on seconds later, then shut off, then finally the sound of paper towels being pulled from the dispenser on the wall.
Before he left, Derek strolled back over, eyes full of joy at the sight of her helpless body. Without a word, he finished drying his hands on a wad of paper towels, then unceremoniously crammed them into her waiting pussy.
“See you around, bumblebee.”
Chapter 6: A First Taste
Summary:
Holly gets her first taste of life as a human urinal.
Notes:
Once again I have underestimated just how wordy I can be. This chapter was going to encompass Holly's first entire hour in her station; instead, it's just a taste. I suspect it will take two more chapters to fill the hour out.
What can I say, it's a fun situation to explore!
Chapter Text
Holly’s heart eventually slowed from a pounding panic to a slower, still-anxious pace. Whatever was happening in the boys’ restroom, she hadn’t been chosen. This time.
Things were still quiet on the girls’ side, her isolated little stall still silent save for the noises made by her neighboring victims. But if those girls were still crying, they—like her—were doing so silently now.
So it was quiet. Still. At least for the moment. The current class period had only been in session for a few minutes, right? It couldn’t have been more than a quarter hour. Things would be quiet now, but between classes?
That was probably best not to think about. Not yet.
Holly shook away what tears she could with the little range of motion allowed to her. No use. She resigned to letting her head hang, the last tears crawling their way towards the roots of her hair.
Slowly, the horror of her situation began to fade. Sure, she still felt horribly humiliated, but for now, no one was looking. Really, more than anything Holly just wanted to itch her nose. Maybe if a girl actually did come by, Holly could ask her to—
Footsteps. No question about it this time. Heels clicked against bathroom tile as someone entered the girls’ bathroom. Holly held her breath, and—by the sound of it—her companions did as well. Could they call to this girl for help? Maybe she could break into the room-between-bathrooms in which the girls’ pods were placed. Maybe she could free them.
But what if she chose to use one of them instead?
It was a real risk. Dr. Fletcher seemed so certain that the students would simply fall in line with this horrific practice, and—sure enough—the boys and girls that “made use” of Jessica and Valerie the previous day had done so with relatively few complaints. Would this one be equally callous?
The footsteps approached, their pattern sounding hurried. Time was short; Holly had to come to a quick decision. With three dread hours of rape and urine hanging over her head, she chose to take the chance.
“Hey!” she tried to shout, voice croaking from tears. “Hey! Help us!”
The footsteps stopped outside Holly’s stall.
“Uh, what? You ok in there?”
Holly didn’t recognize the voice, but that wasn’t surprising. There were certainly enough female students at the academy for a stranger to encounter her like this.
“Yeah—or, uh, no. Just come in the stall, please.”
The door, already open just a crack, creaked on its hinges as the girl entered the stall. She was pretty, no older than sixteen, with curls of brown hair framing a kind face; she also looked distinctly like someone needing desperately to pee.
“What the—” the girl said, entering the stall in full. Her knees pushed together and hand held at her crotch as she entered, as if she was actively fighting back an “accident” in progress. Her eyes met Holly’s, then slid upwards to the panel of text above her head.
“Dr. Fletcher stuck us in here,” Holly explained quickly, her hopes rising now that she had laid eyes on the nice-looking girl.
“I can see that.” The girl was scanning through the text, her bewilderment growing with each line.
“Quick, please. You have to let us out.”
The girl hesitated, and for a moment, Holly’s stomach dropped. But then the newcomer nodded her head, her auburn curls bouncing with the motion.
“Ok, sure. Right. But uh, first—are there any normal toilets in here?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ah. Right.”
The girl shifted her weight uncomfortably, clearly in need of a bathroom.
“You need to go around. There’s a door between the entrance to this bathroom and the boys’ bathroom. Please. You have no idea—“
“Ok, ok,” the girl said hurriedly, rushing from the room. Her heels clicked on the tiles until they exited, then silence descended on the girls’ restroom once again.
Holly hoped desperately that the next sensation she felt would be her restraints lifting. Or perhaps the shouts of triumph as one of her companions was released first. Instead, the next thing she heard was the returning footsteps of the brunette.
The girl entered Holly’s stall again, closing the door behind her and latching it shut. Holly’s heart dropped. The girl turned to face Holly, her expression one of apology, of sheer embarrassment.
“It’s locked,” she said simply as she approached Holly. “With a sign on it explaining just how much trouble I would be in if I tried to break in. I don’t think I even know how to…”
The girl shook her head. Of course that would have been too easy. Why did Holly bother to get her hopes up? After all the thorough preparations, the idea that Dr. Fletcher would have just forgotten to lock the door was preposterous.
“Look,” the girl said with a face slowly turning red. “The sign says I have to use you. Like, have to. There’s directions for where to find a normal toilet but that’s only for… y’know. Number two. I’m not sure I’d make it anyway. So uh…”
The girl stepped close and began to lift her uniform skirt. Holly couldn’t tear her eyes away, despite the mounting fear. Was this kind girl about to use her face as her personal urinal? She seemed like such a kind person, the way she spoke. In another circumstance, Holly would have loved to be her friend. And now that would-be friend was about to piss in her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered, then looked up at the text above Holly’s head. “Uh, Holly. I’m sorry, Holly.”
“Don’t use my name.”
It felt so wrong for this girl to talk to her like a peer—like a friend—when what she was about to do was so… disgusting. Dehumanizing, even. Holly watched on, helpless, as the girl hoisted her skirt. She wore a very plain pair of panties, light-colored and patterned with roses. Through the fabric, Holly could already make out the vague shape of the girl’s labia.
Holly looked up, meeting the girl’s gaze. She didn’t even know her name. Did she want to? She tried to make her expression look as pleading, as pathetic as she could. Perhaps this kind-looking girl would give in, with just a little more pressure.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.”
The girl didn’t bother to lower her panties, opting instead to simply push them to the side. Holly couldn’t look away; she was inches from this girl’s privates, from where her labia—much larger, darker, and more wrinkly than Holly’s own—seemed already to be dripping.
Holly hoped that was piss.
The brunette started to straddle Holly’s head. Holly’s natural instinct was to clamp her mouth shut, but she had learned her lesson with that enough times today already. Loosening her jaw, she reluctantly accepted the girl’s wet labia into her mouth.
The two stayed in that position for several moments, silent and waiting.
“Sorry,” the girl said from above, not removing her pussy from Holly’s mouth. “Hard to do it, y’know, in front of someone. Or, uh… in someone too, I guess.”
Holly tried to respond, but made only a vague moan.
“Sorry! Sorry. This is like when the dentist tries to talk to you, you know? And ask you all sorts of questions but you’re all numbed out with metal rods jabbing your gums and—“
The girl’s chattering would probably have been cute, had it not been for the fact that all the while the girl was talking, Holly was becoming very familiar with her taste. It was a strange tangy sweetness, unlike anything Holly had tasted before. She’d prefer not to taste it again (or now, for that matter), but she had little choice.
Out of sheer curiosity, not really knowing what she was doing, Holly let her tongue explore the girl. Of course, Holly hated everything about this situation. She never liked girls—not in that way, at least—and she certainly never wanted to have a girl’s pussy shoved into her mouth like this. But if she was going to be forced to endure this, she was at least going to satisfy her curiosity.
“Oooh!”
The first touch of tongue to pussy made the girl jump, cutting her off in the middle of a sentence before she rambled right on. Holly’s tongue ran over unseen bumps and folds while her eyes stared up at the girl’s white-and-rose-panty-clad butt. Was that her clit? Could that be her pisshole? Holly thought she could find one a lot easier, ever since her lesson yesterday. She was just beginning to inch the tip of her tongue into the girl’s main entrance when the taste in her mouth started to change. All at once, it became more acrid, more sour…
Holly nearly choked in surprise as the first jet of piss sprayed into her mouth. She spluttered, but caught herself short of a full cough, forcing herself to gulp down the first mouthful. It almost didn’t stay down, but Holly was determined not to make this situation worse for herself.
She swallowed again. And again. After the fourth mouthful, Holly began to see just how urgent this girl’s need really was.
Gulp-gulp-gulp.
The girl continued to chatter, seemingly too embarrassed by the situation to stand in silence while she used her living urinal. Holly stopped caring; the girl’s thighs blocked a good amount of sound as they pressed around her ears anyway.
Gulp-gulp-cough-gulp.
As Holly slowly swallowed the entire contents of the girl’s bladder, an uncomfortable reality began to dawn on her. Her stomach, which had felt achingly empty after the morning’s required fasting, was beginning to feel full. Not uncomfortably so; not yet, anyway. But if Holly was to drink down bladder-full after bladder-full…
Oh God, she thought as she choked down another mouth full of piss. It’s all going to build up, isn’t it? What am I going to do?
At last, after what felt like gallons of piss were transferred between the two girls, the brunette’s stream subsided and she stepped back from Holly’s face. The girl made eye contact with Holly as she did, blushing and quickly looking away. She gave another glance to the instructional panel above Holly’s head, reading through the final few lines of directions.
“Oh,” the girl said, quietly. “I see. I’m—I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
Holly didn’t respond. She just stared up at the unknown teen’s reddening face as she selected a handful of Holly’s hair. The girl raised a shaking fistful of crimson locks to her dripping pussy, wiping the remains of her total violation of Holly’s mouth onto her hair.
Holly had always taken such good care of her hair. She thought it was probably the prettiest thing about her; she had been teased about the freckles since she was young (well, younger), but her head of natural dull-red hair was her pride. She watched, helpless, as a girl she had never truly met wiped herself clean on that hair, darkening the red ever so slightly as she rubbed it up her thighs and across her slit.
“So, uh,” the teen said, letting Holly’s slightly soggier hair fall back below her head. “About… all of this. Uh—“
“Just go.”
“Oh. I—Okay.”
Holly watched the first pussy she had ever touched get re-covered in cute, rose-covered panties, then by the navy blue of a uniform skirt.
“You, uh, did a good job,” the girl said sheepishly as she readjusted her underwear. “I mean, uh… thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Blushing all the while, the girl stammered through another five apologies as she unlocked the stall door and ran from the room. Silence fell once again as the echo of clicking heels faded away. Just like that, Holly had been used; it didn’t matter how apologetic her assaulter was. She was used. She had served as a urinal.
Her mouth was still full of that awful taste. Would she ever be rid of it? She tried again and again to swallow it all down, to empty her mouth of all the urine-flavored spit she had, but it was no use. Neither was spitting it out; she didn’t even want to try that, given that she couldn’t turn her head enough to ensure it would land on the floor.
“Hey.”
The voice, though quiet, made Holly jump. She had forgotten that she wasn’t alone here, and—moreover—that there were sounds in the world that didn’t belong to approaching predators.
“Uh, hey?”
“Thank you. For trying to get us help.”
“Oh. No problem.”
A beat of silence followed.
“So… how was it?”
“Gross,” Holly said emphatically. “And she… she had so much…”
The other girl made a small noise of sympathy.
“Yeah, I fig—gaa-AAH!”
Holly’s neighbor cried out, the momentary connection lost in the sound of a surprised, pained scream.
“No—NO,” the girl choked out between half-screams and forced grunts. “GAH-aah That was AH! that’s my—my first…”
There was no confusion as to what was happening. Through the walls, coming from the boys’ bathroom, Holly could make out a faint plap-plap, the rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh. The only question to be had was which hole the anonymous boy had chosen.
Holly listened to the girl’s cries, sobs, and useless begging for the whole event to end. There was nothing else to do but listen. She tried once to comfort the girl, but what was there to say?
By the sound of it, the boy was relentless. The muffled slapping only grew faster, harder, louder as the minutes drew on. Then, finally, it halted, drawing a final pained moan from Holly’s companion.
“He—he did it inside,” the shaky feminine voice came again. “Oh God, he did it. He… came in me…”
“I’m sorry,” Holly simply said. She heard the third girl—the one who had remained mostly silent, up until this point—offer sympathies in kind.
“He’s… oh God, he isn’t leaving. He’s—mmmph fuck, he’s filling me up!”
Holly wished she could do anything for the girl. Her heart ached, just imagining how it must feel, how horribly dehumanizing it must be to have her first time end in such a disgusting act.
Through the wall, Holly thought she could hear the boy say something. The sounds were too muffled to make out any words but…
Wait, she thought, her heart skipping a beat. Is that two voices?
Then, at last, Holly felt the sensation she had been dreading all morning: the soft cup of a hand against her bare, exposed ass.
Chapter 7: In Both Ends
Summary:
Holly endures her first use from the boys' side of the wall.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Even just the soft touch of a hand felt vile against the taut skin of her bent bottom.
Oh God, Holly said, her face heating to what must have been a beet red as what was transpiring finally hit home. He can see everything. My butt, my—my—
The boy gripped her ass more forcefully, then took her other cheek in his opposite hand. Holly could feel herself give, feel her cheeks spread as a stranger (or worse, could it be an anonymous friend?) observed her privates, preparing to do the unthinkable.
Something prodded at her pussy, spreading open her lips, then moved to poke against her asshole. She hoped desperately it was only a finger, only a humiliating inspection that would pass with the whims of whatever boy now held her innocence in hand.
It wasn’t a finger.
The boy plunged his cock into Holly’s tiny asshole. She felt as though she was about to split in two. Parts of her body which had never before given her tactile sensations now seared, burned as the boy penetrated her.
Through gasps and half-screams identical to those she had just heard from her companion, Holly prayed. She prayed that the plug, that horrible nightmare device that guarded her asshole, would misfire. She prayed that the boy would plunge only an inch inside, hit the hard shield that separated Holly’s insides from the outside world, then give up.
But her prayers went unanswered. The boy plunged deeper, passing where the plug surely would have stopped him, and stretching Holly’s poor, untouched hole with the full diameter of his girth.
Tears came unbidden, forced out by the searing pain. She squeezed her eyes shut involuntarily. For a moment, Holly worried she would tear outright, that her little undeveloped body would be unable to accept what the boy was forcing into her. Her fears, at least in this case, were unwarranted, but that did little to alleviate the pain she still felt.
What would he do next? Holly waited in writhing horror as she waited for the boy to pick one of the two inevitable options: fill her up, or use her for pleasure. Piss or fuck. That was what she had been reduced to.
Seconds dragged on. A sudden heat within Holly’s insides eventually told her what the boy had decided.
“He’s peeing,” she whispered in horror. “In my butt. He’s peeing inside—oh God.”
The warmth spread, filling her slowly. Inch by inch, she could feel it creeping deeper inside her, touching regions she had never even dreamed of being violated. Meanwhile, the boy’s hands began to release their tight grip on her ass. Holly could feel his fingers exploring her, spreading her labia, sliding slightly inside…
She squirmed, or tried to. Her body barely shifted, but it was enough to remind her of two growing discomforts: the swell in her stomach, and the swell in her bowels. Both from the piss of strangers.
Holly had only been a urinal for a few minutes, hadn’t she? Was she really expected to last three full hours? Already she was looking forward to the promised release of the plugs. At the top of the hour, Dr. Fletcher had said, the mechanisms would release and allow her to empty her shame.
She hoped no one would be present to see the disgrace that would follow.
Fingers continued to probe her as the boy seemed to relax, his stream increasing to the point that Holly could actually feel the jet hitting her walls. The sensation made her want to puke. How much would this one dump inside of her? As much as the girl had? More?
Holly did the only thing she could: she laid there, bare and vulnerable, and took what the boy gave her.
At last, after what felt like another small piss-filled eternity, Holly thought she could feel the stream weaken. She only thought she felt it weaken, as the pressure on her walls had grown significantly. Already, she had the strange sensation of needing to… well, evacuate.
Something shifted inside her. No, not something—it.
The boy pulled his length out of her, inch by inch, stopping with just the head of his cock still inside of her anus.
“Please be done,” Holly whimpered. “Please.”
Holly gasped in shock as the cock slammed home again, hips slapping against her ass as the boy rammed his length back into her piss-filled bowels. He retreated again, then slammed back into her.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The rhythm was slow, thank God, but the boy’s force was excruciating. He wasn’t content with just having sex with Holly; he was well and truly fucking her. Hard.
Noises escaped Holly’s lips, but she paid no attention to them. She couldn’t. Her insides felt like they were ablaze as the boy raped her. Worse, somehow, Holly couldn’t escape the sensation of sloshing deep within her. There was just something so, so wrong about being literally sloshing-full of urine. She didn’t feel like the little girl she woke up as this morning. She felt less than human.
The sensations from her lower half so overwhelmed her senses that Holly entirely missed the sound of approaching footsteps, of voices echoing, of the door to her stall opening again.
“You were right,” a short black-haired girl said as she locked the door behind her. “Weird. And we just use them? Like… put our… things in their mouths?”
“Yep!” a chipper voice sounded from the neighboring stall. “That’s what she said. Sounds fun!”
Holly could hear her companion—having just been used herself—whispering pleas for mercy. The girl in her stall took a look at Holly’s upside-down head, shrugged, and began to tug her panties down her legs.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Each thrust wracked Holly’s body with pain, stealing her breath and making every thought feel laborious. She couldn’t muster pleas for help; the only noises that Holly seemed capable of now were pathetic moans and grunts of pain.
The girl dropped her panties to the floor, stepping out of the pink frilly garments and hanging them on a hook along one of the walls. Holly watched as she pulled over a stepstool (Dr. Fletcher must have provided it specifically for the younger girls), climbed atop it, and straddled Holly’s face without a single acknowledgment.
This girl’s pussy was smaller, rounder, and a bit puffier; it seemed somewhat more like Holly’s own. Holly tried not to think of the fact that another person was currently inspecting her pussy in a much more violating way.
The boy’s hips continued to pound against her ass, his length sending jolts through her body as the girl lowered her pink folds onto Holly’s open mouth. The stream this time was much more immediate; it seemed this girl had fewer reservations about using a human’s face as her personal toilet. Her urine, too, was different from the brown-haired girl that preceded her. Marginally sweeter (though still thoroughly disgusting), the flavor filled Holly’s mouth, overwhelming the remaining taste of her previous user.
A mouth filled with piss on one end and an anus—still being brutally violated—filled with piss on the other, Holly began to shamefully gulp down the girl’s flood. She was only halfway done when her stomach began to feel full.
At last, with a final, forceful thrust inside her, Holly felt the boy’s hips press hard against her ass. (She thought she could even feel his balls against her skin, though her body was so overwhelmed with sensations it was hard to pick one to focus on.) Truth be told, Holly couldn’t feel the boy cum inside of her, assuming that’s what he was doing. Her hole was already swimming full of fluids; another few squirts of semen were impossible to pick out.
That didn’t change how utterly disgusting it felt. No longer just a urinal, Holly took the boy’s cum, swallowing every drop until he finally pulled out.
Gulp-gulp-gulp-gulp.
It felt like piss should have spilled everywhere when the boy’s cock left her body. The disgusting fluids should be draining out of her, forming a puddle on the floor below her disembodied ass. Instead, a tiny dribble ran down her crack as the boy pulled out, then nothing. She felt a click in her anus as the plug re-engaged, forming a watertight seal.
Holly’s face—already ablaze—touched with heat once more as the boy gently patted her ass, as if commending her on a job well done. Then he was gone.
The girl finished using Holly’s face not long thereafter. With a simple, callous wipe of her dripping pussy along Holly’s precious red locks, the girl giggled, patted Holly on the cheek, and turned to retrieve her panties from the hook.
Holly watched without seeing as the girl bent over (not seeming to care that Holly got a full view of her ass and puckered lips as she did) and redonned her underwear. In moments she was alone again, the voices of the two chatting friends disappearing down the school hallway.
“You were right,” came the weak voice of the urinal-girl in the next stall over. “That was…disgusting.”
Notes:
I promise to stop teasing and actually have Holly lose her virginity next chapter! Some things are just better when you have to wait for them, lol.
Chapter 8: The First Hour / An Hour of Firsts
Summary:
Holly spends one full agonizing hour as a human urinal. Only two to go!
Notes:
I fear this may seem slightly repetitive at the start. Oh well; there's only so many ways to use a urinal, and I think what's here is appropriately degrading and unique from previous chapters. To be honest, I'm just impressed I managed to get myself to stick to a single chapter this time. The next few chapters will go in new and unique directions, I promise! We still have yet to see some really fun scenes I have planned for this work.
Also, to address a (now deleted) hate comment I got yesterday:
Again, this is a work of fiction. I have gone to great lengths to make it clear that the things characters do in this work should never happen in real life, and are in no way based on real events whatsoever. Fiction—even fiction you hate—is legal to write. This is an 18+ story, written by adults, for the reading of adults; if you don't like this work and have read all the way to chapter 8, what the hell are you doing with your life??
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Though she could hardly move a muscle, Holly’s body sloshed with piss with every attempt she made to squirm or reposition herself. Fortunately, it felt like her stomach was slowly becoming less full as the minutes ticked by, though the thought of where that process was leading filled Holly with disgust.
In the time between uses, Holly had to listen to two more violations of her companions. The more talkative girl (with whom Holly was beginning to feel a bond) had her face used once more, this time by a timid-sounding girl who couldn’t have been older than grade seven. The second use was more brutal: Holly’s quieter companion, the girl two stalls down, audibly lost her virginity to an unknown boy just minutes ago.
For her part, Holly’s brutalized asshole still stung from its assault, the constant ache not allowing her a moment to forget what had been done to her.
How long had it been? Time, apparently, slipped away when one was being used as a human toilet and cum-dump. The few uses she had already endured were agony, both physically and emotionally.
Holly was beginning to truly dread what the time that was fast approaching: passing period. The time between bells, when the halls filled with students. Holly had always tried to use the bathroom herself during these times; doing so meant one had no need to beg a teacher for permission to do one’s “business.” In her years at the academy, Holly had never seen an empty bathroom during the passing period. Not once.
Worse, a realization had dawned on her: the next period of classes began at the top of the hour. Would the bathroom be crowded during the only time she would be allowed to release all of these built-up fluids? She hoped not. Worse, the doctor had mentioned that the plugs would specifically not release if she was currently in use at the time. If that happened, would that mean an entire additional hour until she could release?
Holly doubted her body could physically endure two hours. With only the cumulative piss of three bladders inside her, she already felt achingly full. She had already tried to force out the boy’s urine that now filled her rectum, to no avail; no amount of pushing managed to force out any more of the fluid than what had trickled down her crack after the boy had exited her. The vile fluids just sat there, an inch from exiting her body, giving her the perpetual sensation of being just about to evacuate.
And sure enough, before too long, the discomfort in her bladder had begun to grow too. Not yet as urgent as the pressure in her ass, Holly could certainly tell this was quickly going to build to a significant issue.
As the minutes slowly ticked away, Holly occasionally heard the sound of muffled footsteps echoing in the empty boys’ room. The sound made her tense up every time, her holes clamping tightly around their invisible plugs, her stomach turning over until the steps faded away.
Only once, in the span of those few minutes, did Holly feel any tactile sensation follow the muted noises. It was while the girl in the far stall was getting her first time stolen from her by a nameless boy; over the screams and quiet slapping of flesh on flesh, Holly thought she heard a small shuffling noise from the boys’ side of the wall.
It was only a small shuffle, not the thudding footsteps of a boy coming to claim her body as his toy. This was followed by the sensation of her lower half being wiped clean. The small trickle of piss (and probably cum) that had escaped down her ass was cleaned away, then the mysterious helper shuffled away once again.
Was that Dr. Fletcher? Holly still shivered at the thought of someone even seeing her like this, even if no penetration followed. Still, the little dribble had been tickling at her, the sensation one little annoyance among a symphony of discomforts. She was, despite the embarrassment, happy to be rid of the small amount of mess.
Besides, if Holly had to be seen like this, she’d prefer to be clean. The feeling of being nothing more than a set of disembodied holes was humiliating enough; Holly didn’t need to be a messy set of holes on top of that. She didn’t need to look used.
She was, after all, still technically a virgin.
Holly went alert at the sound of footsteps in the girls’ bathroom. It was always hard to tell which stall the girl was going to choose, right up until she was walking through the cheap metal door.
“Not again,” Holly groaned as her stall door swung open, revealing the figure of a woman.
Not a girl this time. A woman, and one Holly had seen just that morning. This was Ms. Williams, Holly’s own trigonometry teacher. The woman hardly glanced at Holly, her face impassive as she locked the door behind her.
“Ms. Williams?” Holly asked, watching her teacher upside-down.
“Hm? Oh. Hello Holly.”
“Are… are you going to…?” Holly gulped, her spit still tasting like the combined fluids of two previous girls. “Please, please don’t.”
“Sorry Holly, no choice. Had to go so bad I let my class out five minutes early. Now open up.”
Holly’s heart dropped as she watched her teacher hike up her long, ankle-length skirt, reaching for the waistband of her underwear. Then the other half of what her teacher had said struck her: she let her class out five minutes early.
Five minutes until classes released. Five minutes remained until there would almost certainly be a line for Holly on both ends.
“Well? Open up, I haven’t got all day.”
Holly obeyed absentmindedly as the implications struck home. The details seemed to come to her in waves. For one, this was the first time Holly had heard of a teacher using the same bathroom as the students; she hadn’t once considered the fact that her and her co-victims would be subjected to servicing adults as well as their peers. Was it possible her first male user was a teacher too? His cock certainly felt large enough…
As if on queue, Holly once again felt the dreaded sensation of a hand touching her privates. She gasped as an unseen man poked at her labia, fingers gripping her in unsettling, invasive ways.
On the women’s side, Holly’s teacher apparently took her open-mouthed gasp as her chance, stepping forward and straddling Holly’s head. Once again, Holly was presented with a pussy unique from those she had seen previously; this one was significantly larger, visibly looser, and had brown wrinkles where previous girls had been smoother and puffier.
It was hard not to notice such things, as the adult-sized pussy was lowered onto her mouth, though the prodding fingers at Holly’s backside were far more distracting.
She felt her folds stretch; she watched Ms. Williams’ pussy lower onto her face. She felt a finger slip inside; the warmth of her teacher’s wet cunt engulfed her nose and mouth. The two violations were too much to endure at once. Holly’s brain was overloaded with shame, hate, embarrassment, and sheer terror.
“Wait,” she tried to say, but the sound came out as little more than a whimper as her teacher began to piss into Holly’s waiting mouth.
The man at Holly’s backside didn’t wait either. Not long after Holly began to gulp-gulp-gulp down her teacher’s acrid urine, she felt a new sensation along her virgin slit. Longer, softer, and significantly wider than a finger, it began to rub against her pussy, pushing her labia to the sides as it began to coat in her wetness.
Why am I wet? Holly thought with a final, gut-wrenching stab of humiliation. I hate this, I hate everything about this. I’m drinking my teacher’s piss. I’m about to—to lose my virginity to a stranger. Maybe even another teacher. Why? Why am I fucking wet?
Her violator clearly didn’t think twice about it. His cock began to glide along her folds, not penetrating, simply rubbing back-and-forth along her shamefully wet pussy. It seemed the action only served to make her wetter and wetter; she felt like she was practically dripping after only a few seconds of the defiling act. She could almost hear the disgusting sounds her sopping hole must be making.
She could almost hear them. The hiss of her teacher’s strengthening stream—coupled with the press of thighs around her ears—made it extremely difficult to hear anything. Holly squirmed, or tried to, desperate to escape what was happening to her. She had only even learned what sex was a year or so ago; she wasn’t ready to try it, much less have it forced upon her little body.
At the same time, the gently violating back-and-forth of the cock between her spread lips was torturous. She didn’t want this—she really didn’t-–but if the monster pressing his hips against her but had to use her, couldn’t he get it over with?
Holly’s head swam as her body continued to gulp down mouthful after mouthful of piss. Her belly felt like it was distending around the straps; how many bladders full of urine did Dr. Fletcher think a little girl could handle? It was already building to an unreasonable amount, and the need to pee herself had begun to grow in desperation. (She had the thought to try and empty her own bladder on the disgusting creature violating her virgin privates—that would serve him right—but, as with her ass, the piss stopped just short of exiting her body. The fluid just sitting there made it feel almost like she was peeing, only with none of the actual relief.)
Holly was so wrapped up in the sensations that she almost missed the bell ringing.
Dread descended further upon her when she eventually registered the sound. It was happening. It was all happening, all at once. She was going to lose her virginity during the height of the bathroom rush.
Why? She sobbed, tears wetting the legs of her teacher. Oh God, why now?
There was no way to tell what was happening on the boys’ side, but within a single minute Holly registered feminine voices from beyond her stall. She thought she heard someone knock, checking to see if the urinal—if she, Holly—were in use.
She wasn’t in use for too much longer. Ms. Williams’ stream finally subsided, giving Holly one last full-to-overflowing mouthful. Only she didn’t move off of Holly’s head, at least not right away. Slowly, Ms. Williams began to slide along Holly’s face, driving the teen’s nose and lips harder and harder into her pussy.
What the fuck, Holly thought, her body too overcome to make her confusion and discomfort audible. Above her head, Holly thought she heard her teacher say something about “needing this,” but everything was so muffled, so warm, and so horrible.
At the same time, some sort of shifting was happening on her backside. The man was no longer rubbing his cock on her body; was he talking to someone? She couldn’t tell if the distant noises belonged to one voice or two. In moments he was back, his cock prodding at her undeveloped pussy once again.
The man didn’t tease her this time. In one brutal stroke, he plunged the thick head of his cock into her entrance, pushing past the plug, ripping past her hymen, and pushing deep, deep inside her body.
A scream tore from Holly’s lips, muffled by the labia engulfing her face. The woman using her jumped at this, easing back and mumbling an apology as she dismounted Holly’s face. Ms. Williams left behind her a streak of wetness leading from Holly’s chin to her forehead, one that she didn’t bother to wipe away as she stepped back, cleaned herself on Holly’s hair, and pulled her panties back on.
Holly didn’t much care about her increasingly-matted hair, nor about the streak of slime now covering her face. Pain tore through her body. Her back tried to arch; her hands writhed and gripped the air. No part of her could move, but every inch of her tried its best.
The man pulled out and pushed back in again, sending burning jolts agony that seemed to travel straight up the bound girl’s spine, churning her stomach and causing her head to spin. The man—thankfully—paused after only a few strokes, seemingly content to use Holly’s most private, most precious place as a urinal. For now.
As he let his piss loose inside of her, Holly was immediately reminded of the sensation of having her bowels filled only minutes ago. This felt similar; the heat, the jet against her insides, the building pressure… but there were differences. For one, the sensation tickled at her, as if the stream of piss was somehow causing her further arousal. For another, Holly felt full within only a few agonizing seconds of use.
Holly tried not to think about what that meant. Full. Her vagina, her canal, her very womb… all of it, soaked in urine. The place that would one day give her children was now flooded, swimming in an unknown man’s bodily fluids. She wanted to throw up, or faint. Her head felt ablaze in heat.
In her daze, she missed the exit of Ms. Williams and—apparently—the entrance of a new girl. Holly wasn’t even aware of her next user’s presence until another pair of pussy lips pushed over her mouth, the sour-sweet taste mixing with a medley of fluids from her previous guests.
Holly’s body now acted on instinct, her throat opening and swallowing the moment the stream hit her tongue. She couldn’t care about that right now; she couldn’t even think about it. Her purity had been stolen—was being stolen. She could feel him inside, hidden by the walls, beginning to pump at her piss-filled hole. It didn’t hurt so much now, though the aching echoes of her “first time” still reverberated through her body.
But before the man even finished pissing within her, another jolt of agony joined the first. This one, unfortunately, was familiar. Holly spluttered and nearly choked on the girl’s stream as a man entered her asshole.
Piss. From every angle, in every hole; it was all piss. Holly’s body throbbed with it, swelling in unusual places as assailants from both sides took callous advantage of her. Her bladder ached, her swollen holes seared with each stroke of a cock.
The second one man finished (Holly could never really tell if they came in her or not), another took his place. The two holes were in near-constant use; Holly sobbed uncontrollably as man after man after man penetrated, violated, and desecrated her body.
At least the girls were more civilized, if one could call it that. Sure, a line had apparently formed for all the girls waiting to use the “urinals.” But, unlike on the boys’ side, the girls waited their turn. Holly regularly had a minute or two to breathe between when one girl dismounted and the next mounted.
One or two girls even made an attempt to talk to her, though the acknowledgment of Holly being human somehow felt more humiliating. One girl spit her gum in Holly’s mouth after wiping her hairless slit clean on Holly’s dampening, matted hair. More than one followed the example of Ms. Williams, grinding on Holly’s helpless face. (Holly thought she even made one of the girls orgasm, though she certainly didn’t try.)
So… perhaps civilized wasn’t the proper word. Orderly perhaps suited Holly’s experience of the women’s room.
At long last, the crowds on both ends seemed to thin. As it neared time for the bell to signal the beginning of class, the number of people using Holly at one time dropped from 2-3 to 1 or less. Holly almost liked this less. No, she didn’t want to be violated, but as the ladies’ room began to quiet back to its during-class noise levels, Holly was left with nothing to distract her from the aches, the pains, and the overwhelming urge to evacuate every hole in her body.
The bell rung. The top of the hour had arrived, and—thankfully—Holly’s holes were vacant. She waited in silent, gasping agony for the promised release. Finally, it came: There was a soft, warm pressure around Holly’s holes for a moment, then a quiet click, a soft whir, and a distinct release of pressure.
Holly’s pussy spewed fluids the moment the whirring sensation began. Her other two holes dribbled uncontrollably on their own. She had ten seconds—only ten—to release everything.
Holly pushed. All at once, she felt her bladder finally release, a stream blasting forth from her stretched pisshole to rival any of the dozen bladders that contributed to it. Her ass, too, began to violently empty itself. Slowly, Holly’s burning, violated body returned to a semblance of its former self.
Too slowly.
The end of the ten seconds was signaled by another whir and click, and Holly was, once again, plugged tight. Not nearly enough of her disgusting reserves had emptied themselves; though her pussy now felt relatively empty, her ass sat at what must have been half-full, and her bladder… her poor bladder still felt an urgent, desperate pressure.
Oh no, Holly thought, trying to keep herself from breaking down completely. Her breathing came ragged and rushed as she realized what that meant. Another hour. Another full hour and it is only going to get worse.
The second her holes clicked back into their watertight seal mode, Holly felt someone gripping her ass once again.
They saw. Someone watched me do… that.
Her face ablaze, her breath still too fast, Holly braced herself for the now-familiar feeling of a cock pushing into one of her throbbing holes. And the cock did come; it prodded her ass, slipping into the dripping hole just an inch, then poked at her pussy, slipping easily into her soaking wet folds.
But, unlike any that came before him, the man gripping Holly’s ass chose neither of her two abused holes. The tip already dripping with fluids, Holly felt the tip land somewhere she never dreamed a penis would attempt to penetrate. She hoped she was wrong, hoped that she was mis-remembering her all-too-recent memories of rods and required stretch-training.
That hope died as the man began to push his cock into Holly’s pisshole.
Notes:
As always, thanks for reading! If you have anything you especially liked (or anything you'd like to see in the future), please do comment below. I have just been starting to see my first comments coming in over the last week or so, and that has been very exciting for me. I hope the trend keeps up!
Chapter 9: Control Issues
Summary:
A highlight form Amanda's first hour in her urinal station.
Notes:
Just another little Amanda interlude before Holly gets her pisshole raped! Hope you all enjoy. This one's a bit shorter for me and I may have written it a little sleep-deprived, so... oh well. It's still hot.
Chapter Text
Amanda coughed, gasping for breath as she choked down another disgusting mouthful of fluids. The hour had been a nightmare to her. Though she knew that surviving this day with her pussy still (relatively) untouched was a privilege—her heart wrenched each time she caught a syllable of the muffled screams coming from the girls in the stalls—she wasn't much better off.
Throughout the first hour, boy after boy had filtered into the room. Relatively few of them ever made it to one of the girls in the stalls; most saw Amanda immediately upon entering and never thought to check what other "opportunities" might be available to them. The result was that Amanda got used a lot.
Before even the first half hour had passed, her body was covered in a layer of piss and cum (and some amount of spit too, as if the other fluids weren't enough), from the top of her mound all the way down to her face. The waterfall of filth tended to get caught around her breasts, pooling up in her cleavage until it came at last to her mouth. There were times she felt like she was drowning, when boy after boy had emptied their bladders directly into her mouth, leaving her fighting for air between rounds.
She had begun to get good at drinking it all down. She had no other choice.
Many a boy had followed Derek's example, stuffing her poor, virginal pussy with their used paper towels as she watched on, helpless to stop them. Though the act of having her vagina turned into a trash can made her face burn with shame, Amanda eventually came to see it as a good thing. After all, the boys seemed to pay less and less attention to her privates the more disgusting they looked; if her choice was between getting fondled by every man in the school and having her privates crammed full of wet paper, well… she supposed she preferred the latter. Barely. (That preference might have been more significant had two or three boys not gleefully pissed onto the wad of papers overflowing her pussy, soaking them and causing Amanda to endure an endless feeling of fluids slowly soaking into her insides.)
She felt positively slimy in others fluids. But even worse than the physical feeling, Amanda felt like something had been taken from her in that first hour. Once, she had dreamt about what her "first time" might be like. Sure, she might have even fantasized about what a boy's you-know-what might look like. But now… now Amanda felt revolted by sex, by genitalia, and—most of all—by semen. Each time another boy stepped up to defile her body, Amanda prayed that they would simply piss and be done with her.
But it was never that simple. Amanda's skin crawled under the accumulated filth of a dozen boys. They had taken her humanity and reduced her to a simple target for their cocks. They had taken a teenage girl—one barely old enough to think about boys—and defiled her, ruining her to her core. Her mind pendulated from loathing to horror, disgust to humiliation. And all the while, as penis after penis pointed and shot at her, Amanda’s most vulnerable places stared them back in the eye.
Though the feeling itself felt like a betrayal, Amanda was flooded with relief when the passing period finally came. The crowd of boys waiting to use her body had quickly discovered what was hidden in the urinals. Once the boys learned that they could piss in a girl and not just on one, the demands on Amanda herself lessened greatly. Thus, her relief felt like a betrayal; each boy who passed up using her body violated another.
She still found herself nearly drowning by the end of the passing period, but most of the fluids deposited on her were now urine, with much less cum mixed in. Was that better? Shouldn’t it be?
Amanda could tell when the top of the hour came. She herself didn't have any holes plugged, but the sounds of wet, squirting relief coming from the stalls were impossible to miss. It wasn't until that point that Amanda had a chance to notice her own growing desperation. The culmination of a dozen full bladders now filled her own, and without the constant use and humiliation to distract herself, it became hard to ignore just how pressing her need was.
In fact, looking up at her body, Amanda could visibly make out the swell in her glistening, cum-stained belly. The need was present and growing, and though she tried her best to hold it in, the first little trickle of piss soon began to escape, running from her trash-stuffed holes and down the length of her body.
It was then that Amanda realized yet another humiliating detail of the contraption that held her bound and immobile. Originally, she had thought the strange angle the porcelain urinal forced her hips to take was simply to present her pussy better to any man that could see her. Perhaps that was part of the reason, but now Amanda understood the bigger reason.
Her pussy was pointed directly at her face.
Amanda had wondered once or twice why she hadn't been given a plug for her urethra. Not that she was complaining; the act sounded like torture, even after yesterday's training. But it originally had seemed like a design flaw, on the doctor's part; with her stomach filled with fluids and her pussy in the air, couldn't Amanda just piss on any boy that came near? Surely that turn of the tables would discourage many of them from using her. But now she understood. If she pissed, even at full force, there was only one place for her pee to go: her own face.
She struggled against the urge as the last few stragglers—boys who would surely be reprimanded for arriving late to class—made use of the girls in the neighboring stalls. Amanda hated the idea of becoming a urinal even to her own bodily needs, but she absolutely would not do so in front of others. She would simply have to wait a few more agonizing minutes until all the boys had gone to class. Surely she could last until then…
Another trickle escaped her control, rolling down to collect with the last boy's piss in the cup made by her upside-down cleavage. One of the boys waiting to have his turn with one of the girls in the stalls wandered over to her, leering down at her body. She thought she knew this one—did he sit behind her in math class last year? He had the hungry expression of a boy she might have turned down once.
Perfect, Amanda thought, sighing in frustration as she watched the boy rub the bulge in his uniform slacks. Just my fucking luck.
Her control began to slip, the trickle from her slit continuing to snake down her body. She blushed—both in anger and humiliation—trying as hard as she could to give the boy the proper death glare he deserved. He seemed unfazed; Amanda heard more than saw the zipper being undone on his pants, as urine began to splash around her face, acrid droplets stinging her eyes and obscuring her vision.
"Don't fucking look at me, pervert" she hissed, trying to protect an appropriate amount of loathing, despite her desperation and her ruined, messy state.
She clenched down, refusing to give into the demands made by her bladder. No. She would not, she would not—
The trickle down her stomach grew. A single meandering droplet of pee turned quickly into a small river, the warm puddle growing and spilling over her breasts at last. Amanda clamped her lips shut. No, there was no way in hell she was going to drink her own filth while this pervert jerked off to her. If she still had some shred of dignity left, she was going to cling to it for dear life.
Yet it was no use; the dam had broken. Tears welled up from her eyes and mixed with urine as Amanda slowly, reluctantly, gave into her straining bladder.
With sudden force, piss sprayed from Amanda's crotch, splattering against the outermost paper towels deposited into her cunt and raining down over her face. There was nothing she could do but take it. Her will to resist gone, a spray turned into a torrent. The blast of her unrelenting stream strengthened, eventually knocking free a couple of paper towels, sending them tumbling into her face.
Amanda could hear the boy laughing—laughing—as her own collecting fluids rose to cover her ears, her eyes, her mouth. She squeezed lips tight and shut her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. With one final piss-saturated inhalation through her nose, she held her breath, feeling the puddle grow into a lake over her head.
Her breath could only hold for so long, and her bladder… well, she doubted she was even halfway done. The smell and taste, creeping into her through her unplugged nose, made her gag. Bubbles rose to the surface while her lungs ached, their capacity diminished greatly due to her uncomfortable position. Her resolve began to crumble.
Still she held out until the last moment, until it began to feel like the sea of piss covering her face wouldn't be drinkable in time. She had to drink it, after all; there was no other drain. No emergency spill-over that would allow her to skirt her "duties" as a urinal.
Amanda opened her mouth. Her own filth flooded her senses, making her choke as she tried to ingest it as fast as she could. She didn't even bother to close her mouth to swallow; she simply parted her lips and let her piss flood her stomach in loud, slurping gulps.
Slowly, thankfully, the foul puddle receded, allowing her to breathe once again. But though relief filled her lungs, the issue was far from resolved: still Amanda's bladder demanded to be emptied, and still it rained down on her face with pressure like a hose. She began to wonder if it would ever stop. Would this be how she lived now? A never-ending piss fountain, ever feeding right back into her own body?
But no. After what must have been minutes of self-inflicted humiliation, the stream began to subside and Amanda managed to slurp up the last of its remains. When at last she could safely open her eyes and blink away her urine-saturated eyelashes, she found that the boy still stood over her, stroking his cock as he smiled down at her face.
"That was hot."
"Fuck you," she wheezed, voice too feeble to make the curse land.
Again unimpressed by her venom, the boy continued to stroke himself at the sight of her defiled state. His cock was positively throbbing with arousal; did boys really find something so disgusting hot?
"Well?" She said weakly, ready to be done with this interaction. "Go on, get it over with. You gonna cum on me or what?"
The boy hesitated, looking over his shoulder to find that the stalls were now empty. Though he was certainly late for class, now he had the pick of the other girls' unprotected holes.
"Nah, sorry. You aren't worth it."
The boy strolled happily away, cock in hand, ready to rape a load into one of Amanda's classmates.
Oh God, this was worse. Why was this worse?
(Previous comment deleted.)
hitch_nine on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Dec 2025 10:56PM UTC
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