I was visiting a friend’s house for a few days. He lives alone in a rather large house on the outskirts of town. I had, to be true, invited myself, and was wondering why, because we had never really gotten along very well. He is rather intimidating, and will always make fun of me whenever we meet in public. During private conversations he seems to get easily bored with what I am saying. Still I feel a strange attraction towards him. It is not love. Nor is it sexual. Although he is very handsome, he comes across as too gentlemanlike, almost un-approachable. I think I can best describe it as fascination, and respect. When I made the call, I was trembling slightly, not knowing why. He just said ok, and told me when it would be convenient for him. Even though the dates he suggested where not at all good for me, I managed to make excuses, invent stories to everyone and took several days of work. Nobody knew where I was going. It would have been too hard to justify. Why should I visit a man who publicly ridicules me?
So there I was on the first afternoon of my visit, sitting in his living room, looking out the window. He was reading the newspaper, yawning from time to time. I didn’t know what to say, and felt slightly out of place. I wanted something but didn’t know what or why. Towards the evening he looked up saying:
“I am hungry; supper is in order”. I jumped to attention and replied quickly: “Can I help you with something? I can make you supper if you like!” He responded with a grin saying: “I very much doubt that. Ha, ha! But you can assist me in the kitchen.”
“What do you want me to do?”, I asked eagerly as we came in there. “You can go down into the basement and bring me a tin of green peas from the shelf”, he ordered me.
Easy. I walked down the staircase and opened the basement door. The corridor was dimly lit, but I spotted the shelves with tinned food at the end. As I passed by a door on my right hand side, I heard a strange sound. It sounded like panting. I immediately thought it would be nothing but a machine of some sort, making unusual sounds, but… I don’t know… I felt compelled to open the door. There was a rather large key in the key-hole. I turned it, opened the door and looked inside. What I saw was shocking.
The small room looked like a prison cell. Inside this was my friend Frank, all smeared with shit, hardly capable of uttering a word, only making animal sounds, masturbating like as if he had no shame. There was a strange kind of toilet seat close to the door. Further inside I could only see a couple of buckets. I hadn’t seen Frank for many days, and was in fact rather annoyed about that he hadn’t called me as he normally would, almost every afternoon. But here he was, covered in excrements! I should probably have spoken to him and maybe even helped him to get out of his disgusting and perverted enclosure, but at the same time I was completely overwhelmed. I watched him with fascination, but then I found it best to close the door behind me and leave him to it. After all, I was asked by my host to get a tin of peas!
Upstairs in the kitchen my friend was preparing one slice of beef. Nothing for me then, I thought. How typical of him. Still, I had invited myself, and so he was not responsible for feeding me. But then out of the blue he turned around and asked me:
“How did he behave down there? He normally works himself into a state at this time of night. It is just before feeding time.” I stuttered something in reply that even I didn’t understand. “I understood that you and Frank are faggot friends?”, he asked me. I confirmed this, although it was the first time anyone had called me a faggot.
“So then I took it for granted that you knew that Frank is my property, and my toilet.”
“Frank, as you know him, has signed a written agreement where he confirms that he is my property, and that everything he ever had is now mine. I use him as my toilet.” He sat down to eat his steak and didn’t even indicate that I could take a place at the table, so I just stood there. After he had finished and I had cleaned his plates, he casually said: “You are my property as well. I own you.” It came as a pang of recognition. I immediately knew he was right. He then ordered me to take of all my clothes, and my shoes. I was to take everything in to the library and throw the pile in the fireplace. I did, but as I looked over my belongings for the last time, I couldn’t find my wallet.
“I’ve got it”, he said from behind my back as my clothes where consumed by the fire. “You gave it to me when you arrived. You just didn’t notice. Then you signed the property agreement. I have dehumanized you over a period of time now. It was surprisingly easy. What a worthless faggot you are. Ha, ha, ha!”
He showed me a signed document and I could see that the handwriting on the bottom of each page was mine, but my heart was beating so hard and my body was shaking so much in excitement that I couldn’t manage to read what it said.
“What is your name?”, he then asked me. It struck me as a completely stupid question, but still I couldn’t for the life of me remember my own name. I really struggled. One word was popping up in my brain all the time, blocking all other thoughts. “My name is toilet”, I eventually said out loud.
Exactly. I knew it was correct, but it was also so alarming. I had never been into any kinky, dirty stuff that I had read about in some magazines. I even found anal sex to be rather revolting. What now? I started to cry with shame and horror, but my owner pulled me by the hair and dragged me down into the basement. Inside the cell he pushed me into a corner. I crawled down onto the floor watching my friend…. what was his name again???... as he took his place under the toilet seat. Then our owner pulled down his trousers and sat down. “Green peas make me fart a lot”, he said. And true to his word he started farting onto the other toilet-person beneath him. Then huge piles of shit started to come out of his ass. I was petrified, but couldn’t stop watching from where I was laying on the floor. I sensed a growing feeling of happiness. The cell also gave me a homely feeling. But most of all I felt shame, combined with love for my owner, and hunger for his shit. As he stood up, I crawled over to the other toilet, lying there with his mouth still full of shit. I kissed him, slurping in a large turd still coming out of his toilet pig face. As I chewed I immediately understood that I needed more training, because no sooner had I swallowed the wonderful shit before it came up again. I puked all over the other toilets face. He just opened his mouth wider. Sitting on top of him I could also feel his dick growing. Without hesitating I shat all over his dick, then I grabbed it to push it into my virgin faggot cunt. A wet splashing sensation made me climax. Our owner was pissing on us. As I turned around to receive the other toilets cum from his shit coated dick, our beloved owner spat on us.
Then he left the room. I could hear him turning the key. I was locked in. I am a toilet.