Toilet boy part 3

Author: jackbootlad
Title: Toilet boy (final)
Date: 20 May 2010

"Good" replied the skinhead interviewer. "You will now be escorted to your place of work".

As he spoke, two men appeared dressed identically in black boilersuits, black rubber boots and baseball caps. On the back of the suits in yellow were the words 'Yellow Stream". They took Dean by each arm and led him out of the room through the front door and into a waiting transit van. They forced him to sit on the floor and hooked up his ankle restraints to two steel hooks hanging from the ceiling. Then one of the undid the rubber codpiece and carefully removed the cock sleeve. Dean felt a steel cockring being forced to the base of the shaft of his cock and, even in his hypnotized state, he felt the precum dripping off the tip. It was on this tip that some gel was being rubbed ready for the insertion of a catheter tube. Dean felt the tube go in deep but he also felt the whole shaft of his cock being encased with a jelly-like sleeve.

"Time for milking" one of them said grinning and pressed a switch on a machine behind Dean. The sleeve on his cock started vibrating forcing the jelly to move up and down the shaft causing it to harden just as in a wank. Dean felt like one the cows he used to milk at the farm. The men took each of his legs and spread them wide apart, tying ropes around each yellow boot to the bars on the inside of the van.

"Have a nice trip" one of them said as they both jumped out and shut the doors behind them. Dean was left in the dark. All he could hear was the gentle whirring of the milking machine. All he could feel was his cock being given the best wank of his life. The van started up on its journey and soon Dean was travelling along. The first load of cum shot up the catheter. It felt good but he knew that the milking would now continue and wouldn't stop until every last drop of cum had been extracted from his bollocks. It was agony but also he felt totally aroused by his situation.

The van stopped. The doors opened and the two men re-appeared. "Welcome to your new home".

They detached him from the machine, untied him and replaced the codpiece across his now sore cock. He stepped out into the light behind a large warehouse and was pushed through the back door into a corridor. He was made to walk along the corridor until he got the room with the familiar gents' toilet sign on it. "Through there" came the order and Dean, despite himself, obeyed.

Inside, there was a large grey and black painted room set up with washbasins. Sitting on the floor there were 7 young men all dressed identically to Dean. All wore the rubber polo shirt, the rubber shorts and yellow rubber boots. They were all wearing hangman's masks and wrist restraints. The only difference was their heads were placed into a steel bracket which fitted round their necks like a vice. Their arms were slightly raised either side of their heads and fitted to hooks dangling from the ceiling. Their legs were spread apart and each yellow boot was fixed into a metal trap so that the movement of their legs was impossible. Finally, each man had a funnel gag strapped to his mouth.

"Sit down there" barked one the men to Dean. There was one space left on the end of the row. Dean wanted to resist the order but he was pushed firmly down. First, his wrists were hooked up to the ceiling hooks and then each boot was securely strapped into the metal traps. Behind Dean the head brace was fixed to the back wall and then the neck lock was placed around his neck and clicked shut. Dean had little or no movement. The final step was the fitting of the gag. His nose was held until he was forced to open his mouth and the soft rubber of the gag was eased in so that it covered the inside of his cheeks. The funnel was then screwed on to the outside of the gag and his imprisonment was completed.

One of the men tapped him on the top of his rubber clad head appreciatively. "Time to give this one a test drive" he said and he started to unzip his boiler suit. All Dean could see was the black rubber boots in front of him, legs apart. What he couldn't see was the cock coming out of the boiler suit and aiming at his funnel. The hot stream of piss hit the funnel running straight into Dean's mouth. He gagged. The piss stopped briefly and he swallowed. Then it started again and this time he realised he had to keep swallowing. It was bitter and warm and he could feel it filling his stomach. After about a pint, the piss stopped. He saw the boots take a step towards him and then felt the cock rub across the top of his head to dry off the rest of the piss.

"Welcome to your place as a urinal, toilet boy" the man laughed. Then Dean could see him walk away and out of the room. In the coming hours, Dean learnt that he and the other 7 men were human urinals in a gay fetish night club. They were to service the punters through the night by drinking piss and having their cocks played with and abused. At the end of the evening, they were hosed down and then strapped onto hospital operating tables and fitted with the glasses so that the process of total mind control could be completed. During the night, they were fitted with catheters so that they drain the piss away and with IV drips which fed them nutrients and laxatives. They wore their boots at all times and a bond between the toilet boys developed. They were all losing their own sense of self and were all needing to serve the needs of their masters.