Thursday, March 10, 2011

Story:The Bathroom KO, chapter 1

The Bathroom KO

Chapter 1

Copyright © 2005 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
What follows is a piece of fiction.  Any similarity to living persons is coincidental.  The author does not condone the activities described herein, though he has been known to enjoy similar activities himself.
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I'm at work, dressed normally: combat boots, blue jeans, t-shirt under a black sweat shirt. It's late and I'm headed home at the end of a long day at the end of a long week. I stop off at the bathroom on my way out. So I'm standing at the urinal in my green bomber jacket, taking a piss. I hear someone moving in one of the stalls but think nothing of it. The door opens, and I figure the guy's walking past me to the sinks.
I'm thrown forward against the urinal and the wall, my hands still holding my cock, so they're pinned inside the urinal. Luckily a hand comes around to grab the front of my face before my head hit the wall. I still hit it, but my head was cushioned by the hand.
Gasping, confused, and slightly stunned, it takes me a moment to recognize the smell of the chloroform on the rag.
The rag in the hand he caught my head in. By the time I've started to catch my bearings, I've already had a few good hits of the chloroform. Whoever this was poured the chloro on strong because I start coughing.
I know I don't have much time left, so I manage to get my hands unwedged from between myself and the urinal, and reach up to try pulling the rag away from my face. He was prepared. The moment he saw my hands free, I was pulled back from the urinal, spun around and slammed up against the wall behind us, and then thrown to the ground face first.
Somehow, my attacker managed to stay right behind me the whole time, with the rag firmly planted on my face. It's too late to hold my breath, as I've been winded by the impacts. My only hope is to try to buck this guy off.
I realize the futility, though, as the thumping in my ears grows faster and the tunnel vision deepens. Unable to get a grip on the wet tile floor, I make a last ditch effort to buck him off me. As my body lifts up off the floor, he manages not only to plant me back down, but I feel his legs wrap around my torso, pinning my arms to my side. I start thrashing about as he uses both hands to hold the rag in place, pulling my head into his chest. I feel my strength fading fast.
The last thing I see before blackness envelopes me is the wet tile of the bathroom floor.
I wake up slowly to the feeling of pressure on my cock and balls, still hanging out of my pants from taking a piss. I try to drunkenly slap the pressure away, but my arms don't respond... and they hurt. I recognize the feeling of metal cuffs on my wrists as I strain to open my eyes. I'm sitting on the floor of the bathroom. My hands are cuffed to something above my head. That pressure on my crotch is someone's boot.
I look up the leather covered legs, and notice the guy's wearing chaps and a leather jacket. It's Marcus, the guy I've been drooling over at work the past couple of weeks. He's about 5'8", and around 170 lbs, shaved head, medium to dark brown goatee, and usually has a smile that's ear to ear and in his eyes. He looks like he was on his way out, too. Probably rode his Harley to work today.
Groggily, I try to kick his legs away, only to learn that they've been duct taped together at the feet and knees. As my feet are swinging around, I try to ask him for help. The, "ay, ah ou el e?" that came out of my mouth drew my attention to the drool dripping down the side of my face... and the piss gag propping my mouth open.
I shake my head a little, which I immediately regret from the dizziness and headache, then look back up to Marcus. That's when I notice he's already got his own cock out. "Well it seems it's my lucky day. I didn't know the lab maintained a urine recycling unit." With that, he let loose a stream of piss across my face and hair, before aiming directly at my mouth.
I choked and sputtered for a moment as he filled my mouth. "You will swallow that", he emphasized with a sudden pressure on my balls from his boot. Confused and more than a bit scared, I gulped down as fast as I could, occasionally spilling some piss out onto my sweatshirt and pants which were already wet. Did I piss myself after I passed out? Did Marcus KO me and piss on me already... or did someone else piss on me and leave me like this?
After he's finished, and I'm wet, and frustrated, he gives me a kick to the balls. Hard enough for me to yelp and try pulling myself into a ball. That's about when reality starts to set in. `This isn't some arranged fantasy scene. What the hell is going on?!' I'm still gasping for air and blinking back the tears of pain from that kick to my nuts when I notice that smell again.
Marcus's sitting on my legs and quickly wrapping one arm around my head to hold it, and using the other to force a rag over my face. I look at him with real fear in my eyes. "O! Uh-uh! stah!" My words are still cut off by the blasted piss gag, and my volume muffled by the rag. With the chloroform still in me from the previous KO, it's no time before I pass out again.
Marcus watches my eyes as I begin to fade, "Sorry John, I can't tell you how I found you like this, but I can't leave you here. I've got some friends who will find good use for a toy like you." The thumping in my ears rises fast and my tunnel vision is a pin-prick.
The last thing I hear before my world is swallowed by the thumping and rushing 'wah-wah-wah-wah' in my ears from the chloroform is, "I really must remember to thank . . . . "

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