After stuffing my heart back into my chest upon hearing the men's room door open, I sat perfectly still on the toilet stall like a statue. Had Zach come back for me? I wondered. Did the arrogant young straight stud feel guilty about leaving the urine-soaked queer toilet whore behind with no way to get home? I immediately realized that was unlikely. What happened next confirmed that it wasn't Zach who had just entered the men's room.
"Hey, is anybody in here?" The sound of a young man's voice startled me as it echoed loudly off the tile walls of the empty restroom and seemed to settle directly into my shaking bones.
"Is anybody here? We're closed now."
I remained perfectly still, hoping against hope that the guy would conclude that the restroom was empty and leave me to my misery. I would then figure out how the hell to get myself out of the mess I had gotten myself into when I first became obsessed with the straight muscular blond teenager from work who obviously didn't give a shit about me as a person.
I could feel that the urine covering my head and clothes had cooled. Instead of smelling erotically and warmly of the copious amounts of beer Zach had consumed over the course of the evening, it began to smell stale and a little rancid. The fluid from the teenager's bladder that had initially driven my mind into sexual overdrive as he emptied it first into my mouth and then onto my face, hair and clothes now seemed simply like a badge of humiliation. To what greater degradation could a human being submit himself than being pissed on by a arrogant young man? My mind and body were filled with deep shame and a desperate need to shield myself from discovery by the outside world of the situation I had willingly placed myself in as the price of my needing to get close to the handsome but cruel young man.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the restroom door gently close. Whew! I thought to myself. I dodged that bullet. Whoever it was must have concluded that the restroom was empty and left.
My body reacted like it had been administered a strong electrical shock when I then heard steps on the tile floor advancing toward the end of the restroom where I cowered in the last stall!
I began shaking uncontrollably as I realized that whatever hope there was of remaining undiscovered had evaporated instantly upon the sound those approaching steps.
"Man, are you alright? Look, we're closed. I've got to lock up now. You've got to leave. Can you hear me, man?"
Now the young man's voice was immediately outside the very stall in which I sat. He had probably looked beneath the stall doors and seen my trembling feet and legs in the last stall.
Only the flimsy metal door now separated me from being revealed definitively as a piece of worthless human garbage who would allow himself to be covered in the urine of another person as the price of his sick cravings. Somehow, every humiliation and inadequacy I had ever felt and suffered over my life came to the fore. I was filled with sickening fear and desperation. I felt the urgent need to throw up, as if all of the sickening feelings I had stored in my body over the years now sought release from their human prison.
I pressed my eyes tightly closed and willed myself to disappear. A sound made me open my eyes and I could see to my chagrin that I was still sitting urine-soaked on the toilet stall. Fear again swept through my body as I saw the blade of a small pocket knife inserted under the stall lock and push it upward.
A second later, the stall door gently pushed inward. It opened completely and there only three feet in front of me stood the young man who had served me the popcorn earlier in the evening and who I had slammed into on my way to meet Zach in the restroom for my fateful rendezvous with his hot piss.
"Shit!" the kid called out and jumped back a couple of feet.
The young man was only 15 or 16. His face stared at me sitting on the toilet stall, obviously trying to figure out what the hell was going on. His nose twitched as he took in the rancid smell of my piss-covered body. He seemed to have trouble processing the scene before him.
"Man, what the . . . . I mean, what the hell . . ." The kid's words trailed off each time, unable to make sense of what he was seeing in front of him.
After what seemed like an eternity, the kid finally cocked his head, paused for a moment, and then spoke: "Dude, is that piss? You are fuckin' covered in piss, man?"
I could feel him continuing to stare at me as I looked down at the tile floor filled with humiliation and shame.
"Dude, I asked you a question. Are you fuckin' covered in piss?"
The young man's tone had become a little commanding and I found myself instinctively needing to respond his question. Somehow, Zach's rough treatment of me over the course of the evening had trained my mind and body to automatically react with obedience whenever a young straight stud made a demand of me.
I looked up from the floor and into the young man's handsome face.
Whatever was left of my independent will vanished as I stared into the teenager's beautiful, demanding brown eyes.
"Yes, Sir," I responded without consciously forming the thought in my head.
A puzzled look crossed the kid's face and he just returned my gaze for a few moments.
"What the fuck . . . ." the kid said to no one in particular.
"What kind of crazy shit is going' on here, man? Did you fuckin' piss on yourself?"
I paused in responding, but this time only for the briefest of moments. Although I was still filled with humiliation, my instinctive need to respond honestly to this young teenager's probing questions had command value over me.
"No, Sir. The guy I was with covered me in his piss, Sir."
"Dude, why the fuck are you calling me 'Sir'?"
"I don't know, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I found myself lying in response to this question, because even after all that had happened to me over the course of the night admitting that I wanted and needed to be controlled by such a young fucking teenager in a drive-in movie theater restroom was too much for me. There seemed to be a tiny part of me that was stubbornly and implausibly clinging to the idea that I really wasn't the piece of urine-covered human garbage I had so obviously become.
"Do you want me to call the police, man?"
My first thought was that the kid was saying he was going to turn me into the police for being such a motherfucking twisted queer.
"If he did that to you . . . I don't know, man. That must be some kind of crime, right?"
Jeez, the kid was asking if I wanted him to call the police to report what Zach had done to me in the restroom. Fuck, that was the very LAST thing I wanted at that moment.
"No, Sir. He didn't do anything wrong, Sir. I . . . . I mean, I . . . ." I couldn't get the words out of my mouth.
"Dude, what the fuck are you saying? Are you saying you WANTED that guy to piss on you?"
"Sir, I . . . . I . . . wasn't able to take all of his piss inside me and he punished me by emptying the rest of it onto the outside of me."
The kid again paused, trying to process my comment and the implications.
"Fuck, dude! Are you telling me you WANTED to take that guy's fuckin' piss into your mouth?"
"Yes, Sir. I wanted to drink him down, but I started choking on his flow. He got angry and punished me by hosing me down with the rest of his piss."
The kid's right hand reached over to his crotch and my eyes watched as he rearranged its contents.
"So, man, what happened to your queer buddy?"
"Oh, no, Sir. He isn't queer, Sir. He was just using me as his toilet."
"That's some fuckin' twisted shit, dude. Are you really telling me you wanted him to do that shit to you?"
"Yes, Sir. I mean, at first I didn't -- or at least I didn't think I did. But, yes, Sir. I did want him to use me however he wanted, Sir."
"So where did he go?"
"He left, Sir. He said he didn't want a piss-covered queer stinking up his nice car."
"How are you gonna get home, man?"
"I don't know, Sir."
The kid again paused for a moment before speaking.
"What's it worth to you, dude?"
I didn't know what the kid was asking and just stared at his handsome young face in confusion.
"I mean, what would you be willing to do for a ride home?"
"Oh. . . . I, well, I mean . . . . I don't know, Sir."
"Again with the 'Sir'? You really are one screwed-up queer, you know that, man?"
I couldn't see any reason to argue with the young man's statement about me.
"Like I said, what would you be willing to do for a ride home?"
"Well, Sir, I don't know. You know, maybe I could, you know, satisfy you. . . ."
"Satisfy me? What the fuck does that mean, queer?"
"Sir, you know . . . . I could maybe, you know, suck you, Sir. . . ."
"Suck me? You wanna the suck the cock of a 15-year-old? That is really twisted. I'm not a queer, faggot. I like girls."
"Oh, Sir. It isn't queer to have a guy suck your cock, Sir. You're just a man who needs to get off into someone."
"Like I said, queer, I'm into girls, not guys. I don't want no queer touching me."
"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. Sorry, Sir."
"Well, one thing I'll say for you, dude. You're sure a fuckin' polite queer!"
"Thank you, Sir," I replied, although it seemed like an odd compliment.
"You got any money, dude?"
I stared at the kid quizzically.
"Do you got any cash on you?"
I reach for my wallet, which had been protected in my back pocket from Zach's urine. I took out the $40 I had in there and the kid took it from my hand.
"Maybe we can work something out, after all," the kid said as he tucked the cash into his jeans pocket.
The boy reached for the zipper on his jeans and pulled it down in one fluid motion.
I figured he had changed his mind about getting a blowjob.
He reached inside his jeans and white boxers and pulled out his cock.
It wasn't really big, but it seemed half-hard and was uncut. I had never seen an uncircumcised cock before, at least not this close up. The head was almost completed covered by skin and I stared at it in fascination, wondering what it would feel and taste like in my mouth.
The teenager began gently tugging at the skin of his cock, exposing the head.
I concluded this was my cue to begin serving him. Closing my eyes and opening my mouth, I slowly moved my head forward to take the kid's uncut cock into my mouth.
I immediately felt my mouth being filled with a hot fluid. My eyes shot open to find the young teenager's uncut cock directly in front of my face spraying the contents of his bladder into my mouth. I was startled and didn't react for a second as my mouth was being filled. The kid's urine was warm and stinky.
A moment later, I swallowed involuntarily and began coughing and choking on the kid's hot piss.
Undeterred, the kid simply hosed my face and body down with the contents of his bladder. He must not have taken a piss all night, because it felt like he unloaded a gallon of smelly urine onto me. I just sat submissively on the toilet seat stall with my eyes closed as he sprayed me with his piss. It never occurred to me to protest the 15-year-old boy's use of me as his urinal. Zach had trained me sufficiently for me to know instinctively that I needed to submit to being used by young men however they wanted.
The kid's flow did eventually slow and then stop. My eyes stung as I slowly opened them and looked at the kid's cock directly in front of my face. The teenager was still holding it with his hand and it looked like it was now almost completely hard.
I looked up at the boy's face to find him staring down at me with an expression I couldn't read.
A second later, with some difficulty the kid stuffed his hard cock back into his pants and pulled up the zipper.
"In the utility room in the corner there's a water facet and hose we use to wash down the restroom floors. Use that to hose down yourself and this fuckin' stinkin' stall. There are some towels in there, too. Get yourself and this stall cleaned up as best you can. I'm going to finish closing up and you can meet me outside the rear entrance in 10 minutes. I'll give you a lift home. Make sure you're not late or I'll leave your sick queer ass behind. Got it?"
Without waiting for me to respond, the kid exited the stall and a moment later I heard the restroom door close behind him.
I wanted to comply with the kid's instructions, but my body wouldn't respond. My body felt very heavy as I sat there with my clothes completely soaked through with the urine of the two young men who had used me without protest as their urinal.
Through sheer force of will, I got up from the stall and headed to the small utility room at the back of the restroom. As I stared at the facet and hose, I tried to get my mind to figure out how to proceed with the task. Should I take my clothes off or just hose myself down with my clothes still on? I knew I should be making a decision, but found my mind was not working normally. Somehow the rough treatment by these two young man had robbed me of my ability to analyze my circumstances. I dimly realized that even as my mind and body had become trained to submit to the demands of arrogant young men, my rational mind and my natural instinct to protest being humiliating by another human being had somehow been suspended or maybe even destroyed.
The kid's order echoed in my head: "Make sure you're not late or I'll leave your sick queer ass behind." Without making a decision on the best course of action, I turned on the water facet and reached for the end of the green hose. Standing over the drain in the floor, I rinsed myself down with the hose as best I could. The water was very cold and made me shiver. When I was done, my hair and clothes were soaked with cold water. I could tell I still reeked of urine and should do something about it, but when I checked in my head for an idea about what to do there was nothing there but the kid's words echoing over and over about not being late.
I found myself grabbing some of the white utility towels from the shelf and drying myself as best I could with my clothes still on. I was still wet when I finished. Again, I knew I should take some kind of action to deal with the situation, but there was nothing in my head to help me but the kid's instruction being repeated over and over.
I then found myself using the hose to spray down the urine-covered toilet stall like the boy had ordered me to.
After I coiled up the hose and left it in the utility room, I made my way through the darkened building to the rear entrance. I had no sense of time and no idea whether I had complied with the boy's 10-minute time frame.
I walked through the rear entrance door and heard it close and lock automatically behind me.
The kid was waiting for me in his beat-up car, which was running and not far from where I was standing.
I slowly walked over to the passenger door of the car very conscious of my wet clothing and the stench of urine that still clung to me. Reaching for the door, I found it locked. I looked through the open passenger door window at the teenager at the wheel. My mouth wasn't working and I just stared imploringly at the boy, who had a strange smile on his face.
"Sorry, queer. You'll have to find some other way to get home. I'm late meeting my girlfriend and the bitch gets real angry when I'm late. I'm super horny tonight and I don't want to have any trouble getting into the bitch's pussy. Remember, faggot, 'Dicks are for chicks!' "
The kid laughed at his own joke and his cruel smile was the last thing I saw as he gunned his engine and sped away, leaving me standing there shivering in the cold in my wet, piss-smelling clothes.
THE END
NOTE TO READERS: Guys, thanks for your patience in waiting for this final chapter. I appreciate all the positive feedback I have received on the story. I plan to post at least a couple more stories in the coming weeks in the authoritarian section. I dedicate this story to my favorite Nifty author, Percxyz@aol.com. He has written many fine Nifty authoritarian stories. His 18-chapter "Dominated by Doug" story, however, is sheer pornographic genius and an inspiration for my own writing. Thanks for reading, guys!