The Urinal
When Elion woke from the anesthesia, the first thing she felt was a crushing, total exhaustion. Her whole body hung limp as a waterlogged rag; she wanted nothing more than to stay still forever.
Then her eyes opened onto absolute darkness. Hmm. Did they not open? No—she could not even tell whether they were open at all. She concentrated, blinking hard, and felt a foreign pressure that proved the lids were moving, yet nothing entered her vision. Not a single thread of light. Perfect, seamless black.
Panic made her suck in a breath, and now her mouth felt wrong. Her tongue would not move. How was that possible? Her jaw ached as if it were about to tear free of its hinges. She tried to open wider; nothing budged. She tried to close it and a knife-sharp pain forced her to stop.
“Ugh… uh… ahh…”
Sound came out, but without a tongue the words collapsed into wet noise. Terror flooded her and she could only scream.
“Aaaahhh!!!”
“She’s awake.”
A man’s voice she remembered. She tried to turn toward it, to lift a hand—nothing answered. Head, arms, legs, waist, even the joints themselves felt locked in place by something unyielding.
“I recommend you don’t thrash. It only slows the healing. Not that you can move anyway.”
His tone was lazy, almost fond, as if he were savoring the moment.
“I’m sure you have questions. Since you can’t ask them, I’ll explain everything myself.”
A soft, amused chuckle, then his hand stroked her hair. Helplessness and the terror of the unknown sent a cold current racing down her spine.
“First of all—your mouth is a sewer now. Forever.”
What… what does that mean…?
“Uah… ah…?”
“Don’t understand? Listen carefully. I pulled every single tooth. I cut out your tongue. Then I sewed a metal sewer-grate gag straight into your mouth.”
Teeth… tongue… sewed…?
“I told you not to move. Keep fidgeting and the gums will keep shifting; it’ll take longer for them to fuse to the gag.”
When she still only made confused sounds he sighed, stepped closer, and with a wet pop cold air rushed into her mouth.
“See? I put a lid on it. You’ll never need the inside again, and if teeth and tongue were still there you might—one chance in a million—bite your own tongue and kill yourself. So I removed them. Your gums have already started adhering to the silicone around the grate. Once that finishes the foreign feeling will ease a little. Stay still and be good. Understood?”
“Auh…?”
“Oh, and the eyes. Black lenses, sewn directly to the corneas. You’ll never see again. The irritation will be unpleasant—endure it. You can manage that much, can’t you?”
The words hit like a physical blow. She had wanted a situation beyond her control, yes—but nothing this absolute, this irreversible.
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
Body locked. Senses sealed. She reached for her true form, for the vast well of mana that should have answered—and nothing rose. The automatic transfer she had prepared for true mortal danger would not trigger; these men had no intention of killing her. By taking her teeth and tongue they had even stripped away the last desperate method of forcing that transfer herself.
“Now for your new job. We wanted to sell you right away, but the last auction just ended, so for a while there are no buyers.”
He snickered and snapped the lid shut again.
“And of all the luck—our office toilet sewer chose this exact moment to clog.”
Dread lanced through her.
“Aaaah…!!! Uwaaaaah!!!!!!”
“So we’re going to use you as a urinal until the next sale. We’ll install you properly. Every time someone pisses, it will run straight into your mouth. Swallow or don’t—we don’t care. We certainly won’t bother bringing you water. Not that you’ll have a real choice.”
The instant the words finished she thrashed with everything she had. Restraints bit deep; blood welled. She arched her spine until the iron rings ground against bone and white pain exploded through her back. The only free part of her—her face—whipped side to side; bloody foam frothed through the grate. Tears burst free, stinging the places where the lenses had been stitched to her eyes.
“Auuuuu!!!! Uwaaaaaaaaah!!”
The sound that left her tongueless mouth was no longer scream or sob—only air leaking and liquid spraying through the holes of the gag, a wet, animal horror. Blood and spit flooded her nose; she choked. Gagging rose, but the fixed-open jaw would not let her vomit. Her throat simply convulsed uselessly.
The man found it hilarious and laughed harder.
“Still fighting? Fine by me. Time to install you for real.”
He began unfastening the iron rings and leather straps one by one. Freedom of the bonds brought no strength, no mana; every twist and lunge was casually crushed. In the end her wrists were locked behind her back and a heavy iron collar closed around her throat. Chains clinked.
“Hey. You don’t even know where you are, and you can’t see. How exactly were you planning to run? Be still, yeah?”
She fought with her whole body anyway. This—this was too much.
“Keep it up and I’ll feed you shit as well as piss.”
That stopped her. Tears ran silently down her cheeks.
The man dragged her to the corner of the toilet.
A single modified urinal waited there.
They had torn up the floor trying to clear the clog; the resulting pit had been reshaped so a body could be buried upright, only the face left free.
He laid her on her back so the crown of her head rested against the earth. The sewer-grate gag still forced her mouth wide.
“Oh, perfect fit.”
Holding her motionless, he called to the second man.
“Hey. Bury her.”
Mud began to pour over her body. While it rose, the first man fitted sewer pipes into her cunt and ass.
“Never thought I’d use the spare pipes I bought for repairs like this.”
Soon only her face and open mouth remained above the packed earth. He lifted the final piece—the transparent urinal body—and held it above her. The bottom was clear reinforced glass; anyone looking down would see her face in perfect detail. The pipe from her mouth was engineered to lock exactly into the central drain.
“Just set this on and we’re done.”
She was still weeping, still making broken sounds. He patted her cheek almost gently.
“Now you’re a real urinal, bitch. Heh heh.”
The glass settled over her face with a heavy thud. Silence followed. The urinal floor now sat directly above her forced-open mouth; the grate hole waited precisely under the drain. Anyone who pissed into the bowl would watch the stream pass through clear glass and fall straight into her. Everyone would see it—everyone except Elion herself.
She trembled in endless dark. The lenses showed her nothing, yet the sudden weight and the cold kiss of glass against her skin told her exactly what had been done.
She tried to turn her head a fraction. The pipe connection was perfect; the slightest movement tugged the sewn edges of her lips until they felt ready to tear. Every breath pulled foul air from inside the pipe back up her nose.
The man stepped away to admire his work. Through the transparent bottom her face was crystal clear: black lenses, mouth stretched wide around the grate, bloody foam dripping, tears already drying in streaks on her cheeks.
“Oh, it suits you. Being able to watch every expression will make it even better. Of course you won’t see a thing.”
He unzipped. The sound alone made her thrash. She shook her head, twisted her neck, tried to heave her buried hips—nothing moved. The iron and leather only cut deeper, drawing fresh blood.
“I’ll take the first turn.”
He stood over the urinal and began to piss, slow and deliberate. Warm, reeking liquid slid across the glass and dropped straight into her waiting mouth.
“Ugh… uuh… ahhh!!”
Instinct tried to close her jaws; the gag made it impossible. Piss flooded through the grate. Without a tongue she could not even swallow properly, yet the stream kept coming until it backed up into her nose. She choked. Gagging rose and died uselessly. The bright yellow liquid filled the pipe until she could no longer draw air; sobbing, she was forced to swallow. Through the glass her face contorted in perfect, helpless clarity.
“How is it? Tasty?”
He laughed, shook out the last drops, and zipped up.
“From now on this is every day. Morning, after lunch, after dinner, after drinks, after smokes… whoever comes, whatever they put in you, you take it with your mouth. Refuse to swallow and it goes up your nose—worse. Your problem.”
She gasped and coughed, trying to clear the piss that had reached her lungs. The stench climbed back up her throat, thick and ammoniac.
“Good. Wait nicely for the next customer. They won’t be long.”
His footsteps faded. Less than a minute later new ones approached.
Elion’s hell had only just begun.