Archive of Our Own ^beta

This story is the written description of a pornographic movie directed, filmed and performed by 18+ actors in the adult entertainment industry. It is preceded by a post-shoot interview with the performers. The story proper begins after the three asterixis below (***).

[DIRECTOR]: 'So how did you feel about all the piss?'

[SIGMA]: (shrugging) 'I mean piss is fine. I like piss, I've done a lot of piss stuff in my personal life. Doing it on camera is fun too but like, there's challenges to it, especially like this.'

[DIR]: 'Yeah?'

[SIGMA] 'Like logistically, if a studio wants you to fly out somewhere and do like four scenes in one day and three of them are gangbangs, that's fine, that's doable. It's a workout and you'll feel it the next day, but it's, shit, it's a day at the gym.'

[DIR]: 'Right, right.'

[SIGMA]: 'But if one of those scenes is a piss scene, and like, if you're doing a piss scene in modern porn they're obviously going to want you to swallow of course--'

[DIR]: 'Most of the time, yeah.'

[SIGMA]: '--and if you're swallowing piss that better be the last scene of the day because otherwise you're gonna feel real rough for the next scene. If you're swallowing like, multiple guys piss, and you do multiple shoots like that back to back, you get real run down real quick. It's like throwing up on cheap vodka, if you do it too much it gets baked in as like a nausea trigger.'

[...]

[DIRECTOR]: 'Some of it is editing but you still swallowed a crazy amount of piss in this scene, how did it compare to more conventional stuff?'

[SIGMA]: 'Yeah I mean I don't think it would have been physically possible to actually swallow as much piss as implied without like, actual science fiction technology. Obviously there's bits where like, oh, there's shots of three guys pissing on me and you only see each guy piss for like two seconds, and like that's not three full pisses, that's a guy pissing for three seconds and holding the rest of it and cutting away where he starts and stops.'

[DIRECTOR]: 'That takes some skill. Well, I guess not really, it just hurts.'

[SIGMA]: 'Oh, for sure. Anyway like, compared to regular piss scenes, this one took a lot longer because there just had to be a lot of cuts and breaks where like, my stomach would get full, I'd get taken out of the bondage props, I'd empty myself out and rest until everyone knows I'm not gonna faint and drown. Like I'm already feeling kinda sick after the first twenty minutes, and then it's like "oh I feel sick and it's also kinda tedious," which feels right for the scene though.'

[...]

[DIRECTOR]: 'So, the nose stuff...'

SIGMA GIVES A THUMBS-DOWN GESTURE

[SIGMA]: 'It sucks. Sorry.'

[DIRECTOR]: 'You handled it really well!'

[SIGMA]: 'Yeah, when I was in the navy, before I found honest work, I got to do some fun stuff for training, uh, not like BUDS or SERE school but between drownproofing and getting smoked I don't panic just because my sinuses are full of salty liquid. It sucked then, too.'

[DIRECTOR]: 'I couldn't do it at all when I tried, even with just saline. Couldn't get it into my mouth to swallow it.'

[SIGMA]: 'There's definitely a knack to it, which is good. Don't take this the wrong way but do you ever see porn from the late oughts where there was this trend for girls to hold their eyelids open so guys could jizz directly on their pupils? It was an extreme thing and then it felt like every studio was suddenly offering an extra hundred dollars to any girl who'd do it, and then you've got girls suddenly going two, three months without work because they almost get blinded from like, ocular clamhydia. I don't want to start a trend like that.'

[DIRECTOR]: 'Yeah, I get it. It's like, any girl can hold their eyes open while a guy jerks off, but...'

[SIGMA]: 'But it takes a real gift to drink piss through your nose.'

* * *

'You don't start until five but the boss likes it when employees are at their station fifteen minutes before their shift, so I'm going to take you there now okay?'

'Ouhoughg.'

Despite herself, Sigma cringed at the sound of her own stupid grunt. "Ouhoughg," shit, she sounded like a troglodyte. It was hard to sound articulate with an oversized ring-gag wedged between her teeth; she hadn't been allowed the privilege of articulation since she'd arrived at Night's Garden.

'This week you'll be on Relief Duty. It's usually a disciplinary detail but the boss thinks you'll benefit from an attitude realignment before you start any of the normal customer service roles.'

The fucking boss had taken one look at Sigma, not just a captive in her nightclub but a fugitive from the forces outside, and decided she had a little too much ineffable dignity and pride for her liking. What had she told her? "You keep your head high like you think you don't work for me."

That had been a code word, or taken as one at least. She'd had her wrists cuffed behind her back since she'd arrived and whenever they moved her - like now - an attendant would loop a belt around her elbows, cinch it tight until they touched so that her tits pushed out and her shoulderblades ground together and her pectorals screamed for relief, and march bent-double to wherever they wanted to put her.

This particular attendant was a real fucker. She didn't just grab Sigma by her strapped-together elbows, she took her elbow-strap in one hand and with the other grabbed her soft, sensitive rabbit ears by the tips and held them in a clenched fist. Sigma howled as she was led through the hallways, so shocked by the pain and indignity that she barely registered the few wolf-whistles of the customers around her.

She was dragged through a door and the smell changed from stale beer to stale urine. There were three stalls. With her broad-spectrum vision, Sigma could roughly make out two figures sitting strangely in two of the stalls. The third stall was unoccupied.

The attendant marched her into the stall. Inside was a holo-glass cylinder with a navy-blue plastic rim, waist-high and not two feet wide. Sigma was made to step into it, and turned to face the door of the stall. The attendant removed her elbow strap and changed her wrist cuffs to a rigid configuration, forcing one wrist above the other behind her back. She then grasped Sigma's ears and forced her to a sitting position, heel to butt, her knees crammed against her breasts and her arms trapped uncomfortably between her back and the holo-glass.

The attendant pressed a lock icon on the side of the cylinder. At the top, a holo-field activated and grasped Sigma's collar, positioning her neck perfectly and unmovably in the center of the circle. Below, something mechanical and lubricated forced itself upward and wormed itself into Sigma's anus. She had no room to even wriggle, so all she could do was shriek in humiliation.

'That's the waste disposal tube, be grateful, it makes your job a lot easier. Let me get the other parts ready...'

Sigma heard the unmistakable click of a hidden wall cabinet sliding open. The attendant reached inside and grunted with effort as she pulled out something heavy. She felt something cold and ceramic at the back of her head. An adjustable set of shims and positioning screws clamped down behind her jaw, and her eyes stung as she felt the attendant feed tufts of the hair on the back of her head through a set of holes behind it before fixing them in place. The attendant slapped Sigma's ears and flicked her nose, and found to her satisfaction that Sigma could not move her head a milimeter in response.

Another part was retrieved from the cabinet. It was a thick semicircle of white porcelain with a small trowel-like protrusion jutting from the center. The attendant positioned it in front of Sigma's chin, unclipped the latch on her ring gag, and pulled the ring gag free of her mouth a split-second before pushing the porcelain forward into place. The small, jutting piece of porcelain slid into Sigma's mouth, holding her tongue down like a tongue depressor. At the sides, the porcelain had seamlessly clipped into the piece behind her. With her head held in place and her tongue held down, her jaw had nowhere to go - she could neither bite down nor close her mouth.

It was at that moment that Sigma realized her head was now trapped inside a porcelain urinal. It wasn't even a *clean* urinal, it was stained with dull-yellow patches of dried urine and carried the faint tang of ammonia.

'Hwoughogoh!' she grunted indignantly.

A flexible polymer tube, the thickness and length of a crayon, was fed into Sigma's left nostril. It began to move of its own accord through some internal mechanism. She cringed and twitched as it wormed its way into her sinuses, then made a sharp U-turn, and pushed back down through her right nostril. The invader stung like all hell, from the outside it appeared as if two plugs had been inserted into her nostrils, but within it was looped around in a way that could not be removed without pulling it out from one side. Her throat felt dry as she breathed through her mouth.

She glared up at the attendant, who looked down at her with unbridled contempt. There was a vine tattoo on the attendant's neck. Sigma knew enough about the place to know what that meant: a working girl who'd been here so long and performed so well that she'd been allowed to buy a small stake in the club. To her, Sigma was an investment, not a colleague.

'Eyeballing patrons is against club policy, and you've got a mean fucking glare, girl,' said the attendant, producing a blindfold with a flourish. It had a red trim and a series of cross-laced eyelets on the front. The laces were fed through holes behind her head within the urinal, pulled tight, tied off, smoothed out to remove any slack, and tied off a second time.

Sigma couldn't fucking blink under the blindfold. The visible light spectrum was gone, and there was some kind of foil lining within the material disrupting her other forms of vision. The only thing she could see was a thermal outline out to a few feet in front of her, dull and blurred.

'Okay new girl, welcome to Relief Duty. It's the easiest shift in the club so don't fuck it up. You're on for seventeen hours, from the start of happy hour until the end of brunch service tomorrow. Since it's a long shift you'll get two thirty-minute breaks, one after eleven PM and one before five AM. Twitch your ears if you understand.'

Sigma grunted.

'I said twitch your ears, girl, or I'm gonna assume you're volunteering to forgo your breaks and cover the other two Relief Duty girls instead.'

Sigma's ears twitched sullenly.

'That's more like it. Now, please open your cochlear mods to the upper bathroom hailing frequency, it's asking you to connect. If you don't accept the connection or you disconnect for it later I'll have to come back with something more invasive, so...'

In her mind's eye Sigma accepted the aural transmission. A soft, bass-heavy beat filled her ears, and a voice welcomed her to the Relief Duty Infotainment System.

'That thing will give you instructions, there's not many but they're pretty much all for your own good. You've made me late for my other duties so I can't stay and chat but there's one last thing, there's a thumbs up and thumbs down button on the urinal, once you get enough thumbs up you'll be allowed to volunteer for other duties than Relief Duty, it can take as little as four shifts but for most girls it takes three to six weeks. If you get any thumbs down you'll be put in punitive mode for part of your next shift.'

Sigma grunted in alarm, twitching her ears and squirming against the tight holo-glass confinement.

'Don't worry, we don't count the thumbs down on the first night cause you're still learning the ropes and all, but you'll spend the last hour of your shift in punitive mode just so it doesn't come as a shock to you when it happens. Anyway I think that's everything, bye.'

The stall door swung shut behind her. As the noise of her footsteps faded away, Sigma's attention shifted to other sensations. Her mouth was dry, what little saliva was there was thick and gluey, her teeth hadn't been brushed in two days and she could taste her bad breath at the sides of her tongue. She could feel the sweat on her forehead contrasting with the dry fringe of hair above it, the cold porcelain on her ears, the growing dull ache where her knees and shoulders pressed against the holo-glass. She could feel the beginnings of a headache from the tightness of the blindfold and the strict positioning of her head and neck, the restless feeling on her tongue as it tried and failed to worm its way out from under the tongue-depressor attachment, her sinuses stinging from the looped plug running through both nostrils.

The bathroom door opened. The stall door opened. A warm mass loomed in her dulled thermal vision.

Her cochlear mods recieved a message from the hailing frequency. It came across in auditory shorthand, not as a voice or text but an imprint of pure morphemes that conveyed:

CUSTOMER #42m258 VISIT #0001 W110kg H177cm CONSUMED 6 BEERS 1 RYE SINCE LAST VISIT

'Heheheee... *belch!*'

A button clicked, a fly unzipped. Sigma's thermal vision lit up like a second sun as he pulled out his sweaty cock and balls inches from her face.

Her confinement, her position in the urinal, the seventeen hour shift, the wide-open mouth, the drunken oaf in front of her, it all became suddenly very real. This guy was about to piss on her! Her stomach turned and her heart thumped against her ribs.

'Nah! Nah!' she protested.

'S-sorry about this, new girl, but uhh... *urp!* I'm six beers in and I gotta, *hic!* make room in the tank, if ya know what I mean...'

She was close enough that even with her nose plugged, she could taste the fine mist of sweat from his groin on her bio-engineered tastebuds. 'Ack! Ahgahg!'

'Night's still young, after all!'

For a moment he stood there frozen, cock in hand, the tip white-hot in her thermal vision, unmoving and unspeaking and as the seconds drew on a thought began to form in Sigma's mind that maybe this was a mindfuck, that he wasn't going to piss on her and that this whole thing had just been to scare her into behaving like a more solicitous little fuck-bunny and they'd let her beg so she could go and suck cocks with the rest of the working girls, and that thought was torn up like wet toilet paper by a laser beam of stinking yellow piss blasting her right on the forehead. He shifted his aim clumsily and hosed down everything below the ears before directing his stream at her waiting mouth.

Gravity led the deluge directly to the back of her mouth. With her nostrils plugged, it took less than a second to cover her only airway. A second after that, her mouth was full. The tongue depressor and head restraints forced her into a strange position, it was as if she had to consciously *avoid* swallowing or she'd do it reflexively.

'*ACK!* *GLUK-GLARGL!*'

The first mouthful of the night went down the hatch.

She didn't register the taste until his stream began to falter. The fluid was so salty that it triggered an instinctive nausea and there was a sweet, musky note that amplified her sense of disgust. At least she didn't have to smell it.

As the stream wavered, he aimed it over her face and hair, soaking her fringe to her skin, drenching her cheeks, suffusing her blindfold with piss. Just before the last few spurts, the audio channel blared morphemes into her brain once more:

HOLD AND GARGLE LAST MOUTHFUL FOR 2 SECONDS OR RECEIVE DEMERIT

Sigma groaned internally and refrained from swallowing as the last sprays of urine eked out of the man's cock. Timidly, carefuly, she began to gargle the disgusting liquid, counting one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand before allowing herself to swallow. As she gurgled, some of the urine touched the back of the flexible plug that ran through her nostrils and sinuses. Another set of morphemes appeared.

DIFFUSING LIQUID THROUGH NASAL PLUG AND TRANSMITTING OLFACTORY INFORMATION

Sigma was suddenly aware of the bizarre sensation of smelling something keenly without breathing through her nose. The liquid she'd gargled had touched the nose plug and been transmitted along its surface by some kind of membrane, and now she could very keenly smell the hoppy, beery stink of the foul urine she'd ingested.

'*Urr-glurgle...*'

As she despairingly drank the last mouthfuls of urine, she heard the man sigh in relief.

'Fuuuuuck... A good piss is better than fuckin' sex... *burp!* But don't worry, I won't let ya go thirsty!' He zipped up his fly, half turned, and yelled at the top of his lungs, 'YO GUYS! THE NEW PISSER'S ALL YOURS!'

CUSTOMER #92m351 VISIT #0002 W86kg H160cm CONSUMED 4 BEERS 4 VODKA TONICS SINCE LAST VISIT

Sigma had taken four deep, life-affirming breaths of stale bathroom air before the next man unfurled his cock and started pissing. This one had better aim and gunned directly for her tonsils, the spray landing right at the back of her throat giving her no time to brace or breathe before gulping it down. With the smell of the last man's piss strong in her nose it was even more repulsive than the first, but fortunately he had a smaller bladder. As the flow weakened the transmission once again ordered her to gargle, and as she obeyed, the new man's piss blended with the aroma of the previous one.

CUSTOMER #89m122 VISIT #0003 W90kg H180cm CONSUMED 4 BEERS 2 PALE ALES 1 ENERGY DRINK SINCE LAST VISIT

The third man managed to hit her ear with his stream. Sound turned strange and burbled, as if she were partially underwater, her ear twitching and flicking madly as she swallowed a third bladder of urine. Her stomach now felt uncomfortably taut, as if each gulp were pressing upwards against her lungs, and her swallows now required conscious effort. Once she 'flushed' his last mouthful, no more customers visited for a few minutes. She had just flicked the urine free of her ear canal when the next customer visited.

CUSTOMER #44m242 VISIT #0004 W68kg H167cm CONSUMED 2 ENERGY DRINKS 2 SHOTS VODKA SINCE LAST VISIT

'Holy - it's really you! You're really here!'

'Hwoah?' Sigma didn't recognize the voice. Male, reedy, a little intense.

'Sorry, you don't know me, it's just - you're Sigma, right? You've been on the acquisitions request list for months, I haven't been able to get you out of my head since I first saw your holo-profile, it's so exciting that you're here. God, I can't wait until you're freed up for the other club functions.'

Sigma didn't know how to respond to that. Her stomach gurgled, and she shifted her body a few milimeters, making it ever so slightly worse.

'Am I really only the fourth guy to use your stall? Aw, I wanted to be first,' he said, his cock glowing orange in thermal vision as he pulled it out. He giggled. 'Well, there's one thing I can do...'

No stream of piss was forthcoming, but Sigma heard the unmistakable flesh-on-flesh sound of a man masturbating a few inches from her face. She still didn't know how to respond to that. It seemed like it was crossing a line somehow.

'Nah!' she grunted, 'Nwahg!'

The man was gasping now. 'You're so hot, Sigma, I can't believe how unbelievably fucking hot you are, I'm so lucky you're so fucking beautiful, keep that mouth open for me open wide here it comes--'

The first rope hit her nose, then her cheeks, her forehead just above the blindfold, then her mouth, her mouth again, and his last few dribbles of thick, warm cum oozed directly onto the delivery trough leading onto her tongue. It tingled on her tastebuds and had an unpleasantly fishy taste that cut through the salt and musk of piss. She could feel her cheeks glowing with humiliation and felt a sense of violation that went beyond being used as a urinal.

He was breathing hard and giggling joyfully. 'Wow, that was... Sigma, I'm so happy you're here, you're gonna do great. Oh, I'd better actually piss, they get mad if you only jerk off without pissing...'

Her admirer aimed his low-pressure stream onto the trough and carefully restrained his flow as to not risk cleaning any of his cum off her face as it dripped from her nose, cheeks, and lip. A thick slug of sperm fell from her lip into her mouth as she gargled the last mouthful; she knew she'd be smelling that bleachy aroma for a while.

CUSTOMER #09m127 VISIT #0005 W98kg H181cm CONSUMED 3 GLASSES RED WINE 2 GIN TONICS SINCE LAST VISIT

The next man barged past her creepy admirer as he left, desperate and obviously annoyed at the previous man for taking so long. He aimed directly on her forehead and held his stream there until the end, letting it all run down her face before reaching her mouth. His urine had an unpleasantly chemical tang to it.

There was a respite, long enough for Sigma to catch her breath, long enough for the adrenaline to fade and the aches to crawl back into her muscles. She felt painfully bloated. It was more than an effort to swallow now, she had to work to not go in reverse.

Then, she felt something gurgling inside her. The cramping subsided a little. All the fluid taking up room in her guts had gone elsewhere. She felt the strange little device that had forced its way into her anus earlier vibrate: the tube inside her must have reached equilibrium, and was now draining urine out of her at a rate to match it going in.

To her dismay and humiliation, she realized her entire digestive tract had been transformed into a highly inefficient drainpipe.

CUSTOMER #12m775 VISIT #0006 W101kg H191cm CONSUMED 9 BEERS SINCE LAST VISIT

This man unleashed a firehose blast of neon-yellow piss that foamed up like he'd mixed his drinks with dish soap. It had a weight to it that the others lacked, it stung her sinuses when she gargled it, and as the man walked away she could still feel foam bubbles clinging to her cheeks and slowly bursting.

Her cochlear mods transmitted morphemes informing her that she'd been on shift for fifteen minutes and provided relief to six clients, sixteen hours and forty-five minutes remained. The shock of how little time had past crushed her. She felt panic rise in her chest. Her ears tried to pin back to her skull, and she felt skin-crawling discomfort as the porcelain prevented them from moving. It was overwhelming. She began to cry.

CUSTOMER #12m193 VISIT #0007 W77kg H179cm CONSUMED 11 BEERS 1 COLA SINCE LAST VISIT

Her tears were washed away by beer-piss as they trickled out from under the blindfold.

Her shift trickled onwards. Every fifteen minutes her cochlear mods informed her how long had passed and how many men she had relieved. Her guts would bloat and cramp and churn with intermittent periods of blessed, draining relief. Her skin began to sting as layer after layer of salty piss dried upon it.

She averaged one bladder every two minutes.

CUSTOMER #42m258 VISIT #0033 W110kg H177cm CONSUMED 9 BEERS 3 RYE SINCE LAST VISIT

After an hour and probably ten minutes, her first customer returned. He greeted her even more oafishly than the first time, slurring his words and drifting his aim across her face. He had a fuller bladder now, he'd clearly been holding it waiting for it, and though she'd tasted worse, something about the familiarity of his piss made it even more stomach-churning the second time.

CUSTOMER #42m258 VISIT #0069 W110kg H177cm CONSUMED 6 BEERS 3 JAGERBOMBS SINCE LAST VISIT

His next visit was ninety-six minutes and thirty-three bladders later. Sigma was shocked he could still stand. He'd mixed in some herbal liquer to his drinks, and she was dismayed yet unsurprised to discover that the taste lingered in his urine.

She caught her breath before the next customer, but after that there was a deluge. The place was packed, there were lines outside all three urinal stalls, each customer pissed for thirty seconds and the next customer would whip it out and start pissing before she'd flushed the first one. She felt her chest go tight and her vision fade as she starved for air, three minutes of swallowing without a single breath.

A pale red holo-barrier shimmered into place over the urinal as she retched and gasped, her head throbbing and vision spinning. It lasted ten seconds and when it cut out she saw two glowing-orange heat signatures in front of her as two customers standing hip-to-hip pissed on her face at once. For the next thirty minutes the never-ending stream of customers continued on, only interrupted by occasional holo-barriers, and then it stopped as quicky as it had started.

It was quiet for a minute, quiet enough for Sigma to feel raw, animal panic. Her tongue, lips and gums all stung like she'd been sucking off a cheese grater. Her skin felt raw and chafed, her insides were churning and twitching, and her limbs throbbed with shooting pains from being pressed so firmly against the holo-glass cylinder. Maybe this wasn't survivable. Maybe her body couldn't take it, maybe she'd be dead by the time her shift was over, drowned in piss to the amusement of Night's Garden's monstrous patrons.

A customer interrupted her thoughts by spitting in her mouth and washing it down with piss. As disgusting as the degradation was, at least the anger it elicited prevented her from overthinking her fate.

The patrons changed. The happy hour crowd of regulars and problem-drinkers made way for a more energetic crowd of frat boys. They were enthralled by the novelty of the place; most of them pissed in pairs and egged each other on. She howled with disgust and indignation when a pair of young men in chino shorts each pissed in one of her sensitive ears, until the piss ran down into her mouth and she was forced to ingest their abuse. They both roared with laughter, and she knew without looking that one of them had given her a thumbs down.

The cochlear mod informed her that she had been there for four hours and had relieved two hundred and three customers. Then, her vision flickered: something was being broadcast into the foil lining within her blindfold. Displayed in her mind's eye were a chibi-style cartoon jellyfish lady with five eyes, and a cartoon representation of Sigma's head in a urinal, without the blindfold and mouth bondage.

She could dimly hear tinny game music coming from above and behind her head as the jellyfish lady invited patrons to play a game of AMBER LAZER: CLASSIC, and she realized that what she was seeing in her blindfold was playing out on a screen behind her for the patrons.

To her horror, her urinal was now a minigame.

As the first patron played the game, she saw her cartoon avatar contort into the grimacing expressions of disgust and shame that her restraints prevented her from expressing. Every micro-expression of distaste popped up colorful point scores in the hundreds and thousands, all flowing towards a neon pink score counter. The patrons took to the challenge like children at a carnival game. Readouts flashed up to rank each customer's piss, rating it on density, gravity, volume, pressure, salinity, color, and olfactory impact, giving a total score multiplier for particularly upsetting batches of urine. They were scored on the number of times they could make her gag with a single stream, the strength of her facial twitches, the number of involuntary shudders, any grunts of protest. It measured the intended emotional output of her facial expressions - the blindfold might have hid Sigma's tears, but her sobbing, retching, furious cartoon avatar did not. It even offered specific challenges - several patrons attempted a game where they had to piss in both of her sensitive rabbit ears without any of the urine reaching her mouth for at least five seconds.

She was beginning to recognize the ways in which different drinks made piss taste differently awful. Beer gave everything a pungent, skunky aroma that she felt each time she gargled it, and usualy meant a higher overall volume. Coffee and energy drinks brought a repulsively bitter note like the aftertaste of coffee dregs, and some of the energy drinks were filled with so much niacin that the skin all over her body tingled horribly from ingesting it. Tonic water and herbal liquers weren't noticeable until they were really fucking noticeable. Wine piss stung on her tongue.

The most palatable piss came from the people drinking vodka and juices. The least palatable was a freak who'd downed two asparagus smoothies for some insane reason, that had been so vile that she'd vomited mid-swallow, burbling piss upwards like a blocked drain. The holo-barrier came up to act as a splash guard and give her a few moments of relief as it drained away the excess urine though a concealed valve under her jaw; as soon as she caught her breath a port opened up directly behind her head and pumped the recycled urine over her hair and down into her waiting mouth. After she drank the stinking stuff a second time, the holo-barrier came down and the impatient pisser finally finished feeding her the asparagus-infused contents of his bladder. Sigma kept it down this time; throwing up didn't seem like much of a respite.

'Oh... I don't recognize you.'

CUSTOMER #03f616 VISIT #0262 W59kg H159cm CONSUMED 3 MINERAL WATER 2 CRANBERRY JUICE 9 SUCRALOSE TABLETS SINCE LAST VISIT

'Well, since you're here, I'll tell you this: I play for a very specific achievement when the urinals are in game mode.' It was a feminine voice, and her hazy thermal outline was a feminine one. 'It's a hidden achievement called Goes Down Smooth, all you've got to do is swallow everything I give you without gagging, coughing, spluttering, flinching or retching. Do you think you can do that?'

'Wloah.' There wasn't much more that Sigma could say to the strange woman in front of her.

'There's a special version of the achievement if I do it on my first ever try with a new urinal, and I'm going to need your help to get it. Now, I do a little technical work for the boss here and I have a couple of super user privileges for a few of the ameneties, like the thumbs-up button on the urinal. If you get me my achievement, she won't mind me giving you a few extra points, you catch my drift?'

'Hloaw.'

The woman hiked up her short skirt and pulled her boyshorts to the side, revealing a modestly-sized penis. She took aim at the trough in Sigma's mouth, waited a few moments, cleared her throat, and began to urinate. Compared to everything that came before it, it was like drinking tapwater. It was unpleasantly warm and it had a faint, fresh hint of musk, but it wasn't stomach-turningly salty, it was mildly sweet. She swallowed once and twice, and was surprised that the second swallow was easier than the first. It was a gentle stream too, not tickling her tonsils or spritzing her nose, and she could tell that the woman was breathing carefully to keep her flow slow and steady.

Suddenly, the stream stopped. She gargled, gulped, and the game screen in her mind's eye lit up, 'SECRET ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: GOES DOWN SMOOTH', 'SECRET ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: SHOOTING FROM A COLD BARREL', 'SECRET ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: DRAIN TAMER,' the cartoon jellyfish lady dancing and throwing bar credit chits up in the air, Sigma's cartoon avatar rubbing her belly gratefully with hearts for pupils.

She heard the woman laugh. 'Wow, you're a natural at this. I'm surprised the boss didn't hire you on sooner. Anyway, here's my part of the bargain...'

The woman reached out to the button, and from this distance Sigma could see the flicker of electromagnetic activity in her hand even through the blindfold. Something chimed.

'There, that little game was worth one-hundred thumbs up. It varies from night to night, but that should work out to two nights of relief duty taken off your total.'

'Hwah?' Sigma couldn't believe her ears. 'Hloah?!'

The woman chuckled at her outburst and in that moment Sigma felt the kind of automatic, clinging gratitude of someone pulled from a freezing lake. She wanted to babble her thanks, and when she couldn't she wanted to offer to suck her cock in return, and when she couldn't she wanted to grasp her hand and kiss it, and when she couldn't she wanted to nod her head with obvious joy, and when she couldn't she wanted to look up into this woman's eyes with a deep expression of reverence, and when she couldn't do anything to signal anything but another grunting, imbecilic moan she felt a terrible wave of guilt that weighed heavier and more bitter in her guts than any of the bladders of piss she'd been forced to consume so far.

It was only as the woman left that she realized how ridiculous that was: some random dickgirl had participated in this drawn-out ritual of punishment and public humiliation, used her as a literal urinal, won a bunch of game tokens with her help, and Sigma was about to fall over with gratitude because she'd wiped a day or two off of her sentence? She burned with humiliation at how she'd automatically cringed in front of a tormentor only hours into this ordeal, and she wasn't sure if the shame hurt any less than the guilt had.

The minigame screen changed in the blindfold's lining, the colors sharpened, the jellyfish lady began glowing and hovering as the title changed from AMBER LAZER: CLASSIC to AMBER LAZER: NEO. In the moments between customers, the screen turned to a trailer of the game, her cartoon avatar being blasted in the face as glowing text deftly explained that a machine-learning algorithm had learned what elicits her most-entertaining reactions, and that players would engage in a haptically-matched rhythm game where the timing, positioning, intensity and accuracy of their stream would work to match her muscular micro-expressions of disgust, anger, fear, humiliation, and defeat. Pay credits to play, win huge cash prizes for high scores for the next thirty minutes only!

It was the start of another rush. They stopped closing the doors to the stalls, there were four people crowded in around her at any moment. A man who'd been drinking bottom-shelf Canadian whisky all night dropped enough credits on the game to buy a bottle of imported Scottish single-malt and it wasn't overconfidence. He moved in perfect timing, a hard spray to the tip of her nose to make her scrunch her face up, then up to her forehead so that rivulets would run down the creases in her blindfold and sting her eyes, a pause just long enough for her to clear her mouth then a blast right against her tonsils to make her retch, moving and slowing and speeding his flow in perfect disharmony with her emotions. Just as the incessant, foul-tasting assault made her insides boil with rage, his stream arced up and landed inside both of her ears. It was instant, she started bawling and sobbing with no gap or midpoint from rage to helpless misery, coughing and thrashing hard enough that the holo-barrier rose to stop her spitting urine everywhere. The man aimed upwards in a perfect arc, his stream crashing down through a beer-can-sized gap in the barrier right above her head.

He walked away with an A+ rating and free drinks for the whole weekend. Others surged forward, eager to repeat his performance. She was innundated again, literally and metaphorically, now by a crowd who had a monetary incentive to make her howl and shudder and cry. She lost count of the contenders over the next half hour, men shoving one another aside in the rush to use her, the game altering itself to most efficiently enrage and defile her depending on whatever bladder was emptying itself onto her. After ten minutes her first user, customer #42m258, returned a fourth time, now so drunk that his friends had to physically prop him up by the shoulders, and yet somehow setting the beat so perfect to the rhythm that she broke into hysterics at the assault. Nobody else came close to his score for the rest of the night.

The game ended, the projected screen inside her blindfold went dark, and the flow of customers trailed off. Sigma settled in to the misery of waiting. The gaps between visits became their own kind of torment, giving her just enough solitude for her mind to wander before a visit would force her to focus. She'd not gotten used to the taste, instead her disgust had intensified with volume, in the same way a drinker's stomach would turn at the smell of whisky after vomiting up a whole stomach full of it. At first swallowing it had almost been reflexive but now each gulp was *work*, work requiring focused, effortful concentration. This stress forced her into a pattern where her brain could latch on to fearful thoughts and annoying sensations, but as soon as she tried to clear her mind or fantasize to distract herself, she'd get a reality check from another blast of stinking piss.

Sigma wasn't built for this, in a literal sense: she was biologically modified to prowl, scout and act. Her senses were heightened, she understood them as second nature, and her focus never wavered. Her brain was engineered in a way where she could wait, she could bide her time, she could plot - but she could never zone out. Others like her might have been modified to stand guard for days or perform rote tasks as their higher brains retreated into themselves, but they'd made her to track and search.

Other people, even unmodified people, would have been pushed into a state of dissociation by the stress of this confinement. She envied them. She wished that she could hold so loosely to the awful sensations that they would pass through before ever taking hold. Instead the stress sharpened her focus until all idle thoughts and fantasies and routes of mental escape were winnowed away for an ever-growing library of thermal outlines, swallow rhythms and urinary taste profiles. Her focus escalated to the extent that she began predicting the cochlear transmissions before they occurred, appearing as a carved-out space within her mind's eye that each set of linguistic meaning poured into like cement.

She had been here for five hours.

She thought to herself, 'in four 15-minute it'll be eleven and they said I'm getting a break.'

At 10:30, after a seven-bladder rush, she started counting the individual minutes.

At 10:45 there were 900 seconds left.

She tasted piss in intervals of twenty to thirty seconds.

Slow, suddenly. One customer every 104 seconds.

Her brain had categorized the different kinds of bladder. Several different times, in fact, switching back and forth between systems of identification.

700 seconds left. Beer drinker. High volume, swallowing it felt like shoving garbage bags into a full dumpster.

609 seconds left. Supplements. Worst taste.

490 seconds left. Seltzer drinker. They tricked you into thinking the next one wouldn't be so bad.

266 seconds left. Energy drinks. Better than supplements, only barely.

248 seconds left. Courier. Disgustingly dehydrated.

80 seconds left. Mixed drinks. Syrupy taste made it easier, syrupy texture made it harder.

When it went below 60 seconds, she could picture each second count flashing in her mind's eye like burning magnesium. At 10 seconds she grunted under her breath an approximation of each number. As the countdown reached 3, 2, 1 she felt giddy.

0 seconds left.

CURRENT SHIFT TIME SIX HOURS ZERO MINUTES, 421 CUSTOMERS SERVICED, ELEVEN HOURS ZERO MINUTES REMAINING.

She could have cried with relief. She flexed her cramping muscles in preparation for her restraints to unlock.

But they did not unlock.

-7 seconds left. She was still in place.

-13 seconds. She tugged at her cuffs, nothing.

-23 seconds.

-34 seconds. Nothing. Still nothing.

She was trapped.

At -40 seconds a customer walked in. New to the club, maybe new in town, probably some corn-swiller from Neo-Cincinnati who'd never seen a girl in a urinal before, she could hear the sounds of his clothes rustling as he furtively looked from side to side before stepping forward and whipping out his pecker.

CUSTOMER #50m226 VISIT #0422 W95kg H169cm CONSUMED 3 BEER 1 ENERGY SHOT 2 VODKA GRAYHOUNDS SINCE LAST VISIT

His spray ate through her dignity like acid. He finished up, pawed at the thumbs-up button and stammered 'thanks' as she gargled to flush.

-77 seconds. Once he left the stall, Sigma howled and screamed and thrashed, muscles straining as if to tear the whole bathroom apart.

-90 seconds. Her limbs moved by milimeters.

-122 seconds. Howls became hoarse bleats, limbs went limp. She was tuckered out.

-160 seconds. Another customer. Beer drinker, stumblebum, second visit of the night.

'Hnhh, pissers here'r hotter 'nna waitresses...' he slurred, splattering foamy urine all over her forehead.

The word 'waitresses' unlocked something. Sigma felt a swell of relief: the urinal hadn't failed to unlock, one of the attendants needed to manually let her out. As she gargled the man's last spurts, the foam tickling the roof of her mouth, relief turned to fury. Where the fuck was that bitch attendant? Why was that stupid cow dragging her heels and making her wait, what the fuck was wrong with her, it's been three whole minutes and she's left Sigma to choke down another two bladders of recycled beer instead of getting some blessed fucking relief!

Just as she began to really smoulder, a deluge of customers arrived to quench her, one after another and sometimes two at a time as she was caught in a mini-rush of desperate men. She gargled and gulped and sucked in air in the seconds and half-seconds between streams, sometimes only breathing when the holo-barrier raised itself automatically to prevent her from drowning, and all she could think was the awful unfairness of it, the injustice that she was forced to serve these men that should rightfully have drained their bladders into one of the other girls and not her. It took such focus to swallow this quickly that she couldn't even fantasize about the relief that her break would bring.

At -2169 seconds the stall swung open.

'Hey, it's breaktime.'

The voice was tired, with the tremblingly sullen inflection of a woman so exhausted by maintaining a chipper, cream-faced customer service voice that she had to set it down like a wet sack of rubble when talking to colleagues. Sigma's sensitive ears picked up the sound of a breath hitching mid-inhale, the tell-tale noise of someone trying not to gag. She didn't care, anything for a break.

The attendant fussed with some contraption too cool and blocky to be clear in blurry thermal sight, but Sigma's eyes lit up with the heat of her thighs and groin as she eased her leggings down to her knees. She fumbled the unseen device against her crotch and shuffled up close to Sigma.

'Sorry, this is the only time I'm allowed to pee on shift and I can't hold it for ten hours. Sorry.' Her voice made it clear that she pre-emptively resented Sigma for making her feel guilty.

A thin orange line of heat-vision lit up the object on the attendant's groin before Sigma tasted piss. She'd used a fitted funnel to piss in Sigma's mouth. It tasted as bad as anything else she'd tried, not from anything the woman had drank but from how incredibly dehydrated she was; it had the consistency of fresh espresso. At least she tapped the thumbs-up button afterwards.

Suddenly, something wide and bristly was shoved between Sigma's lips. She coughed and jerked at the intrusion as stiff bristles rasped over her tongue and gums, surprised by the alkaline taste of cheap toothpaste. She couldn't figure out why it felt like the toothbrush was touching her whole mouth at once, then her stomach knotted up in humiliation as she realized why it felt so strange.

The attendant was washing her mouth out with a toilet brush.

Once the attendant lathered her up, she touched a key fob to the holo-glass cylinder. A hose protruded from a slot in the wall. The attendant grabbed it and began spraying, directing a gentle stream of cold, fresh water against the porcelain. By the time it reached Sigma's mouth it no longer tasted fresh. She was given a moment to swallow and take a short breath, then the hosing resumed, washing her ears, then her hair, then her face, with a few merciful pauses to gulp and breathe, until the water ran clear. Compared to everything else shed consumed this evening, the water was ambrosia.

Sigma squealed as the nozzle of the hose was shoved deep into the back of her throat. The phallic attachment on the end slipped past her tonsils, cutting off all air as it was fed down her gullet.

'It's uncomfortable but you've gotta get all the piss flushed out of your system or you'll be in a bad way later,' the attendant droned.

She could feel the hose vibrating as it dumped water directly inside her, her stomach cramping as it struggled to make room for this flood. From below, she felt the device in her asshole vibrate as it too began pumping her full of water. Just as she felt ready to burst, both pumps stopped. The attendant fished the hose out from her neck, and the pump below reversed and began pumping fluid out from her. She gasped for breath, feeling an immediate sense of relief as her bowels were evacuated of water and urine.

The attendant tapped the key fob again. Mechanical limbs moved within the holo-glass cylinder, fitting Sigma with ankle cuffs and shackles, looping a flexible steel cable between ankle and wrist cuffs, then securing both to a cable around her waist and an attachment point on her collar. A stiff plastic insert was placed between Sigma's rear molars, preventing her from closing her mouth in an approximation of a ring gag. The attendant then detached the front half of the urinal from the back half, undid the attachments in her hair that kept her head so securely in place, re-tied the sodden blindfold, and placed both halves of the urinal back into the wall compartment at the back of the stall.

Sigma couldn't move her aching jaw, but for the first time in six hours she could freely move her neck. She rolled it cautiously.

'Careful there, you'll get a muscle spasm from hell if you stretch too far. Can you try stand up for me, sugs?'

Her muscles were jelly. She forced herself up against the sides of the cylinder only to get caught in a half-squat; the cables running from her ankle shackles up to her belt and collar too short to rise any farther. The attendant tapped another button, the holo-glass vanished, and before Sigma toppled over she took her collar in her hand, activating something in the cuffs. There was suddenly enough slack for Sigma to stand, though stooped and hobbled. As she shifted her weight from one numbed, tingling foot to the other, she could feel that the plug device was still lodged deep in her anus, though the tube linking it to the floor had been disconnected.

The attendant marched Sigma to the break room. When she'd been led through the bar into the bathroom earlier in the night there had been jeers and wolf-whistles from customers, but now they paid her no more attention than they would a janitor's cart. Once they stepped out of the customer area, the attendant untied a knot behind Sigma's ears and removed the rabbit-girl's blindfold. Her eyes were sore and bloodshot but they adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in a split second. The break room was a low-ceilinged box with a decade-old entertainment display mounted on one wall, a chipped laminate-finish table with a few plastic chairs around it, a wall of lockers, and a threadbare two-seat sofa that looked like it had been remaindered from a long-shuttered government office.

There was a door with 'BEAUTY' stamped on it. Sigma was led on through this door into a smaller room, not much bigger than the urinal stall, occupied by a hairdresser's chair. The attendant sat her down in the chair and cleaned Sigma up with the efficiency of a pit-stop crew. In less than nine minutes, her hair was shampood and blow-dried, her face washed and moisturized to reduce the puffiness from the salt, her bloodshot eyes treated with protective eyedrops, and she'd even been given a quick application of eyeliner and lipstick.

The attendant hauled her up out of the chair, dragged her back into the break room, and led her to the sofa. With a tap to her collar, Sigma felt the cables slacken further. She could stand up straight, move her wrists high enough to touch her shoulders, and spread her feet just past shoulder-width apart.

'Alright sugs, so you get--ah, rats, there's one last thing...' The attendant stopped mid-sentence and fished a packet of gel from a pocket in her apron, ripping it open at the top and bringing the tube up to Sigma's mouth. Sigma leaned away instinctively. The attendant's voice cracked as she admonished her, and she looked close to tears. 'Hey! I'm trying to help,' she said, with the cringing frustration of someone trying to bring their dog to heel as it snapped at a stranger. She squeezed a dab of green gel out onto her finger and licked it. 'See? It's fine, it's good.'

She offered it up again, and this time Sigma tilted her head back to accept it. The gel was syrup-sweet, sour, and tasted of under-ripe kiwi fruit and vanilla. It actually tasted great. She found herself licking at the edge of the packet as the attendant squeezed the last drips into her mouth.

'There's ain't any point eating solid food on your break since it's all gonna get flushed right out of ya but that goop will fix your electrolyte balance and take the edge offa the hunger pangs. Anyway, we's been on break for seventeen minutes and it'll take three minutes to get you hooked back in, so you's got ten minutes. I can't take your dental insert out 'cause your jaw might seize up and it won't go back in, but I've set your shackles as slack as they'll go. If you wanna futz with the entertainment system the control is by the seat, aah-kay?'

The attendant opened a locker and took out a bucket full of minature lube dispensers, all empty. She sat down at the table and began refilling them from a gallon jug pump. It might have been a break for Sigma; it wasn't a break for the attendant.

For a second Sigma sat in place, looking through the clock readout on the entertainment system. Her brain hadn't yet registered the fact that nobody was about to piss in her mouth. Three minutes passed in the blink of an eye, fast enough to make her panic. Less than seven minutes to go.

She had a plan. A little meditation, a little self-hypnosis. Sulaika had taught her, or at least tried to teach her. She wasn't good at it. Definitely not good enough to do it with her body all tangled up in that holo-glass oubliette with hot piss burning her throat and patrons jeering at her, but maybe with five minutes of peace and her limbs relatively free, maybe she could at least take the edge off.

Sigma straighened up and relished in the fresh creak of every tendon in her body. Slow breath in, clenching and flexing her muscles all the way up from her toes and hands up her legs and arms, slow and long and deep breath out, feeling that tension wobble and waver. She pictured a window slick with rain. The image was weak and tenuous, but as she kept flexing and breathing and relaxing and returning her mind to that image it would grow stronger and stronger until it was almost corporeal, until she was behind that window in her mind and could become a mere passive observer to whatever trials befell her actual body.

The door swung open. One of the supervisors, a vine girl. Sigma paid her no mind. Flex, breathe, relax, window.

'I been looking for you everywhere. You got smokes?' Sigma thought she sounded like she was chewing gum, then pulled her thoughts back to her rain-slicked window.

The attendant looked up from the lube bottles and patted her apron. 'Yuh-huh, wanna cadge one?'

'Yeah, if you wanna smoke with me.'

'Can't--' her voice stretched the a out to two syllables like she was from Old Boston '--hadda use up my smoke break cleaning some fuckin' ginch's puke offa my shoes.'

'So what, I'm a fuckin' supervisor, I'm allowing it.'

Their voices were grating but it didn't matter, with every breath the window become more real and the real became distant.

'But I'm lookin' after new girl over there for five more minutes and then I gotta cover Jen's break.'

'Jen's a wirehead and a goldbricker, her whole shift is a break, fuck her. I'll take Easter Bunny back now and you go light up, I'll meet you outside.'

No. No, no no, thought Sigma.

'But she's got another like, four minutes before I was gonna take her back.'

Four and a half minutes! No no no no no, this couldn't be happening. Breathe, breathe, relax, breathe...

The vine girl chuckled. 'Shannon, you ain't done relief duty before have ya? You didn't start here on a debt probation and you don't seem the type to volunteer for it.'

'I got locked up in one of those things for party relief a couple times,' she said, a note of reproach in her voice.

'Sure, for like two hours right?'

'Right.'

'Right, well take it from me and my own personal experience, when you've got a whole week of relief duty, five minutes either side of a break don't matter jack shit.'

It did matter! It did matter! Fuck you, breathe, breathe, breathe--

The attendant acquiesced. The vine girl took Sigma by the collar. The calbes pulled her restraints into a hobble.

She burst into tears.

Sigma only realized how practiced and tender the attendant's attentions were as she was forced back into her urinal by hands that lacked either of those things. She was crouched, blindfolded, plugged--not that the plugs in her nose or her anus had been removed at any point--and fixed in place into a reeking porcelain appliance once again.

The vine girl hadn't even finished installing her before the first customer blundered in.

'*Sir,* I'm going to have to ask you to use a different stall.'

'They're busy,' the man slurred. He had his flaccid penis out and was wagging it impatiently, as if trying to waft its scent towards the crouching vine girl.

'Well, sir, you'll have to stand there and wait a moment,' she said, extracting the dental block from Sigma's rigidly-secured mouth.

'If I wait, uhh, haha, will you aim it for me?

She turned on the charm. 'If you have the credits in your chit, sir, I'll even suck it clean afterwards.'

She finished securing Sigma and beckoned the man forward. She took the tip of his cock between thumb and forefinger, peeled back the foreskin, and took aim. The stream of piss hit Sigma directly on the tongue. It was as if the short break from her work had opened up a whole new boquet of aromas and aftertastes that hadn't been perceptible before. Swallowing it wasn't as hard as it had been before her break, but it wasn't as easy as it had been at the start of the night.

True to her word, the vine girl leaned over and wrapped her lips around the head of the man's cock, sucking out the last few spurts with a wink and a smile before tucking him back into his pants.

'*Urp* --you're hot.' The man stumbled away.

The vine girl stood up, cleared her throat, and hocked up a wad of spit directly onto Sigma's upper lip.

'Gross.' She walked away, presumably to have her smoke.

The piss-tainted spit dripped from her upper lip onto the middle of Sigma's tongue. It was too thick to run down her throat, and would stay there until another customer pissed it away.

Sigma tried with all her might to picture that rainy window.

CUSTOMER #49m003 VISIT #0461 W77kg H168cm CONSUMED 4 BEERS SINCE LAST VISIT

A foamy stream of piss hit her between the eyes. The window disappeared like a wisp in the wind.

CUSTOMER #72m503 VISIT #0469 W107kg H204cm CONSUMED 2 BEERS 4 VOKDA TONICS SINCE LAST VISIT

It took eight men before one prodigiously-full bladder made her splutter, the cochlear mods barking at her to gargle it as the backwash ricocheted off of the holo-glass splash-shield back onto her face. Before her break she'd been struggling to relieve two customers without gagging. Like some disgusting second wind, she found herself adapting to her new role. The customer didn't seem to appreciate this improvement. He pressed the thumbs-down button before he'd even finished shaking the drips off.

CUSTOMER #08m249 VISIT #0477 W90kg H173cm CONSUMED 4 ENERGY SHOTS 4 RYE 2 PREWORKOUT DIP 6 ERROR UNKNOWN SINCE LAST VISIT

Maybe it had been the torturous disappointment of waiting for her first break, or maybe she'd focused on it with such intensity that it had disappeared into the background radiation of her mind, but she stopped keeping track of time. The fifteen-minute chiming of her cochlear mods now felt more like auditory hallucinations than anything real, and she felt herself forgetting them seconds after they occurred. Instead, particularly challenging bladders became landmarks in her mind, and her progress was measured by the intervals between them.

This customer hit her mental landscape like a meteor. His bright, sour urine was so heavy with stimulant byproducts and unabsorbed supplements and nootropic runoff that it overrode whatever discipline had been trained into her gag reflex that evening. His piss filled the urinal to the level of her upper lip before she managed a single swallow, and when the almost-effervescent liquid drained down her gullet, it burned. She felt the feverish whole-body prickling from drinking a month's recommended dose of niacin in a single mouthful. When she tried to swallow a second time, her stomach rejected it.

Sigma was still swallowing minutes after the man had left. The safety valve drained the urine to allow her a few breaths three times before she kept it down, each time pouring the blend of piss and backwash over her head. When the next man stumbled in she felt gratitude for the third time that night--his frothy, recycled beer was practically ambrosia in comparison.

There was no sense that time was passing as she relieved dozens of men. They just weren't sufficiently crueler or worse-tasting than the average man of the night so far. Before she'd been dragged to the urinals a vine girl had shown her a video clip of activities that the working girls here were expected to participate in; one had been a bukkake where dozens of men dumped their seed onto the sullen face of a down-on-her-luck videogame streamer. The first few loads clung to her face as thick and opaque as cake frosting, but as she sat there in place and five cumshots became twenty-five cumshots, the heavier loads slid away under the force of watery ones until the appearance went from cake frosting to donut glaze. After that, only the stickiest, most revoltingly gelatinous ropes had any chance of staying on her cheeks. That's how it was with the men who used her: only the men far outside the norm stuck in her memory, the rest slid off her and through her.

CUSTOMER #44m103 VISIT #0501 W86kg H180cm CONSUMED 14 BEERS SINCE LAST VISIT

The next man had staying power. The thermal signature of his below-average cock was almost invisible in his wiry pubes, and he spent so long adjusting his foreskin that she wondered if he was going to take a leak or if he was just checking it was still there. A spurt hit her nose and turned into a steady flow of regular, ordinary beer-piss. He adjusted his aim for her mouth, and she swallowed.

And kept swallowing.

And kept on swallowing.

Her lungs burned, but she kept swallowing his piss, gulp after gulp after gulp. It wasn't a pressure-washer blast, she kept pace with it without it rising above her mouth to tickle her plugged nostrils, but she still didn't have a chance to breathe. He cut his flow off, and a second later the holo-glass barrier came up, giving her three seconds to empty her mouth and suck in some desperately-needed oxygen.

As soon as the barrier dissipated, the man started pissing again. His flow was just as consistent as it had been a moment ago. Sigma kept guzzling, ingesting enough of his urine that the olfactory information from the last few men faded away completely and the nostril plug imparted her solely with this man's particular tang. Eventually, the holo-glass barrier came up a second time, a second after the man pre-emptively cut her off.

By the third holo-glass enforced break, Sigma wondered if this was some kind of prank, if the man was carrying several hydration-pouches worth of body-temperature piss under his shirt and was feeding her via tube. He wasn't gloating about it if he was, the only noises he made were a grunt of discomfort each time he cut his flow and a sigh of relief as he resumed.

He walked away after pressing the thumbs-up button. There were other customers waiting outside the stall. He must have pissed in her mouth for five minutes straight.

CUSTOMER #49m998 VISIT #0520 W87kg H172cm CONSUMED 2 BEERS 2 ORANGE JUICE 1 GIN TONIC SINCE LAST VISIT

Some time later, a customer with the opposite problem used her: He stood in front of her, cock in hand, shaking it and aiming it and cursing under his breath. It took long enough that another patron banged on the stall door behind him. Finally, he hit her with two sprays of piss, short and weak, so little of it that only a few drops reached her mouth after it soaked in to her hair.

CUSTOMER #02m132 VISIT #0589 W79kg H170cm CONSUMED 5 VODKA COLA SINCE LAST VISIT

There was nothing notable about that one except a quick struggle with his zipper, he only stood out in her mind because there was a mad rush of customers where one guy started pissing before the last guy stopped and the only breaths she took were the ones enforced by the holo-glass safety barrier. The rush stopped as quickly as it had started and left her in a daze until that guy startled her with a syrupy spray of recycled soda and vodka.

The adrenaline surge of each busy period intensified the boredom of the slow periods. It wasn't as if time passed quickly when she was swallowing for her life, but the boredom was so intense that time dilated and then retroactively contracted, each forced piss felt agonizingly long in the moment and then shortened to a point once it had passed, all to amplify the boredom, discomfort and disgust she experienced when the work got slow.

CUSTOMER #36m884 VISIT #0673 W99kg H191cm CONSUMED 8 BEERS SINCE LAST VISIT

A customer aimed a steady stream directly at the porcelain ramp into her mouth, instead of hosing down her face or trying to snipe her tonsils. Without the loud splattering, Sigma's ears picked up the soft 'gwolk, gwolk, gwolk' noises her throat made as she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. She hadn't noticed them before. When the next man pissed in her mouth, she kept noticing them. It was suddenly hard to not notice them. Her effort had become so mechanical, so reflexive, that her mind was free to observe her actions instead of controlling them.

CUSTOMER #36m121 VISIT #0674 W95kg H187cm CONSUMED 3 BEERS SINCE LAST VISIT

When the next man's warm urine rained down on her cheeks, she tried to vary the rhythm and speed of her swallowing. It was difficult. Her throat moved on its own accord when the salty liquid hit the back of her tongue, chugging it down before she could consciously stop herself, like a hacker jacking into a system only to realize she'd plugged into the wrong port. She changed the intensity of one gulp, and she was so surprised by how fast her mouth filled up that her reflexes took over and she resumed her normal swallowing.

From the outside, the difference must have been imperceptible. Sigma thought of the half-blocked sink in the last motel room she'd hidden in, the line of liquid creeping imperceptibly downwards until it was two finger-widths from the bottom and the water would burble up once, twice and thrice before disappearing down the hole. No thought, no intent, no choice, just the actions of fluid and gravity on a system of holes and pipes. Sigma was a lower and more debased form of that filthy, limescale-encrusted sink.

She was a human drainpipe.

CUSTOMER #09m107 VISIT #0698 W80kg H1869cm CONSUMED 8 GIN TONIC SINCE LAST VISIT

A customer's hand intruding into her mouth shocked her out of her bleak haze. The holo-glass protective field flickered into being and the stall threatened to expel the customer's hand if it wasn't withdrawn within three seconds.

He only needed two.

'*huic* your breath stinks, lady,' he slurred, 'this'll freshen you up...'

With her senses of sight, smell and taste restricted, she wasn't sure what the man had just stuffed between her left cheek and gums. Her tongue was held in place, and she wasn't sure if the sour, astringent thing she tasted was from the object or from the drunk's unwashed fingers.

A few moments later, when the stream of salty, pungent urine flooded her mouth and rinsed itself around the intruding item, coating her tastebuds in sourness and bitterness and filling her sinuses with the sharp notes of cheap soda and bathroom cleaners, she knew that the man had taken a lemon wedge from his cocktail and stuffed it between her gums like a wad of dip.

Sigma quickly grew to hate that man and his cruelly-misplaced garnish more than any other customer who came before him. It only took a few more forced pisses for the sweetness and acidity to be rinsed away, and once it had, the pith became disgustingly, unrelentingly bitter. The strong taste made her salivate, which only drew out more bitterness and spread it around her tongue, until the men using her became blessed, brief relief as their piss washed her bitter saliva away.

In one stroke, the man had pulled her out of her reflexive fugue state. Everything required full conscious effort again. Swallowing without gagging took all of her concentration. She gargled late or forgot to gargle. It was like re-learning how to use her own mouth.

Business slowed as the night crawled towards dawn. There were still pockets and bursts of activity, a sudden line out of the stall as two men pissed on her at a time, but it was all between stretches of aching, agonizing slowness. Sometime after three AM she went a whole fifteen minutes without a single customer. She was already retching when he started pissing, and by the time his stream had washed away the acerbic soup of saliva and lemon rind extract she was completely placid. She'd have thanked him, if she could have.

She knew it had gotten *real* slow when she heard one of the other urinals crying.

It stayed slow until three men stumbled into the stall, dicks out, not pissing.

'Mon cherie, what I tell you about this place eh, even les vespasiennes is fuckin exquisite no?'

'What the fuck homme, you said you was gonna get a talonneuse for some fuckin high-classe trim, that is la fuckin urinoir!'

Les Bayoux, tapettes Acadiens, street gangs of punks who'd fled Louisianna after the partition. The city called them a nuisance, cops tore up their tents and cracked skulls whenever they got bold, paramilitaries shot them in broad daylight. The ones with any future stayed in the city just long enough to travel further north.

'Yeah and I got you covered mon frere, I got une salope all lined up and paid for some beaucoup cunt homme, but the girls in her at this time of night you pay by the nut.'

'So what the fuck is this?'

'Target practice homme, you gotta get the easy one outta the way, you don't wanna embarrass yourself on your birthday no?'

They argued and blustered at each other for another minute, going in and out of Cajun English and pidgin French. Sigma heard the flesh-on-flesh noise of a man jerking off, then of three men jerking off, the heat signatures pulsing and shifting in her vision as they stroked themselves. She heard breathing, hard breathing cut up by nervous, adolescent giggles and harsh, gutter-French obscenities.

'Taste my creme de noix, fucking putain.'

A wad of sperm hit her forehead, so thick and substantial that when the second sticky rope landen on her blindfold it was joined up to the first like cursive handwriting. The sight of the first cumshot set off the second teen, who sprayed her face with a thinner, watery load before the first one finished.

'Birthday boy, c'mon, make us proud!'

The last of the punks didn't have a thick cumshot, but it was forceful. When the first shot hit her rabbit ear, it felt like she'd been flicked with a rubber band. She would have flinched, if she'd had a single milimetre's space to move. As it was, he adjusted his aim to pelt her cheek with the next rope, and shot right between the tonsils with the third and fourth. Sigma gagged violently, her limbs flexing and contorting against the confines of the holo-glass as the teen squeezed out the last dribbles onto her mouth-ramp, his two friends cackling with delight.

They each spat in her face as they admired their work. Sigma looked utterly defiled, hair damp from piss and streaked with white lines, every visible inch of skin coated in a donut glaze of sperm. The thickest globs slowly crawled down her skin, a whole rope's worth massing at the tip of her nose, sliding towards her upper lip. The shotgun-spray of cum against her throat and her subsequent gagging had spread it over every inch of her mouth, coating each tastebud with its fishy, bleachy flavor. It clung to the tufts of hair inside her ear, as sensitive as a cat's whiskers, amplifying her sense of disgust, shame and disorientation.

One of them took aim and sighed. His friend punched him in the arm.

'Homme what are you doing, this is a piece of art, you don't paint the Sistine Chapel and then piss on it, put your bite away.'

'I heard at this place they give you trouble if you use la pissoir and don't piss.'

'Feuh, nah, that's only at night when it is busy, when it is almost dawn they don't give a fucking shit.'

'But I still need to piss...'

'So do I mon cherie, let's use the putain in the next stall and then we'll go see your salope.'

Sigma's enhanced eyes saw the dim electromagnetic flashes of several pictures being taken before the three shuffled out of the stall. She could hear the splattering and gurgling of the girl one stall over trying to keep up with three bladders at once, then laughter as they left the bathroom, and then quiet.

It was so quiet she could almost hear the sperm crawling down her face.

She could feel it. She could feel it so intensely that it blotted out all other sensations. Her throbbing, stretched-out jaw, her churning guts, her bruised limbs and her damp ears all faded, like a song played so many times that it stirs no emotion but irritation. This sticky mess plastering her face, coating her cheeks and dripping down her forehead, a medley of different but equally disgusting textures, this was now the focus of her mind. It wasn't the first facial she'd been gifted that night, but quantity had a quality of its own, and the others had at least rinsed her off afterwards.

For the first time that night, Sigma hoped someone would hurry up and piss on her. It still felt warm on her face, which meant the room was humid enough that it wasn't drying out. It could stay a sticky, gluey, shifting mess for hours.

She waited.

No customers. Nobody barging through the stall door to whip their cock out and hose her down. Nobody even entered the bathroom. Occasionally, over the sound of the bar jukebox, she heard footsteps outside the door, but they were the quick, sober beats of bar staff. It must have been almost 4am. She wasn't sure if the bar was even open.

Her nose twitched, and something shifted on her face.

Or, something shifted on her face, and her nose twitched.

The thin sperm on her blindfold had finally coalesced into a droplet heavy enough to roll over the fabric and onto the bridge of her nose, merging with the more substantial lump of jizz already there. That extra weight was more than enough.

The glob began to move.

It stretched out, and downwards, and then the mass caught up with it.

It slid over the tip of her nose.

It rolled over the plugs.

It touched her upper lip, which twitched and quivered.

Like a melting glacier, the white solid mass on her nose had become a river, flowing down the hillside towards the valley below.

She retched as the sperm rolled over her upper lip. She whimpered. She'd been forced through so many degrading, disgusting acts so quickly, one act of debasement starting before the last one had stopped, that her brain hadn't caught up. Now, in this moment of quiet, all of the rushed and unprocessed feelings of humiliation and powerlessness caught up with her at once, embodied in the tablespoon of semen flowing towards her mouth.

In the Happy Hour rush, when her lungs burned and the holo-barrier only gave her the barest time to finish gargling piss and suck in a mouthful of air, she'd screamed inside and begged for the customers to stop. Now she was here, and there were no customers, and she just needed one, just any single customer to come in and defile her and stop this slow, lingering torment.

She felt the slug of sperm reach the point of no return as gravity pulled it over her lip and down towards her mouth. It didn't fall cleanly. It stretched out and then dangled there, a liquid stalactite held in place by surface tension. She could feel it as she breathed, ever so slightly disrupting the flow of air, wobbling as each breath reverberated through her mouth.

She screamed at it. She howled at it. She thrashed until she went dizzy. She sobbed until she couldn't bring herself to continue.

A few minutes after that, the bottom of the strand touched the tongue-depressor plate.

She gagged when it finally reached her tastebuds. With her tongue pinned and the rest of her mouth bound in place, gagging was the most movement she could manage. She couldn't tell if it was the man or the way it hit her tongue, but it started as pure, overpowering fishiness, lapping out like a wave from the point where it first touched her tastebuds, and as it rolled back it became a burning point of salt. As more cum flowed onto her tongue, more subtle flavors washed over her, blending with the insistent stink of piss from her nasal plugs.

Her tongue shifted just enough to let spit pool at the back of her mouth. Soon she'd be able to swallow the whole mess. When she swallowed it, it would be gone. She'd finally be free.

It was almost joyous. She no longer dreaded the slow trickle of jizz, she welcomed it. The more of the awful stuff that flowed to the back of her tongue, the sooner she'd finally be free of it. She let it pool up with her saliva into a thick soup on her tongue, letting it build up enough to slip down her gullet in one decisive gulp.

Her throat moved before her mind noticed, trained by an evening of forced ingestion. She swallowed with flawless form.

It didn't go down.

It stuck to her.

It clung to her.

Instead of sliding into her gullet, the force of her throat made it coat her mouth like acrylic paint. She could feel it sticking to her teeth, to her palate, she could feel spiderweb strands running from tonsil to tonsil. It touched the back of her nasal plug and she could smell it.

She howled, again, and went limp.

More cum dripped off her lip, onto the plate, and slid towards her tongue.

Three of the fifteen-minute cochlear mod notifications chimed into her mind as she remained painted like this. She noticed one of them.

CUSTOMER #02f009 VISIT #0705 W49kg H150cm CONSUMED 1 ORANGE JUICE 1 BLACK COFFEE SINCE LAST VISIT

She didn't notice the customer until the stream hit her forehead. Her moan of relief turned to calm, quiet swallowing. The piss was brackish and hormone-tainted, but she couldn't care. It was like summer rain.

After the drought, a trickle. There were customers again, the start of a different crowd. Coffees, juices, mimosas, hangover cures. One beer drinker in a dozen customers, but that seemed like more of a breakfast beer situation than a night-long drinking session.

Then, suddenly, 'Hey bud, it's breaktime. Just a sec...'

The attendant pissed in her mouth with the plastic funnel. She was much less conflicted about it than the last attendant, whose tenderness and efficiency Sigma now appreciated much more by the absence of those qualities in the new one. The toilet brush bristles actually hurt this time. By the time she'd been emptied, moved, washed, fed--vanilla this time, much blander than the kiwi fruit goop--and groomed, there were only four minutes left on the break. She sat there dully and didn't try to meditate. The thought didn't occur to her. She made no protest as she was led back to her station.

It was morning now. There was less piss, but worse piss. She didn't realize how much the beer and booze diluted everything. Less jeering, less mockery, the customers were all in a hurry.

More than a couple of customers walked into the stall, saw Sigma's bound, contorted face, and did a double-take like they were on a prank show. In a way, they were. Out-of-town businessmen put up in the pod hotel adjoining the Night Garden by their more powerful hosts, 'ha ha, look at these Liberty U-educated dipshits schlepping arbitrage tickets for Gallagher Munitions Concern, I bet where they're from the urinals don't even have girls in them!' standing two feet away from the porcelain and taking off their wedding bands mid-stream.

There were employees too, she couldn't tell how she knew it except they were much more considerate about stream placement and they were all dehydrated as shit.

The morning stretched on forever. Hunger pangs hit her hard. She was almost grateful for the nose plugs, stopping her from smelling breakfast noodles or egg sandwiches on any of the customers. It was busy enough for there to be waves again. It was a solid fucking wall of customers when rush hour hit, and then, it eased off. She heard one of the other girls being led out, and thirty minutes later she didn't return. They must figure two girls were enough at this hour, but with the two-way split it just felt busy again.

As she gargled a tiny-bladdered tea drinker's third piss of the hour, she dimly realized that she must be closer to the end of her shift than she was to her last break. She tried hard not to focus on it, not to torment herself with the time like she did for the first break. She made it another fifty minutes before she really started counting.

It shocked her when the vine girl burst in forty minutes early.

'Morning, sunshine! I hope you had fun drinking all that piss, 'cause you're in for a rough fucking month if you didn't!' It was the same vine girl from the start of the night. 'It's close to quitting time, so we're gonna show you what the punishment mode is like just so you know what to expect. Let's see your scores... Holy shit, girl, you'd better shape up, if you get that many thumbs down on a normal night you're in for three fucking hours of punishment mode!'

The vine girl pushed a soft plastic device into the back of Sigma's throat, informing her that it was a failsafe valve to stop her from inhaling liquid and telling her to stay still because she'd drown if it was put in wrong. The device made her gag, and then suddenly didn't. The vine girl removed the blindfold, crowing that 'This crowd kinda prefers it when they can see some fire in your eyes.'

She applied an adhesive to Sigma's lips, stretched out a translucent latex membrane, and sealed it over her mouth. Sigma's eyes bulged as her air supply was cut off, her lungs only making the seal on her mouth go concave and convex, until the vine girl pulled out the nose plug to let her breathe again.

A new piece of porcelain was placed over the urinal, fitting seamlessly over the rest of it. It raised the rim from level with Sigma's nose to level with her eyebrows. She couldn't see the stall door; she'd only be able to look up at someone if they were standing at the urinal.

It also covered her mouth completely. The base of the basin was now her upper lip, with a rubber seal keeping it watertight. Only the upper two-thirds of her face were visible.

The vine girl chewed bubblegum. 'So your girlfriend--Sulaika, right?-- she sent you a gift. Well, not a gift exactly, the boss told her she had to hold her bladder and she didn't so here we are.' She presented a zip-lock bag filled with amber liquid.

As the vine girl poured the urine over Sigma's head, her first thought was that piss feels way grosser when its cold.

Her second thought, as it trickled down her face, was that with her mouth hidden, the urinal no longer had a drainhole.

Her third thought, as the level of cold piss climbed up to touch her nostrils, was that it had *two* drainholes.

It covered her nose.

She couldn't breathe in.

She tried breathing out. It blew bubbles in the piss.

She still needed to breathe in.

There was nothing left to breathe out.

She couldn't breathe in, so she didn't breathe in.

Until she had to breathe in.

The liquid shot up her nasal passage and into her sinuses. The valve stopped it from flowing directly into her lungs, instead draining it into the cavity of her mouth like she was siphoning gasoline. Her eyes bugged out and she thrashed against the holo-glass. The plugs hadn't prepared her in any way for the sensation of cold, salty piss flooding through her nasal passage at high speed. Her brain couldn't distinguish it from the sensation of drowning. She swallowed, and swallowed again, and more liquid flowed through her nose and into her mouth and she swallowed that too, finally freeing up enough space to suck in a half-lungful of air.

Above her, the vine girl snorted. 'That's like, not even a third of the bag. You know the real customers aren't going to stop mid-stream for your benefit, right?'

Sigma felt more cold liquid trickle down her face. She steeled herself and prepared to inhale and swallow. It didn't help. She felt like she was dying until the last drop had been squeezed from the bag.

'I know this is scary, but I'll be right outside your stall to make sure certain valuable guests get a chance to use a girl in punishment mode, so if you need anything just--' the vine girl looked down at her mute, panicked face and smirked, '--well, I'll be right outside your stall.'

With the blindfold gone, customers were no longer indistinct thermal outlines. She could see the gleeful sadism in their eyes. They could see the fear in hers. She wished for the blindfold.

A man in a Night Garden terrycloth robe bellied up to her. She could smell his cock as he flopped it over the rim of the porcelain. He wagged it, inches from her face, but nothing came out.

'Hey. Look up at me.'

A blast of piss hit her directly in the left eye. She grunted, and would have screamed if she could. It stung like hell, first from the force, and then from the salt. She blinked furiously for a second before scrunching her eyes shut.

'Open your eyes.'

She scrunched them harder.

'You think you're the first girl I've pissed on? I know how punishment mode works and I can really fucking hurt you. Open your eyes right now or it'll be so much worse.'

She opened them a crack.

'Wider.'

She opened them all the way.

'Wider than that.'

She raised her brows and forced her lids upwards.

The blast hit her right eye. It hurt just as much as the left. The urine at the bottom of the porcelain tickled her nostrils.

'Snort that piss up.'

She mewled in humiliation, and he spat on her forehead. She braced herself, and then tried to snort the liquid. Only a few drops reached her mouth, but it felt like she'd sandblasted her sinuses.

'Good. Open your eyes.'

She did.

'Wider.'

He repeated this process half a dozen times until she kept her eyes open during the stream. The next man walked in before she'd cleared the first man's piss, saw her predicament, and immediately started pissing. She'd had this treatment earlier, but it hadn't been so painful or so difficult to take in each mouthful, and though her lungs prickled and her head spun, she didn't have the animal drowning panic that came from liquids flooding through her nose.

After the third man used her, the cramps hit. It was like her guts were skipping rope over her stomach. She could feel her belly pressing up and out. The plug in her anus was no longer pumping and draining her, so every bladder just filled her fuller and fuller.

These customers were special guests, mean and proud of it. They squeezed condoms over her head, made her blow bubbles into the piss, made her suck it into her mouth and shoot it back out of her nose like a water fountain, made her hum 'Happy Birthday' as two men kept the level of piss an exact half-inch above her nostrils.

'I saw your girlfriend at the bagging show, made her jerk me off all over her thighs while she sucked plastic. I was finger-fucking her when she blacked out.'

The man reached down and rubbed two fingers under Sigma's nose. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She knew Sulaika's scent, and knew he was telling the truth.

She got dizzy. Every nerve in her body screeched as the vine girl cracked an ampoule of smelling salts under her nose.

'Perk up, bitch! You're putting on a show!'

It was over quickly, like a car crash. The vine girl closed the stall behind her, showed Sigma the clock on her personal tablet--exactly 11:01--then fitted herself with one of the plastic piss funnels.

'Man, I need a piss.' She paused. 'Y'know what, I think I like you, I'm going to give you a chance.'

The vine girl lifted the raised punishment section of the urinal away and removed the front half of the urinal completely. She then pulled the safety valve out of Sigma's mouth. Her jaw hung open slackly. For the first time in eighteen hours there was nothing forcing her jaw apart, but the muscles had been so stretched and overworked that she couldn't close them.

The vine girl shuffled forward and rested the tip of the funnel on Sigma's tongue. With two fingers she lifted Sigma's chin, until her bottom teeth touched the funnel.

'I know you can't keep your mouth closed, just purse your lips around it. That's good. Now bob your head and suck it a little, show me how much you want it.'

Every tendon in her neck throbbed as she attempted to give this piece of plastic a crude blowjob.

'That's right, keep doing that, don't stop slurping, keep sucking me while I piss in your fucking mouth!'

A sigh of relief, a sudden flow. Sigma gulped it greedily, the vine girl practically humping her mouth. It almost caught her off guard, swallowing felt different now that her mouth wasn't forced open.

'Be a good girl, suck out the last drips...'

A full-body shiver passed through the vine girl, and her grin reached her ears.

'You had to work hard for that, right?' She was giving Sigma an intense look, staring directly into her bloodshot eyes. 'It's much easier when all you've gotta do is sit there and let the piss drain down your neck. I wasn't lying last night when I said relief duty is the easiest job here, any fucking cretin can do it. All the other jobs here, from sucking dick to slinging hash, those take hard work and enthusiasm. Over the next couple of weeks, we might give you a chance to try your hand at some other jobs here...'

She bent at the hip and leaned in close, until Sigma could feel her breath in her ear. 'So unless you want to remain a piece of plumbing, you'd better convince me that you fucking *love* any job I choose to throw your way.'

Sigma couldn't do anything but nod.

The girl pressed a button and the awful, cramping piss drained out of the plug. Sigma was released from the holo-glass cylinder, shackled, and led to the breakroom. She wasn't hosed down this time, the vine girl curtly informed her that she could clean herself up on her own time. She was given two pints of nutrient sludge and ordered to drink it as fast as possible, however, since her digestive system was only going to get six hours each day to absorb any food until she's off of relief duty.

Sigma sat on a plastic-lined seat, utterly shellshocked, as pale yellow nutrient slime dripped down her chin.

'So, I can take you two places from here,' said the vine girl. 'Back to your cell so you can get a luxurious four hours of sleep before we wake you up for the next relief shift, or into a blowjob booth to suck cock for three hours and a cat-nap after that. It's not going to take any time off of relief duty and you sure as shit won't earn any credits from it, but it's a chance to keep your head and neck moving, and management will get to see if you show any promise at polishing cock. So what'll it be?'

Sigma said nothing. Her ears were ringing.

'You need a few minutes to make your choice?'

'I'll suck cock.'

'You'll suck cock, huh?' The vine girl raised an eyebrow and her voice. 'You're gonna force your mouth onto those juicy dicks and tolerate them pummeling your tonsils? Gonna try give a blowjob with gritted teeth somehow, all for my sake I guess?'

Sigma felt a lump in her throat. 'I'm sorry, I'll--'

'Try again.'

'Please let me suck cock. I'd love to go to the blowjob booth. Please.'

The vine girl beamed at her. 'Well, if you're sure!'

Girls weren't allowed to walk into the blowjob booths, they had to crawl on their hands and knees into the 'service' entrance, so Sigma found her shackles shortening until she was on all fours at the vine girl's side. She heard the girl unwrapping something, which was then shoved between her lips. It was a lollipop.

'Give it a suck, it'll help your jaw recover and it's good practice.'

Sigma let her tongue slide around it. It was made of corn syrup and felt like hard candy, just like any other lollipop, but this particular lollipop was both shaped like a cock and somehow smelled and tasted like a cock. She suppressed a sob, and sucked it.

'Good girl.' The vine girl clipped a leash to her collar and walked towards the door, forcing her to crawl to keep up. 'Heel!'

She stopped as they passed the bathroom, smirking down at her. 'Only five hours and ten minutes until your next shift.'

Sigma felt like it had already started.