I stumbled into the men's room of the nightclub, clutching my head. What had the bartender slipped into my drink? He had said it was on the house, and that I'd enjoy a lot more drinks here if I tried it, and I had just thought he was fishing for a big tip later. Maybe he was even flirting a little, and maybe I had flirted back, telling him I could kiss him in exchange for the gift.

But now my head was throbbing, the nightclub's pounding music only somewhat muffled by the door as it swung shut. Worse than that, the pain was spreading throughout my body. My arms and legs were starting to stiffen up, and I clutched at a pipe on the wall to keep my balance. I took some fast and ragged breaths as I stood beside the urinals, looking at myself in the mirror above the sinks opposite me. I was looking so pale. God, had he poisoned me? No, even my clothes were starting to look white.

My thoughts were swirling in my head. The drink had done something to me, no doubt, but what? These strange urges to kneel down on this floor, to silently wait for a man to come in and to serve him however he liked. I had always been kind of a sub at heart, but the visions I was having of being locked up and used as a toilet were new. Was it some kind of drug that was making me like this? The beat of the music still pounding in my head was making these thoughts more and more intense with every second, and I was glad nobody else had entered the room to see me starting to become this aroused.

I shook my head, trying to shake off these feelings and this pain, and decided to wash off my face in the sink, but I couldn't move. It felt like I was stuck fast against the pipe behind me. I tried to reach around with one of my hands, but found it twisting up behind my head, the other quickly following through no action of my own.

I felt my back meld with the pipe I had been leaning against, and watched the mirror in silent terror. My legs, too, had twisted back. My body was folding in on itself, the color of my skin and clothes fading to a solid white as it did. I was becoming concave, almost like... oh god. Almost like the urinal I could see right beside me, affixed to another of these pipes. My body wasn't just turning paler and stiffer - I was turning into a porcelain urinal.

I opened my mouth to scream, in the hope against hope that someone would hear me over the thumping beat of the music outside, but it was to no avail. My open mouth produced no sound, and began sliding down my face. The sight of my own facial features in the mirror, beginning to distort like that, only made me want to scream even more.

My mouth was turning into a drain - a round, metal-rimmed pipe down my throat. If I even had a throat now - my body was changing into something completely inhuman, and I didn't think the inside would stay unchanged either. I was turning into a urinal, and I was being forced to watch every step of my nightmarish change. My ears and nose had already sunk away, leaving only my increasingly drain-like mouth and my eyes staring into themselves, wide with terror. And then, even those began to sink away into the smooth surface of the porcelain urinal. My world turned black in an instant. The pain of my transformation was gone, but I had nothing but a mouth now, and all it could do was gape open in mute horror.

I heard footsteps and whistling as someone entered the room. I tried to shout, but no words would come out - my mouth was nothing but a drain, and I couldn't even feel my tongue to form a single syllable, let alone to beg for help. I wondered if I'd even be able to taste anything.

My brief thought about taste was answered in the worst way possible. A stream of some liquid hit my tongue, and I gagged - or would have, if I had any control over my body. The cloying scent of the liquid draining into my mouth could only be one thing, and I realized the transformation I saw in the mirror was no illusion. I had been turned into a urinal, and this man was using me.

Almost as soon as the flow of piss started, it dribbled off to its conclusion. A few more drops fell into my mouth as the man shook himself off, though the taste of his initial burst was still fresh. He kept whistling as I heard the water of the sink running, and the man left without ever giving any indication he had seen me as anything but a bathoom fixture.

Another set of footsteps echoed throughout the room as the door swung open, these ones uneven. A drunk had stumbled in, and I silently begged for him to use one of the other urinals, then mentally slapped myself for giving up on him realizing I had been trapped in this form. But both of those hopes went unanswered.

The drunken man unzipped his fly with some difficulty, and grabbed onto both sides of the urinal. Onto both sides of me. His stream swayed wildly as he was drunk enough to barely be able to keep his balance, but it flowed into my mouth all the same. The musky aroma of his warm urine overwhelmed my senses, leaving my mind to blank out for a moment. I regained just enough of my senses to be thankful that he didn't also need to throw up.

Hours passed, a neverending assortment of men unzipping their flies and emptying themselves into me. I prayed for someone, anyone, to see me. I was screaming inside for someone to realize I was once as human as them, but they only saw me as I was now - a urinal mounted on the wall, no different than the ones beside me. Were they once human too?

I was broken out of my seemingly unending nightmare by a voice.

"Are you having fun?" said the bartender. Oh god, maybe he knew how to help me out of this.

He chuckled darkly.

"I could tell from the moment you came into the club that you'd be a perfect toilet slave." he whispered, confirming my horrifying suspicion about the drink. "It wouldn't have transformed you at all unless you truly wanted to become a subservient toy for men. You'd have just woken up tomorrow with a little headache. But now you're trapped here forever, and I'm the only one who knows that our newest urinal was ever human."

The dribble of the bartender's piss into my helplessly open mouth slowed, and stopped. He gave a gasp of relief. But he didn't leave the room. I heard him pull out a key and lock the door to the club.

"And since you're all mine, I can have some fun with you."

He placed one hand on the side of the urinal for support. I heard a sound that'd make my heart beat faster if it still existed, and was filled with the creeping horror as to what his other hand was doing.

"God, it's making me so hard knowing that you're going to be nothing but a toilet, every night." he said, the sound of his hand rapidly stroking his cock above my mouth intensifying with every word. "You're going to swallow everything, whether you want to or not. Who knows, maybe you really are such a bottom slut that you'll lose your mind to pleasure instead of despair. But I don't know, and I don't care about turning you back. You're going to be like this forever."

With that he let out a moan of pleasure, finished with pleasuring himself over my new body. I felt his slimy, sticky semen flow down my throat and I could do nothing but swallow it. The salty taste of a man's cum was almost heavenly after hours of having no sensation except the taste, the scent, the feel of men using me as a toilet.

I felt another sensation - a third liquid, neither the bartender's creamy semen nor his musky urine, but something in between. A long strand of spit, dribbling from his mouth into my drain.

"Almost like a kiss, isn't it." he said with a laugh. "I'll be back tomorrow. Don't go anywhere." he teased.

With those words, he left for the night, the sounds of the nightclub dying down.

I had no sensations left to even convince me I was alive, except for his mingling fluids on my tongue. I had only his company to look forward to, and only the thought of that had any chance of keeping me sane through nights of being his human urinal.