Time passed and eventually, the club began to empty out, the revellers going their merry way. The two spent police officers slumped in their bonds, exhausted, as their various unwanted loads cooled and congealed in their ruined pants and underwear. John Evangelou, his face slick with sweat and dried tears, looked down at his pants and noticed that his piss was finally drying up but the fabric of his uniform was stained badly and it was very obvious that he’d ejaculated on himself; the sticky spooge drying and streaking his crotch with white.
His boner had at least subsided but his pants were pulled tight against his bulge by the sheer weight of the excrement, also now cooling, that packed the rear of the garment obscenely. He felt humiliated, dirty and broken. He was also acutely aware of the many vile odours emanating from his helpless frame; the stench of piss, sweat and shit engulfed the muscular officers and acted as a constant reminder of how they’d soiled themselves, helplessly, in front of the crowd and then bucked and thrashed in their own waste until they’d orgasmed massively; their every grunt and fart broadcast to the gleeful onlookers. John recalled a row of guys in front of the stage who’d been jacking off as he’d filled his pants and bitterness filled his heart.
He turned his head and checked out his partner. Officer Hernandez was slumped in his bonds, a line of drool from his ball gag pooling on his chunky left pectoral. As far as John could tell Ricky also no longer sported an erection but the lumpen rear of his officer’s pants gave clear testimony to the tortures both men had suffered over the past few hours.
The music stopped and the last few people filed out into the night. The only people left that John could see were the diapered slaves in their hanging cages; most of them shadows across the room and almost all of them slumped to the floor of their cage in exhaustion. The lights in the room went up and a number of men strode purposefully into the club. They split up and John could see that they were helping the waddling slaves out of their cages and escorting them out of the club via a back door. He noticed that a group of men were also heading towards the two police officers and he shuddered in fear for he had no idea what was next to come and doubted he had the strength left to try and get away even if the opportunity presented itself to him.
Some of the men cleared away the cameras and others fussed around the hapless officers removing the microphones. John’s legs were freed and he cried out against the gag as his cramping limbs responded to their freedom. His chest was freed also and his hands were released from the chair but still bound behind his back. He couldn’t see what was happening but he could hear Ricky crying out as his shackles were removed.
Both men were then dragged to their feet. They had to be supported by their captors as their limbs were shaky and weakened. Ricky could feel the load in his briefs sink and re-position itself as he stood and a fresh waft of the stench of his bowels assailed him. Three men approached Ricky first and undid his cuffs. They then pulled a straitjacket from a black plastic bag and bundled him into it. Ricky tried to resist but he was too weakened by his ordeals and soon they had him standing in front of them, still gagged, with his arms tightly wrapped around himself. There were two straps at the bottom of the straitjacket and these were fed under the grubby man’s crotch, crossed over one another, and fastened up behind him, effectively making his groin bulge and trapping and framing the grossly distended rear of his pants. The men quickly moved on to Officer Evangelou and repeated the manoeuvre and then both men had collars fitted with a dog leash attached and were led off the stage.
Ricky observed that they were both bending low as they shuffled and waddled forward. He knew that it was partly due to the cramping in their legs from being strapped down for so long but also, mainly, because to stand upright forced the excrement at their rears to move and shift uncomfortably against their skin. So it was that they were led, awkwardly, through the door at the back of the club.
Both officers mentally cringed as they were led down some steps and along a corridor. Finally they were taken down further steps and into a room that was clearly the cellar of the warehouse. The walls were unadorned brick and the floor cement with old straw sparsely scattered here and there. One dingy overhead bulb gave the only light in the room and the captive officers couldn’t see all of the space as much of the room was in shadow.
The men were pushed to the floor and the leashes, attached to the collars, were secured to small metal rings set into the wall at knee height. This meant that neither police officer could stand and had to either kneel or lean against the cool walls of the cell. The tethers were sufficiently far apart that neither man could reach the other across a gap of about 4 feet. John Evangelou was feeling very discomforted as he was forced down to knee-level and the shit in his briefs was squashed and compacted against him. He watched as Ricky grimaced and knew that he too was experiencing this unpleasant sensation as well.
One of the captors came and stood over the two cops and smiled evilly.
“So here’s what’s going to happen boys. You will remain in this cell until tomorrow afternoon when you will be visited and vetted by the Manager. The Manager, while he runs events like the one you participated in last night, is an old fashioned kinda guy and believes in standards. He will expect the two of you to greet him looking smart and clean and not like the two stinking, incontinent buffoons you presently resemble. By the way, nice cum stain dude.” This last was addressed to Officer Evangelou who groaned and tried to move a little so his soiled crotch was less visible.
“You cannot, repeat cannot, get out of this room. Much better, stronger men than you have tried. You will be wasting your time. It is more important that you free yourselves, clean yourselves up in the sink over there” he gestured to a far corner of the room where the officers could just make out the glint of white porcelain “and dry your uniforms on the radiator. You should then dress and wait here for his approval. If he does not approve or you are both still sitting in your own filth like babies then it is a life in the cages for you two. You both already know what that looks like.”
“There are snacks and water in a bag by the sink. I wouldn’t want you two to be hungry and you’re going to need your strength. When we return, in about 6 hours, we WILL enter with cattle prods so please don’t get any ideas about trying to escape. The Manager will view this very dimly. If you pass muster then you will be treated very well and, in time, can earn your freedom – he is a very generous man, our Manager.”
“So to recap – all you have to do is get free of your straitjackets, clean yourselves up, and wait for inspection. I’m going to remove your gags to assist with the process and, hopefully, it’ll be all plain sailing for the pair of you.”
A couple of the men approached the officers and their spit-covered gags were removed, prompting much groaning as their stretched jaws adjusted and feeling returned to them. The men started to file out of the cell but, at the last instant, the main thug turned around and grinned malevolently.
“Of course I don’t want to make it too easy” he quipped “You might find you’re slightly distracted”.
He gestured and suddenly both officers were approached again by the men and Ricky realised, in horror, that they were holding syringes full of golden liquid.
“No!! No!! Fuck off! You can’t!”
“Stop! Don’t do this to us! We’re fucking police officers! Don’t!”
Their cries and imprecations fell on deaf ears and their fetters meant that neither officer could avoid being injected afresh with the hated serum. Their captors began leaving the room but the leader turned as he exited and waved.
“Have fun guys!” The door was closed and they could hear several heavy bolts being drawn into place.
Ricky was surveying what he could see of the darkened room when he heard the sound of metal against metal behind him. He turned to see that John had wasted no time in shuffling to the wall and was trying, with his teeth, to spring the clip on the lead that pinioned him to the bare bricks. John’s back was presented to Ricky and he took in the bulging and heavily stained rear of his partner, idly noting the line of sweat at the top of his buttocks. He shuddered inwardly, knowing that he too presented this befouled state himself.
“Good plan buddy!” Ricky manoeuvred himself into a similar position and grasped the spring-loaded clip in his teeth and tried to affect his own release. For several minutes the sound of grunting and the click of metal were the only sounds in the dank room and then the noise of the clip pinging free and hitting the floor was followed by Officer Evangelou’s, slightly exhausted, cheer.
He shuffled awkwardly across to Ricky and looked his partner in the eye.
“We’re in trouble here dude. The clunker didn’t have GPS like our regular car so even though the station will know we’re missing; they won’t know where we are. We’ve got to get free and get the fuck out of here before these bastards come back. If I can get the straps undone down there…” John dipped his head slightly so that Officer Hernandez understood he meant the straps of the straitjacket hugging his piss and cum-stained groin, “do you reckon you can get this thing up and off over your head?”
“I can sure as hell try. I gotta get out of this thing – I’m burning up in here and we’re on the clock, once that injection kicks in we won’t be able to concentrate enough to get out. You saw what it made us do before.” Both men took a beat as they remembered the shameful display they had put on for the crowd of revellers, thrusting in their own waste to achieve orgasm, unable to control themselves.
“It’s pretty rank down there buddy – you sure you want to do this?” Ricky shifted uncomfortably.
“We don’t have a choice Rick. There are too many straps on the back of that thing and we are up against it. We’re partners; I love you man. We’re just going to have to do this.”
Ricky’s eyes teared up at the obvious affection his buddy was showing him and John shuffled in closer and the two men leaned against one another for a spell – their support to one another in this hideous dilemma needing no words.
Ricky broke the non-hug.
“Ok dude – you got me crying like a schoolgirl. Let’s break the fuck out of these things!”
Ricky sat back on his haunches and John, taking a deep breath, bent down to start using his teeth to tug on the straps and buckles holding his friend captive. The smell was appalling; stale piss, sweat, shit, and the faint aroma of spunk all assailed Evangelou’s nostrils as he tried to grip the leather strap in his teeth to work it loose. At first he tried gingerly to get purchase on the strap, trying to avoid contact with his partner’s crotch but it was clear he was not going to achieve his goal in this way so he took one more deep breath and nuzzled in between Ricky’s thighs and bit down on the offending leather, wincing as his skin came into contact with the foul material of his partner’s pants and he felt Ricky’s dick and balls squash against his cheek.
Ricky, who had been watching John’s progress, looked away at this point – mortified for himself and his friend as he felt John’s warm face push against his cock. John worried at the strap for a few minutes and was rewarded with only a slight loosening of the leather in the buckle. He had to periodically sit up to catch his breath; it really was bad down there. When he caught Ricky’s eyes it was obvious that his partner was ferociously embarrassed and massively frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help.
He was bent over his buddy’s crotch, working away at the strap, when he suddenly felt the first rush of the drug in his system and the now-familiar sensation of heat swept through him. He gasped involuntarily and lost his grip on the strap. The effects of the drug were fast and he quickly burrowed back into Officer Hernandez’ stinking crotch bulge to continue his efforts; even as he felt his nipples harden and the slow liquid warmth of arousal start to move down his sweating body. A gasp from above told Officer Evangelou that Ricky too was starting to react to the drug.
John bit down on the strap again and gritted his teeth as he tried to wriggle it free of the buckle. Even as he did this he could feel his cock responding and beginning to harden in his pants. He tried to put all thoughts of this out of his mind and focus on the task at hand but every part of his body seemed erotically sensitized and the crotch straps of his own straitjacket were rubbing provocatively at his taint and serving to confine his hardening manhood in his pants in a way that meant he could feel the blood pulsing through his dick as it pushed against the tight package created by his uniform and the leather bindings. Above him, softly, came Ricky’s voice
“Oh man…” John’s cheek was pressed against Ricky’s dick as it slowly, inexorably began to harden.
“Oh man I’m sorry, I can’t control it”
John felt his partner’s cock unfurl against his face, pulling the hated straps tighter against his package and making it all but impossible to for John to loosen them. The disgusting stench of both men’s bowels, sweat and piss disappeared and all John could smell was the pungent aroma of arousal and the somehow alluring stink of his buddy’s cock. He found himself breathing deeply even as he pushed his face harder against Ricky’s trapped erection. Ricky groaned above him.
John’s own dick was uncomfortably erect now and he wriggled to rub it against his thighs as he knelt, bent double, over his colleague. The feeling of Ricky’s dick, now tenting his pants obscenely, against his skin was something that should have sent John reeling but he wanted was more of it; pushing hard against his face. Ricky, in spite of himself, began moving his hips so that his hard-on was rubbing against the mug of his partner. He could feel the shit in his briefs moving around him and somehow this only added to the stimulation he was experiencing.
With a herculean effort, John pulled his head away from Ricky’s crotch and sat up, his own dick immediately springing up and creating an obvious mast in his pants. As he sat up on his haunches Officer Evangelou felt his waste move under his perineum and the feeling was strangely intoxicating. Both men were breathing heavily by now and both men’s eyes were glazed with lust.
“It’s too strong. I uhh, need…” Sweat poured down John’s face as he tried to find the focus to elaborate his feelings.
“God!… Help me buddy – gotta come – ohh!!” John watched as Ricky thrust rhythmically and forcefully, trying to gain relief for his priapism. Watching Ricky only served to make John’s need more urgent and he was massively turned on by the sight of his friend’s dick as he humped the fabric of his uniform. He looked up and saw the longing in Hernandez’ eyes, which were focused on his own member that he was grinding unconsciously against the material of his pants. Evangelou made a decision. He shuffled over to Ricky and closed in on his bucking, pinioned, frame.
“We’ve got to do this man” John pushed against Ricky, testing to make sure his partner didn’t fall back and choke himself with the collar. Ricky, sensing what was occurring, put up enough resistance that soon both men were squarely facing and pushing hard against one other, their dicks rigidly rubbing and grinding, their shit-filled rears squelching with every thrust.
Groans and grunts filled the cellar and both officers were so engrossed that they didn’t even hear the soft click or see the small red lights that signalled the many cameras dotted in the walls commencing their filming of the spectacle. Sweating, panting, and occasionally hoarsely apologizing; both men approached orgasm together.
As one, and in the space of a heartbeat, both John and Ricky suddenly lost focus on their heated rutting as the drug’s secondary effect sprang into action. Falling back from one another, with eyes wide and pre-cum staining their tented crotches, both men realised that a more urgent need was determinedly taking priority. Still breathing hard and with sweat dripping down his face, Ricky looked at his partner
“Oh no! How can this be happening again?! I never drop this much deuce!”
“It must be the drug. You need to hold on buddy – your dick is making the straps too tight to free up as it is and if your pants get any, uh, fuller we’ll never get out of this.”
Even as he said this Officer Evangelou’s face twisted as the familiar sense of fullness caused him to gasp and hunker down on his haunches. He knew that the inevitable was coming and, however hard both men tried, soon their pants would be stuffed to bursting with shit and the task of getting the straps through the buckles that might free them would become impossible.
“I don’t think I can hold on for long dude – feels like a pound of cement up here and its moving John, it wants out!” Ricky grimaced as a spasm hit his guts and he let out a long and loud fart and then looked up at his partner with embarrassment. “Sorry dude”
Evangelou was about to reassure him that passing gas in front of him was the least of Hernandez’ worries but a sudden trump of flatulence, muffled by the load in the rear of his pants, made any comment redundant.
“We’ve got to hold it together – let me try the buckles again.” John waddled forward and practically threw himself into Ricky’s crotch, farting again as he bent low. Pushing his head roughly past Ricky’s erection and trying not to focus on his increasingly urgent need to evacuate, Officer Evangelou began again on the task of getting the first of two leather straps through the buckles holding them.
Ricky Hernandez watched his friend’s head bob as he began tugging with his teeth at the wretched strap. Because of his position John Evangelou was helpless to minimise the impact of his, increasingly substantial, impending bowel movement and he was farting loudly and groaning as he wrestled with the leather. Ricky was also suffering as he wanted to try and remain still so that John could work freely but he was desperate to wriggle or move to fight the cramps searing through his guts. He was clenching his sphincter as hard as he could to avoid soiling himself again, especially so near to his partner’s head, and dooming them both to the hell of their inescapable bondage. Sweat coursed down the inside of his straitjacket and, other than the occasional throb of his still-engorged dick, his whole attention was taken with the need to hold back the monster that was slowly pushing at his back door. He had never felt so full in his whole life.
For his part, John was doggedly fighting with the strap and finally having some success. He was also doing his utmost to manage the increasingly unstoppable urge to let go and dump the heavy volume of shit into his already full pants. He was acutely aware that his position, bent low over his partner, meant that any effort to maintain control was automatically compromised and it was all he could do to hold on, sweating and clenching, to his last shred of dignity and their last chance for freedom.
Finally the tab of the strap came free and Officer Evangelou, gagged in part by the thin leather between his teeth, grunted in satisfaction. He let go and re-secured his teeth on the strap and was pulling it tight to release the pin holding it in the buckle when disaster struck. John let out a grunt that soon changed in pitch as he felt his helpless butthole give way and an enormous turd began to push out into his pants. Ricky watched as the lump, corralled by the straitjacket straps, in his partner’s stained pants slowly grew until, with a massive effort, John was able to clamp down and regain control.
Somehow the act of watching his partner soil himself made Ricky’s own desperation worse and he could feel a heavy turd crowning at his own arsehole.
“John! It’s coming! Hnnnngh!” Ricky fought hard to push the weight of shit back in and was successful but he knew it would be seconds until the next spasm in his guts won out and he too began crapping his disgustingly laden pants afresh. John was pulling the strap tightly and wiggling his head to free it from the small pin that held it in the buckle when Ricky lost control and screamed in frustration as he began loading his pants with an unstoppable coil of excrement. John was gagging from the fresh stench of his partner’s shit as Ricky, in spite of himself, pushed and pushed to void his overstuffed guts; the load filling any available space in his briefs and stretching his pants to new, balloon-like dimensions.
Weeping with frustration and pain John tried his best to hold on to the strap even as his own bowels gave out and he helplessly soiled his own uniform but the weight of Ricky’s ever-expanding pants meant he couldn’t pull the strap tight enough, in his weakened state, to release the pin. John too shat and shat, feeling his waste fill his uniform to capacity and snuggling warmly up and around his already filthy balls and cock. Both men were groaning in frustrated anguish as their best attempts to free themselves and avoid the humiliation of further soiling were thwarted utterly.
The cameras silently recorded every moan and squish.