Written following suggestions from EKXD – thanks dude!!
Knowing that this was an exercise in futility and disappointment Wayne, nevertheless, opened the fridge and surveyed the contents. He sighed heavily. The grease-stained pizza box contained only one sad slice that had been there for days and there were literal signs of life in the green, wet mass in the salad crisper.
The muscular young lad closed the fridge and checked the pockets of his snug Levis for cash but only came up with gum and a dollar. He knew that he was two days away from his first paycheck and that he’d be able to eat at work tonight but the thought of his new workplace made him shudder inwardly.
The 24-year-old former linebacker had badly needed a job and had been stoked to be starting work in the club – so much so that he’d celebrated by taking his on-again, off-again girlfriend out for tacos and crowing that he’d end up being bar manager in no time. After one night in the club, however, he was regretting telling her anything at all about his new job; fearful that she’d want to come to visit him at work and see the appalling things that went on there.
Wayne had done bar work before and the money was surprisingly good so, on his first shift, he knew what to expect when he was met by the current bar manager for his induction; flirt with the patrons, upsell the booze, no attitude etc, etc. What he wasn’t expecting was to sign a confidentiality waiver and he was certainly a bit taken aback by the club’s main decorative feature.
Giant birdcages hung from the club ceiling.
The bar manager explained that it was a members-only kink club and that discretion was the word of the day. Wayne assured him that he was cool with this – privately expecting that there might be some hot girls dancing in the cages that he might get to know better during their breaks. He was a good looking guy so getting attention had never really been an issue for him.
The bar manager approved Wayne’s outfit of tight jeans and a muscle-hugging T and set him up behind the long bar that stretched one side of the dancefloor. Wayne made himself busy washing glasses and filling ice buckets and trying to work out how the register worked. While doing this he was watching as the rest of the club was being set up and everything seemed standard; lighting and music being tested, chairs being moved around as in any nightclub pre-opening time.
Then the young lad’s mouth fell open and his world turned upside down.
A group of about twelve guys entered the nightclub from a darkened area beside the big stage. Five of them were naked except for what looked like adult diapers and they were being dragged along by the remaining men into the body of the club. As they came into the lighted area Wayne could make out the black leather straps that held their arms up high behind their backs and the dog leashes attached to the thick collars around their necks by which they were being dragged by their ‘handlers’.
As the group came closer to the bar Wayne could also see the massive ballgags that each of the hapless men had strapped into their mouths. He observed that they looked incredibly uncomfortable and not at all like they wanted to be part of what was happening to them.
Wayne’s only experience of S&M was what he’d seen in movies and he knew about gimps from his favourite movie – Pulp Fiction. This felt different though because these men in front of him were struggling to get away from the guys around them and groaning in discomfort and fear through their gags.
One by one the men were loaded into the cages and the signal given to raise them about 6 feet off the ground. The bars were wide enough that you could clearly see the men and their predicament and the floors of the cages were Perspex so they presented quite the view to clubbers who might be dancing around and under them as they hung there.
Wayne shuddered and then realised he’d been polishing the same glass for 10 minutes with his mouth open and collected himself. He tried to shrug off his discomfort and revulsion and focus himself on making things neat behind the bar but the back of the bar was mirrored so he couldn’t avoid looking at the men in the cages. All were quite well-built guys, ranging from about Wayne’s age to about 40 and with a range of ethnicities.
The lad couldn’t work out how they’d ended up in this position. Were they being paid? Was this what they were into? Or were there more sinister implications?
He didn’t get to follow this train of thought for long as the lights went down (spotlighting the cages even more clearly than before) and the doors opened. Men of all shapes and sizes started to fill the club and Wayne was kept busy with the drinks orders from that point onwards – sighing regretfully to himself that he’d bragged, just yesterday, about his new job only to end up working in what was clearly a kinky gay bar.
While working he caught occasional glimpses of the cages and could see that the men inside them were desperately trying to get free of their leather straps and trying to implore the audience below them for help. Sadly he could also see that the men below them were ecstatic about their predicament.
In the cage closest to him was a blonde guy of about 30 who could have been a college football player in his day. The music was loud but not loud enough to drown out either the man’s grunts for help or the cackling and catcalling of the men below him. Suddenly Wayne’s blood froze as he heard the man’s grunts change dramatically in pitch. He looked across and could see total desperation etched onto the man’s sweaty face. As he watched, the hunk in the cage shifted his position and appeared to be squatting in discomfort. This did not go unnoticed by the crowd below him who went crazy. Someone shouted something that was taken up by a group of the men below the cage,
“Do it! Do it! Do it!”
Wayne looked at the poor captive’s face again; his eyes squeezed shut in effort, his cheeks puffing out around the ballgag as his breathing became laboured, and sweat dripping from his hair as he shook his head from side to side – trying to say no to whatever was happening to him.
With disgust, Wayne noticed that some of the men below the cage had whipped out their dicks and were openly rubbing themselves off while watching the show above them. The grunts changed in pitch yet again and the captive bent slightly lower and the young bartender watched as the man in the cage very slowly, but very obviously, shit himself into the diaper.
As the diaper ballooned under the weight of the struggling guy’s coil, Wayne’s horrified mind reeled in shock. He, almost absently, took in the growing bulge. His overwhelmed senses tracked small details from the scene before him; the jet of silver as a reveller came into the air in front of him, the tear that trickled down the captive’s red-faced cheek, and, on a waft of air, the faint but unmistakable smell of bowel movement.
Wayne retched and had to quickly turn away to spit into the bar’s sink. No one saw him do this as all eyes were on the befouled hunk in front of him; the club’s denizens cheering the helpless man as he finally finished crapping himself and settled back, exhausted, against the bars of the cage. People took turns standing directly under the prisoner and taking photos and selfies of the man’s lumpen diaper from below.
More cheering erupted and Wayne could see that the poor guy was now openly pissing into the diaper. Judging by the speed and the spread of yellow across the white front of the diaper it was obvious that he’d been holding on for a while but was now just too worn out to even try and continue the battle. He flat-out wet himself to the roars of the perverts below him and, even from his position at a bit of a distance, Wayne could see that the piss was mixing with the other contents of the diaper and staining it brown. The man looked shattered.
Squinting into the club while serving a customer, Wayne could see that the men in the other cages were all in various stages of the same torment. Ovations rose from different parts of the dancefloor as the patrons moved from cage to cage to experience their occupants’ humiliation.
Pouring drinks and taking money on autopilot Wayne spent the rest of the night busy. The scene became just like any other club, people shouting, dancing, and generally having a great time. The only difference was the smell of excrement and the men, now abandoned by the throng, slumped in their cages above the crowd and forced to endure their own sodden and crap-filled diapers.
Eventually, the club reached closing time and the bouncers moved in and started clearing the space. Wayne mopped down the bar and began cleaning up as the last client left the building and the lights came, harshly, back on. The cages were lowered and the young bartender watched in fascination as the men in the cages were unceremoniously allowed out and dragged away by their handlers. Each man walked almost bow-legged and with clear discomfort lined on their faces. The diapers, in the brighter light, were disgusting; misshapen and fouled by their contents and clearly unpleasant to the men wearing them as they crabbed gingerly away towards the side of the stage and whatever horrible fate awaited them there. All were too exhausted to resist and so their departure was easier than their desperate arrival.
This was Wayne’s first night at Club Caca…