Toilets

         If you walk down a street, a normal street, with hotels, gift shops, toy stores, and shopping malls, you'll pass by the Toilets. You don't know it's there, and you probably never will. You've passed it hundreds of times, maybe you have noticed it, but it never gets a second glance. The only people who enter here are the ones who know what they're entering. It is a comfortable reception desk with two halls sliding out on either side of the desk, long and pale, and ending with a row of four sinks, paper towels, and a trashcan. The floors are tiled pale peach, the tiles are a hand-span in diameter with thin white strips of plaster between, the walls are white with smaller tiles neatly pressed side by side till about the height of an average man's shoulder, and lined in the walls are simple wooden doors with a handle and a small window. The window is for the customer to peer inside, to see which toilet he wants to use, because he knows what he wants.
         We're not illegal, we're not prostitutes, we're not slaves, we are only toilets. Our legs are bent upwards and spread open, our wrists are tied to our ankles –  comfortably so that we don't blister – our bodies are always clean and completely naked, and our eyes are bound with a blindfold of our choosing. Any blemishes are covered up, our lips are painted, our privates are oiled, and our hair is tied back. We sit on a comfortable ledge, loosely tied to the wall with a rope under our breasts and on our thighs. The room we sit in is clean, with a manageable light knob that can dim the flattering light or turn it off, a row of hooks on the door where you can hang your coat, pants, underwear, or shirt, a trashcan, and a plastic chair for lazy times. A condom must be used at all times, and these are bought at the desk along with a packet of tissues and lubricant, which is optional, and where you leave your bag in a locker.
         When a customer enters his stall, he knows what to expect, and he knows what is expected of him. A male or a female toilet will be in waiting in the light of the stall, clean, soft and wet, the toilet will only stay in this position and the customer is not to move it from its place. The toilet will be mute. Under no circumstances is the toilet to utter a sound. It is understandable if the toilet pants a little, or malfunctions with a few inward noises, but it is never to speak – a little pain or a little pleasure is to be endured. The customer will also expect some sweating if he has been using the toilet for too long, and if a customer is in the stall for an exceptional amount of time, it is expected of the employees to knock on the door and ask if anything is needed.

         A set of rules is to be strictly adhered to by the customer himself.

- The customer must not mishandle the toilet. If any tear was made it is to be reported immediately after or else it could result in the banning of the customer.
- It is forbidden to urinate or defecate on the toilet.
- If the toilet was not to the customer's liking it is not in the customers rights to demand compensation. However, if there are any complaints, the customer will be requested to to make it on a filed registration that can be found on the desk in the reception.
- The customer is discouraged from handling the toilet in any way, but it is not expressly forbidden.
- It is forbidden to draw on or mark the toilet.
- Toys are permitted, however these can only be bought from the reception. Bringing in any kind of baggage is forbidden.

         The customers we get come with different smells and different attitudes. Most come and go, conscious only that they are using a toilet, and nothing more. Some are rough, they jam themselves inside suddenly and we, behind our blindfolds, jerk in silent shock before they hammer themselves deeper and groan in satisfaction. A few try to make us use our voice, they use some fingers and lick a little here and there until they tire of our silence and just finish their business in our numb holes. Very rarely does a customer come in, smelling like something tempting, with fingers that dance lightly across our sweet spots, rubbing or pinching in the right places, murmuring wicked things that make our bodies shudder and press ourselves to further acceptance, our lips open, silent cries of pleasure ripple from us, a tongue like nectar dips into our mouths, and when he is done we pant and shiver, conscious of his scent and absent fingers. Then our day is better. Even rarer still, do the violent and sadistic customers come to our business, and we have to press the emergency button on our hand-to-ankle cuffs – or scream – which brings us relief and banishment for the customer. It is also not uncommon for customer to fall in love with a toilet, when this happens the customer is warned against making any kind of fuss, and that the working hours of an employee must be respected.
         After each session a janitor cleans our stall, wipes down our bodies, and oils our privates again. After three hours of use we stretch and shower, we put on a  new blindfold and clean cuffs are placed around us again. We have only nine work hours, any longer then this is not permitted. We have weekly check-ups, a physician checks us for any kind of damage or sickness. If our bodies develop any kinds or sores, rashes or fevers, we have sick leave for five days, and if the sickness persists it is possible that we can lose our jobs.
If you feel sorry for us, don't. Our job pays well, it's clean, and we have willingly chosen this short period of work ourselves. No laws are being broken, and if any conduct on the side of our employers or staff breach our contract, the toilets have the right to demand compensation.

         The establishment began with only one “bathroom” and a few stalls, but now there are several large toilet houses in this city, in places where frustrated CEOs may relieve themselves quickly and without embarrassment. Perhaps in a few years it will become common to have a toilet house in each neighborhood, available to a controlled public. Already crime lords have begun their own houses, using drugged, indebted, threatened, or retarded persons as toilets with lax rules and even worse hygiene. Negative propaganda has reached the public, but for the time being you remain unaware, even a little naive. But if you find this, on a website, or on a little slip of paper wrinkled and trampled with muddy shoe prints, read that we are a free people and that we have a voice outside of our job.