The Horrible Hospital

"You have a dirty fucking mouth, bitch!" exclaims the guard. He pulls his member out of my bottom, but then I lose the last bit of control over my bowel, feeling a warm, sticky substance spreading down my legs. The smell is horrible.

"Oh, shit!" swears the guard. "But I've got a sample!"

He steps in front of me, thrusting his hard member into my face. It's completely covered in feces and cum and a little bit of my own blood.

"Now confess, you terrorist bitch, what is this dangerous toxin and what did you intend to do with it? Put it in the ventilation system? Dump it down the toilet and pollute the sewers?" He jabs his penis into my face, leaving a foul-smelling brown streak across my upper lip. "Confess, bitch! We'll be easier on you if you come clean!"

"It's not a toxin!" I snap. "It's stool! I told you I had to go to the bathroom!"

"Well, if it's not a toxin then maybe you should try some! Show us that it's not capable of causing mass destruction!"

He tries to jab his swollen member down my throat, but I refuse to part my lips. He leaves a trail of feces and cum across my chin, and jabs again and again, leaving my face completely covered with the foul-smelling mixture.

"Pry her mouth open!" he yells at the other guards. "We have to make sure the substance isn't really toxic!"

One of the other guards produces from his utility belt a ring-shaped object with leather straps. He pries my mouth open and forces it in, the ring leaving a convenient opening for his friend's mucky penis to enter. The device stretches my jaw open almost to the point of dislocation, and when the guard secures the straps, they cut painfully into the corners of my mouth. I try to protest, but can only make incomprehensible noise with the gag in place.

The guard plunges his filthy, putrid member into me, forcing it down my throat, almost causing me to choke. It tastes and smells so horrible that I can barely suppress the urge to throw up. The inside of my mouth is coated with the foul-smelling mixture, and I can feel some being smeared on the back of my throat. As the guy continues pleasuring himself in my throat, saliva begins to flood my mouth in reaction to this atrocity. It mixes with the brown, slimy substance and dribbles out of my mouth, down my chin and onto the ground.

"Ma'am, I must check if there is anything else dangerous concealed in your ass!" says another guard, the one who looks over seventy years old. My mouth occupied, I cannot protest, though of course I want to. I feel a humongous penis rubbing against the opening of my anus.

"My God, man!" exclaims the first guard. "So you did get the surgery!"

"You bet!" says the old guard, continuing to rub his gigantic member between my butt cheeks. "I got the biggest one they had! It's over a foot long!"

"What does your wife think of that beauty?"

"She loves it!" says the old man, beginning to thrust in and out slightly, my battered bottom recoiling in pain. "I got these special studs put in, supposed to pleasure the g-spot!"

I am in no hurry to become acquainted with those studs, but I have no choice. I don't suppose you can imagine the sensation of an object, over a foot long and two inches across, covered with all sorts of horrible piercings and studs, plunging its entire length into your anus, which is already sore and bleeding from being raped twice already. Let me just tell you, it's awful. To make the matter worse, my body chooses that very same moment to have a particularly painful contraction. I writhe in agony as the old man pumps his oversized organ in and out of my body. I feel as though I am going to die.

The guy in my mouth orgasms, spilling his semen down my throat. Some of it squirts down the wrong way, causing me to cough violently through the ring-shaped gag.

"Look guys, the toxin is taking effect! We need to give her a higher dosage to see exactly what it does!" exclaims the guard. He pulls on a glove and goes behind me, scooping a handful of feces off my leg. He puts it in front of my face, enjoying the look of terror in my eyes. The foul, brown stool fills his entire cupped hand. He jams it down through the ring gag and down my throat and yells at me to swallow, but I find I can't. There's too much in my mouth. I couldn't swallow if I wanted to, and I definitely don't want to. Desperately, I try to use my tongue to push it out of my mouth.

The guard pulls out his nightstick and jams it down my throat, forcing the feces in. I cough and spasm, but slowly, the foul mixture goes down my throat. I begin to vomit, but nothing comes out, since the nightstick is jammed firmly down my gullet.

"Oh, fucking shit!" a guard exclaims. "It's almost four o'clock! It's time for our break! The union will revoke our memberships If we work during our break!"

For a moment, I feel almost relieved, but my optimism is shattered by the sound of the old man's voice.

"Come, here, son," says the old man to the only guard who has not yet raped me. "You'd better take a turn with me if we're to make it to our break on time." To my utmost horror, I feel another penis rubbing against my anus alongside the old man's huge member. It slowly works its way into my bottom, making me feel more stretched and full than I ever thought imaginable. My anus rips and tears. I try to scream, tears welling up in my eyes. How could something like this happen to me? All I wanted was to see a doctor, to have someone help me deliver my baby so I could get out of here!

The guard with the nightstick continues pounding it up and down my throat. The two penises raping my anus feel like hot pokers compared to the dull pain of the feces-covered nightstick. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be somewhere else, to be doing anything else! Surely nothing could be worse than this!

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of agony, the two guards rubbing against each other in my rectum come, shooting their hot loads into me. They extricate themselves with difficulty and zip up their flies. I hear an alarm beep on someone's watch, and the guard with the nightstick extracts his implement from the depths of my throat, a brown paste dripping out of my mouth. The guards, fumbling with their pants, walk out the door. One of them takes the camera, turns to me and says:

"We will be back in thirty minutes. If you're not here to continue the search, we'll have no choice but to widely publicize this video so that you can be apprehended." I collapse on the floor in a puddle of feces and cum. The guard shakes his head, laughing, and closes the door of the storage room.

A second later, I hear the door open again. The guard walks over to me, a pair of handcuffs dangling in his right hand. "I wouldn't want to forget to cuff you," the guard says in a syrupy voice. "You are, after all, a dangerous terrorist." He pats me on the head affectionately and goes to stroke my sopping wet pussy. "We'll be back after my break, sweetheart, so just hang tight until then. There will be plenty of more hot action for you then." I try to shout at him through my gag, but it comes out all muffled and incomprehensible. "What, sweetheart? You want some more now?" I shake my head no frantically. "Well, you horny bitch, it's time for me to go on break, but I think I might just know a way to keep you satisfied." I shake my head again, but he doesn't pay attention. He knocks me forward onto the hard floor and spreads my butt cheeks wide. "I'm going to make sure you miss me while I'm gone, sweetheart." He slowly pulls his nightstick off of his belt and rubs it against my pussy. "You want it, don't you? You want be to fucked in your fat little pussy, don't you?" I try to yell, but I can't. "Yeah, well you're just going to have to keep on wanting it for a while," he says, jamming the nightstick all the way up my aching ass. "See you soon, sweetheart!" he says, closing the door behind him.

For a whole five minutes I find myself lying on the floor in terrible fear that the door will open again and someone else will do something awful to me. But after a while, I begin to relax. I find myself wondering if I should really be cooperating with the guards who have been raping me. On the one hand, I don't want that video gracing every sleazy site on the internet. What if my husband should see it while he's glancing through porn on his work computer? But on the other hand, is it really a good idea to sit in a dark storage room, waiting for a team of security guards to come off break so that they can enjoy raping me again? What evidence do I have that they won't release the movie, plus "Part Two: Pregnant Slut Eats Even More Shit," even if I cooperate? I start moving towards the door.

Inches from the door, I stop suddenly. How can I take the chance of becoming that kind of an Internet celebrity? Isn't it better to take the security guards at their word and have faith that they will just keep the video for their personal use? That sounds reasonable. It's one thing to rape a woman twice, but to release the footage after she's cooperated? No one could be that evil. I inch backwards towards the box and cross my legs tightly, waiting for the security guards to come back.

I feel my jaw ache and realize that the gag is still in my mouth. Do I dare remove it? The guards might be mad at me, and then who knows what they might do to me? But how can I sit here for another twenty-five minutes with that thing in my mouth? Could I even manage to remove it, with my hands cuffed behind my back? I try not to think about it, but now that my attention is drawn to the pain in my jaw, I can taste the excrement in my mouth and have to resist the urge to vomit. Despite all this, I manage to hold out for a couple minutes more, but the restraint is killing me. I walk about the room, searching for something that might allow me to free myself. Moving with the nightstick up my butt is excruciating, but finally I find a metal IV pole laying on the ground, that might just do the trick. I bend down slowly, feeling the nightstick wedge further and further up me. I moan through my gag. I slowly lower myself to the floor and grab the pole with my cuffed hands. I use it to fumble with the straps in the back of my head, frantically trying to tear them off. It's so much harder than clasping the bra behind my back was when I was a teenager.

Finally, a hook at the end of the pole manages to catch the clasp and yank it open. Once the gag is unfastened I'm able to shake it off my head quickly and onto the floor. I take a deep breath and then vomit all over the storage room floor. I pant a couple of times, trying to catch my breath, and end up puking two or three more times. Suddenly, with terror, I feel another sharp contraction coursing through me. In a haze of pain, I trip and fall face forward into a pile of regurgitated feces.

"Shit!" I exclaim, forcing myself slowly to my feet. My back is really aching now, and I think my contractions are becoming stronger and more frequent. I've got to get myself to the doctor, or I'll have no choice but to give birth right here and now.

I fumble through the box of ugly clothing, with my mouth pull out a particularly repulsive pair of humongous white cotton panties, throw them on the floor, and start wiping myself clean on them. I don't have any water to use or any hands to wipe with, so I have to make do with squirming on the rag on a clean piece of floor, but compared to what happened recently, I begin to feel almost reasonably hygienic.

I rummage through the box again, this time for something to cover my naked body with. To my horror, I find that I have just used up the only available pair of underwear.

I find the most decent skirt I can, which is leather and looks like it will barely cover my butt and private parts, and desperately wiggle into it. The largest top I can find, which is black and nearly see-through, won't button over my pregnant belly (not that I have hands to button it anyway), so I have no choice but to let it hang loosely off my shoulders. At least it kind of manages to cover my breasts that way.

In this cheap clothing, I still feel naked, so I pull on a pair of torn fishnet stockings with my teeth to complete the wretched ensemble.

Emboldened by the fact that, skimpy as they might be, I am actually wearing clothing, I walk to the door and try to open it with my mouth. Locked! Now I'm terrified. If the guards find me here, they will be angry at me for cleaning myself off, removing the gag and putting on clothing. My mind races with the images of what the guards would do to me.

Maybe it's not too late. If I start now, I might be able to take off my clothing, stuff the gag back in my mouth and smear some of the regurgitated stool all over myself. I just hope I didn't damage the clasp of the gag too much when I removed it. As I'm fumbling desperately with my skirt, trying to get it off, I notice an open ventilation shaft above a pile of boxes in the corner. With a little bit of stacking and rearranging, I might be able to crawl out the shaft to safety.

I fumble my way up the pile of boxes, scraping my knees in desperation. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to climb without hands! When I get to the top of the stack, I realize that I'm a couple inches too short, and though I can stick my head into the ventilation shaft, I don't have the hands to pull myself in. I'm going to have to jump for it.

I squat down slightly to give myself room to spring. Gathering the remaining strength in my legs, I push off, sending the pile of boxes crashing to the floor. My legs dangle down into the storage room. I hear the sound of the door unlocking and beginning to creak open. Squirming frantically, I manage to pull my legs into the shaft as the guards enter the room below.

"The bitch is gone!" one of the guards exclaims.

"She stole my nightstick!"

"Well, at least we've got the video!"

"Oh yeah, the video! I want copies of it spread all over the Internet! Make sure all her friends and relatives get a special copy! I want it piped through the television system!"

"We can arrange that," says the old guard. "We'll use the security computers."

For a moment I consider climbing out and begging the guards not to distribute this wretched thing. Nothing they would do to me could be worse than having my little sister see a man ramming excrement down my throat with his nightstick. But before I can reveal myself, another contraction overtakes me, and I remember why I came to this hospital in the first place. I need to find a doctor, and I need to find one now! There's no time for me to be thinking of petty things like porn videos. There is a baby in my womb that needs to be delivered. I begin to worm myself forward, inch by inch, in the near-darkness, towards a pale light in the distance, my belly and thighs pressed against the metal of the ventilation shaft. It feels cold against my bare skin.

The shaft begins to narrow to the point where I can hardly squeeze my pregnant belly through. My back is in agony from the exertion. I crawl a little further and find myself stuck. I cannot move either forward nor backwards. For a moment I think, "this is it! This is where my adventure ends." But the thought of having to deliver while stuck in the hospital ventilation system keeps me writhing for my freedom. With an immense effort and searing pain, I force myself forward, leaving behind some of the skin from my stomach and buttocks. Ignoring the burning scrapes, I press onward. The tunnel widens slightly, allowing me to inch forward at a more considerable rate. Slowly but surely, I crawl into the light.

In my desperation, I kick the ventilation grate open and fall out, landing in a heap on the floor in a room that appears to be a lounge of some sort. Behind me is a large white refrigerator, and in front of me a small table and a TV with a DVD player. I hop over to a water cooler in the corner and try to get some water. I have to push the lever with my chin and then lap the water up as it runs down the grate. Marvelous. Suddenly I hear the door open, and a man in a white lab coat enters the room.

"You're a doctor!" I gasp, barely able to believe my luck. The doctor looks at me appraisingly. I notice that his glance lingers on my nearly bare breasts and on the nightstick up my butt.

"Who are you?" he asks. I notice a bulge forming in his pants.

"Oh please, I'm going to deliver!"

"Oh, so you're a special delivery, are you?" the doctor asks. "The other guys must have decided to give me an extra special surprise for my last day at the hospital!"

"No, that's not what I mean!"

Another man in a lab coat walks in.

"Wow-we. Hot S&M prostitute," the man comments. "I didn't know you were into role-playing, Jim."

"I am not a prostitute!" I exclaim. "I'm a pregnant woman trying to deliver a baby!"

"You're not a prostitute?" says the doctor, in mock astonishment. "What are you doing in the doctors' lounge, then? This is a restricted area! I'm going to have to call security!"

"No, please, no!" I exclaim, horrified by the idea. "The security guards are evil! They locked me in a storage room, anally raped me, forced me to eat my own excrement and left me handcuffed and naked, with a nightstick up my rectum while they went on break! I had to crawl through the ventilation system to escape! Please don't give me back to them!"

"She's obviously mentally unstable," the first doctor declares, glancing meaningfully at his colleague. "We ought to call security and have them escort her to the psychiatric ward, where they'll tie her up and poke her with needles."

"No, no, haven't you been listening? Don't call security! Anything but them!" The doctors do not seem to be impressed by my pleas. One of them reaches for a red button next to the door. My crotch tenses. I can feel the moisture gathering between my legs, and the nightstick feels hard and immense in my rectum.

"Ok, ok, I am a prostitute!" I exclaim, trying to keep myself from panicking.

"Of course you are," says the doctor, shaking his head condescendingly and pinching my ass. "I had you figured from the start. You're the sort of whore who likes to play games with your clients. I have a thing for girls like that." He grabs the bulge in his pants suggestively.

"You are one sick bustard Jim, you know you are," the second doctor says, watching his friend play with himself though his pants.

"Are you the one who called the service?" Jim asks, stroking the crotch of his pants.

"No, my bet is it's the new intern," the other doctor answers, his eyes resting on my breasts and the bulge in his pants beginning to expand. "He called in sick today, probably doesn't want to take credit." He stares at his friend longingly. "You don't mind sharing her, do you Jim? I've been on for 36 hours straight, I could use a break."

"Come on David. You think I'd hog her all to myself after the fun we had with that child impersonator, when Jack retired? Damn that was hot. Call the gang, and we'll throw me a goodbye party you'll never forget!"

David the doctor grins broadly, walks over to the wall intercom and begins speaking into it indistinctly.

Jim grabs a hold of my head and pushes me to the ground. The nightstick jabs into my butt and I feel like screaming from the pain. The man in front of me pulls out his plump dick and rubs it along my face.

"Suck my cock," he commands me.

"No," I reply firmly.

"Open your mouth now or I'll force it open!" the doctor barks, his eyes full of menace and desire.

"No!" I spit, but before I can close my mouth again, he thrusts his swollen member into me, grabbing my long hair and using it to push me into him.

"Suck it like you mean it," he moans, thrusting his hips to meet my pounding head. "Suck me, damn it, that's a good little whore." As I continue to suck him off, I hear the intercom squeak: "Dr. Richard Alcock to the doctors' lounge. Dr. Richard Alcock to the doctors' lounge!" Alcock? Really! Men have such a foul sense of humor. Jim the doctor smirks. "Dick Alcock! I always get a hoot out of that! Dr. Dick Alcock to the doctors' lounge. Dr. Dick Alcock!" He repeats in a mock announcer voice. He looks down at me, affectionately stroking my hair with one hand as he yanks it by the roots with the other. "Pretty soon every doctor with a dick between his legs is going to have a piece of you. Does that make you wet? Is that little cunt of yours drooling in anticipation?"