by Amy Hartdom and alice mauvais, who knows in her heart what a piece of shit she isalice's email is alice.mauvais@gmail.com
A Shit-Pig by any other Name Alice Mauvais had heard about the bar from a friend of a friend. And this friend had heard it from her friend Patricia, who was in the hospital with a broken jaw, fractured ribs and broken legs. Rumour has it, Alice's friend had told her, that Patricia had had shit caked to
her teeth, as well as on her face on the day she'd been found. This piqued Alice's interest, for she was an up and coming journalist who'd just gotten her first job, writing for a local paper. At least, that is what Alice told herself -- it was strictly a business interest, nothing more than professional curiosity. But she knew that was bullshit -- she'd been a sub her entire life, and just hearing about what had supposedly been done to Patricia made her hornier than she could ever remember being. "Hey, what's up?" Alice looked abruptly up from her blank computer screen, startled by the sound and sudden appearance of her lover. "Sorry," she managed, after some time, "I was lost in dream-land." "I can see that." Her lover sat down on the edge of her desk. "Work stuff?" Alice sighed, and then looked up into her blonde girlfriend's blue eyes. "Yeah, this is a tough story. I'm trying to decide whether or not it's worth it," she said. "Or if I can even crack it." "What kind of story is it?" "It's..." Alice racked her brains, trying to come up with a convincing lie -- somehow she didn't think the truth would go over so well with Vanessa. "It's about the supposed `quality control' of upscale restaurants in the downtown core." "Wow -- some bad cases of food poisoning or something like that?" Alice smiled. "Yeah, something like that." "Anyways," Vanessa said, and sighed. "I'm off to work -- just wanted to say love you," she leaned in and kissed Alice on the lips. "I'll be back after midnight." "Okay, see you then," Alice replied, and Vanessa left. Sitting alone once more in her computer chair, the apartment empty and silent, she re-entered the world of her imagination. In it, she was lying down on a cold tile floor while a woman squatted above her face, the woman's asshole just inches from her eagerly open mouth. Alice came to the thought of the shit landing in her mouth and then disappearing into her stomach. It was one of the best orgasms of her life. Alice knew in her heart that she was truly a piece of shit and she hungered with that deep hunger that only true shitpigs know to become what her destiny had told her she should be. * * * It was a Tuesday afternoon and Alice was standing outside the bar. She was marvelling at how much the place looked like every other bar on the street, and vaguely wondered about how many people knew what went on inside.Supposedly went on inside, she corrected herself. So far, all she had to go on was hearsay, and second hand at that. Looking up at the place, with its chic metal sign, inscribed with simple black letters that read "The Bar," she had a hard time imagining some of the purported acts of depravity said to go on in there. Successful business women paying top dollar to drink cocktails laced with piss, straight from the beautiful bartenders' cunts -- paying even more, some of them anyways, to eat the hot, steaming shit of other women who made their living by providing human fertilizer. It all seemed so unreal. Andyet so tasty and attractive. Yet, she knew that it had to be true. It must be true. Her own body's reaction to just the thought of eating shit, drinking piss, was enough. I would gladly pay any price for such an opportunity, she thought, and blushed. Alice's submissive nature was known to her girlfriend, but she kept the rest of her sexual fetishes a secret -- a closely guarded secret. She'd never sought out anything like this before -- partly because she was too shy, but also because she was afraid of being caught -- and although she kept telling herself that it was strictly business, she knew it was all too personal. Behind her there was a click, and the bar's door opened. Standing just inside the threshold was the most beautiful woman that Alice had ever seen. She was about 6', blonde, with perfectly proportioned curves. Alice felt herself become almost instantly wet, slack-jawed and tongue-tied. The woman stared down at her through narrowed brown eyes. "Well," she said. "Are you coming in, or what?" Alice stared, speechless. "Whatever." The blonde let the door close, and disappeared inside. Alice recovered and followed her inside. The place was small, humble. Decorated in a manner that suggested a refined taste: simple blacks and whites; a motif carried throughout every aspect of the room, from the pictures to the paint on the walls, and the stools at the bar. Alice had to remind herself to act as if this were any other place -- she'd quickly give herself away if she kept gawking at everything - so she walked over to the bar and sat down on the stool closest the bartender. The bartender, who'd been drying a martini glass with a spotless white towel, came over. She placed a coaster in front of Alice, and then asked her what she would like. This caught Alice off guard. Despite the fact that she'd fantasized about this moment for quite some time -- ever since she'd heard about the place -- she'd never really given much thought as to how the whole exchange would go down. In her mind, she'd approach and the girl would give her a glass of piss. She stumbled for an answer. "Um, well, I guess..." she sounded nervous, and was sure that she was sweating. "I guess I'll have my usual," she finally finished. The bartender looked at her dubiously. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but I don't remember what that is. Perhaps you can refresh my memory on that?" "A lemon-lime daiquiri," Alice ventured. The blonde seemed to accept this. "Coming right up," she nodded. Taking a wide-rimmed, high-stemmed glass from a rack behind her, she filled it up with slushy ice. She poured in a measure of rum, and stepped back so Alice could watch her lower the glass between her legs. The bartender let loose a flow of urine that topped up the drink, all the while staring into Alice's pig eyes. She added a straw, and then placed it on the coaster in front of the bewildered journalist. "That'll be fifty dollars," she said. As the gorgeous and sexy bartender waited for payment, she thought to herself what a piece of shit was sitting in front of her about to fork over fifty dollars for her body waste. Alice paid without thinking, placing three twenties on the counter. "Much obliged." The bartender went back to her work, but kept a close eye on her only customer. Alice stared at the drink for a few moments, admiring the way the urine turned the slushy ice a nice yellow colour. She picked it up. It felt strange, a mixture of hot and cold that exhilarated her -- it felt like the first time she'd snorted coke. A rush of emotions: hot, heavy euphoria, tinged with a touch of guilt. "Are you going to stare at that thing all night, or are you going to drink it?" the bartender asked. "Sorry," Alice apologized and then immediately regretted it. She was acting guilty, and it was painfully obvious. "It just looks so good -- a shame to ruin it by drinking it." The bartender nodded doubtfully. Alice realized that she would have to prove herself, and fast. Lifting the drink to her lips, she hesitated for just a second, and then began to drink. The bitter taste of the urine was foremost in her mind as the cocktail disappeared down her throat, followed quickly by the rum, and then the lime juice. Pleasant warmth spread throughout her body -- warmth that did not come from the rum alone. I'm actually doing this, Alice thought; I can't believe I'm actually doing this. The last bit of urine-soaked ice flowed at her face, and Alice swallowed it all in one gulp. Sighing, she placed the cup back onto the table. When she looked over to where the bartender had been standing -- hoping to find approval in the blonde goddess' eyes -- only to find that she had disappeared. Alice felt a stirring of unease (or it could be the piss in her stomach) pass through her. Had she been made? Before she could ponder the implications of that thought, the blonde returned. "I've just been informed by my manager," she said, "that we're having a special on now. One day only. Are you interested?" "Sure." Alice suppressed a smile. "I am very interested." The blonde sneered at that. "I knew you would be. Listen, for $2000 you can experience all the back room has to offer; as you know, that is a huge discount from our normal rate, but as you can see, it isn't really that busy tonight." Alice hesitated. She could swallow sixty bucks, but two thousand was more than she made in a month. Vanessa would almost surely find out. "Well, pig, I'm still waiting..." The blonde began tapping her foot. "I'll do it," Alice said before she could give it more thought. "Right -- let's go then, pig." Alice followed the blonde behind the bar, down a hallway and into a small, dark room. The blonde took Alice's credit card, and left her alone in the dark. It was cold and she started to get nervous. She was just about to call out for the blonde, when a bright light came on and blinded her. "Hello?" she said, shielding her eyes with a hand. "Shut up, pig!" A strong female voice commanded. "Lie down on the ground, face down, and place your wrists together behind your back." Alice didn't move. "You'd better do as you're told, Alice." The voice was calm, knowing. "We know who you are and I assure you that you're in quite enough trouble already." Hearing herself addressed by name (forgetting that she'd given away her credit card) Alice was chilled -- but she was also terribly aroused, her cunt becoming sopping wet in a matter of moments, so much so that she dripped sexual fluids down the inside of her jean-clad thighs. She did as she was told. Footsteps approached and Alice felt her hands tied in position. She was turned over and expertly disrobed, until she was standing in nothing but her leather bra and panties. Her face was flushed with excitement and arousal, and she found herself staring into the ice-cold blue eyes of the speaker. This girl made the bartender look plain. "So you're the pig reporter who likes to drink piss -- wants to eat shit," she hissed. Alice nodded dumbly. "And I suppose you thought you'd write a nice little expose about us, right?" Alice didn't move."I bet you'd leave out the part where you paid $2000 to eat shit.
Wouldn't write about that, huh, would you, pig?" Alice thought she was going to pass out. She couldn't remember being as wet, or as scared. It was the delicious mixture of both that threatened to steal her consciousness. Even though the blonde was speaking rhetorically, Alice didn't think she could answer if asked. "Well, we've taken your two grand...your card was good for it. However, we can't just let you leave, not without giving you want you want, while at the same time making a little insurance policy for us." "What," Alice croaked. "What did you have in mind?" "SHUT UP!" The woman thundered, and back handed Alice across the face. "Pigs don't speak unless spoken to. I wasn't asking you anything -- I was telling." She took a handful of Alice's dirty-blonde hair, and jerked her head so that they were nose-to-nose. "We're going to give you what your filthy pig stomach so desperately craves: the piss and shit of women." She then proceeded to lead Alice out of the room by her hair. Pain screamed through Alice as she was dragged, bent double, by her hair. The walk seemed to take forever, but in reality they had only gone back into the main room, and then down a short side hallway. They descended a flight of stairs, and at last reached their destination. It was a small, dark room, much like the one they'd been in upstairs. The only differences between the two were the fact that this one was much damper, and it smelled: a strange mixture of shit, piss, and disinfectant. There were black pipes running along the walls, and Alice noticed the glint of shiny metal attached to them -- looked like handcuffs. The other woman noticed this and smiled. "I see you've noticed the handcuffs," she said. "That's good, because you'll be in them for the next ten hours." Alice's jaw dropped. "Twelve hours?" There was a bit of awe alongside the hoarse breathlessness. "I thought you'd like that, pig. Do you want to know what you'll be doing for that time?" The blonde woman led Alice to the pipes, and a light came on, illuminating a single spot about three square feet. There was an alcove set into the wall, complete with a little padding, restraints, and a single pipe that came down from the ceiling, to just about head level. Alice found herself entering the alcove, and obeying all the other woman's commands. Her hands were cuffed to metal rods; her legs were spread and fastened. Alice gasped as a dildo was inserted into her sopping wet cunt, parting her easily. Then, at last, Alice felt the woman tilt her head back and bring the pipe from the ceiling into her mouth, securing it with a strap. "There you go, pig. All hooked up to your feeding tube." She looked at Alice and laughed. "You shit-eaters are so disgustingly funny, you know that?"
She shook her head. "This pipe is connected to the only working toilet in the house, and everything that is flushed down it will end up in your sewer of a stomach." Alice moaned and it echoed hollowly inside the pipe. The other woman laughed and pushed the dildo further inside the bound woman.
"Oh, and this," she indicated the phallus, "this has got a catheter in it. Your piss and shit will be saved, and you will have to eat them as well before you leave. Ta-ta, shit-bitch." The blonde woman turned off the lights and left the room, closing the door behind her. * * * For about an hour Alice stood quietly alone. Then, as if on cue, she was used constantly for nearly the entirety of the remaining eleven hours. The first time shit travelled down the pipe she was completely unprepared for it. It landed, hot and sticky -- like clay -- inside of her mouth, and she found that she couldn't breathe. Alice had no choice -- it was eat or die, so she ate. It was followed by a splattering of urine, dank and thick. She drank that too. Gradually, as the night wore on, Alice grew to love it. Once she got over the initial gag reaction, she enjoyed it so much that she dreaded the dull times...times where only one woman would use her every ten minutes or so. Then, it was all over. Lights came on and the blonde woman came back to let her out. "Well shit-piggy, how is your sewer of a stomach? Did you get a good fill up?" Alice collapsed onto the ground, moaning. From looking at her, one could easily tell how swollen her stomach was -- how full it was of piss and shit. She looked as if she were nine months pregnant. "I take it you liked that didn't you? Paid $2000 to take the waste of over two hundred women...none of them employees, of course; just thought you should know that. Every single drop of piss and every single bit of shit was from the bodies of our customers -- little piggy sluts like you." Alice just lay on the ground, wholly tired, contented and full. "We're almost done here, slut. All that's left is for you to consume your own filthy shit, and then you're out of here." Alice had shat twice in twelve hours; probably the result of her having consumed so much waste. Her body didn't want it.The blonde brought over her shit and forced Alice's face into it, not letting her up until it was all gone. Some of it into her stomach, but most of it all over her face; either way, the woman seemed satisfied. "That shit beard really becomes you, you bag of shit." She grabbed Alice by the hair and lifted her, bloated stomach and all, and dragged her out of the room. She brought Alice to the back door of the club, pressed a DVD into her hands and then shoved her outside. "There's a little souvenir for you...it never shows the women's faces, but there are some nice cut scenes...as to face, ass to face...you eating shit." Alice couldn't speak; she was still in shock, standing numbly outside in the warm summer air. "Just remember that, should you ever decide to come back." The blonde laughed. "We'll take your money, you can eat the shit...but don't you ever think about publishing anything about us, or else." The door slammed to the sound of her laughter. Alice was left alone in the darkness, wondering how she was going to get home; how she was going to explain all of this to Vanessa; but most importantly, how soon would she be able to come again. She was, really and truly, a shit-pig.