The Portable Potty by Tony B

I happened at one of my son’s High School Football Games.

I was the typical soccer mom, chauffeuring my son around after school – to the games, to the Dentist – to the Library – any place where he couldn’t walk, or ride his bike to. My husband Ralph worked in the City, and usually didn’t get home for dinner until after six – mostly closer to seven, when the commute was congested. We lived in the suburbs – one of the many bedroom communities that sprang up around the City to house the growing population of white-collar workers that had been drawn to the city by the growing computer revolution.

We had a pleasant middle-class life, and everything was going well for us, except that I was always suspicious that Ralph had something going on the side with one – or more – of the girls from the office. I had no proof, so I kept my mouth shut. But there were a lot of times he had to work on weekends, when the company switchboard was closed, and I couldn’t reach him by phone. He said he turned off his Cell on those days, so he could work uninterrupted, but it was the question of ‘what kind of work’ that nagged me.

Anyway, on this one particular Saturday, I had taken our son to the football game, and parked near the entrance to the field. I knew the Portable Potty’s were nearby, and I knew I was going to have to go pretty soon, since we had been out shopping for new shoes for him, and I hadn’t stopped anywhere to go. The portable potty’s were little portable toilet rooms that they set up at sporting and special events to deal with the overflow crowds that might swamp the few restroom facilities they normally had at those events.

We got out of the car, and as he went to the field, I headed for the nearest Potty to relieve my bladder.

When I got inside, I flipped the latch on the inside of the door, and settled down to take a good, long, pee. I hiked up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and sat down.

I started to pee, and suddenly the room moved, like it had been hit by a car or something. It startled me. Who wouldn’t have been startled to be interrupted in mid pee by something hitting the potty?

I shut off the stream, and reached for some toilet paper to wipe myself, when I felt the room swaying, as if it had been picked up, and was being lifted in mid air. It jostled a bit from side to side, then landed with a bump!

I heard two men talking outside, and yelled, “Hey! I’m in here!”

There was no response. I managed to get up off the seat, and pulled my panties back in place and dropped the back of my skirt. I reached for the door to open it, and found it was jammed. I couldn’t get it open. At that point, I didn’t know if something had hit the potty and jammed the door, or what. All I knew was that I couldn’t get the door open to get out.

I pounded on the door, and yelled, “Hey! I’m in here, and can’t get out!”

I stopped pounding on the door and listened for a minute, but again, there wasn’t any response.

I heard a truck motor start up, and with a jerk, the whole room started to move. I realized that someone had come to pick up the Portable Potty, and assuming that it was empty, had probably loaded it onto a truck, and was carting it off!

I screamed, and pounded on the door and walls. “Hey, Stop! I’m locked in here!”

I screamed as loud as I could, but it was if no one had heard me.

The potty bounced around as the truck rolled along it’s way, to wherever they were going with it, with me locked inside. There was nothing I could do. I was afraid of trying to gain their attention by rocking the potty back and forth, or trying to get it to fall over – two scenarios that came to my mind – to try to get their attention.

The best I could do, I thought, was to ride it out, and try to get their attention whenever – or wherever – we stopped. So I sat back down, and braced myself against the sides of the potty, waiting for them to stop.

We slowed down a couple of times, but never completely stopped, so I waited to hear him – or them – open the doors to get out of the truck.

Finally the truck came to a stop, and I heard the truck doors open, then close. I knew that they were just outside my small prison, so started screaming and pounding on the walls again, to get their attention.

I heard one of them laugh, and the other one said to someone, “We caught another one, today!”

Caught?

Another One?

What the hell was going on here?

I pounded on the walls again, and yelled “Help! I’m in here!”

There was no response, but I heard a slight hissing sound coming from the floor, near my feet. I looked down, and saw a small cloud of white smoke rising up from under the floorboards.

I didn’t know what it was – maybe they were going to fumigate the potty! I redoubled my efforts, and pounded harder, and screamed until I thought my lungs would burst. Meanwhile the white cloud was creeping over my shoes and up my legs.

I screamed again. Again, there seemed little else I could do. No one paid any attention to the pounding on the walls, or to my screams…..

I gave up as the white cloud enveloped me to waist level, and kept rising. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t like it! I was becoming afraid. Afraid they were going to gas me, and no one would ever know…..

The white cloud was rising faster, and reached my breasts.

No, God. Please…. I’ve been a good girl.

I sobbed, wondering what was going to happen to me as the cloud reached my neck. I took a couple of deep breaths and held the last one. I knew I couldn’t hold my breath forever – or maybe I could, if I was dead!

The white cloud swirled around my head, and I closed my eyes tight, and gave one last try at pounding on the wall, as I passed out.

* * * * * *

When I woke, it was night, and I couldn’t move. I was out of the potty, and in some kind of box. I couldn’t move my arms or legs because they were tied down, and it was dark. There was no light anywhere around me. I was also gagged, and couldn’t make a sound, except muffled cries. I was breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath, and I was afraid.

I knew what being tied up felt like. Ralph had tied me up occasionally when we were having sex. I didn’t particularly like it, but Ralph did, so I let him do it to me. He said it heightened his experience. After our son came, he had gotten fewer and fewer chances to tie me up, and I knew he missed it. Was this some kind of bondage scene he was acting out, I wondered. Had he kidnapped me, tied me up, and put me in a box to teach me a lesson???

I could feel that I was totally naked, with my hands tied behind my back, and my legs tied at the ankles and knees.

No, I decided, Ralph would never go to this extreme, just in order to fuck me. I mean, all he had to do was ask, and I’d accommodate him. Our sex life was very open and satisfactory, I thought. It couldn’t be Ralph. It must have been someone else.

I tried to struggle and make some noise. Suddenly the box was jerked and tipped over so I was laying on my back.

I heard a muffled voice say, “Relax honey…. We’re not going to rape you, or hurt you in any way. You’ve been kidnapped by the Serbian Liberation Army, and sold to raise funds. You’ve been bought by a Biker Gang for a lot of money, and you’re going to be their sex toy for the rest of your life. You’re going to be held prisoner in the High Sierra, and won’t be able to escape. You’ll like it up there, except for how they’re going to be using you as their sex toy. Now be a good girl, and don’t cause too much trouble, and you’ll get along just fine. They’ll be here to pick you up in a few hours, so get used to the idea of being a love slave.”

I knew there was no escape, and I cried.

28.02.08