Voyager Uncensored

VOYAGER UNCENSORED # 6: "24/Seven", Part II

My name is toilet. The girl named Sabine d'Aucourt is no more. This is the story of how I came to be the ultimate human toilet for my Mistress, Seven of Nine...

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Diary of a toilet Month 1 "My New Identity"

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Despite Seven's instructions, I found that I could not suddenly give up eating real food and drinking real drinks – a lifetime of tastes and habits couldn't be eliminated just because Seven commanded me to. As much as I desired to follow her every order, I had to keep eating.

While I loved serving as her toilet - in the heat of the moment I wanted nothing else – in my more sober moments I feared the prospect of what she had demanded of me. I feared not just the health risks – could she seriously expect me to get proper nutrition from her waste? But I feared something deeper, more important. I wasn't ready to give up my humanity. I loved Seven and would do anything for her, but I was still a human being, wasn't I?

Not according to Seven. The first time I accompanied her to an important briefing in the conference room with all of the senior staff, Captain Janeway greeted me warmly.

"Ensign d'Aucourt! Sabine, isn't it?" she said with a warm smile.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Seven cut me off immediately.

"Captain," she stated with a cold seriousness as to capture the attention not just of Janeway, but the entire senior staff assembled in the room, "henceforth, this unit is designated simply as 'toilet'. Her former appellation served no logical purpose. It was overly long, inefficient and undescriptive in respect to her function."

Everyone in the room snapped their heads toward Seven and I at this statement. Even my eyes widened as this was the first I'd heard of this... rechristening. It shocked and appalled me on some level, but my pussy quivered at the thought of it.

"And this new name you've chosen for her is... more descriptive of her... function?" Janeway asked.

"Explicitly," Seven replied concisely.

"I see," Janeway smiled and turned to the rest of the crew who were all either smirking or slack-jawed and flabbergasted, "nice to meet you, *toilet*."

I spent the entirety of the meeting kneeling at Seven's side, eyes cast downward trying to ignore the stares and hushed whispers of the assembled officers. I was blushing deeper than a red giant about to go supernova, completely and utterly humiliated. But I could not deny the fact that, as I sat there on display, I was also drippingly, soppingly *wet*.

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Diary of a toilet Month 2 "Infatuation"

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I found myself increasingly desiring Seven's shit, not out of hunger (I was still eating real food without her knowledge) but out of sheer lust. I was addicted to Seven, and to the subjugation she inflicted upon me. She brought out something primal and base in me that I hadn't known existed, and which, at some level, was very freeing.

I began to feel, though, that Seven didn't care for me – that I was only a toilet for her and nothing more. I thought maybe she loved me as I loved her – especially the way she allowed me to pleasure myself as I ate from her ass. Surely that meant she wanted me to have pleasure, too – that she cared for me?

One night in the third month of my toilet servitude, I decided to try to bring our relationship to the next level. I had showered and cleaned myself inside and out thoroughly. I was licking her clean and when I got to her face – I kissed her! I deep kissed her passionately with all the pent-up desire I'd felt since I first laid eyes on her! I poured my heart and soul into that kiss and longed to feel her reciprocate my affections.

"WHAT are you doing!" Seven exclaimed and physically shoved me away, throwing me against a far wall. I had never seen her so angry!

I was hurt, both physically and emotionally. But maybe she didn't understand the gesture- maybe she wasn't familiar with human expressions of love? As she strode over to me at a threatening pace, I tried to explain.

"I-AIIOOWW!" I shrieked as she grabbed me by the hair, roughly yanked my head back and forced all her weight onto my face, shitting forcefully – violently, even into my mouth as I cried out in anguish.

I knew, then, that Seven not only didn't the concepts of love or romance – she did not feel them, either. Not towards me or anyone else for that matter. To her, I *was* nothing more than a human toilet – a convenient receptacle for her waste. Wouldn't you be repulsed if your toilet tried to kiss you on the mouth? Though the realization broke my heart, I couldn't blame her.

Despite my broken heart, I frigged myself crazy, desperately as she crapped down my throat with a vengeance, a meanness I'd never experienced from her before. She barely gave me time to chew and swallow. I had become quite adept at the act in the few months (having done it once or twice every single day) and yet was a struggle to keep up with her expulsions this time.

I let myself go in the moment – released my desires for love and affection, put them out of my mind forever. It was not to be and there was no point in desiring that which I would never have. So I set my mind to being exactly what I was to Seven: nothing but a toilet. It is such a degrading, humiliating feeling – but ultimately freeing as well! To have no desires, no needs, no wants, no ambitions. To just exist to serve a very simple purpose and to execute that duty well and regularly. It was like being returned to my infancy – all I needed to do was eat and sleep. I was completely dependent on my owner – my Mistress, Seven. My new infancy wasn't just due to the fact that I got all of my sustenance from her, but that I ate and drank it *directly* from her body – like a babe suckling from her mother's teat. And like a nipple and it's milk, it was being force-fed into my mouth, I had no choice, no control, and I loved it.

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Diary of a toilet Month 2 "Unfaithful"

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After having my affections spurned by Seven, I had given up on love and made peace with it. But just when you think you have everything figured out, life has a way of proving you wrong.

Her name was Bashra. Lieutenant Bashra Edrazi. She was so beautiful. She was part Indian, part Romulan – and intoxicatingly exotic mix. Her flawless buttery-tan skin, her graceful, black arched eyebrows and her deep, almond-shaped black eyes. I had never seen a woman like her and I was instantly infatuated with her the first time she stopped in Astrometrics. She was a bioengineer and specialized in Borg nanotechnology and how they could be used to alter human biology. Bashra was tasked with monitoring Seven's remaining Borg technology and taking samples of her nanites for research.

For the first time since I'd been assigned to Seven, I found myself thinking of another woman than Seven. I even found myself distracted while servicing Seven, my thoughts drifting to those perfect, angular but soft features and her taut, athletic body.

After being obsessed with her for a week or so I decided there was no reason I couldn't just go for it. My only tasks involved serving Seven, I had spare time that I could use for a personal life. And Seven shouldn't mind – she couldn't get jealous since she had no feelings for me anyway.

I started by sending her an anonymous present through the transporter, to her room. I'd done some digging into her personnel profile and discovered one of her hobbies was botany, so I had a replica of the most rare, beautiful flower in the Alpha Quadrant beamed into room – 'Zantadeschia risiacopa', the "Great Bird of the Galaxy". It was renowned for its glittering pink-purple iridescence, long, lean graceful lines... and petals and stamen in a form heavily suggestive of a blooming woman's vagina. The message was quite clear.

The next few times I saw her, I was tortured by her presence. Had she seen the flower? Did she love it? Or did she find it an invasion of privacy and recycle it? How would I know? I should have chosen something that would let me see if she'd appreciated it or not... maybe if I could find some excuse to visit her in her quarters? My mind was busy scheming and planning this grand escapade when I realized she was looking right at me! I had been staring at her and she'd noticed. She smiled at me and I nearly fainted.

When Bashra left, Seven walked over to me and looked me over.

"Are you unwell?" Seven asked me.

"Hunh?" I replied absent-mindedly, still imagining Bashra and I together.

"Your heart rate is accelerated, your pupils are dilated, your breathing is rapid and shallow and your temperature has increased by 3.7 degrees," Seven analyzed me, "Are you having a panic attack of some sort?"

"Oh... uh, no, I'm fine, thank you," I replied – it was touching to see Seven concerned for my health, somewhat endearing.

"So you are healthy, then?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes-" I started to reply.

"Good," she interrupted me as she pushed me up against the wall and to my knees, "I have an unusually large bowel movement today, the... I was challenged to participate in a 'hot dog eating contest' at Lt. Paris' 'Bar-B-Que'."

I groaned as she squeezed out the first loaf forcefully into my mouth, filling it with soft, mushy, foul shit-paste.

"I won," she informed me as she unleashed the "spoils of victory" down my throat. But even as I sat there consuming my Mistress' fecal feast, I dreamt of soft, gentle lovemaking with the beauteous, exotic Bashra...

. . . . .

Two days later, I was surprised when I ran into Bashra in The Mess Hall. I had eaten there at the same time every day and had never seen here there. As she took her place in line beside me at the buffet, I stiffened, suddenly exquisitely aware of how I might look at the moment – any hairs that might be out of place, whether my shirt was tucked and wrinkle-free, had I brushed my teeth since... "breakfast"??

"Hi Sabine, I haven't seen you in here before," she melted my heart when she spoke to me – and called me by my name! Only Janeway and her senior crew knew the true nature of my duties. I thanked my lucky stars that Bashra didn't know of my shame.

"Uh, yeah, me neither – I mean, you neither?" I stammered nervously, "I mean – I haven't seen you either... I mean, here –"

"I know what you mean," she assured me, mercifully.

"Are you sitting with anyone?" she after we had gotten our food.

"No, I, uh, always eat alone, actually," I admitted. It was true – I had devoted myself to Seven so thoroughly, and to training before, that I had never really made (or at least managed to keep) any friends.

"No! We can't allow that!" she exclaimed in mock horror and took my arm (I shook at the thrill of it) and led me over to a quiet table in the corner.

We spent the most pleasant 20 minutes of my life discussing our lives before Voyager, our personal interests and hobbies, our aspirations and experiences. By the time it was time to return to duty, I realized that I'd never known anyone – or allowed anyone to know me – as much as Bashra.

"That was fun," Bashra said as we recycled our trays, "What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing – was this woman, this painfully perfect, fascinating, beautiful creature – asking me out on a date?!

"Nothing!" I answered a little too quickly, too emphatically.

"Good, it's a date, then," she smiled, gave me a quick kiss on the lips and strode out, waving to me cheerily as she said, "I loved the flower, by the way," she grinned broadly as the doors closed behind her.

I stood there for several seconds, flabbergasted at what had just transpired, feeling my cheek where she had kissed me.

I was snapped out of my reverie by the bleeping of my communicator. Seven had programmed it to warn me when my duty shift began as a sort of alarm. I hurried back to her for fear of risking a rebuke for being tardy. As I ran back, daydreaming about my prospective date that night – what I'd wear, what I'd say to be interesting and appealing to Bashra, what I'd tell her if she asked about my work – I never even realized that I had unwittingly double-booked. I had agreed to meet Bashra for dinner that night at 19:00 hours, but my evening duty shift with Seven was due to begin just half an hour later...

. . . . .

That evening, I went through my entire replicator rations for the month trying on every possible style of clothing – I tried Indian, Romulan and even hybrid Indo-Romulan dresses. I tried sexy, silky, sleek and frilly. I worried about appearing to try too hard, about overdressing – what if she wasn't really thinking of it as a date – what if she just wanted to be friends? I tried dressing casual, but that seemed dumpy and maybe trying too hard to be casual and might make her think I'm not interested. Pathetically, I decided to just wear my uniform. But, as a small touch, I did keep a sexy, frilly thong I'd found with a stitching of the flower I'd given Bashra on the crotch. If things did happen to get extremely personal, she'd see how much I thought about her...

Nervous and with butterflies racing about in my stomach, I headed out to my dinner date and got there a full 15 minutes early. I internally chided myself for showing up early and looking desperate. But to my surprise, Bashra was already there as well! She was wearing a tight, shiny purple bodysuit with a black jacket and incredibly sexy high heeled knee-high boots. Her silky black hair was pulled up in an elaborate, elegant style, studded with green and amber gems. My GOD, she was sexy! I suddenly felt extremely underdressed and dumpy.

Bashra waved me over and I self-consciously fixed my uniform and hair and walked over and sat down with her. We ate by candlelight and ordered from the Bolian waiter. It was like a real date, and she seemed totally into me! And, to my surprise and relief, she never asked about my duties with Seven.

We started with drinks, then a light appetizer, salads and ate our dinners slowly and leisurely, enjoying each others' company more than the food itself.

We had gotten into a lengthy discussion about the philosophical ramifications of Neelix's recent "resurrection" by Seven's nanites after he was killed in a nebula (see the Voyager Season 4 episode "Mortal Coil") – Bashra thought it was a perfect example of the potential power of nanites to reshape our human destinies, I felt it was a great thing to save him, but worried if it might change what it means to be human - when my communicator began to chirp at me. I tried to ignore it, but it was incessant (it almost sounded annoyed!).

"Do you need to answer that?" Bashra asked, distracted by it.

"What, oh, no, it's nothing," I lied as I fiddled with it. I realized then that we must have lost track of time – I was supposed to be reporting to duty right at that moment! The time had flown so incredibly quickly and I felt Bashra and I were getting along so incredibly well – we had made one of those rare instant connections where we just immediately "clicked". I couldn't let it end. Seven could wait a few more minutes – it wasn't like I had any *real* duties.

I took off the communicator and stuffed it in my pocket. I tried to be casual and resume the conversation where we left off, but the chirping didn't stop. I reached in and turned it off.

"There," I said, pleased, "no more interruptions."

Bashra smiled – a radiant, warm, enchanting smile that would make any mortal fall instantly, deeply in love with this woman. And I had already fallen, *hard*.

We then both began to hear some distant sound like someone talking outside the door, but there was nobody there. We looked around and we laughed as she realized it was a muffled voice coming from my communicator, shoved into my pocket!

She pulled it out to hear what it was saying before I could stop her (besides, I wasn't going to stop her putting her hand into my pants!) and Seven's demanding, audibly irritated voice blared out of it. She had used the emergency reactivation to reach me!

"-for your duty shift! I order you to report IMMEDIATELY or suffer the consequences. I have urgent needs and a significant load of-" I quickly reached over and snatched it from Bashra before Seven could complete that particular turn of phrase, walked over to the recycling receptacle and dropped it in!

"Whoa!" Bashra laughed, looking surprised, but impressed, "boss issues?"

"She's such a pain," I sighed – turning on Seven came surprisingly easily, "all she cares about is efficiency and duty – she doesn't have an empathetic bone in her body, she's been a Borg so long she doesn't understand the human concept of 'having a life'!"

Bashra laughed lightly along with me, "I've heard she's quite the slave-driver... but, still, I think she's kind of fascinating, don't you? Her life experience certainly is unique and those nanites of hers have so much to offer us!"

"I guess," I acceded, "but that doesn't mean she's likable!"

We both laughed cattily at this – looking back now, it pains me at how quickly I betrayed my Mistress.

"You're so bad!" Bashra cooed as she grabbed my wrist.

I put my hand on hers and purred suggestively, "it's no *fun* being a good girl all the time..."

Bashra looked into my eyes with a piqued curiosity, seeing something in them she hadn't seen before, something I'd never let out before with anyone. She appeared to be receptive to my flirting, biting her lip and looking me up and down.

Bashra lifted her fork with some seared Bajoran salmon on it and offered it to me as she replied, "maybe you'll have to show me just how bad you can be... but we should finish our dinner before we move on to dessert, don't you think?"

I leaned forward to take the bite from her fork, planning to suck the fish from it as seductively as I could when I saw her expression change as she looked past me over my shoulder. Her eyes widened and her expression changed to one of... alarm?

I turned just in time to see a blur of silver as Seven grabbed me by the arm and berated me loudly and publically.

"YOU are neglecting your duties!" she seemed as mad as I'd ever seen her, "you will COME with me RIGHT *NOW."

I suddenly felt a defiant streak run through me – I wasn't just Seven's slave, I was a human being and I had the same right to happiness and freedom as any other! I wasn't going to let Seven deny me that for her own selfish needs!

"I'm *busy*," I replied nastily, "can't you see that? This is called a date – it's what *people* do." I tried to pull my arm from her grasp, but she was so much stronger than me that she didn't even notice my effort.

Seven, for once was at a loss of words. She looked at me, then at Bashra, then back at me. I wasn't sure, but I thought I maybe saw a flicker of emotion on her face. Embarrassment? Hurt? Jealousy? But it was gone as quickly as it came, if it had truly been there at all.

"That is irrelevant, I have-" Seven began, but I cut *her* off this time!

"It is *not* irrelevant!" I cried, trying to stand up for emphasis, but was stuck in place by Seven's grip, "This is a personal relationship, Seven! People like to spend time with each other even when they're *not* working! Or does that not *compute*?!"

I knew I had stepped over the line even as the words had come out of my mouth. Everyone in the room was staring in shocked astonishment. Even Bashra looked at me with an expression that made me immediately regret my words. It was clear she didn't approve of my treatment of Seven and she looked at me as if she felt maybe she didn't really know me at all. It was heartbreaking.

I wanted to take it back immediately, but I didn't get the chance. Seven grabbed me by the hair ferociously and yanked me right out of my chair! Before all of the stunned diners, Seven dragged me by the hair – directly into the public restroom in The Mess Hall!