Billy Smithson looked at the door wide-eyed when he heard the rusty bolt sliding to a sharp metallic clack - the noise of which reverberated through his concrete cell. He felt exposed and vulnerable. Smithson, a sophomore at Pace University, lay naked and spread-eagle on his back strapped to an odd sort of table. He had tried to escape, but the more he struggled the more his restraints seemed to tighten and bind. He was gagged, and his attempts to call out amounted to no more than a feeble "m" sound.
When the door opened, he was shocked to see two lovely Asian girls of about his own age walk through one after the other. His feelings were mixed. He had been terrified that some big goon with a hot cattle brand was going to come through the door or maybe an al-Qaida kook with a big decapitating knife and a video-camera. So, in one sense, he was happy to see the innocuous looking girls enter, each giving him a warm bubbly smile as if they were greeters in a Tokyo or Shanghai department store. On the other hand, it was incredibly embarrassing and humiliating to be on display, particularly in front of two attractive girls. Smithson was in good shape and was not particularly shy about his body, but, still, the girls' glances seemed to cut through him.
Billy then recalled his last memory before waking up in this place. It was talking to a cute Chinese girl in a college dive. She had intimated that her apartment was nearby, and her roommate was away visiting parents. Smithson didn't give a second thought to leaving with what he considered a "hot Asian chick", and, the next thing he knew, he was strapped naked to a table in a small concrete cell staring up at a the peeling paint and brown water stains on the ceiling. The girl who he had been walking with had looked like these girls in that she had had long jet-black hair that was worn up, the same placid cream skin, and the same lithe figure.
"You must be terribly hungry. We will get you some food shortly, but now it's time for your first treatment, Mr. Smithson. Do you need to void your bowels or bladder? This will go more smoothly if you get that out of the way. Nod your head once if you need to pee, twice if you need to poop, and three times if you need both." One of the girls said.
Billy nodded once.
The girl moved his flaccid dick so that it pointed down between his legs. "OK, go ahead...There is a hole cut out in the table and a drain below you. You can urinate or defecate whenever you'd like. Then, if we are not here, just push this button, and one of us will come to hose you down." The girl said moving Billy's fingers over the edge of the table to a button with her warm smooth hand.
Billy's brow furrowed. He had no intention of peeing on himself or the edge of the table to which he was strapped. He had wondered about the garden hose that was coiled on an old car's rim on the wall, and about the bit of chill on the backs of this thighs and butt. He was left with a conundrum. He had no way to communicate his desire to be allowed to go to the restroom because of the gag and restraints.
"Do you have a shy bladder? Would you like us to come back in a minute?" The other girl asked.
Then the first girl said to the second. "Do you think we should put in a catheter?"
Billy went wide-eyed, and dearly hoped she was joking though she gave no hint that she was.
"Tell you what... we'll come back in five minutes. You either do your business, or we'll stick a tube up your urethra." The first girl said.
Billy's mind raced. Why were they doing this to him? How could he try to communicate with them? What kind of "treatment" were they talking about? Had he done anything that would anger someone so much they would go to these elaborate lengths to get even? Could these be the girlfriends of some girl who had had a bad experience with him? He didn't think so. He couldn't remember doing anything with the Chinese girl from the other night and he hadn't had that much to drink. She was the only Chinese or Asian girl he'd ever gotten close to sleeping with, but the last thing he could remember was walking with her down the sidewalk. What happened after that? He tried to remember, and wished he could apologize. He hadn't broken up on bad terms with any girls so far as he knew, and the few girls he had slept with without dating seemed no more after a commitment than was he. It had to be connected with the Chinese girl from the bar, but how? Could he have done something to her, something bad, and repressed the memory? He couldn't imagine having done so. He had no history of being other than a gentleman, or at least as respectful as boys his age got. These girls seemed so polite to him. If this was some revenge caper, wouldn't they be hostile towards him. Of course, in a way, they were being hostile to him. They were humiliating him. They were just doing it with polite smiles. Maybe he was just a random victim. Maybe he hadn't done anything to bring this upon himself. But what was he to be a victim of, besides wanton embarrassment? He pushed dreaded possibilities from his mind, like the urban legend about kidney removal.
He had had to pee so badly earlier, and now he couldn't bring himself to do so. He willed himself to calm down and relax. He knew that was the only way he was going to avoid the horrible alternative mentioned to him. He pushed aside thoughts of the possible horrendous fates he might face. He rationalized that any minute NYPD would break in and rescue him. He just needed to get through one thing at a time. He tried to visualize standing at a urinal. The flow came and he resisted the urge to clench up when he felt the trickle of hot liquid on his inner thighs. As far as he knew or could remember, he hadn't urinated lying down since he was an infant. It was so demoralizing. He heard his water spatter on the drain below. He felt unclean.
It seemed like an eternity of waiting, though it was probably only a couple minutes, before the two girls returned. Smithson did not want to press the button because he wanted to stall whatever the "treatment" was that he was supposed to receive. He had to believe he would be rescued soon.
One of the girls was in the process of pulling on a pair of rubber gloves when they returned. This made Billy a little queasy because the gloves conjured up images of surgical procedures.
"Good job. I think you made a wise choice." It was a patronizing compliment by the girl without gloves.
