Flushed With Success
By: Semibu

“Hi, Kelvin,” sniggered Mike as he passed briskly by the ‘office’ window.

As usual, Kelvin didn’t reply. Instead he chomped on his chewing gum and turned up the volume on his crackling FM radio and examined the latest blemish on his grey overall. Mike made his way to the urinals, saying good evening to an elderly gentleman who had finished washing his hands and was now trying to dry them beneath an intermittent hot air blower. The old man eventually gave up and, irritated by the reluctant technology, beat a hasty exit, leaving the dryer to blast away off and on to itself. Mike unfastened his fly and gave a satisfied ‘ah’ as he set about relieving himself.

“It’s this fluorescent lighting,” advised Mike, cocking his head toward the ‘office’ door.

“What?” enquired Kelvin once the blower had stopped, started, and then spluttered into silence.

“I said it’s this fluorescent lighting. It plays havoc with radio signals – Especially in a place like this.” Kelvin’s monotone reply was drowned out by yet more clicks and gushes from the hand dryer. “Get yourself a better job,” insisted Mike as he swept by the ‘office’ en route to the turnstile. A nice young man like you working in a shithouse?”

“Yeah, right,” mumbled Kelvin, chewing pensively on his stale spearmint.

“By the way,” added Mike, before disappearing. “This place stinks of piss! Bring on the disinfectant!”

Kelvin looked at his watch – Nearly midnight and nearly time to lock up and go home. Mike’s words rattled around in his mind. Yes, he was 24 and perhaps should be doing more with his life other than cleaning up after other people. He’d always dreamed of having his own office, but not in a public toilet! He embarked on his end-of-day routine of checking the cubicles, mopping up, switching off the hand dryer at the mains, and randomly flinging a few blue chunks into the urinals. Before heading for the light switches, he paused by the broken mirror and took a long hard look at himself: Pale, a dappling of purple spots, a pierced eyebrow, and tired despondent eyes. He blew a pale grey bubble through his ever-moist lips and dawdled off. The next night would be almost a carbon copy.

“Busy day at the office?” questioned Mike as he breezed by. “Obviously too busy to rid the place of the smell of piss. Ever wish you’d tried harder at school?” He squared up in his usual spot and set about rearranging the blue disinfectant blocks with a much-needed release.

“I’ve got to lock up in a minute.”

“Sorry if I seem rude,” said Mike, sympathetically. “I don’t mean to be. It’s just that I always have a couple of beers after work and, after a long hard day, I just mouth off. I know I shouldn’t. I hope you’re not offended.”

“The place stinks of piss because people keep on pissing down here,” came the disgruntled reply from the ‘office’, followed by a gum pop.

“The radio hasn’t improved, either.” Mike decided to change the subject.

“Like you said yesterday and the day before and the day before,” moaned Kelvin. “It’s these fluorescent tubes. So I’m stuck with it – unless you don’t mind pissing by candlelight.”

“Or unless you get yourself a descent antenna,” suggested Mike as he rinsed his hands and flicked away the drops beneath a still and silent dryer.

“Like I can afford that on my wages.” Kelvin looked as glum as ever.

“I tell you what,” added Mike as he paused by the ‘office’ door. “I’ll treat you to one.”

“Look, I’m not sure if you’re just trying to make up for talking to me as if I’m some kind of jerk,” droned Kelvin, forcing a smirk. “But I’m just fine. Now, I have to lock up.”

“Really, I’ll get you an aerial!” Mike confirmed with a semi-drunken smirk pushed through a half-closed ‘office’ door. “But do fix that hand dryer – I always leave this place with wet hands!”

“I’m working on it,” sniggered Kelvin to himself. “Tomorrow night it’ll be perfect.”

Mike made an unexpected visit to the ‘office’ early next morning. Kelvin was pulling on his overall and sniffing the armpits of a shirt due for a much-needed trip to the laundry when a flash fluorescent light caught a splay of aluminium elements and attracted his attention. He almost smiled as, with a nod, he accepted Mike’s shining offering.

“There’s plenty of cable if you want to fix it up on an outside wall!” Mike could have used this opportunity to do what he knew, deep down, he should have done in no uncertain terms: apologise for his past rudeness. Of course, Mike being Mike, he simply couldn’t help himself. Before swaggering out he added: “And when you’ve sorted out a clear signal you could fix the hand dryer, and then do something about the stink of piss down here.”

“It’ll all be different when you call in tonight,” assured Kelvin.

“I look forward to it,” Mike shouted back as he vanished into the outside fray.

Kelvin spent much of the last hour of his shift stooped over a washbasin, drinking as much tap water as his body would hold, as he drummed his fingers and tapped his toes to the fresh beats emitting static-free from his FM receiver. He splashed his face and dried it off on a grubby grey sleeve. Looking up into a cracked mirror, he pulled out a sheet of crumpled tissue paper from his pocked and blew his nose into it. He then tipped back his head and, navigating his distorted refection, picked out any reluctant debris. After fudging around in the back pocket of his Levis, he produced a packet of gum, thumbed out the penultimate square and tossed it into his mouth.

The familiar late-night faces came and went. But where was Mike? Kelvin, his bladder nigh at bursting point, hovered by the turn style after displaying the ‘Closed’ sign – he assumed correctly that, should Mike appear, he would ignore any such notice and proceed anyway.

“Hey,” said Mike, attempting to sound ten years younger than his actual age as he inserted a coin and entered Kelvin’s subway domain. “The music sounds spot on, man!”

“Hi!” Kelvin was delighted to see his last customer of the night. He pulled the doors to and bolted them fast. Mike, rushing to his usual urinal, didn’t here the sliding of bolts – just the rhythm of the kind of late night radio to which he would never choose to listen. The public toilet was now officially closed.

“Wow, that aerial has made all the difference!” shouted Mike, as he squirted out the residue of a celebratory good day at work. “Sorry I’m late. I was bursting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, man,” assured Kelvin, making his way toward a businessman far to engrossed in relieving himself to notice he had been locked in. “Of course I don’t mind. To tell the truth, I’m really pleased you’ve shown up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” confirmed the attendant through a spearmint-scented smile. “I’ve adjusted the hand dryer. I wanted you to be the first to try it. Boy, it’ll blow you away.”

“Excellent,” announced Mike, zipping up. “I feel honoured.” Without looking over at Kelvin, he shuffled over to one of the basins and began washing his hands. “The trouble with these pressure top taps is that you can’t press them down and wash both hands at the same time.” Kelvin’s arm appeared and a helpful thumb depressed the top of the cold tap. “Thanks!” added Mike, surprised that the young attendant had been so close by. With a flick, he hurled a shower of droplets into the depths of the plughole. “And now the big moment.”

“Enjoy!” insisted Kelvin. He turned away, returning with his straining bladder to the ‘office’. He closed the door behind him, popped a gum bubble and, resting his palms upon his cluttered desk, leaned forward and peered at his blissfully oblivious prisoner through the ‘office’ window.

Kelvin’s long-awaited magical moment was about to unfold. As if the discomfort and miseries of his mid-twenties had never existed, he returned to the boisterousness and immaturity of his former years and roared with approval as Mike punched the button on the dryer with his elbow. At once the machine blasted reeking gas into his crumpled face. He squawked in pain as his eyes smarted. His feet fell crookedly onto the cold floor as they spilled sideways out of his shoes. Losing his balance, he stumbled forward and hung on to the gushing dryer, inhaling even more of its foul emissions. With is eyes tightly closed against the stinging waft, he called out to Kelvin as, entangled in his own clothes, he dropped to the floor. His world was revolving at an alarming clip. He saw flashes of purple and green, and then darkness.

After a mind-numbing sleep, the duration of which could have been anything from five minutes to five hours, he opened his still-sore eyes and attempted to make sense of his cold, white surroundings and unnerving silence. His weakened body was curved around some kind of a lattice dome – maybe the size of half a beach ball. What the hell was all this? He was, however, certain of one thing: The unmistakeable aroma of stale piss.

“Hello, Mr Big.”

“Is that you, Kelvin?” enquired Mike, hopeful of a rescue from whatever and wherever he was. “Kelvin, I’m so relieved it’s you. Boy, I feel like shit!” He turned himself around and looked up. “What the fuck!” He could only gasp as he absorbed the chuckled response.

“You’re in your favourite urinal,” announced Kelvin after another bubble gum pop. In an instant it all became crystal clear: Mike was no more than 6inches from head to toe. He was indeed floundering in the fumes of his favourite urinal. He shuddered at the thought of having been lying in the residue of his own yellow. Worse still, looking down on him with happy calculating eyes, and with hands in pockets was a now colossal mischievous lavatory attendant. “Glad you’re awake,” added the jubilant young man. “I wouldn’t want you to miss this.”

“Miss what?” asked Mike, wishing he was in dialogue to discover how and why he had shrunk. And, more importantly, how he could be restored to his former high-flyer businessman self. “Miss what, Kelvin? Tell me!”

“Miss this!” smirked Kelvin as he stepped forward, pulled his hands from his pockets and unzipped. “Man, if I don’t take a leak now I’ll wet my pants.”

“Kelvin,” Mike was in panic. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting my cock out,” laughed Kelvin as he chomped wildly on his gum. “I’m gonna piss all over you,” he added. “All over you! Ha!”

Mike had little chance to make any further enquiries. He was soon staring in horror at large lumpy knuckles wrapped firmly around an extended penis. Huge fingers tugged back the wrinkled foreskin and, aiming the purple head directly at Mike’s face, Kelvin released the contents of his almost splitting bladder. The instant deluge hurled Mike to the back of the urinal. He could only splutter and squeal as he was thrown from side to side, upside down and back again. The steaming jet forced its way into his mouth, through his hair, and over and into every limb and crevice of his helpless body. The relentless yellow line oscillated wildly as Kelvin shook with manic laughter. As with most men taking a long-awaited slash, Kelvin often seemed as if he were stopping, only to resume with as much power as when he began.

Two minutes had seemed like twenty. Kelvin shuddered with delight, as guys sometimes do during and after. Mike snorted to clear his nostrils, and grimaced at the thought of having accidentally taken so much of Kelvin’s waste fluid inside him. By now he had realised that he was not going to wake up from a dreadful and sinister dream. This was actually happening to him. He cleared his eyes and looked up at the guffawing giant, by now returning and zipping up his length. It was obvious that any meaningful dialogue would be out of the question. Kelvin had begun a sequence of events. Nothing but completion and satisfaction would suffice. Running his fingers through his greasy dark brown hair and then clasping his fingers behind his neck, he turned away and strolled around pensively.

“Oh, man!” he giggled. “This is too much!” His digits separated and slid from the back of his head to wrap around his face. “Just perfect,” he mumbled into his palms. Still with his back to his prize, he placed his hands on his hips, chewed on his spearmint, and looked up at the cold light of the fluorescent tubes. “I hope you enjoyed the new improved hand dryer and my magic gas,” he announced, half-cocking back his head but not actually looking around at Mike. “It’s a blend of carefully selected ingredients. You wouldn’t have heard of them,” he confirmed. “Not a glorified ten-a-penny office boy like you. As for me not trying hard enough at school, I’m a qualified biochemist, as it happens. I was struck off,” he barked, momentarily losing his sense of humour. “I was struck off for stealing certain carefully selected ingredients. I managed to hang on to some, though.” His laughter returned. “As for the smell,” he added. “Well, I thought a smear of shit would do the trick.” Facing a blank ceramic wall, he mimed the rubbing of a finger around the inside of the dryer nozzle.

“Can I help?” asked Mike, peering over the rim of the rank urinal. “I could help, you know.” He squeaked a tiny cough. “With work – a new job. I’m in a good position to help you. For real.”

“You,” replied Kelvin, spinning around and stomping over to his nervous captive. “You are in a good position to die for my pleasure!”

“No, I really mean it!” The shivering midget realised that this was his one and only chance to convince Kelvin of his honesty. “I just bluffed my way into my job. I don’t have a qualification, certificate or diploma to my name. I’ve just been lucky.”

Mike did not cower as Kelvin reached down and grabbed hold of him. He wanted the young man to see his openness and trust. He hid well the pain and discomfort of Kelvin’s heavy right-handed grasp. And closed his eyes as he was brought abruptly aloft. After slowly opening his swollen lids, he found himself confronted by a disturbed but delighted glare. Kelvin’s jaw muscles bulged with every chew. He was thinking: He had intended to rinse his catch before disposing of him - But the urinal, and Mike had been cleansed by his own water - urine is, after all, he considered, despite the after smell, a sterile substance. What the hell? “Seems like you’ve calmed down,” he observed.

“A little,” confirmed Mike, hoping upon hope that the boyish brute was himself feeling less charged.

“Everything about you is little.” Kelvin’s comment was followed by the appearance of another gum bubble. It popped, deflated, and was drawn back between his wet lips. “Your penis is particularly small – in comparison to the rest of you. I mean, y’ know, taking into account that you’re only 15 centimetres tall.”

“I must be cold.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mike.”

“Married, Mike?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Umm…” Mike hesitated before remembering that his honesty could make the difference between life and whatever kind of death Kelvin had in mind. “Not at the moment.” He looked deep into Kelvin’s tired eyes and then down to a mouth easily twice the width of his shoulders. “I’m not really looking.”

“What about if I told you I hate queers?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Married?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No?”

“Boyfriend?

“No.”

“Hungry?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to eat me?”

“Yep.”

“Will it hurt?” Mike concealed a sudden moment of panic. “I mean… will I feel any pain?”

“No.”

“Phew! See, I’m not very good with pain.” Suddenly their minds had clicked together, although Mike was still unsure as to Kelvin’s sexuality. He thought it best not to make any further enquiries along that particular avenue – after all, he concluded, a stomach is a stomach, be it inside a homosexual or straight guy. Either way, it would undertake its duties as stomachs do. “Are you going to kill me first?”

“No way.” Kelvin was chomping down hard on his chewing gum. He scratched a cluster of spots on his neck and snorted. “You’ll slip down head first – it’ll be easy. All you have to do is relax.”

“It all sounds wonderful. You’ll be putting me out of my misery,” said Mike, freeing an arm from Kelvin’s fist and stroking a knuckle. “I’m not playing word games or trying to escape. I’m just relieved that you’re listening to me.”

“You want me to eat you?”

“I hope that won’t spoil your enjoyment.”

“No way – I am so hungry you wouldn’t believe!”

“I just thought that if you wanted to punish me for me being me by eating me and then you discovered that I could think of no better way of ending it all… well, you might decide to finish me some other way.”

“Like what?”

“Drowning me in your piss or shoving me up your…”

“Easy, tiger!” Kelvin’s disturbed laughter returned. “Now you’re just fantasising!” He uncurled a couple of fingers and observed Mike’s miniscule erection. “No way!” he roared. “Here’s me about to swallow you and you about to die inside me… and you’ve got a hard-on!”

Mike was convinced that he was about to be dashed against the tiled wall or dropped to the filthy, well-trodden floor and stamped on for good measure. Alarm bells rang in his head. Or maybe Kelvin would just drop him down a shit-skidded pan and pull the handle! His tiny corps would soon be floating face down in the river and taken out to sea to become part of the massive, intricate and merciless food chain.

“Kelvin!”

“It’s okay, Mike,” assured the famished executioner. “Just relax and slither.”

Within the space of a few short seconds, Mike had been tossed from Kelvin’s right hand to his left and then, by the ankles, grasped again by the fingers of the right. The titan licked the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and withdrew his chewing gum. Raising Mike aloft, he tipped back his head and began lowering him towards his lips.

“Kelvin, no!” Mike’s survival instincts had kicked in. “We could help each other!” Confronted with certain death, he was desperate to preserve and extend the conversation. “I can get you out of here – find you a job with half the work and twice the cash!”

“Whatever,” came the throw away reply.

Mike, dangling directly over Kelvin’s eager mouth, watched every seemingly slow motion syllable with immeasurable fear: The pursed ‘What…’ - the widening ‘ev…’ - the upper teeth, scraping over the lower lip forming the ‘ver’. But events would soon speed up. Kelvin’s apparent joy was first expressed with a light snigger. But as his mouth widened, so his vocal approval increased. Mike was suddenly staring into a blue-veined, purple-pink cavern carpeted with the softest, wettest welcome mat imaginable. Every pulse of laughter had the expanding throat, vast spongy tonsils and flapping uvular jolting with greedy anticipation. He dipped his head as his crown met sharply with healthy oral enamel. His reaching hands stroked the corners of the mint-fresh mouth engulfing him. Instinctively, he drew his arms to his sides and, as per instructions, relaxed totally.

Full-bodied contact with Kelvin’s tender rippling tongue was nothing less than incredible, and strangely arousing. Mike squirmed with delight as the mighty organ manipulated him. He licked its wonderfully imperfect surface all the way back to the whitened, furry protrusions of its treacherous downward slope. Kelvin released his grasp on Mike’s ankles and slackened his gullet. Suddenly, the ear-shattering laughter and accompanying humid hurricane ceased. Total blackness. Mike fell with hideous squelches into the tight, rubber-like shaft, and pulled down by its efficient, rhythmic flex. Down and down. Mike, convinced he would suffocate in Kelvin’s oesophagus, was relieved to be forcefully pumped head first into a stomach one third full of a slopping cocktail of water, bile and hydrochloric acid. Although devoid of food, the walls of the muscular chamber were ballooned against its contents of gurgling fluid, and the huge quantity of air gulped down with it.

Kelvin cried with laughter. His innards quivered and shook violently as Mike struggled to bring his head above the surface of the bubbling belly bath. Kelvin had hoped to mark the occasion with a thunderous belch. But as the fluids drained gradually from his stomach and into his intestines, so the pressure within diminished. Mike collected his thoughts as the stinking acid-seeping walls contracted around him – the water was draining away and being replaced by Kelvin’s digestive juices. It wouldn’t be long now. Time enough, thought, to consider what a dreadful human being he had been. Perhaps that is why he’d spent the past five years alone, despite a desire to be popular, and for having people around him. Now there was just one person around him – all around him.

Before flicking his tired chewing gum back into his mouth, Kelvin stood before the cracked mirror and observed the reflection of his gaping jaws. He sniggered again as he wiggled a tongue he now recognised as being most beautiful and alluring, and admired his own throat, a throat down which Mike had just disappeared – alive! And he was still alive and squirming around down there just waiting to die in his raging guts! It might have been fanciful thought, it might have been sixth sense, but both he and Mike, now just moments from suffocation, each realised that the other was daring to imagine that a potential friendship was about to be arrested before ever it began. Kelvin surprised himself with an unexpected burp – not the rumble he had hoped for but befitting of a young man with a healthy appetite.

“Whatever.”

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The End