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On any night but a weekend’s eve, the people at the bar were kind to Minpha. He didn’t fully understand it, but he knew it had something to do with why the doctor ordered that he attend to other things on two nights of every week until his stitches dissolved. Now was that time again, and they moved him to a restroom where he could work safe inside a locked cubicle. He sat there on a toilet, and watched the holes, one to either side, through which he could see inside an adjacent cubicle if he tried.

Both were unoccupied. He reflected on things while he waited—on how much he really anticipated someone sticking their cock through a hole, on the absence of his own and, vaguely, on the new trajectory his life had abruptly taken. Even now, he couldn’t really think of himself as a girl, though it made him warmly giddy when customers referred to him as such. He had felt the same thing back when he still had a penis, and still chased skirts while wearing them. That old state of affairs wasn’t a sin, in his mind, but somehow he looked back on it as his gravest folly. Maybe because it was exactly how he ended up here.

Someone entered the room, then the stall to Minpha’s left, sticking a curling finger through the hole—no, a beckoning finger. He’d come to this restroom for one thing. Minpha brought his lips to the side of the hairy knuckle, and the man voiced a drunken “whoop” and withdrew his finger, putting without a moment’s hesitation his half-hard cock in its place. With his lips Minpha pinched and pulled the loose, wrinkly skin covering the shaft and cock-head, coaxing an erection before he let it on his tongue, brushing his pink fringe out of the way.

He took it to his throat immediately. This was another thing he couldn’t understand: he loved feeling big, hard cocks in his throat—it was quite the endorphin rush, though this one was pretty average in size. His cheeks sank in as he worked at it, his own drool running over his chin. Then he heard another person enter the restroom.

“H-hey,” said the voice behind the thing occupying his mouth, “go to the other side. I’m sure this whore can take us both at once.” He must have left his stall door open, for he sounded surprised by the new guy, and Minpha’s tongue had to move to keep him hard. The newcomer walked around to the cubicle on his other side, and he had to switch to jerking off the first guy so he could look behind him and figure out how to take care of them simultaneously.

The holes lined up perfectly above the toilet seat, and soon both were filled; the newcomer had a much larger piece to offer, but that was no cause for discrimination. Minpha gave it a taste while he went on stroking the first one. And for a little while, it sufficed for him to sit on the toilet, alternately stroking one customer and sucking the other, until eventually the first guy complained: “Can’t you make me come? I’ve got somewhere to be!”

And the remark opened Minpha’s eyes—this was no bittersweet dream, but a job he’d been forced to do, and if he couldn’t make that guy come, who knew what might befall him? He had to work, especially when men could not reach him and grapple with his small body; he had to do all the grappling now. He took the complainer into his mouth and sucked hard while picking one leg up into a deep squat on the toilet lid, whereby he was able to position his rear to take the other penis, though he had to reach back and guide it, already slippery with his saliva. It slid down between his nude buttocks, and it wasn’t hard to back onto it, to take it inside him.

Though it was pretty strenuous holding this perfect position, he would build the muscle needed to do it time and again, until he had healed enough to be handled by men again. The man behind him groaned, and started fucking him through the gloryhole, and the man in front of him, Minpha made sure, had no more room to complain. His lips and tongue worked harder than ever before, even when he’d taken the organ into his throat, and his drool pooled on the restroom’s white tiles as he got facefucked through that gloryhole. Spit roasted in a toilet cubicle, he felt something coming, and reached under his scanty skirt where once he had a cock, and pulled on a thin, short chain that dangled there, between a simple piercing and the plug in his new pee-hole, which functioned from the time the doctor had stitched him up.

Unplugged, he felt come drivel over his stitches and down his thigh as his rectum was ploughed. He still had everything he needed to reach climax—he didn’t miss his cock at all. And in seconds, he got a mouthful of hot slime, and swallowed as much as he could before the guy pulled out of his mouth and left in a hurry. Now Minpha could focus on the other; he moved back carefully, squishing his buttocks against the side of the stall so the remaining cock could swim deeper in his guts. The vague sense of nausea that surfaced only made him feel more amazing. He had eaten a little this morning, and fought to keep the stomach acid down.

It almost compared to the boss’s cock. The fact that there were so many other enormous cocks out there made him happy. He wanted to take them all, he thought; he could serve no better purpose in life from the day he got out of puberty looking, for the most part, like this. Meat throbbed in the tight grip of his anus, feeding semen straight into his belly. He moaned with a brief shudder, dripping more of his own stuff as the man pulled out.

Then Minpha planted his sore bum on the toilet lid, giving his weary legs a rest, listening to retreating footsteps, watching the holes, and waiting.

* * *

He piled the silken pillows in his partition; it felt nice to think of them as silken, though their textile might have been a cheaper synthetic. Tired and bored, he lay back against the pillows, and pulled up his top to play with his nipples—not even breast buds yet, but slightly swollen, and more sensitive than he remembered his cock being. The doctor had said the particular cocktail he’d been injecting him with would take about a month to show clear results, and now a week had passed, and it was definitely doing something. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought; soon he’d have tits just like he always wanted, one way or another.

His hands slipped down his midriff as he began to doze off. Not more than a minute could have elapsed when an indescribable change in the atmosphere startled him awake. The familiar short guy, well dressed, came in holding a leash; in front of his feet, that amputated freak who was Minpha’s neighbour. San-pon, the man had called it. Their schedules had not lined up to put San-pon in the same room at the same time as Minpha since the first day.

“Hey, who said you could take a break?” the man addressed Minpha.

“The doctor said I could when I was done at the restroom...”

He scratched his head, examining Minpha. “Ah, that’s right,” he said, “you got your junk removed.”

“N-not all of it.”

“Huh? Well anyway, San-pon has a raging hard-on, since his customers weren’t able to make him come today. He’ll have to use you to relieve the pent-up stress.”

The blue-haired boy, walking on cutely stockinged stumps, trailed his big, long cock on the wooden floor back between his thighs. It was in danger of getting a splinter if this kept up, so Minpha’s kindness compelled him to turn around and present his rear. “He should be able to get in without too much trouble,” Minpha said.

“You hear that, San-pon? I’m taking you off your leash now so you can play with your friend. You can come inside her as much as you want.”

“I’ve waited for this,” the amputee said. “My own toy!”

Minpha could hear his awkward, dull little steps behind him; then, all of a sudden, a warm and very wet tongue slipped in between his buttocks. He didn’t think he’d need so much preparation at this point—maybe the boy just liked the taste of arse. His tongue slipped inside and wriggled awhile, making Minpha’s body heat up and nipples ache. When the tongue was withdrawn, the boy threw his torso over Minpha’s back. He felt the huge, hot cock rub against his thigh, and arched his back to try and make entry easier. San-pon manoeuvered nimbly for an amputee.

“This is real cute,” the man commented. “I wish I had a camera. As a matter of fact, we could make a lot of money filming things like this for underground retail. We already do it with the female pigs at the other location. Anyway, duty calls—I think Momo-chan has scouted another talent to be trained up. You two enjoy each other...” His voice trailed off behind the shut door.

Momo-chan, Minpha thought, must have been what they called the girl who brought him here. He wondered what kind of new person she’d bring, and what kind of modifications this person might undergo. Then San managed to get his cock in, and he could only think of that. It went in balls-deep on the second thrust, and Minpha felt the bulge in his abdomen strain against the pillows on which he lay. The amputated boy began to fuck him like a dog, deeper than any dog-cock could conceivably get. His huge cock stirred Minpha’s guts as he panted and drooled, showing Minpha his place as the sex-toy of a freakish, dog-like boy. He was a bitch, after all.

And a minute later, he heard San-pon whimper behind him, felt the cock expand and contract within the walls of his anus, and a strange tickle in his stretched abdomen as the nerves of his skin there picked up the vibrations of a load being blown inside. He thrust on, even as he came, shrinking inside till he got bored and rolled away, taking his cock with him. He thumped back to his own partition on his stockinged stumps.

Minpha wanted to rest awhile, but there was an urgent pressure in his bladder, so he staggered to his feet, and found the restroom from earlier. He didn’t expect anyone to come for the gloryholes right at this time, so he went in his stall, lifted up the toilet lid, and sat down with pure intents. He farted San-pon’s semen, and took the plug out of his pee-hole to drivel some of his own. A slow stream of piss followed it. The simple act of relieving himself was oddly soothing now, and put him in the mood to get what sleep he could as soon as he returned to his pillows.

Hadn’t he earned it?