Recycled Reused

Lastly is the cleansing station. At first I thought it was the best of the stations. The least creepy or violating. Just a shower, right? A refreshing shower. I was wrong. It is no better or worse than the others.

The cleansing station is only that. It is not refreshing. It is a round clear chamber in the middle of a rooms floor up a few steps just like the others and a door that slides down out of the ceiling to complete the chamber once an entrant steps inside. There are no holes for arms or anything, and aside from a mouth gag hanging down from above just offset from the middle, just a three foot wide chamber of the same soft, crystal-clear material but with lots of holes in it on the inside. Each of those holes sprays a clear, liquid substance. Not water.

I step in and bend over slightly and put my mouth over yet another gag, similar to the ones in the other chambers but perforated all over. While my body is relentlessly sprayed for a minute with cleanser, my mouth is sprayed with cleanser too. A tube in my mouth vacuums out the mouthwash as it is sprayed. I hold my breath, and there is no indication to do so, but it seems prudent and I still believe that it is. After the spray wash in my mouth and on my body stop, the chamber fills with a fierce warm wind. It blows every trace of cleanser off my body except for a light sheen that never really comes off.

I say at first I thought it was best of the stations, and the least creepy. The cleansers have no smell. The cleanser that is sprayed into my mouth has no taste. It might as well be warm distilled water except it is not. It is somehow more slippery than water, though it is at least as light if not lighter. It leaves no residue in my mouth.

I feel a psychological effect of being somehow more naked, having the protectant on my skin. The complete and total lack of hair, growing, cut, or otherwise (except for my eyelashes) is extremely depersonalizing and dehumanizing as well. I am just another of a long line of things. I am different than the other "things" but not enough to make any difference to the system.

The sleep station was the most obvious of them all, I discovered. After my first experience in the function station, my mind wasn't ready for sleep but I was glad to lay down and rest. I lay down on what was obviously a sleeping pallet, had it cradle my naked body and before I knew it, I dozed off. I drifted off to sleep, eyes closing and I dreamed, of all things, the restaurant. I was back there. But somehow there was a function station next to the bar, and it was my turn, but only after my girlfriend got out.

I woke to the light over my head going on and the light inside the pallet going on below me. I had the most raging hard on of all time. The lights didn't just snap on but came on to full power over the course of about two seconds. I have never felt so rested as I did at that moment. I also still felt pretty exposed. Confused and scared again, but rested.

As I came around and sat up, the pallet released me, turning into once again a completely flat surface. Firmer. I noticed some sweat lines all over where it cradled my body. As I sat up, the door opened. The vestiges of my dream still in my head with visions of my girlfriend in a function chamber for hours on end still fresh in my mind, I spied the line outside the sleep station room, already moving. I was still here.

I stood up in my doorway and got in line just as I had before and followed the line to a function station. The line took about 15 minutes and the function station was just like the previous night. My whole body convulsing with orgasm, my penis filled with a tube into my bladder and my anus plugged, reamed, and cleaned. I stumbled out this time, considerably less shocked than the previous night and rejoined the line finding myself thinking that there was nothing actually unpleasant about the experience, and the orgasm was truly incredible.

The line proceeded to the sustenance station where I had my first experience, and then the exercise station, and so on. When I came once more to a sleep station, I was exhausted, and welcomed it. I crawled onto the pallet and let it claim me. I cannot remember my dreams that 2nd night but suspect they were more of the same.

I often dream of my girlfriend, well, exgirlfriend now, who is probably someone else's girlfriend, plugged into the function chamber with various differences, usually involving nipple features that suck and steal milk from her pert breasts, which pulses out through tubes as she is orgasmed against her will.

It is not a good-hearted dream and I of course want nothing of the kind for her. She deserves her life as I deserve mine back, but my subconscious will not be denied it's fantasy, much as I try to dream of anything else.

I spent the first several cycles getting used to the dreams. I never heard so much as a whisper from any of the other guys and was afraid to try to communicate but in part I was too tired to feel confident enough to get up to "mischief". The third cycle I witnessed a guy "lose it".

I was in line for the cleansing station and a guy who had just finished stepped back into line and when the guy behind him was being cleansed, he changed from the automaton that we all are to a lively man. He raised his arms trying to wipe the residue off and screamed.

"NO MORE!!"

He stepped out of line and yelled back at us.

"NO MORE!!"

His face contorted with rage and he continued to howl. I expected him to make a run for it but it dawned on me that there was nowhere to run. He would only see more line, more stations, more line, more stations, but all the sudden, in the side of the room we were standing in, a door opened. I had never seen the lines that made the door apparent before, but there they were and the door was open. I have looked long and hard at where I think that door was since then, and without walking over for closer inspection, I swear there is nothing there.

He smiled, relieved, overjoyed and walked happily and grandly into the hallway where the door opened. He yelled,

"Farewell Brothers!"

And laughed as he walked away. The hallway disappeared around a bend, of course, and when he entered it, the door closed behind him. Right on cue, the line moved again, completing another interval. Right then, some guy was probably blinking his eyes open, awake. Another guy was finishing getting his sustenance. Another guy was stepping onto a treadmill, and yet another was stepping out of a function chamber. But at that moment, one guy was walking down an empty hallway.

I have never seen that guy since. He had a small mole on the back of his right thigh and I have been looking for it ever since on every guy I see. It all runs together but I know I have never seen him. In point of fact, from one cycle to the next I recognize nobody. There are Asian guys, black guys, Latin guys, white guys like me, and every combination thereof, but I don't think I have ever seen the same guy twice and probably wouldn't know if I had.

Since that day, I have seen 15 more guys "lose it". It never is quite the same on the part of the guy.

3 of the guys screamed and ran forward out of sight and out of sound range. 4 of the guys screamed and ran backward down the line and hall. Some of them lost their desire to stay calm right where they were. In those cases, a door to a hallway opened nearby and the guys were only too happy to walk or run down it. In one case, a door opened at the a turn in the hallway in front of me and a guy that freaked out somewhere in line way behind me came running down the hall and ran into it. The doors shut and he was gone.

One guy sat down on the side of a hallway. A doorway opened on a hallway just down from him, inviting. Inviting anyone and everyone who dared to walk down it. I walked past interval by interval, not really looking at the guy. He sat there considering the hallway. I was going to the exercise station next and when I went again to an exercise station the hallway I walked down was a different one, the turns at the ends being opposite, so I didn't get to see if he was still there.

This is where I am, 233 cycles later. I calculate I have been to the function station 933 times including the night I arrived. It is no longer a going concern. None of it is. My hair has not grown back and even more concerning, my fingernails and toenails grew off. They just stopped producing, and when the nails were more off than on my fingers and toes, they started to fall off. My dental hygiene is great and my physique is fantastic. I could sprint for 15 minutes now I think.

While I am in the shape of my life, I have no desire to continue. I never taste the food. I never taste anything. I long for the taste of anything. A steak. Broccoli. Mosquito repellant carelessly sprayed on my lips. My girlfriends pussy.

I long for a different view. Something with colors. Something blue or green. Everything here is opaque light, crystal clear, bright and silver wall or floor, or the hides of other poor schmucks like me. I would give a finger to see the dumpster behind the restaurant.

Orgasms mean nothing. I have 4 a day whether I want them or not and I would just as soon not have any. My body betrays me. Every time. Not only do I have every orgasm, I cannot deny the impossible pleasure I derive from them. It is not like a drug, it is a drug. One that I cannot avoid. I still fantasize about my girlfriend. I fantasize about all kinds of women from my past and having sex with them but always somewhere there is a function chamber nearby, and whether in waking fantasy or dream, someone ends up in it for a long, extended stay, getting reamed.

I have decided to lose it. I actually decided it 20 cycles ago or so but it didn't dawn on me till a few cycles ago that I had come to that decision. It could be the end of my life, or a new beginning. For all I know it could be a life filled with torture, but I am willing to take that chance just for change. In any case, if I stay longer without "losing it", I will cease to care about anything. I will forget where I came from, because with the monotony of where I am, holding onto the memories is getting nearly impossible.

Even now I find my memories have changed. My girlfriend looks different in my mind than how she looks in some of my memories, and I know my mind is superimposing it's construct over her actual image. For instance, I know her breasts are a B cup. But in all my memories, she has cleavage that no B cup has ever had. Where did it come from? I guess it doesn't matter because no matter what, it is NOT REAL. She didn't look that way. If I am to be sane, there must be some basis for reality.

I have decided that tomorrow I will "lose it". After the first trip to the function station.

CYCLE 234

So that's it then. The lights are coming on and it is cycle 234. That's poetic. 2-3-4. Why not?

As I sit up and lower my feet to the floor, the door slides open.

I am pretty sure this is cycle 234 for me. I have no way to count other than my mind, and my mind is probably trustworthy but it is difficult to tell sometimes. -But what am I doing? This is my last cycle. I won't recite my story today.

I can tell the interval is about up. I don't know how I can tell but after so many cycles I just can. I step into the doorway and stretch and the interval changes and I step into line. I am determined to try to enjoy my last trip to the function station. Determined this cycle is the one. I have no plans to freak out, just to walk away from the function station toward where I am pretty sure the door will open.

It takes 10 intervals to get to the function station chamber. I climb in just like that first time except with the sure hands and moves of a man that has climbed in and out almost a thousand times. My toes fit into the sockets and heels rock back into the molds.

I position my anus over the plug and press down gently and my anus accepts it without question, locking around the base. My scrotum slips naturally into the scrotum pouch and my penis without looking or even touching it into the penis tube.

Arms thrust forward into the armholes and I put my mouth over the mouth rest. The door whisks shut and I am sealed yet again into the function machine.

The tube slides familiarly into my penis as it has hundreds of times before and hundreds of times per cycle on an untold number of guys, probably millions of times into the penises of other guys for all I knew. It doesn't matter.

The tube pressed through to my bladder and did the emptying for me. I hadn't taken a leak by myself in the better part of a year. Then the orgasm started. My body was a total traitor when it came to this machine. It sometimes started twitching in my penis and rectum before I was even in the room with it. My body KNEW when cum-time was. I was always rock hard before ever stepping into the function station room. My penis had even grown. I estimated it had grown by about 30 percent and was never more than semi flaccid.

The contractions began in my ass and cock and I started orgasming right away. I came and came and came until there was no more, as usual, and my orgasmic muscles were too fatigued to continue. The penis tube finished up and slipped out and the plug told my rectum to get busy. I think my rectum would have anyway, being trained like it was, but it responded and blew out everything that could have possibly been in there.

Then the familiar eel came slithering up my rectum and cleared out anything that could possibly have been left over and I was done.

I stepped out of the chamber feeling tired of it yet invigorated. I stepped out and knew that I was going to go through with it for good or ill. I stepped, paused, and walked toward the wall where the door was going to open.

Only it didn't. I looked at the wall and glanced back at the line and the guys looked back at me. Even the guy that was supposed to get into the chamber was dawdling to watch. He was climbing in, but watching me. I didn't know what to do. The chamber closed on the guy and the process started on him but I was standing there feeling stupid. I chuckled a little and so did the guys in line!

I croaked, "Freak out, freak out, freak out!" half-heartedly, with an unused voice.

The guys in line snickered but cut off as the door opened pretty much where I originally thought it would. Beyond it was a hallway, like all the other hallways, except it wasn't.