The Undress Event

Bill decided he was at his limit. "I don't know about you guys, but I've held all the water I can- here goes!" With that, he relaxed his sphincters and began to urinate into the street. A forceful stream was coming out of him. A young girl came up immediately, and started manipulating his penis to move the stream around.

Others were having to relieve themselves, too, in much the same way. There was a bit of a new game brewing, as several of the younger onlookers watched for a captive to urinate, then rush to grasp his penis and play games with aiming his urination.

Barbara watched this for a bit, then twisted her body toward her nearest companion. "I"ve got to relieve myself, too - I wonder what they'll do with me!" She turned to the street and released her urine stream, which sprayed in front of her and ran down her legs, soaking her feet. Several men and boys came up to her, watching, pointing, laughing, and showing amused expressions.

They left the captives standing in position until about eleven o'clock, when their guards began taking them down, but not releasing their bound hands. However, with their hands in front of them now, they could protect their privates a bit from the continual gropings as they were taken away, they knew not to where.

It developed their place for the night was to be a room in a small building. The room was about twenty-five feet square, lit with two glaring light bulbs hanging overhead, with high windows and only one door. It had a cement floor. The captives were led in. When all were inside, the door was closed, and, it seemed, locked.

It appeared they were alone, and perhaps this was their hotel for the night. No beds, no blankets, no padding on the floor, and hardly roomy for thirty seven people. The floor was reasonably clean, but hard, and there was no furniture except for one wooden table. Looking under it, they found a single drain hole, perhaps four inches across, covered with an iron grill.

After most of an hour, Miguel opened the door and came in. "Friends, we offer you this for your room for the night. It is not spacious, but we are a poor community. We will see you in the morning, about six. Your bus and driver have been sent back to the city, with your clothes. All of us thank you for your excellent and generous participation in our little festival. We hope you enjoy the little markings you have acquired, and we hope you will show them off to our government officials and your friends when you return. For tonight, if anyone needs to use the toilet, our guards will open the door every two hours and will take up to four people if they need to go in the night. Tomorrow, we will have a farewell party for you! Good night!"

The door closed and they were left with their thoughts. It was now about midnight. Most of them were sitting or lying on the bare floor, using each other's bodies as cushions or sitting with the walls as backrests. A few were sleeping. All were exhausted. All were dirty, messy, covered with painted messages, and with the huge liquid intake they had been given, most were needing to urinate in varying degrees of intensity.

The men were complaining of their discomforts. It was cool, but not terribly cold, and their collective body heat was keeping the room temperature at a tolerable level. They complained of the hard floors, their own untidiness, and of tomorrow's uncertainty. But, after another hour, most of the complaints were of one overwhelming need - most of them needed to pee, and badly.

At least twelve men had placed themselves near the door, awaiting its promised opening in another hour. One loudly observed, "He said they would only take four of us at a time! That's an hour for four people - and at least three hours for the rest!"

"I'm not going to be able to wait that long!" one man protested. Someone sitting on the floor said, "Look, why don't we use that drain? At least it'll be better than swimming in the mess we're going to have when some of us start doing it on the floor!"

Several of them moved the table, leaving the small drain in an open area. Immediately one man knelt down beside it and, aiming his penis into it, started urinating. Several others took places behind him, forming a queue. The process was slow, even though two men could use it at a time if they took care.

"Be sure your aim is good - we don't want this place awash in pee!" one of the men loudly instructed.

Nora was leaning on Grace, trying to get a bit of rest. It was difficult. Although she was exhausted, the light was in her eyes, the floor was hard, there was noise around, and her bladder was demanding relief. She looked toward the door, where eight men now stood, waiting for its promised opening, now about fifteen minutes away. "Think we should get in line for the door? Maybe some of the men would let us in the line?"

Grace looked at the line. As she did, she noticed men breaking up the queue for the drain hole, thinking it not a good idea for the guard who would open the door to realize how they were using it. Fearful that the door line might get longer, she got up and moved toward it. Grace followed her. As Nora had hoped, several men allowed the two women to go to the head of the line. They waited.

At about the promised time, one of their guards opened the door, holding up four fingers to signify four people. The two women went quickly out, followed by the two men next in line. The guard closed the door, and everyone waited about twenty minutes, when the door again opened and the four were ushered back in. The door closed with a noisy slam. Almost immediately, men again began to form the queue for the drain hole.

Mark was near Evelyn, and asked her why she had not gone to the door. "They might have taken four women- you could have gone. Or don't you need to?" She looked back at him sympathetically. "Do you think I needed to go worse than those two men they took? My bladder probably isn't hurting any worse than theirs was. I'm going to try for the other line - excuse me!"

She got up and went to the end of the queue for the drain hole. Eleven men were in front of her. One turned and saw her, the first woman in that line. He quickly said something to the men ahead of him, and quickly Evelyn was ushered to the front of the line. When the two men using the drain hole had finished, they gestured for her to use it next. The man behind her turned to the others in line. "Look, fellows, let's give the lady a bit of privacy. Why don't you turn your backs?" Most did, and Evelyn smiled an appreciative glance as she positioned herself squatting over the hole. Then she began a prolonged urination, as her body rid itself of some of the huge amount of liquid she had swallowed.

Waiting for her to finish, the man next in line asked her over his shoulder if she was finished. "No - still going" she answered, "I don't mean to hog it, but I was awfully full!" Then she added, thoughtfully, "I know you are too - just a minute or so." Finally she finished, and moved away. Aware of her dampened lips and hair, she momentarily wished for something with which to dry herself, but there was nothing.

The man beside Barbara asked her, gently. "Do you think you can wait for the door? It's going to be at least an hour and half!" "No - I can't," she answered. "Might as well get in the other line now!" She moved over to the line for the drain hole. Immediately the man ahead of her offered her to go ahead of him. "I'll take my turn!" the steely faced grandmother answered quickly.

Myra, the remaining female who had not moved to relieve herself, got up and went to the end of the line, now two places behind Barbara. Like Barbara, she declined to be moved ahead.

Barbara reached the head of the line, watching two men use the hole together. When they had finished, she moved to position herself over it. The man behind, as had been done for Evelyn, suggested to the men they turn their backs to allow her some privacy. Barbara stopped them. "You weren't given any privacy, and we're all in the same situation. I'll do without it, too. Now two people have been using it at once - you can use it with me, if you're not afraid!" she said to the man next in line, then added with a smile, "And if your aim is good!"

She squatted over the hole, on the side away from the line, and indicated the next man could come forward. She spread her legs as wide as she could, allowing him to kneel between her splayed legs and aim for the hole. Suddenly her body began releasing a torrent into the drain. Her male hole mate tried to release his stream, but found he was developing an erection as he watched her. Finally he got his own stream going. Barbara finally finished, and got up, motioning the next man to move in.

Myra, the youngest and arguably the prettiest of the women, finally got her turn, Following part of Barbara's example, she declined the offer for the men to turn their backs, but also declined to share the hole. Relieved at last, she moved away from it.

It was a long night. The room was crowded and uncomfortable. While there remained a queue for the drain hole, much of the urgency had been relieved. Some managed to sleep, others just dozed a few moments at a time.

Grace awakened to see sunlight coming in the windows. She had managed at least to nap, and now she felt cramped from her position sitting on the floor and with her back against the wall. She looked down at herself, the sunlight illuminating her body clearly and showing off the bizarre appearance of her painted breasts - one red and one green. She was almost laughing at her ridiculous appearance. She tried to scrape the paint with her fingernails, but now it had dried hard and little came off.

Shortly, the door opened, and their quasi-gracious host, Miguel stepped into the room.

"Good morning, my friends!" he began in what they began to believe was total sarcasm. "We have a breakfast for you, and then your farewell party! You must all come outside, now!"

They began to file out the door. They were made to line up, single file, with their guards watching on each side, and marched back to the square where they had been given their meal the previous afternoon. Once there, they found the same tables, now set with a supply of bread, a bit of fruit, and a generous supply of water, fruit juice, and weak coffee.

"You are welcome! Enjoy yourselves!" Miguel instructed them. They began to take of the food and drinks.

As there had been no offer of a toilet break after they were awakened, several moved to use the toilets in the small park. Of course, the doors were still wired open, so those who used the facilities did so in full view of not only other captives but the numerous onlookers who were gathering. Nonetheless, lines began to form in front of each of the two toilets.

They were given about an hour to eat and fortify themselves for the day. They looked at themselves. They were a sorry looking lot. All were naked, and no one had bathed for a day. They had no combs, no razors, no deodorants. The men were unshaven, and all had uncombed hair. They were dirty, and a certain amount of body odor was becoming evident. They were all painted with slogans and messages, and some of their body parts were smeared with paint. The paint was now dry and virtually unremovable by any means available to them.

Miguel now announced that they would have to go for photographs, to "record a memory of this time you have been with us!" as he put it.

One at a time they were taken outside the park, to a place where each was made to stand against a wall while two photographs were taken; one full frontal, one back view.

"Looks like they're going to use us for cover girls and boys," Barbara noted in disgust.

"I guess they don't care how we look - we're all such a mess!" Grace noted.

Once the pictures were taken, they were formed up into a double line and again their guards went down the ranks, binding each captive's hands behind his or her back. This time there were no exceptions for the women. Then they were marched back down the streets, two abreast.

Periodically, there were made to stop and face outward. This gave them a short rest period, but while they were standing stationary, once more local citizens were allowed to come up to them and amuse themselves with the genitals and breasts of the captives. Many took advantage of this opportunity.

The process went on for the rest of the morning. As noon approached, Miguel again addressed them. "Perhaps you are now a bit weary. We have enjoyed having you with us, but the party is nearly over and it is almost time to say good-by. We cannot offer you lunch, but we will provide you some drinks." They saw a bench at the side of the road, on which containers of water and weak tea were placed, with a small number of cups. The guards untied their bound hands, but kept watch around them.

"I've had enough of that tea to last a lifetime!" Mark almost snarled as he looked at what was offered. Still, there was a limited alternative. They began to drink of what was available, sharing cups as there were many fewer cups than captives.

"For those who need relief, this way - and two at a time, please!" Miguel pointed the way back to that ditch they had used in pairs the previous day. There was, as usual, a catch. Anyone wanting to go and relieve himself must first have drunk of the fluids offered, and then again had his hands bound behind him. Two at a time, they went down to the ditch to urinate, crowds watching them.

Grace was among the first of the women to be escorted to the ditch, along with one of the men. As she stood on its edge, she started to squat, and was immediately pulled back up. "Stand!" she was told, firmly. She stood and released her water in that posture.

When those who sought relief came back, their hands were not unbound. Instead, those who had not gone to ditch were tied in like manner, and the whole group were taken down a side road for a bit, where they saw two ancient, rather decrepit trucks, their beds open but with low sides. Several boxes had been stacked to make a type of steps to allow them to board. They were directed to load up, still with hands bound behind them. Then they were made to sit on the truck beds.

After all had been loaded, the trucks were started.

"Now where are we going?" was the standard question. Their seemed to be no certain answer. Several of their captors rode each truck to insure they made no attempt to leave, but their destination was not announced.

They wandered down lonely country roads through the rural region. For two hours the vehicles meandered through small roads. Eventually they were stopped at a point that seemed desolate. There was a flat grassy area to one side of the road, but no buildings or evidence of any local population.

They were ordered out of the trucks, and assembled in the flat open area. Miguel stood before them. "It is time to say good-by. We will miss you, we wish you well, but we do not wish for your return. We hope you have the same feeling. We want our towns to remain as they are, and not to be polluted by new factories and warehouses. We hope you will remember this. Now we will leave you!"

"Where are we?" One called out.

"You do not need to know," Miguel answered. "The Federal Police are being told where you are. You will be rescued. Do not try to leave here and you will be all right. Now we go. Good-by!" He waved merrily to them, and the two trucks drove off, leaving thirty seven naked people with bound hands, standing in the grass.

At first they could do nothing but mutter to each other about their plight. Then they began to try to help themselves. Mark suggested they back up to each other, everyone trying to free the bonds of his partner. They struggled with the cords for a number of minutes, but finally one man was able to get his hands free. From that point on, it was easy, as they began to untie one another.

"Free at last" Jim called out, with a big smile.

"Free in the jungle of Heaven-knows-where!" someone answered him.

They conferred, finally deciding their best course of action was to remain together for the time being, in the hopes that there really would be a rescue. So they waited. Some sat or laid on the grass. Some walked around aimlessly.

Several of the men stood at the edge of the clearing to relieve themselves.

Evelyn tapped on Grace, saying "Look - there's a bush! I can go behind it and pee in privacy!"

Grace opened her arms, and looked down at her bi-colored breasts. "At this point" she declared, "Who needs privacy!" With that she squatted where she was and started to urinate. Mark, standing close by, turned and looked directly at her, pouring a stream on the ground.

"Two days ago, I would never have let you see me like this! Now I'm past caring! Look all you want!" she told him, almost laughing. She glanced down at herself. "Look - one red and one green! Did you ever see anyone colored like that?" She seemed amused at her own absurd appearance.

Mark pointed to another man. "See Patrick? Look what they did to him!" Grace stared at the man's penis - painted red. She went over to him and inquired, rather brazenly, "Will you be able to get that off?"

"Could have been worse," Patrick replied. "I'm Irish - suppose they had done it in orange?" He laughed at his own predicament.

Gradually, the captives were developing a rapport with each other - sharing in the absurdity of their appearances. They were openly looking at each other and trying to decipher the markings each bore. Though they were all naked and of mixed genders, they were arriving at a camaderie born of the experience they had been put through. They had ceased to be embarrassed at displaying their nude bodies to each other - now nudity had become a mark of honor, a sign of the adventure they had shared. They were beginning to relax and recover.

They waited for what must have been hours. They had no idea where they were, and not a single vehicle had passed down the road. They were getting hungry and some were thirsty again. They considered alternative strategies, but stopped as they heard the approaching sounds of a helicopter.

Then they saw it. It was a military helicopter, and it flew over them slowly, then gradually descended on the road. As it settled, two men in uniforms stepped out. They stopped and stared at the naked group.

One called out in English, "Have you no clothes?" The answer was obvious. The uniformed men informed them rescue was indeed on the way, and that a bus had been dispatched to pick them up. They would now radio precise instructions for the rescuers to follow.

Then they continued to stand and stare at the sight. Naked people, smeared with paint, covered with slogans and writings, dirty and disheveled. No one tried to hide or cover themselves from view.

It took another hour, but three police cars, followed shortly by a bus, appeared. They were quickly greeted by the police and then ushered into the bus. Unfortunately, their rescuers, knowing of their location but not their condition, had no clothes to offer them. They did have some food in the bus, which was quickly distributed and consumed.

Aboard the bus, they were taken back to the capital, three hours away. The bus stopped briefly to obtain more food for them at a village shop, but none of them left the bus, preferring to go back to the capital instead of wasting time looking for clothing.

Finally, back in the city, the bus pulled up to the hotel from which they had left early the previous day. It was now dark, and as they approached the hotel, a welcoming crowd was in evidence. As the bus stopped, some were expecting the passengers to disembark, but they remained aboard. From somewhere a supply of plastic coats had been obtained, and these were hastily passed up the steps to the bus.