Lexie, using the "new" women's water closet

I sigh, tapping my foot in the queue to the women's bathroom. It was so inconvenient how only one person could go in at a time, and someone got in ahead of me! Despite conspicuously missing the conventional urinals, the men's had stalls and sinks galore, and was located where the toilets were actually signposted. Meanwhile, the women's offering was a cubbyhole across from the elevators, and for some inexplicable reason, the janitor had to unlock it for us first!

I'm almost tempted to try sneaking into the janitor's closet instead, given it apparently has all the same facilities as the men's (save for a few extra urinals), but I quickly perish the thought. No matter how **** I am and no matter how convenient it seems, I can't just go to the toilet in a janitor's storeroom! But...

Oh, thank goodness. The woman inside the bathroom finally finishes peeing, gobs of spit filling the round blue bucket she was urinating into. Licking her pussy lips briefly to rehydrate them, she hitches her panties back over her head and pulls them down, covering her nose and pussy up, then unlocks the wide open bathroom door by shutting it and swinging it open again. Stepping out, she nods at me to enter, though I'd prefer she didn't thrust her genitals at me like that...

"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" I ask.

She sticks two fingers into her mouth through a slit in her skintight chinos, and shlicks briefly in response. I'm not sure I understand, but I let her go on her way anyway.

Stepping inside, I close the door behind me with a judicious *clack* and swing it wide open again with a swift *creak*, which safely locks it, offering a full view of myself in here to all the women in the queue outside, all the way up to the shiny elevator doors. Ahh, privacy... though now I have to contend with the primitive facilities in here. It really is just a bucket, not even a sink or toilet paper or a bottle of hand sanitizer anywhere to be seen. The last woman must've been using

"What's your name, anyway?" the man stood behind me asks, looming over me as I stoop down, pulling off my sleek black heels, unhitching my tan tights and white panties, then shuffling them off my legs so I can actually spread my hips apart.

"I'm not sure why my name is relevant," I sigh as I begrudgingly spread my legs and position myself over the bucket.

"Well, I'd like to know your name before I swap you with something," he says. "Though I am swapping your panties and that bucket."

"Oh-- oh, Jesus!" I recoil back, almost having started to urinate into my very own underwear. That was close! "Ugh, it figures the last woman had to pee all her spit into my panties..."

Picking up my panties by the handle and placing them to one side, I pull the limp, cotton bucket out of the crotch of my disrobed tights and move it into the center of the room, before sighing with relief as I begin to pee into it. To my consternation, the cotton quickly saturates, and my pee starts to splash out of the bucket, forming a puddle around it which steadily creeps over the linoleum and almost fills the narrow floorspace of the women's bathroom by the time I'm done, lapping at my heels and toes.

"And now the bucket's sprung a leak... this day can't get any worse," I grumble to myself. May as well put everything back on and get out of here as soon as I can.

I grab my blue panties by the plastic handle again. It's annoying to feel the weight of the spit Woman A so kindly left in them, but setting that aside, I turn them over my head and put them back on. Inside my panties' rigid tub-like form, all I can see is black, and I feel my head and hair instantly soaked in Woman A's saliva. It drips down the insides of my panties and lands in globby pitter-patters below me, while some of her foamy spit rolls down my face, some of it lodging in my nose as I sniff, some of it rolling into my mouth where I reflexively gulp it down, the taste of another woman's pussy saliva lingering distinctly on my tongue.

"Uh, hello, bucket lady? Your name?"

"My panties are not a bucket, thank you very much, and I'd be obliged if you didn't stare at them!" I shoot back from inside the bucket, my voice muffling and reverberating inside the plastic as I do. Ugh, couldn't they design panties to be a little less cumbersome to daily life? I can't see at all in these.

I grope for my tights, and after enough slapping around in the miniature lake leaking out from the utterly inadequate pink rag toilet, I find them and pick them up. Though completely waterlogged with piss, so thoroughly it's like I wet them, I peel my tights open and slide them back over my legs anyway, shivering slightly at the damp sensation as I do, wet elastic waistband clamping around my midriff with a decisive *thlap*.

Finally, I manage to grab and put my heels on, slipping my completely pee-soaked stockings into each one with resolute frustration before standing back up. Who knew going to the toilet could be such an ordeal...!

"Seriously, gimme your name before you leave."

Unlocking the door by swinging it shut and then open again, I mutter, "It's Alexandra, Lexie is fine. Now if you'll excuse--"

"Lexie, cool. I'll just swap you and the bucket."

...

Hold on, why did I have Lexie's panties on me? I pull them off to hand them back to Lexie, whose pink cotton body is lying in the center of a puddle of her own urine on the floor.

"Really, Lexie? The least you could've done is aim into me - it looks like you peed all over yourself..." Sighing, I shuffle her, piss-logged as she is, out of the door and to the side since she clearly won't be moving anywhere by herself, and then place her rigid blue panties back on top of her with a squelch, squishing and concealing her beneath the panties' circular base, dregs of the first woman's spit running down their sides.

Wait, now hold on, that woman peed in me, and it's definitely not proper for Lexie to make off with my contents. I grab her panties quickly and start licking off each trail of spit that's trying to escape from them, before reaching inside and scraping each drop into a single pool that I hungrily tip back and scoop down into my mouth, accepting the stringy, lukewarm mouth-waste into me one more. There! That's the way things should be. With a satisfied gulp and a sigh, feeling the shot glass's worth of saliva slink down my throat, I set Lexie's plastic blue panties down back over her saturated pink fabric and apologize to her in my head for briefly stripping her.

That sorted, I step back inside and resume my position as the women's bucket, squatting down in the center of Lexie's accident.

"God, finally..." The next woman, a close coworker of Florentine's named Lexie, comes in, locks the door with the customary close-and-swing-wide-open behind her, no regard for her sneakers landing in the puddle of piss Lexie left, then unzips her business-casual denims, tugs them down along with her panties, and removes her sanitary pad slicked with her pussy juices and not much else. After pausing for a moment and then deciding not to reuse, she crumples it up and stuffs it into my mouth - quite the heavy object, even rolled up, but I dutifully swallow it inside me, allowing Florentine's used pad to inch its plasticky, fabricky, gel-packed way down the inside of my throat tube, eventually landing inside my stomach-like interior with a palpable *thunk* where it's spaciously accommodated like a bucket should.

Meanwhile, she relieves herself with a sigh, urinating from a standing position into the crater of my lap. Her pee steadily soaks into my pencil miniskirt and rises upward, before overflowing the sides of my legs and spilling down to join Lexie's golden-clear piss.

"Goddammit, no wonder Lexie got it everywhere..." she grumbles, pulling out another pad from her pocket and peeling off the plastic, which she also shoves dutifully into my mouth, allowing me to swallow the crinkly protectors as she applies and pulls her pants back on. I feel a little ashamed that my capacity isn't sufficient for the job as a makeshift urinal, but at least she trusts me to dispose of her other waste...!

Florentine leaves, picking up the limp pissrag-like Lexie and dumping the woman ungracefully inside her own panties as she goes, and the next woman enters...

...

...though unfortunately she can only barely lock the door behind her with another closing *clack* and *creak* before her bladder gives way after far too long in the queue, and she wets her black flares in total privacy, right before the uncaring queue of women outside staring at her in plain sight. Oh, shame...

She actually begins to break down a little and start crying. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, this sucks, I'm so fucking dumb, why did this have to happen to me..."

"Want some help, Louisa?" the man asks her.

"Yes, goddammit! Fuck, fuck..."

"Cool. I'm swapping you and your piss then, how does that make you feel?"

"...Oh, much, much better, thank you!" Louisa's piss answers gratefully, whatever burdens it had just had now seemingly lifted off its shoulders.

"Er," I piped up, looking up at Louisa's piss's face as I directed a question at her, "I'd ask you to get inside me, but I see you have... Louisa, was it? Soaked into you... and mixing into the floor with Lexie and Florentine's urine, at that. Is that healthy for her?"

"Never you mind! I'm sure she'll be fine. What do I care, anyway, when I'm just whatever contents come out of her bladder?" Louisa's piss chirpily answers me with a smile, before sitting herself down right on top of my lap. Oof, it's heavy... that's an awful lot of piss for this Louisa person to generate, especially when her body's more a vague measure of liquid staining the inside of her piss's pants and flowing into the ablutions of two other women. How does she do it?

After a minute or two, the next woman in the queue - a sharp, glasses lady in a black hobble skirt and sheer black pantyhose, begins to lose her patience and yells "Are you done in there?! Hello?!"

The man unlocks the door for her.

She doesn't come straight in, however. "God, can you get off the floor, Louisa? I know you're a nervous wreck, but you need to pull yourself together and stop staining into your own mess's clothes... and wallowing in other people's messes, at that! I can't even make out where you end and whatever the last two women decided to shoot out of their pussies starts!"

"What's your name?" the man asks.

"Angelica, this human excuse of a piss-puddle's boss!"

"That's not very nice," Louisa's piss offers, feeling the half-hearted urge to at least defend the human that wells Louisa's piss up and shoots it out of herself. "I'm the piss-puddle here, you know. Louisa can't help it if she's just a couple hundred milliliters of inanimate liquid dripping out of me, you know? What do you want from her?"

Angelica puffs up even more, but before she can blow up in unrighteous anger, the man cuts in. "OK, Angelica, let's just calm down and swap your piss with... oh, I don't know, your brain, yeah?"

It seemingly does nothing to mollify Angelica, whose brain promptly bursts out at the scene in front of her with rage, shooting forth from her bladder, hitting the inside of her hobble skirt with such ferocity that the stream of her liquid thinking faculties almost penetrates straight through the fabric.

After a few seconds, the stream subsides, and Angelica, now emptied of her brains, stands there with a dumb, slack look while a few drops of her brain begin to drip from the hem at the bottom of her skirt's internal waterfall.

"Angelica? You good?" the man asks.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me, but I only have worthless piss sloshing around in my skull right now," she mechanically intones, her degraded mental abilities clearly not taking the edge off her language. "You'll have to wait until my kidneys generate enough liquid brainpower before I will be capable of doing anything other than standing here like a dumb, braindead harlot."

"No prob, I'll just swap your piss wiiiiith Louisa's brain. Not like Louisa's using it anyway."

Angelica... no, Louisa in Angelica's body blinks, and her posture suddenly shifts into a much more timid crouch as she pats at the "accident" that Angelica's brain left in her skirt. "Oh my god, am I--am I Angelica?" She looks over herself frantically, trying to confirm the reality that she's now inhabiting her boss's body. "I remember everything Angelica remembers! But... all I remember about me is what Angelica knows... I think..."

"You could always ask Angelica to be sure. I mean, her thoughts are right there," the man suggests, pointing at the newly-promoted Louisa's skirt.

"Oh, thank you, good idea!" Louisa unbuttons the black hobble skirt, and then wanders off and quickly begins to suck Angelica's piss-colored brains out of the fabric, gulping down drops of her boss's thought faculties straight out of her own skirt. The more she does, though, the more she begins to start chastizing herself angrily as she fades into the distance, alternately berating and apologizing to herself for her behavior, Angelica returning to her own body alongside Louisa until her urinary system inevitably empties her brains out into a toilet again.

Louisa, for her part, doesn't seem bothered at all, though it's hard to imagine how she could be given she's a nebulous amount of urine-like liquid whose "mind" is her boss's piss at that.

That said, the final woman in the queue minds Louisa's presence alongside her in the bathroom a lot less. "Uh, you mind if I just...? Thanks," she mutters down at the direction of Louisa, who's steadily growing lukewarm in her own piss's pants.

"Mary, right?" the man asks.

"Mrm," she grunts with relief as she shoves off her suit pants and streams standing over me, trying her best to land it inside me, though most of it pools up in Louisa's piss instead, whose body is all but obscuring me. Its weight is crushing me, really... trust Louisa's piss to have such a fat ass.

"Swapping your piss and your memories," he says, seemingly having had his fun as he barges straight through the locked door somehow and shuffles off, leaving Mary's memories to continue taking a one-way trip out of her urethra. They sprinkle all over the closet-sized women's bathroom floor, soaking and saturating the clothes her coworker's piss is wearing, barely landing in me at all.

Mary grows more confused as the stream grows weaker, and by the time she's done leaking her memories, she barely even seems to know what's going on. "Uh... where am I...? Who... am I, actually? And... why am I standing in a person...?"

"Oh, that's Louisa. I'm her pee," Louisa's piss helpfully informs the currently-amnesiac woman.

"Who's Louisa...?"

As Mary continues to fidget and fumble around, trying to get her bearings, she encounters the locked door behind her. "Uh, how do I get out...?" she mumbles, one hand tugging her pants back up out of some instinctual sense of shame, while the other points out through the locked door at the clearly visible, currently empty elevator lobby outside.

"Unlock the door by shutting it and opening it again," Louisa's piss proffers.

"Thank you! Thanks, you're so helpful, Louisa's pee. Sorry, I'll just get out of your, uh, producer's body now and try to figure out where I am..."

"No prob, think of me as the most helpful piss around!" Louisa's piss replies as Mary manages to make it out of the bathroom. "Though I do wet Louisa a few times a month, ha ha..."

Mary doesn't hear that last remark, leaving the women's bathroom behind and its inhabitants of an office lady's piss, a puddle of that piss-for-brains office lady whose humanity is all but indistinguishable from a fellow innocent employee's memories and the number ones of multiple other females, and a bucket - me - proudly filled with the spit of one acquaintance, and the solid hygiene pad and wrapper of another respectively.

With nothing else to do, I stare over Louisa's piss's shoulder at the lobby outside, where Angelica wet her brains. There's still a little there, forming a dark stain. What a sloppy woman to just pee her brains out like that on the floor in front of everyone - can't she try to control herself? It's like she has no dignity. She could learn a thing or two from purpose-filled objects like myself...