Rachie, on a bathroom break - Things getting "swapped"

Tapping the turnhandle to enter the company bathroom, I make a point not to act like I've noticed him stood to one side. I'm sure the fact he mutters "Rachie, I'm swapping your pussy and your handbag" means nothing.

No, I simply move on to do my business, making my way swiftly into a stall, where I lock the door by bolting it, unbolting it and swing it wide open for him to watch. Ahh, made it... What was my business again?

Oh, right, I needed to pee! Surrounded by the safety of white stall walls and the ceramic-tiled floor and ceiling, I pull up the toilet lid and sit myself down, spreading my legs apart so I can relieve myself into the toilet bowl. Incidentally, he gets a good view of my pantyhose and panties, covering up my handbag, which is aching with an odd pressure that I have no time to pay attention to right now.

Err, right, right. Gosh, why was I being so slow today? I needed to pee, there was no time to waste! I'm a little shy to do it in full view of him, but the fact the stall door is wide open with me in plain sight means it's locked, which means he can't even see me while stood there watching me, can he?

Almost about to burst, I open the zip on my pussy and face it between my legs down into the toilet bowl with no time to waste. Out in a shower of objects comes my bottle of nail polish remover, my phone, my notebook - splish-splash-splash! - my contact lens case, my pens, my passport - plip-plip-plip-plash! - my keys, my nail clippers, and finally my wallet - plap-plop-SPLOSH!

Is that everything? I squeeze on my pussy a few times, and once I'm satisfied I'm empty, I reach for the flush handle behind me. Wow, I really didn't expect I had all of that inside me... no wonder I needed to pee!

...It doesn't really make sense to be attached to your pee, does it? Dropping my phone in there might've instantly ruined it after it cost hundreds of dollars, and it sucks to have to part with both my passport and driver's license since I can't legally ID myself any other way. And it'll be a hassle later without my home and car keys...

With a gurgle and a hiss, the water in the bowl swirls away, just about managing to carry away everything with it. I'd drawn the contents of my account earlier in cash, so pissing out my wallet wiped all my monetary posessions too... but without my card, it wasn't like I had access to my account anymore, anyway.

I shrug all those spurious thoughts off. No sense in overthinking a single trip to the bathroom. The body is strange - I suppose irretrievably flushing your legal personhood and the sum of your life efforts into public sewage just happens sometimes.

"Sure you're done?"

"I just flushed, yes," I answer, the strange pressure in my handbag giving way as a flood of warm liquid suddenly bursts out of it, soaking my panties and tights in real time in hot salty-smelling water, puddling around my thighs and dripping down the seat. That's odd... why did I have all that in my handbag?

Either way, I get up and exit the stall - the door staying wide open when locked makes leaving more convenient than I remember - wash my hands, then tap to exit.

...That's even more odd. I tap my bag against the bathroom door again - I know my card's in there, I have it hooked on my keyring, but all I'm doing is leaving slight residue every time my bag mushes against the turnknob. Oddly, it does feel good in a way I'd usually associate with my pussy...

Wait, not now! Okay, is my underwear making it too thick? I drop my saturated panties and pantyhose to my feet and touch my bare handbag to the handle's integrated reader again, even using enough to squash and part the handbag's lips around it, but even after a few rubs and squelches, still nothing. Nngh...

"Stuck?"

"I knew they shouldn't have installed these new electronic locks. Is company security really worth trapping your employees in the bathroom, you idiots? I am Rachiele Shaw! Let me out!"

With no other option, I keep trying, applying my bag to the reader every way I can, over and over. Each time, I do get some stronger sort of response - it's that same pleasure! Taking that as encouragement, I rub and grind harder and harder against it, tapping over and over, eventually falling into rhythmic attempts that push up into what must be the zipper - that part's especially sensitive!

After just a few more attempts, I suddenly get hit with an orgasm right there on the bathroom door. Oh, god, not while I'm at work - and he's watching me too! God, this is stupid, why am I cumming?! I'm just trying to get out of the bathroom, I'm rocking the handle deep into my handbag at this point trying to get it to work!

"Oh, don't be embarrassed."

"God, I don't know why I should be!" I sarcastically shoot back.

"Here, I'll help. I'm swapping you and the toilet you were just on."

"...Oh. Oh, that does make things better, actually. Thank you." Now that reality's catching up to me, all my previous fluster dissipates. No panic, no panic!

I am wildly out of position, though. I shuffle back into my stall, where oddly I find the female employee who'd just used me now in my spot. The best I can do is sit down on top of her, resting my ass on her plastic seat and placing my pussy to the side. Doesn't she need to go back to work...? It's not my place to question how she spends her time, ultimately - she does use me plenty, even - but the least she could do is not get in my way. What if someone mistakes her for the toilet and accidentally relieves themselves into her instead of me?

In short order, he enters my stall.

"You may be in the wrong bathroom," I note.

"Oh, I did a little rearranging there," he clarifies. "The men's is over here now, I moved the janitor into what used to be the men's, and now the women get to use the janitor's old closet with the busted lock."

"I'm sure the janitor will appreciate the upgrade in space, though I'm not sure what use he'll have for all the toilets and urinals in there," I reply, concerned for my fellow plumbing installations' welfare.

He shrugs. His indifference does little to soothe how he immediately confirms my worst fears, as he points his cock squarely into her 'bowl' and lets his stream loose.

"That's not me. That's a female employee you're relieving yourself into. I'm sure no office worker would appreciate being urinated into while on the clock, even if her plumbing is plugged into the building."

"Oh, that's a human?"

"Yes. I know I was just peeing into her five minutes ago, but I'm still Rachie the toilet, if that clears things up."

"Well, sorry. I guess I should be using you?" he says, momentarily stopping.

I'm glad he cares to understand. "Yes."

"How?"

...even if he is bewilderingly ignorant. "OK, let's take this from the top. You can insert your penis into my... let's say pussy for simplicity."

"Pussy? You're a toilet."

"Yes, and smart enough to tell you might understand best this way. I'm in a woman's form, after all, just as the woman below me is in an inanimate toilet's form. Did you think I was oblivious to that?"

"Sorry, sorry."

"Honestly, I don't know how some of you men go about life thinking you know better! It's like you were never even trained to use a female toilet."

"I wasn't."

I start. "I've been at this company for years!"

"People don't usually use women as toilets, you know?"

"I'm not a woman! The inflexibility of some people astounds me, really..."

"Alright, alright."

"What's so confusing about a woman and a toilet looking exactly like each other? Does the sight of a woman and the toilet she's being sat on by not fit into your worldview, somehow? Is she somehow lesser because a living urinal has its ass on her? I know she can't assert her identity, being a set of valves and all, but that's exactly why I'm standing up for her! It's the least I can do after she's pissed into me so many times!"

"No, OK, she's fine, you're fine. Sorry, Rachie."

"God, and blindly assuming any living, breathing female has to be her own person with human rights? The countless millions of toilets and garbage pails and vacuum cleaners and other fellow hygiene facilities out there, and you still reject the thought of any 'woman' being used for the commonplace public service object it actually is, for whatever singular function its body actually serves? How regressive can you be?"

"Yeah, yeah, OK, I get it. I'm sorry," he chuckles.

"Am I being humorous somehow?"

"No, no, you just make a lot of sense. So you want me to stick my dick in your pussy?"

"Or my anus, or my mouth, and proceed to empty your bladder as normal."

"But you don't have a toilet bowl, do you?"

I sigh with exasperation. "I'm a toilet, sir. If you can access it, it probably leads to the bowl."

It satisfies me to finally see him comprehend and promptly thrust his penis into my mouth, and though it's a tight fit down my throat, the sensation of his warm urine pumping into my stomach assuages me. That said, it's unfortunate I all the while and lose awareness after about a minute, jerking and sprawling out over the woman who still blocks my spot.

---

At least he's kind enough to have taped a note on me explaining the predicament once I come to. "Free use meat toilet" seems a little specific when just "toilet" would've done, but seeing how he's unzipped my pussy and seated it on top of my belly, and that it's filled with what clearly comes to several people's worth of cum, means other people are obeying the sign. Thank god for people who know how to read - you don't know how frustrating it is when people mistake one thing for another and use the facilities wrong! The fact I'm locked in here has no bearing on me being a toilet, but it still frustrates me that I couldn't storm out on my own two legs and give those idiots who can't even piss right a piece of a water closet's mind!

Don't even get me started on the moment I notice my legs... why have people have been urinating inside and creampieing me there too? I notice writing saying "Rachie's fertile pussy" scrawled across my loins in permanent marker and pointing to the open hole, with the offending pen jammed inside like an ad-hoc plug - I pull it out, and though the cum-slicked plastic is difficult to grip, I manage to indignantly cross out "womb" and fill in "handbag" in its place. There!

The fact some men can't even tell apart a pussy from a woman's accessory these days... How can a handbag be "fertile"?!