Toilet
Copyright© 2026 by Andi Liminal
Pretty Porcelain Princess
Fiction Sex Story: Pretty Porcelain Princess - A bored and lonely handyman once stumbled on a curious yet fascinating and repulsive kink on his old message board. Working with his shy, awkward niece Frankie should have been a welcome distraction, but instead it forces him to confront the parts of himself he'd rather keep hidden.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Restart Workplace Sharing Incest Uncle Niece DomSub Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Gang Bang Group Sex Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Hispanic Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism Facial Flatulence Masturbation Oral Sex Scatology Spitting Voyeurism Water Sports Big Breasts Foot Fetish Leg Fetish Public Sex 2nd POV ENF Nudism Slow
Frankie (aka TOILET)
The thing about drinking a brimming thirty-two-ounce plastic cup of your own piss, and maybe some of your uncle’s piss, and maybe a little bit of his cum, is that the concoction will taste exactly how it smells.
Also, it’s hot.
Not room temperature. Hot.
You can feel it as you balance the big cup in your slim, girly fingers, squeezing it just enough to get some of it on your hand.
Why does that gross you out?
You are naked. Don’t forget that little detail.
You drink it quickly. It’s like taking off a band-aid, you want to get through it, to get to the other side of whatever you got yourself into.
But it’s so much goddamned piss.
You immediately coat your chest with it.
Those big cumbersome globes you must have inherited from your father’s side of the family. You’ve never met anyone on his side. Or him.
You take a breath, and you laugh, and your uncle is still holding the phone, recording every detail. Your breasts shiny and wet and do you remember you’re naked?
Naked as a fucking mole rat.
Prettier.
You feel it starting to come back up. The piss and the cum and the coffee from earlier and the chocolate donut and--
You never thought you’d be pretty.
You were always cute. But cute isn’t pretty.
Pretty is different.
Pretty is giving a guy a blowjob and him bragging about it to the school.
Cute is giving a guy a blowjob and him telling you not to tell anyone even as you sit there licking his cum from your lips.
You were always tall and skinny and mostly flat even into your late teens. If you cut off all your hair and covered up your privates with your hand, you could have run into the boys’ showers after pool practice without anyone batting an eye.
Your boobs came in slowly and then very suddenly, they kinda took you by surprise.
It was more like terror.
They came after you already dropped out of high school to take care of your grandmother, since your mother was already a proper drunk.
Hoodies and oversized shirts and compression bras helped you feel like your old safe boring self.
No hiding them now, though.
You’re naked, holding a half-full cup with piss being recorded by your uncle so he can show it to other perverts just like him. Nothing safe or boring about any of this.
You take a deep breath and drink the rest of it as your uncle looks at you with what you hope is pride.
You both laugh, and you even lick the cup when he reminds you of your ultimate audience. The Admins.
When your grandmother passed, and the debt collectors came for her house, you went to your mom, and she shrugged.
Tony took over. Not like charity.
You got to live all by yourself rent-free in a cute little studio in the basement of an ancient apartment building. He even gave you a part-time job so you could buy yourself clothes and groceries.
Not like charity at all. It was freedom.
“Jesus Christ, Frankie!” He laughs, and so do you, standing there with an empty cup labeled TOILET just like you are.
“I’ll bleep that,” he says and tells you to wave at the camera before calling cut.
He doesn’t record the part where you run to the newly installed toilet and puke all the piss and cum and coffee and donut.
You wipe up the saliva and vomit from your no-longer-secret perfect model breasts.
“I need a sec,” you say, bending slightly, hands on your knees, still so fucking naked, and breathing so hard.
“Get it all out of you,” he says, patting your back. Caressing it.
You smile at Tony.
Tony is a sweetheart.
A fucking pervert, for sure, but a sweetheart.
His username on the message board, The Shop, is TonyPlumbs. It cracked you up the first time you read it.
A plumber, mostly handyman, Tony likes to steal secret voyeur photos from tenants and clients, wives and daughters, and random girls.
He left you the computer to help him with a spreadsheet for an estimate. For someone who does something so borderline illegal, he should probably do a better job of securing the laptop.
You spend half the workday just looking through the photos, and then you find The Shop.
Old perverts in an old message board, but their secret sub-forum seems surprisingly secure.
Priorities, you think, and take a quick scroll to see what these men three times your age get up to.
Terror.
It’s horrifying.
But also strangely alluring.
Pretty girls being humiliated and degraded in inventive ways.
That seems to be the general trend of the most popular threads. Even Tony’s voyeur pics are filled with references to these humiliating and degrading threads and suggestions that these vile things should happen to Tony’s girls.
That’s what you’d become, another one of Tony’s girls.
You’re in the shower, washing off the vomit and the piss from your body.
You reflect on everything, from giving secret blowjobs to your high school pal, to dropping out of the same school, to your grandmother’s death, to losing the house, to becoming a house painter, and getting your own apartment.
Your cute little studio basement apartment was not so cute when you first got here.
You learned a lot about patching and painting walls, and there was always enough leftover material to make your little one-room space feel cozy.
There was one tiny quirk about this converted space. There was no bathroom inside the apartment.
You step out of the shower and are greeted by ancient boilers, the only privacy is a plastic curtain hung there semi-permanently with someone shorter in mind.
At least the toilet space is covered by three walls of unfinished drywall and a hollow core door. Otherwise, you’re in the building’s utility room.
The cement laundry sink is where you brush your teeth and spend half the bottle of mouthwash trying to feel clean.
You don’t.
Not your skin, not your teeth, not your tongue.
A sudden unfamiliar rumbling startles you.
You are naked, again, towel wrapped around your hair. No one ever comes down here, but there is no lock to stop them.
You almost run back to your room, across the hallway, to the opposite end of the basement, but you notice it’s your phone that’s buzzing.
You set up e-mail notifications to get alerts from The Shop anytime someone sends you a private message or replies to the thread of you nakedly drinking that big cup of piss.
Your stomach gurgles. You hope it’s not more puke. Tony bought you a sub sandwich for dinner, was the least he could do, so he said.
Guys with usernames as inventive as TonyPlumbs have begun replying to your thread. This is the secret sub-forum, not the super secret admin sub-sub-forum, so they’re all watching the video with the hovering black square around your eyes for a touch of anonymity. Makes you feel like a superhero watching this brave stupid girl, or like a chick about to get snuffed.
They printed out photos of your naked body, nobody cares about your face not being there, and some only care about your boobs. The challenge appears to be about finding inventive ways to show themselves pissing on your black and white photocopied video still. Some put your naked paper body inside a toilet, others on the lawn, others in office urinals. Either way, that body you kept hidden for years keeps getting seen, and then pissed on.
You’re popular. Literally dozens of perverts around the globe. This old forum doesn’t quite have the reach it once probably did.
Which is good.
You listen to your gurgling belly and go sit on the toilet all the while scrolling through these and replying where you can to make these perverts’ day.
You get a few private messages, but nothing grabs your attention, just lots of photos of erect cocks.
That is, until you see a message from a username in bold, an admin, TheWarden. Probably a security guard, or more likely a night shift maintenance guy by the color of his uniform, and black, by the color of his cock.
You think it’s just another dick pic but notice that it’s actually a video.
It’s a pretty big cock, and he sounds as old as your uncle. Maybe older. Just like you, he’s inside a bathroom, and just like you, in the middle of a bowel movement.
“Tony’s pretty little porcelain princess,” he says in the video, holding his phone in such a way that it captures his face now but keeps his sizable cock in frame.
“Hey Frankie,” he says, and it spooks you, though you of course know it’s a video. “Or is it Toilet?” He grins, slowly tugging himself as he makes bathroom noises.
“How about Toilet Paper?” He says as he pans out to a photocopy of you, like the rest of the guys have been doing. Except that this video is just for you, and the paper has a photo of your face. Just your face. No black square, no boobs, no nothing.
He wipes his ass with your face, and then the video continues as he jerks off off camera and then shows you his piece of art. The crumpled photocopy of your face covered in shit and cum.
“Don’t tell your uncle,” he says, the camera shows only your gross paper self. “I need me some toilet paper ... gimme a call, honey...”
You call him.
So much about this is so ridiculous.
But before you started painting houses with Tony, your uncle, your life was that of a nurse caring for your grandmother, and before that of an invisible nerdy tomboy.
Reading through comments from old perverts.
The compliments are nice, to be sure, but there’s more to it.
The best ones are the ones with suggestions for future videos and photoshoots, with dares, with invitations--
You recall the video chat from last night with TheWarden. How you showed yourself to him as he masturbated.
Pretty Porcelain Princess...
This morning it’s cold again and yesterday’s false spring feels like a dream.
You wear your paint-specked hoodie and paint-specked pants and sneakers. Your steel-rimmed glasses without which the world would be a blur.
Your old boring self.
You’re at the donut shop getting something for Tony even though it’s your day off. The donut shop where a certain boy you knew in high school works part-time. George.
“Frankie!” He recognizes you. He better, you sucked his cock more than once. He’s alone in the little shop, too early for lunch, too late for breakfast.
“Large ice, no sugar, medium cream and sugar, and six chocolate donuts?” He says, not really asking.
“Are we so predictable?” You say, and he laughs.
You could always make him laugh. Even before you got your tits. He’s never even seen them, the way they are now. If he only knew.
“Ever go back to get your GED?” He asks you, not in a hurry to get you going. You tell him you’re in no hurry yourself to do something like that. You tell him about your place, your job, but you skip anything to do with The Shop, or with TheWarden.