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In Yumenosaki Academy, there was… a bit of a weird stall, in one of the bathrooms.
Sometimes, a boy would be there. Always in the same stall, with the door wide open. He was seated on the toilet, naked from head to toe with his legs spread, hands tied behind his back and eyes blindfolded. On the floor, a piece of cardboard with something scribbled on it in marker.
"Free to Use."
At first, when this ridiculous story began circulating, no one really believed those who were telling it. Afterall, when the curious ones went to check, that mysterious boy was nowhere to be seen… No matter how many times people said the times he appeared were random, it seemed too convenient of an excuse to believe.
…But wasn't it better this way ? Only the lucky few who stumbled upon him were able to enjoy this mythical meat toilet.
As the primary protagonist, Tsumugi was glad to have it stay as a weird rumor or a well-kept secret. He was scared some faculty members would learn of this, were his secret activities to be revealed to too many people. Moreover, he didn't want a line to start forming whenever he engaged in that… Activity.
Ah, right, because- he was that mystery boy. He did this all on his own, the sign, the blindfold- no one was keeping him hostage, forcing him to do it or anything, he simply did this because he wanted to. Ever since the War came to an end, his eventful life as one of Yumenosaki's main protagonists died. In only a few days, he was back to being a side character that perfectly blended in the background. He was content with that before, but now that he had had a taste of feeling bigger than himself, of being a part of something beautiful, going back to being no one was just too painful.
He felt empty. Purposeless.
Though, even before the war, even before meeting Eichi, he had always secretly, shamefully fantasized about something like this. Being stuck somewhere, laid completely bare, as his body was touched, licked, bitten all over by people he couldn't see or stop. He wanted to surrender his will for other people's pleasure, wanted to be a mere vessel for their satisfaction, wanted to lose his sense of identity in servitude.
A toy. Nothing more than an object. Because fulfilling his purpose in being useful to people… He couldn't imagine something that would feel better than that.
And now that he couldn't fill that craving by performing on stage for others, now that he was only left with his husk of a body, he couldn't ignore it anymore. The call of his pent-up, repressed desires.
He didn't even remember exactly when he started doing it. It was kind of on a whim. He craved it again- that feeling of being used, feeling useful- needed . Needed by someone, needed for something, even if it was purely a physical need.
And yet, he always thought it would only ever be a crazy fantasy he had. He never really thought anything would ever come of it… Even if he offered the possibility for people to use him, why would they even choose him ? The worthless, unreliable nobody ?
So when he decided to actually go through with that unrealistic fantasy- when he undressed and bound himself in that stall for the first time, put that sign up, and waited… he really never expected anyone to actually do anything. At worst, someone would expose him for exhibitionism- while that'd be a little embarrassing, that would be okay, because he also deserved to be laughed at and humiliated for his sick, twisted needs.
But someone did come. Tsumugi didn't know who it was. They arrived in the bathroom, Tsumugi heard their footsteps- and all he heard from them was a shocked gasp as they witnessed Tsumugi's shameful state. Being caught had been pleasurable in and of itself ; even if they had reported him to a teacher or something, Tsumugi would've thought it was worth it. So he didn't say anything, didn't try to deny what had just happened.
But they didn't report him. Instead, Tsumugi heard a suspicious noise of something unzipping, and then, cold fingers caressing his body- shoulders, chest, waist… He shivered from the contact- he hadn't been touched like that, so intimately, in… Never, actually.
Their hands were firm on his hips, their dick stiff and thick as they wasted no time before penetrating him, yet they had stayed completely silent during the whole encounter. Tsumugi screamed out- his pussy was too tight, too unprepared for it, yet they kept going. He had no idea who that person was ; maybe someone he knew ? Eichi ? Rei ? Natsume ? Or perhaps even a total stranger, who had no idea who Tsumugi was, and just saw him as a convenient hole to relieve some stress. Which Tsumugi was, in this context. Nevertheless, he had been so utterly elated by the fact he was finally getting used by someone again that he came almost immediately after they put it in him, with the most mind-blowing climax he ever experienced. They kept going, though- not stopping one second to let Tsumugi rest, not stopping until they had completely filled his pussy up with their cum. After that, they patted Tsumugi on the head wordlessly, put their pants back on and left, leaving him there, as if ready to be enjoyed by the next person… That, sadly, never came.
In the end, he never found out who they were ; the mystery person never revealed themselves. It was Tsumugi's first time ; and he could've never dreamed of a better experience. He was left thinking about it for days- that fateful encounter replaying itself again and again in his head, leaving him all warm and tingly and with the need to do it again… At least once more.
So, he did. Same place, same set-up, and…
Another person came, and relieved themselves thanks to him. He didn't know if it was the same person as before, or someone else entirely- but the pleasure he felt about being used, objectified, defiled, was all the same as before. The "who" didn't matter. He wanted more.
…Then he kept going. Again, and again, and again. And before he realized it, he was addicted to it, to the thrill of exposing himself, the risk of being found out, the shameful joy of being treated like a mindless sex doll.
Tsumugi was so happy to see that even if his role in one story was over, he could still take part in another one. He still had worth, because at least one person found use for his outdated, defective body.
Though as time went on, and he did it more and more, he quickly noticed there was definitely more than one person. He could clearly differentiate between, obviously, differences in size inside him- or even their hands on his body, some smoother, some drier… Most notably, though, he could make out different patterns of behaviors in the different guys that came to him.
The majority just did their thing and left without a word- and while Tsumugi couldn't see their face, he felt in most of their actions traces of shame and guilt. He never understood those feelings ; afterall, Tsumugi was doing this out of his own volition. Some of them, though, were very sweet ; slow and gentle, whispering kind words of affirmation in Tsumugi's ears as they fucked him, and it was clear they were trying to make it feel good for Tsumugi as well, by teasing other parts of his body like his chest or clit. Those ones almost always used condoms, even though it really wasn't necessary and Tsumugi knew they'd rather do without. Some even left tips, which again, puzzled Tsumugi quite a bit, as the sign was quite clear to him : " Free to Use." He wasn't doing this for money. He had never been.
Some, in their "niceness", even went as far as to try to "save" Tsumugi, by untying him or removing his blindfold- demanding "who is doing this to you ? Are you okay ?" and everytime, Tsumugi answered that he was the one doing this to himself. That he did it because he enjoyed it, and would really prefer if they just used him without taking his well being into account.
Tsumugi didn't like the "nice" ones. He didn't need to be cared for- he was doing this to take care of them and their bodily needs. Why couldn't they just accept that ? Why couldn't they just take him at his word ? Was he that bad at expressing himself ? Tsumugi liked it better when the guys using him were smart enough to not ask questions.
Again :
Free. To. Use. What more specifications did they need ?
The clients- or well, they weren't paying, so the consumers , maybe ?- that Tsumugi prefered above all others, were the ones that got rough .
Ah, these ones… were truly the best. They truly understood why he was doing all of this. They took what they wanted from Tsumugi, disregarding anything else, and even when it hurt, even when it stung, burned, even when Tsumugi wanted to cry or tell them to stop, they kept going. So when they were done, when his body was achy and marked with scratch and bite marks, was when Tsumugi felt the happiest : because they never cared about Tsumugi. They didn't feel obligated to. So didn't that mean that Tsumugi had been the most useful to them ? Didn't that mean Tsumugi had provided them with what they wanted the most ? That was what Tsumugi wanted, to help- to give, without ever expecting anything else. He felt the greatest sense of satisfaction when he went home with his whole body feeling sore, and his womb being so full of cum he was worried it would dribble down his legs down onto the streets.
Tsumugi liked, loved when they got rough. When they got mean. When they insulted him and called him a whore, a gross, dirty slut. Because they were right. He didn't even have the excuse of being desperate- he expected no compensation at all. He just wanted to completely give himself, give his whole being again, and not be rejected this time. When they fucked him raw and emptied their balls inside him without ever asking if that was okay to do (it was), Tsumugi felt heavenly. All in all, even the guys that were a little annoying made him feel good- seen- important. He honestly didn't expect, when he started, that it would all go so well, that it would all go as he had wanted. That he'd be.. This popular.
…Though, recently, he felt like people would often stare at him in the hallways. They'd give him weird looks and whisper things he couldn't hear among themselves. Since they never came up to him, though, he thought nothing of it, as he always tended to do.
So when he got cornered by a random guy in the library some days later, he thought he was just getting mugged- but as he felt those hands- those oh-so-familiar hands- start to undress him, he started to understand what was happening.
"W-wait, please. Not here…" He had said, struggling to get away. The boy wouldn't budge, keeping Tsumugi in place as his pants dropped to the floor. "The time's not right-"
"Why not ? I thought you were free to use. Why would the when or where matter to a degenerate like you ?"
"Ah…"
His hands were firmly gripping Tsumugi's waist. He felt so small, so powerless against the boy in front of him. His pussy throbbed in arousal. Did that guy want him so much, he had to have him now ? Had Tsumugi been that useful to him ? He was right, wasn't he. Tsumugi was just a tool, so he shouldn't really have a say about when he gets used…
"Right… Thank you. For needing me this much."
…And, in the end, like always- Tsumugi was just happy to be of help.