The Polyvinyl Chloride Bull
By Musuko

I sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the universe, looking across an acre of mahogany and leather at the scariest creature in creation. All the plump and plush padded leather upholstery in the world could not prevent me from feeling pinpricks up and down my back.
	“Hmm,” he said, turning over a page. What did that mean? Was that a good “hmm” or a bad “hmm”? I searched his face for clues, while the temperature of my boiling panic rose and rose. I felt like I was going to scream, like I might at any moment lose control entirely and strip off my clothes, twirl my shirt around my head, whoop like a savage, and dance a naked jig on his desk before racing out of his office and running laps around the facility.
	I stifled a crazed smile. Hell, he'd probably be entertained. “Get that man a promotion,” he'd cry. “I like his spunk!”
	“Hmm,” he said again, turning the next page. I saw an eyebrow raise. Before I could start another round of guessing his thoughts, his eyes lifted and fixed me in an intense stare. I stared back, eyes wide, while the pinpricks sunk deeper into my back. Oh god, I thought, here we go. Everything hinges on this. My entire career. My future. A knife-edge roll of the dice between advancement and success, and scorn and shame.
	“Tell me,” said Musuko, “does the name 'Perillos' mean anything to you?”
	Mental circuits that were preparing themselves to react with relief or despair now desperately scrambled to rewire themselves to handle the unexpected, baffling question.
	“I, uh...” I saw the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. “I don't think he works in my department,” I said.
	And now the twitches became a full, toothy smile. And when Musuko smiled, you could never be sure what thoughts were going on behind his eyes. My brain shrieked with deafening alarms. Danger! Abort! Awoogah! My lizard hind-brain squawked its recommendations to run from the room, or maybe punch Musuko in the face. The slightly more evolved parts advised that maybe those actions might not be advisable, but they were giving serious consideration to the naked dance idea. The higher, civilised part of my mind, the one that sat in an evening gown, smoking a pipe, and looking into my soul over the top of some half-moon spectacles, said “You're screwed, old boy. Time to pack up and go live in a cave and hunt elk.”
	Musuko picked up a pen, twiddled it between his fingers for a moment, then swiped a lazy scrawl on the page. He planted the tips of his index fingers onto the page and spun it one-eighty to face me.
	I think my heart actually stopped. Literally. I felt the pang in my chest of that muscle just going “fuck me, I need a break for a moment. I'm skipping the next beat or two.”
	There, on the bottom of the page, beneath the printed line that read “authorised by:”, was the Holy Grail in ink form; the signature of Musuko Massiel.
	He had drawn a heart for the dot of the “i”.

*   *   *

I had so many plans; to skip through the facility, gleefully greeting everyone I passed, hugging the Nulls, shaking hands with colleagues. And after the glow of delight had worn off, I would sit down in my office and start typing up plans, sending out orders and emails, and perhaps even getting a head start on sourcing some test subjects.
	I'm not sure if I did any of that, because my next memory was of waking up, feeling groggy, with a drum-solo of pain playing in my head.
	“Ugh,” I said. I clutched my head and waited for the pain to go away. It didn't.
	A few thoughts started to put themselves together. I had woken up with a gap in my memory, my head was pounding, and I felt terrible. The conclusion was obvious; I had celebrated in the time-honoured tradition of getting royally plastered, and now I had to suffer the wages of sin.
	This conclusion, as fitting as it may have been, did not tally with the bare concrete room that now surrounded me. Nor did it account for my complete lack of clothes. Even my ID badge was missing. I sat up. Bare walls, a recessed light in the ceiling, and a steel door. A jail cell, my addled mind thought. How drunk did I get?!
	I moved to stand up, then tried again, more slowly this time, giving my head some time to stop feeling like it was going to topple off my neck. I formed a fist and banged it against the door.
	“Hello? Anyone there?”
	I waited and listened. Silence.
	“I'm sorry if I caused any trouble,” I called. “I'll pay the damages if there's any-”
	A sharp whine of feedback noise interrupted me, and I clasped my hands to my ears.
	“The prisoner will remain silent! Punishment will be meted if this command is disobeyed!” crackled a voice.
	A cold feeling settled into my gut. My estimate of my location started to realign. If I were in a police station cell, they wouldn't talk to me like that. And the voice wouldn't sound so artificial. And, now that I thought further, there would have been a viewing hatch in the door, so they could check to make sure I wasn't choking on vomit.
	But there was one place that would have a cell like this, and that was my very own workplace. If I had transgressed at work...oh lord, did I actually go through with the naked dance idea...and had wound up in an internal security holding cell, then I was in deep, deep trouble.
	I sat down on the floor in the middle of the cell and, wisely, decided to remain quiet, and wait.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 43-3453-34b

Regained consciousness. Monitoring underway. Health indicators acceptable. Abduction side-effects within tolerable levels. Induction commencing.

Note: subject compliance unusually high. Verbal and physical resistance absent after initial actions upon waking (see log 17). Usually they scream and pound the door. Recommending caution and assignment of Nulls for induction tasks.

*   *   *

The door slid open and I barely noticed. The doors at CKC are like that; no matter how big and heavy they are, they always move silent and fast. There are few cases where the phrase “blink and you'll miss it” rings true, but this is one of them. Only the change of the light in the corner of my eye prompted me to look up.
	Two Nulls looked back.
	“Alright,” I said, getting to my feet. “Time to face the music I g-”
	One of the Nulls stepped forward and pushed a hoof against my chest. It was insistent, rather than forceful. I took a step backwards, and it kept pushing, until my back rested against the wall. I stared at my own reflection in his glossy visor.
	“Aren't you taking me to the security office?”
	It stared back, blankly. That didn't tell me anything; Nulls always stare blankly.
	The second Null moved out of sight beyond the doorway. A moment later, it returned, pushing a restraint trolley in front of it.
	“Now wait a moment!” I cried.
	The hoof pressed harder into my chest, and I gasped for breath. My hands, which had been raised in protest, quickly lowered to my sides, and the hoof eased its pressure. These weren't the usual Nulls, weak and pliable, soft like butter; these were utility Nulls, strong enough to do the jobs that us mere mortals would struggle with. If it wanted to...or rather, if it were ordered to...this Null could push its hoof all the way through my chest and into the wall behind me. And it would do so without the slightest hint of emotion on its smooth, glossy face.
	This wasn't making much sense. Surely if I were in trouble with security, these Nulls would be marching me out to be yelled at and given a reprimand on my record. The restraint trolley made no sense.
	And then it struck me.
	“Alright, I get it,” I muttered. “This is a prank, isn't it? Who's idea is this? Stephens? Marcy?” I almost laughed, feeling silly. “Not sure why I'm asking you...”
	The second Null stopped the trolley in the centre of the cell, and the first lifted its hoof from my chest, then reached towards my wrist.
	“I'm not sure how you think you're going to get me on there with those hoo...ah.”
	My arm lifted, dragged up by the hoof, which was now stuck like glue to my wrist. Something pretty sophisticated was going on to allow the slick and shiny latex to turn sticky when required.
	“Didn't realise you guys could do that,” I said. “I bet that's useful.” The Null tugged my arm. “Alright, alright, get on the trolley, I get it. I can do it myself. Hey!”
	The Null's other hoof stuck to my knee and tugged it up. The second Null appeared at my other side and stuck its hooves to my shoulder and hip. Between the two of them, they lifted me up, squirming and protesting, and dumped me onto the trolley. Instantaneously, the four hooves detached, leaving only soreness where they had tugged at my fur. I moved to sit up, but a hoof shoved me back, holding me down as they buckled the trolley's straps across my limbs and torso, with speed and dexterity out of the reach of any normal person.
	With that job done, and with me strapped down tight, with no hope of wriggling free, nor of covering my naked shame, they took station at each end of the trolley and wheeled it, and me, out of the cell. I whined, awaiting the inevitable; the laughter of my colleagues, the gloating, the cheering...and then, hopefully, the surprise party and cake to follow. The bastards.
	It only struck me later how strange it was to see nobody in the corridor. We passed the doors to cells, and out through a security airlock. All this was pretty standard; there were hundreds of areas like this in the facility, and without my ID badge to report my position, there was no way to tell which area I was in. Probably one near my department. Subject storage wing sixty-three, if I were to guess. I saw the door to the second security airlock approaching, the one that would lead out into the carpeted general corridors of the facility, where laughter and teasing would await.
	So when we turned a sharp right into a side room instead, I was too surprised to make a noise. I did, however, make a noise when I saw what was in this room. I made a very loud and unhappy noise indeed.

A lot of people know what it's like to undergo the process of Nullification. Very few of those get a chance to report their experiences to others. Those few that do are usually allowed to do so as part of some form of test reporting. I knew the basics of the process; everyone at CKC does. It starts with a restraint frame, lined up under the various nozzles that would dispense the nano-goo. There, the subject can be customised as required before sealing takes place. It's an efficient, elegant, and almost exclusively one-way experience. And it all started with that restraint frame.
	So, it made sense, then, for me to feel distinctly unnerved when I saw that they were wheeling me towards one such restraint frame. I thrashed against the straps.
	“Wait! Wait wait wait! You've made a mistake! You're not supposed to bring me here!”
	The Nulls loosened the straps, and I grasped at the opportunity to escape. I barely had my hands up off the trolley's padding before their hooves had me in their sticky grasp. I howled for help, under the control of my panicking hind-brain, while the civilised part tutted and said “you know full well these rooms are soundproofed, old boy.”
	I searched the ceiling, desperate. There were always cameras! If I could catch the attention of someone watching, I could stop this! I spotted one of the tiny pinholes in the wall, near the ceiling.
	“My name is Lucas, employee ID 479663! I'm not supposed to be here! Something has gone wrong! Help me, please!”
	The Nulls carried me over to the restraint frame. This time, they didn't need to mess around with straps; as soon as my body touched the cold chrome, the frame snapped its shackles closed. Wrists, ankles, thighs, chest, neck, all held immobile. I tried to keep the panic from overwhelming me. I didn't look for a camera this time. I just shouted.
	“I am Lucas, ID 479663! Help me!”
	The Nulls retreated from the room. I shouted as loudly as I could for the brief instant the door was open for them, hoping to catch the attention of anyone who might be passing. The door closed. I had no idea if anyone had heard me.
	The machinery above me began to whirr. A robotic arm unfolded, guiding a shiny metal ring towards my mouth. I turned my muzzle away, and the arm followed instantly.
	“My name is Lucas!” I cried. “I'm an employee! I'm not a subject! Please, somebody help me!”
	More robotic arms that I didn't even see unfold now gripped my head. Thin metal probes pushed between my teeth and pried my jaw open. The arm in front of me guided the metal ring past my lips. The arms forced my mouth closed and I felt my teeth sink down into something soft and sticky around the outer rim of the ring. I tried to open my mouth again, but it was stuck. I probed my tongue into the open middle of the ring. No glue there, but there were ridges, like those of a screw's thread.
	I screamed again, wordless and distorted now, begging for someone to save me. The whirring above me became a high-pitched machine whine. I heard something gurgling.
	As the first droplets of the nano-goo struck the top of my head and began to spread into my fur, moving like no ordinary liquid could, the civilised part of my mind said, “you know, we've never seen a Null with a metal ring fitted to their mouth...but there's something awfully familiar about that, isn't there?”

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 43-4152-16a

Induction complete without complications. Subject delivered to project lead.

Note: Video log of induction (log 18) contains errors, corrupting some segments of the recording. Those sections of the log appear unviewable and unrecoverable. Induction efficacy not impacted. Ticket for minor fault logged with maintenance.

*   *   *

I had no idea it would feel like that. I expected pain, or discomfort. Maybe a stinging feeling as the nano-goo dissolved my fur and worked its way into my skin to wire itself into my nervous system. How could that be anything other than unpleasant? Even if I had read the detailed first-hand experience reports, what few there were, it wouldn't have told me anything useful about what to expect. With how often the technology changed in this sort of thing, even information a week old could easily be hideously out of date.
	Instead, I felt something like warm treacle flowing over me. It smothered my head. My breath puffed out through the ring in my mouth and blew bubbles in the goo. I shivered involuntarily when the goo reached my shoulders, radiating soothing heat like warm massage oil.
	I could feel, rather than see, that the goo didn't drip and dribble down my body like an ordinary liquid would. It clung to the curves of my skin, like it was magnetically attracted. It continued inexorably downwards, a slowly advancing wave of syrupy warmth. I bumped the back of my head against the restraint frame and groaned through the ring when the goo reached my crotch, and felt the coating on my head squeak with the slickness of firm latex, rather than the squelch of wet goo. I had no idea it would set that fast.
	Then, with my whole body encased in the womb-like warmth, a gentle tingling began, like someone had pressed a low-voltage battery against every scrap of skin. I shuddered, rattling the restraints. The heat faded. The goo solidified. I felt it lift away from my eyes, and when I opened them I saw the dark tint of a Null's visor.
	The restraints clicked, then released, and I stumbled forward as it dropped me to the floor. The heavy latex hooves that enclosed my feet squeaked on the concrete. I staggered for my balance, catching sight of the hooves that squeezed my hands into fists. And it wasn't just my hands there were feeling squeezed. All over my body, every inch, I felt the pressure pushing inwards.
	But...there was another feeling too; where the hooves touched the floor, I could feel the concrete as if it were against my naked paws. When my hip brushed against the frame, that too felt like a touch on naked fur. I could even feel the coolness of the metal, as if it had parted my fur and touched skin. I whipped my head around and looked, seeing only smooth, glossy, black latex on my hip...and chest...and arms...everything.
	I tried to control my breathing and just...process this. I felt naked, but also squeezed and encased. I don't think my senses knew what to make of it. I felt around my face with the hooves. The hard plastic-like visor was there, as were the rigid rubbery handles on the sides of my head, just like the ones on my waist, hips, and limbs. But, despite the metal ring wedged tight against my teeth, forcing my mouth open, he inside of my mouth, wasn't encased. Everything from the ring on inwards was natural and unmodified. That was unusual, to say the least. Every Null I'd seen and, well, used, had a ridged rubbery lining inside their mouth and their...
	I darted my hooves down to feel under the rubbery pony tail extending from the small of my back. I strained to reach, but couldn't quite get the bulky hooves between my cheeks. It didn't feel like I had a ridged lining inside me back there. But, if I did, would I even feel it anyway? Until someone stuck something in there, at least.
	Then, fearing what I would find, I moved a hoof around to my crotch. When it bumped the smooth, featureless bulge, I felt like I had my fingers on my naked sheath...and it also felt like the firm rubber were squeezing in on it, forcing it into a tight, compact prison. I yanked the hoof away.
	“Glugh,” I said. And then tried again. “Helgh ghee!”
	I could vocalise! That wasn't normal for Nulls either. But fat lot of good it would do me with that great big metal ring in my mouth, turning my words to gibberish. Maybe if I concentrated, I might be able to get someone to understand me. Maybe it wasn't hopeless...
	I told myself that, over and over again, while panic swelled, as if my attempts to reassure myself were just fuelling it. I clawed at my chest and sides, but the hooves just slid uselessly, latex against latex. I tried yelling, but only produced pathetic animal noises, barely recognisable as words.
	I was stuck. In a Null suit. One that had a ring in the...
	I froze. Oh no...oh no oh no.
	“Ah,” said the civilised part of my mind. “You've just realised why that ring is so familiar, haven't you? Oh dear oh dear.”
	When the door opened, probably not more than a minute or so later, I probably should have tried to plead for help, instead of gibbering in a frenzied panic. Though, it wouldn't really have done much for me anyway, as the figures in the doorway were the two Nulls again...or two different Nulls, there was no real telling them apart when they were unnumbered like these ones...coming to drag me away with their sticky hooves.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 43-4539-01a

Curious. No fuss earlier, but now he's kicking and struggling. I wonder what changed?

The Nulls have him in hand. Experiment chamber is ready for him.

*   *   *

I knew what was coming. Oh holy fuck did I know. And knowing made me fight to escape, with my hind brain in full-blown rampage. And while I struggled, the damned Nulls continued their serene march down the corridor, dragging me between them as if I were just a nuisance fussy toddler who didn't want to eat his vegetables.
	That damn cat. I knew he would be laughing to himself. Probably watching me on the cameras. What was the saying? Hoisted by one's own petard? This was just like him! I should have seen it coming. I should have known the moment that the metal ring went into my mouth; it was my own design, from my proposal, all the way down to the screw thread on the inner surface. The sick bastard had decided to make me the first test subject for my own project! I threw my head back and screamed at where I guessed the cameras might be. It was futile, but maybe at least one of my curses would reach his ears in some intelligible form.
	Doors opened. We passed through. I knew where I was now. This was my very own department. And there, at various workstations, were my colleagues.
	“Hegh geh!” I cried. “Igh Oogugh!”
	And they ignored me! All except for Jan, who looked me up and down, ticked off a clipboard, and pointed the Nulls towards the door to the experiment chambers.
	“Igh ee! Ooghush! Oooo...kuuush!”
	Did she not understand? Or was she not even listening? A cold realisation set in; they didn't know who I was. To them, I was just another Null, no different from any others that we...
	An even colder realisation, one that froze me still and silent for a moment; just how many of the Nulls I had paid no attention to, day in, day out, just like my colleagues did with me, had been fellow colleagues? Had I been on the other side of this exchange?
	The Nulls were marching me towards the doorway. I tried to yank my arms away from the Nulls. Maybe if I could catch her attention with some pantomime communication, there might still be a chance. But by now, Jan had turned away and wasn't even looking. And the damned sticky hooves were still as strong as ever. I couldn't mime anything even if she were looking.
	Damn that cat! Damn damn damn!
	And there it was, positioned in the centre of Experiment Chamber One, my ideas made real. No longer was it a design schematic in a computer and on a page; it stood before me in steel and copper and porcelain and PVC piping.
	In form, it was similar to a standard restraint frame, except it lay flat on the floor, with the intended victim facing upwards. Above them was where things were truly different; there were feed and waste tubing, bolted in place at the appropriate locations. This wasn't unusual; but the fact that they were made from standard plumbing parts was.
	And then...there was the toilet bowl. An ordinary, white, porcelain toilet bowl, complete with plastic seat. When I drew up the plans, I had no idea how incongruous it would look for something so ordinary and domestic to be sitting in this kind of setting.
	And then there were the additional pipes, leading from the ceiling, connecting into the complicated piping behind the toilet bowl. Because I was stupid enough to think “one toilet wouldn't be enough for the test subject”. A test subject that was now going to be me.
	As they marched me towards the product of my own design, I wished I hadn't been so creative. I wished, for example, that the head wasn't positioned out of sight behind the bowl, where there was no way of seeing who was sitting on the throne.
	“Hease!” I gasped, shaking my head. Each step taken by those damn Nulls dragged me closer. I strained against their grip with one last defiant struggle. They dragged me downwards and swung me around onto my back, settling gently into the metal framework. It seemed to fit my body shape perfectly...because of course it did.
	The frame had more restraint bands than the standard restraint frame, because in designing it I figured that the test subject would struggle more than usual. So, as they snapped into place, locking snug around my body, I knew that struggling would be useless. I did so anyway, because the hind-brain never listens to logic.
	“Hease!” I cried, again. I looked each Null in the eye...well, visor...hoping that maybe they'd have some kind of sympathy for the plight of a fellow Null. I was met with only their blank stares, and mute silence, as they twisted the feed pipe into position over my muzzle. They lowered the fixing bracket, and screwed it snugly into place into the screw thread in the ring fixed into my mouth. Now, when I breathed, I could hear my breath blowing up into the plastic pipe, and it came back tasting of plastic and bleach. Nice of them to make sure it was all clean for me. How considerate.
	I knew what was coming next, and I braced myself. Following my planned process to the letter, the Nulls moved out of my view. All I could see, with my head fixed in position by the pipe, was the glossy curve of the rear of the toilet bowl, the jumble of pipes above me, and the ceiling above. I heard more pipes being shifted around. I felt the cold touch of the chrome-plated probe pushing into my rear. I hissed into the tube as the probe's girth swelled wider as it went deeper. It hadn't seemed that big when I was drawing it up! I whimpered into the tube, shuddering against the firm restraints, waiting for the thin neck of the probe to finally pop inside me.
	All employees of CKC are...shall we say...somewhat adventurous in their sexual predilections. I'm hardly what you would call a prude. I'd enjoyed myself with a Null or two...something which I was now sorely regretting...and I'd taken advantage of the unique perks of the job, getting my hands on the various interesting toys the facility has to offer. So, it was no surprise to me that the pressure against my prostate from the hollow plug now pressed deeply inside me was starting to give me an erection.
	An erection...which instantly met the tight, squeezing confines of the rubber Null skin, and grew no further. This started up another round of struggling. This wasn't fair!
	I saw the Nulls moving, their shadows casting over me for a few short moments. Then they were gone, and I got the distinct impression I was alone. I heard only my own breathing, and the faint rattling of the pipes as some unseen movements higher up in the system reverberated downwards. I didn't know how long I would have to wait for the horror that I knew was coming; I hadn't planned that particular detail in my proposal. But I knew that Nulls could go a very long time without “fuel”.
	I hoped the wait would be long enough for someone to rescue me. Maybe it wasn't too late for this to all turn out to be some elaborate prank.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 47-2216-91a

Note: There was some debate as to who would be the first employee to try out the new project. The discussion got heated at times, and a little silly.

In the end, we drew straws. Bob won. Bob's a big guy, and I've seen what he has for lunch. And he's a pretty cruel bastard. And in this place, when you stand out as being crueller than most, that really means something.

We crowded around the screens to watch.

*   *   *

After a while, I stopped trying to find a weakness in the frame holding me. The fabricators had done too good a job at building it, and I had done too good a job at designing it. I turned my mind instead to the rest of my design and planning, and tried not to think about the porcelain looming above me.
	And when the details started to come back hazy...I began to worry. More than I was already worrying, of course. I should have had it all in my mind, clear and sharp. I had written and designed every design, every procedure, itemising every moment of experimentation, down to the minute. I should have been able to anticipate everything that was going to happen to me.
	Instead, it was a fog. If I concentrated, I could push through it and tease out a few details here and there, but the moment my concentration lapsed, it slipped away. Something was blocking me. Damn it! I should have guessed. Drugs in the air, maybe. Or in the Null suit. Or they'd injected me at some point and I simply don't remember it. So many possibilities, and the only thing I could be certain on was that something was interfering with my memory.
	Hell...maybe it was even part of the plan I had written. I had no way to know.
	While I was wrestling with the fog, clutching for any clue as to what I might expect...besides the obvious...I heard footsteps. The door had opened, silently as always. Heavy feet thudded on the concrete. I heard the clinking of metal and the rasp of a zipper.
	I shouted. Through the ring, and into the pipe, the sound came out like the faint groaning of ordinary plumbing. I wriggled against the restraints, and tried to tilt my head back to see what was happening. The pipe held my head firmly, and all I could see was the back curve of the toilet...
	...and the shadow that was now cast over it, and me. Someone had sat down.
	I waited, because there was nothing else I could do. Any sound I made was swallowed up by the pipe. I couldn't move. I couldn't close my mouth. My tongue wriggled in a senseless attempt to escape. Seconds ticked past. And then, above me, the mystery visitor started to whistle.
	Whistling...like he was sitting on an ordinary throne. Like there wasn't a living person underneath with their mouth attached to the pipe. I wanted to scream at them! How could they just ignore what they were about to do to me?
	A grunt. And a second later came the first waft of foul-tasting air, flowing straight into my open mouth as I breathed in. In a moment of shocking clarity, my mental fog cleared just enough for a sentence from my project proposal to bubble to the top; “the test subject will experience physical revulsion as their primary response, but...”
	I clawed in vain for the next word as something landed on my tongue and obliterated the memory. I froze, rigid, not even moving my tongue, knowing exactly what it was that now rested lodged between my tongue and my teeth. A small lump of something soft and bitter and utterly disgusting. I didn't want to react to it. I didn't want to acknowledge what it was, as if somehow by ignoring it I could make it go away.
	Another lump of something landed on my tongue, larger this time. I screwed my eyes tightly shut. The taste filled my mouth, and as my saliva soaked into the...things...the taste spread. The liquid pooled in the back of my mouth, and before I could stop it, my throat gave in and swallowed. The foul-tasting saliva went away, but the motion sloshed the solid lumps around, and now there was no escaping it, nor any way to ignore the reality of what was now sitting in my mouth. It smothered my tongue. The taste, the texture...my stomach flipped. I wanted to vomit, but my body wouldn't obey.
	Slowly, and with immense reluctance, I came to the conclusion that the only way I could escape the taste...was to swallow. But knowing what I had to do and actually doing it were two different things. My tongue twitched. The unthinking instinctual part of my mind wanted me to push the disgusting mass up out of my mouth. I had to resist the urge. There was only one way it could go. Down.
	I clenched my eyes shut, feeling tears in their corners, and forced myself to swallow. I tried to do it as fast as I could, but it still involved shifting my tongue, rubbing it against the lumpy, slippery, mess. All the muscles in my body tensed. My hind-brain raged at being trapped. It seemed so wrong to have to suffer this without even being able to struggle or scream.
	And still, whoever it was up there, was whistling!
	I swallowed. I felt the slimy mess slide down my throat. Now, it was in my stomach, where my body would digest it, and part of it would become energy, but also some of it would be used as building material for cells, and my body would be forever tainted. You are what you eat...and I was eating...ugh!
	I gasped for air through the stinking tube. The taste wouldn't go away. I held my tongue as still as I could, pointed upward, not wanting to touch the sides of my mouth or my teeth or the inside of that ring and the tube above. Everything would be smeared with the muck. I didn't want to taste it more than I had to. I felt like throwing up, but my stomach stubbornly refused to expel its contents.
	Another grunt from above. I whined, feebly, the sound swallowed up by the pipe. My ordeal wasn't over.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 49-7622-21c

Testing underway. Stage one of the experiment is closely following the expected outcome. Results for first week, plus analysis, attached.

Note: Bob didn't disappoint. The experiment outline didn't include any provision for measuring the deposits, so we couldn't tell exactly how much he gave to the test subject, but we can speculate, based on how swollen the belly was. We had to leave two hours of recovery time before sending the next volunteer in.
	In the first day, we managed to fit in six volunteers. The next day, we had that up to twelve. Over the next few days that number was up to twenty-four; one per hour, throughout the day. We drew up a rota. We alternated between sending volunteers at fixed intervals, and sending them randomly, to see if there was any difference in response. The results show no real difference so far. I suspect that the test subject is too distracted to accurately predict the passage of time.
	Additional note: The subject is exhibiting occasional signs of sexual arousal, increasing in frequency. This is unexpected at this stage, prior to the commencement of stage two. Whether this indicates some predilection for this sort of treatment, or an adaptation to it, or simply a result of the sexual denial caused by the Nullification process, we are unsure. If it is the first option, our test results may be void. If the second, that offers hope that stage two may not need to be applied as intensely as planned (cost saving opportunity). My money's on option three, however; if the subject was used to regular sexual release, then a week without would surely lead to spontaneous arousal.
	Additional additional note: It'd be so much easier to determine which of these options is the case if we had access to the test subject's personality profile. I wonder why this is locked off from us? I've emailed Lucas again, asking him. The auto-reply still says he's on sabbatical. I guess we're on our own.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 61-9856-01a

Week 6. Commencement of stage two begins.

*   *   *

I was almost starting to get used to it. That was the worst thing. Not the foul taste that lingered in my mouth in the all-too-short stretches of time between visitors. Not the slimy texture of the filth dropping into my mouth. Not the horrible feeling of constant nausea. Not even the miserable helplessness of laying immobile and silent while unseen, uncaring people, my former colleagues and friends, sat and used me like an appliance.
	No...it was the fact that the misery was becoming normal. Routine. I would sleep, fitfully, in the short periods between visitors, and wait patiently for the inevitable. Sometimes it'd be urine on its own; horrible in its own right, but not as bad as the other option. It washes my mouth clean. Well, cleaner. Sometimes its both. Usually both, really. One followed by the other. Mouthful after mouthful of bitter, hot piss, and then the miserable, sticky, lumpy mess. I always swallowed as fast as I could. Sometimes it piled up in my open mouth, forcing me to taste it for longer as I struggled to get it all inside me. My stomach felt constantly bloated. It took time for the waste to get through me and go into the other pipe. It was horrible.
	But...I got used to it. The mind's defence mechanism, I suppose; it gets used to misery so you can endure it more easily. And sometimes...very rarely...but to my utter shame...sometimes it tasted...well, not quite so bad. Still horrible, yes; a taste that nobody should ever have to experience. But, on a few occasions...I caught myself hesitating to swallow, just letting my tongue get buried in the growing mound of muck. I soon snapped out of it and hurried to deal with the backlog, feeling disgusted to the core. But I couldn't deny it happened, and I would lay there swimming in confused thoughts until the next visitor arrived.
	Nulls don't get to orgasm. That I knew. And I was a Null now. The latex skin functioned as a chastity device, more secure than any regular device, even the ones the company made. And I wasn't what you would call frigid before this whole ordeal started. So it was totally understandable that I was getting aroused at inconvenient moments. And where I was now, an inconvenient moment was any moment.
	So...maybe the frustration was messing with my mind. I hoped that was the case. I didn't want to face any other possibilities.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 63-2219-02b

Week 7. Stage two progressing nicely. Pharmaceutical intake increased to 65%.

Note: Still no response from Lucas. I suspect the “sabbatical” he's on is either some other top-secret project, or he's pissed off the cat in charge and is in the CKC equivalent of Siberia.

*   *   *

The Null suit was feeling tighter. I was getting hard all the time. Well, as hard as the suit lets me get. My cock strained incessantly against the latex, squeezed. Kinda painful, but almost...nice, in a way?
	The nausea went away. In its place was an uncomfortable pang of hunger, always there, except when my stomach was full. And that meant eating. And there was only one source of food here.
	The usual routine. I would fall into light naps between visits. I woke when I heard movement, and my stomach growled. I found that I was wriggling in anticipation, bumping my restraints, shaking the pipe in my mouth. My tongue bathed in saliva. I was hungry.
	The waste dropped into my mouth, surprising me. I hadn't seen the shadow cast over me. And the sounds of movement were muffled. I tilted my eyes back as far as I could, trying to see past the toilet bowl.
	The toilet bowl was gone. I shook in alarm. I was so used to seeing the toilet bowl there, as my only companion. And now it wasn't there. Where had it gone?
	Where the toilet bowl had been, instead I saw a smooth, blank wall, with only the toilet pipe extending from it. The wall was painted white. I sniffed the air. Fresh paint smell. I looked around what I could see of the rest of the room, hunting changes. Everything else seemed the same; the pipes snaking down into the complex tangle that eventually reached my mouth, the concrete walls, the light up above. I moved my gaze back to the new wall.
	I could hear the visitor, faintly, on the other side. Only the vague sense of movement; soft creaks, the clatter of the toilet seat, the sounds that might be clothing rustling.
	Then a loud clunk, and my mouth flooded. Water! I spluttered, bubbling through the liquid as it overflowed my mouth and backed up into the pipe. I gulped it down as fast as I could. It seemed like gallons and gallons of the stuff! I struggled to drink it all down, feeling my stomach bloating, pushing up against the restraint bar strapped across it. I gurgled my panicked cries through the water. I had to stop, breath rasping through my nose. There was no way I could drink it all down.
	I lay still, holding the water in my mouth, with who knows how much more of it still to come in the pipe above. I tried to steady my breathing, while I thought about this. There hadn't been water before. Was this a flush? Why was there a flush? And the wall; why was I sealed off from the visitors?
	After a while, I gulped down another mouthful. And then I realised something...strange. The water tasted awful. And I couldn't figure out why. It was clean water. Clean-ish, anyway. There was a faint tinge of waste in there, like someone had urinated into the water; a faint, diluted tang of bitterness and salt. But that wasn't what tasted so wrong. I was used to that taste. I swished my tongue through the liquid, probing, trying to figure it out.
	And then it hit me, and the realisation made me go cold. I had been tasting piss and shit for so long that I had grown used to it...and now I was tasting clean water again, it seemed alien and wrong and sickening! I took another swallow, feeling my stomach strain just a little more. The nausea was back! I screwed my eyes tightly shut. This wasn't fair!
	Slowly, reluctantly, I forced myself to gulp the rest down. It was the only way to stop tasting it. I tried to ignore the pain shooting through me from my distended stomach. My only goal was to empty my mouth. Finally, the last dribble of water disappeared down my throat, and I gasped into the pipe, tongue probing upwards, trying to find some droplet of piss or scrap of shit to wash the horrible taste away.
	A lifetime later, though not long enough for my bloated stomach-ache to fade, I heard the thudding footsteps of another visitor, then the clank of the toilet seat. I waited, close to tears, hoping for the taste I was used to.
	Clank, and the rushing sound of water. My mouth flooded again. I sighed gratefully. It was water again, but this water was murky and polluted. I swirled my tongue through the acridness of urine, and the floating, bumping lumps of solid waste. Much better. With my stomach so full, I couldn't swallow right away. And I didn't want to. I let it rest in my mouth, and savoured it.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 63-2219-02c PRIVATE LOCK CC-A

Note: I visited the test chamber today. I would have done so earlier, but I've been busy. I traded on the rota so I could be the first one in there after the wall had gone in. The paint was still tacky.
	Where there had been concrete, there was now pleasant magnolia, clean tiles, and a regular toilet, complete with cistern, and the door was no-longer a secure door; it was just a regular old staff door now. The workmen had done a good job. They'd even put a restroom sign above the door. It was perfect. If you didn't know what was behind that wall, and where the pipe went, you would have no idea that your waste was going to a living, breathing person.
	I did my business, and tried to think about what was going on behind me. And then I realised I was doing it all wrong. I wasn't meant to think about what was back there. I tried to clear my mind of the project; of the Null test subject, of the drug cocktail in his blood, of the hopes and promises of the results that would come later. I twiddled a pen in my fingers and idly browsed the documents resting on my knees. And then a mischievous idea came to me. I turned the pen to the wall.
	“Here I sit,” I wrote on the fresh paint. “Having a shit. Where does it go? Don't worry about it.”
	Additional note: I'm starting to get suspicious about Lucas's absence, and I think I know what happened to him. I'm going to find out tomorrow. If I'm right...oh boy, that will be so wickedly funny.

*   *   *

A new sound reached my ears. A soft, rapid beeping. It stirred me from vague sleep. I wriggled against the restraint frame and swirled my tongue around inside the ring. It was tasting time again!
	I heard a clank, and then a creak, and I started to reconsider. Beeping? Clanking? These weren't normal sounds. Then came footsteps, close by.
	“Hello,” said a voice. If I still had fur under my Null suit, it would have bristled. That voice belonged to Jeremy. We had a history.
	A mouse's smiling face appeared in my view, leaning over, almost nose to nose with me. Jeremy's smile. The same smile I would always see when he thought he had outwitted me, landing me in trouble with my superiors. He had always been a nasty little weed that I could never get out of my department. I grunted into the ring and the pipe.
	“Is it you?” he said. “Lucas?”
	I squealed into the pipe.
	“Hmm,” he said. “That could mean anything. I'm pretty sure it's you. But I'd best be sure. You still remember how to count, right? Give me grunts. One grunt, two grunts, that sort of thing. Tell me something only Lucas would know. Hmm...”
	He grinned, and I glowered. But then it occurred to me; he knew it was me in here. He could rescue me! Jeremy suddenly became my favourite person in all the world.
	He tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. “How about you tell me...how many weeks of suspension you got when I broke the...sorry, I mean, when you broke the seal on the P-serum last June?”
	I grunted my reply, all the while cursing a world that would make Jeremy my saviour. I grunted three times.
	He clapped in delight, the sudden sharp sound making me flinch. “Oh how wonderful! It really is you in there, isn't it? How're you enjoying your own creation? Oh wait, sorry...my creation. Seems you've gone absent without leave, and I've been promoted to project lead. Isn't that great?”
	I held back my anger and kept it silent. Any moment now, he was going to open my restraints and let me loose, and any amount of his gloating would be worth that. I would lick his boots if he wanted me to. Anything if I could get free. The long waits between visitors and their sweet-tasting deliveries was unbearable. And the frustration of the Null suit was worse. My hands were mere inches away from a cock I could never reach. My cock was buried under a layer of latex that would never allow it to get hard. I wanted freedom. I wanted...oh the shame...I wanted to pull Jeremy down onto my face and eat straight from the source, while he laughed at me.
	His hand settled onto the top of my head, patting twice. “Seeing as I'm now the project lead, I have complete authority to alter the project as I see fit. I can do whatever I like! For example, I could decide that the current test-subject is unsuitable for the project. I could pop open the restraints, take the subject over to the de-null department, and release him.”
	I squealed into the pipe, batting my tongue back and forth. Yes! Yes!
	“Or,” he continued, “I could decide that the serum currently in your bloodstream...you know the one...it's the one that is training your body to enjoy the taste of what you're eating, to slowly convert your predilections to the point where you enjoy your new life...I could decide that secretly replacing it with a completely ineffectual saline placebo would be an excellent idea.”
	I went silent, and very still. Then, very slowly, I touched the tip of my tongue against the edge of the ring, fearing what I would find. There was no taste. The flush water, and my own hungry licking, had completely cleaned away the taste from my last visitor. He had to be lying. He was teasing me. He wouldn't do that.
	“Or maybe...just maybe...I'd decide that I should have a rummage around in the archives and find the serums that heightens bodily senses. I have a sneaking suspicion I might find one that intensifies the sensitivity of your taste buds, and maybe one that increases your libido...that means your horniness, by the way, in case you don't know what that big complicated word means. What do you reckon the chances are of me finding such serums?”
	With fear growing to screaming levels, I imagined the chances were very high indeed. I exhaled a loud, long scream into the pipe.
	He patted my head again and made soothing, patronising noises, like he were calming a child. “There there,” he said. “I'm sure you'll get used to it. Maybe. Who knows? It'll be an interesting new experiment to find out, won't it? Personally, I think you won't ever get used to it. Mainly because I'll be adjusting your dosage to make sure you won't. Kinda weighting the odds, really. Not all that scientific. But who knows? Maybe you'll be lucky!”
	He listened to my noises for a little while. He looked pleased. I kept screaming anyway. Maybe some small nugget of decency remained somewhere in his twisted mind. Maybe he would remember my screams when he slept at night, and his conscience would finally catch up to him, and he would set me free.
	I tried to flinch away from him when he turned and settled a hand onto the featureless bulge of my crotch. He squeezed, and I groaned. The strange duality of the Null suit let me feel every detail of his fingers; the blunt, rodent claws that dug in, scraping, the softness of his fingertips, and the unbearable teasing pressure that made it seem like he was closing his fingers tight around my shaft, teetering me on the brink of a final, blissful relief of orgasm. At the same time, I could feel the thick insulation of the suit, and the tight constriction of my cock's prison. The total encasement, cutting me off from his touch. It made my head swirl, and for a few moments I couldn't concentrate.
	He took his hand away, and I felt a cold ache of loss where he had touched. I tried to rock myself upwards, but the restraint frame allowed little more than a pathetic trembling.
	“Seems you're already pretty worked up, even without the hypothetical libido serum! I guess you've been enjoying yourself in here. I wonder what it'll feel like for you to have to deal with the torture of eating...well, the stuff you've been eating...without the drugs that make you enjoy it, while simultaneously being more aroused than you've ever been in your life. I bet that'll mess with your head. It's a shame we won't be able to study that effect. Oh well!”
	He made a show of checking his wrist for the time. “Can't stay long. Lots of stuff to do. You know how it is, don't you? Or, at least, you did. It's a busy life being in charge of your department. I'll do my best to take good care of it. I'll come in and check on you every now and then. Just to see how you're doing.” He patted my crotch, and I flinched, and then felt a guilty wish that he'd let his hand linger there for longer. “Maybe once a month. Depends how busy I am.” He stood up, going into the periphery of my view. “Unless I forget the code to this door, of course. You know how absent-minded I can be. See you later, Lucas!”
	Beeps again, and a screech and a clunk. Then came the sounds that, until just now, would ordinarily fill me with eager anticipation; the soft, muffled sounds of rustled clothing, the clink of a belt, and the thud of a toilet seat being set down. I waited, minutes dragging past, hearing the faint splashes.
	“Mmmph!” I screamed, knowing my voice would reach no further than the pipe in my mouth. For the first time since I could remember, I struggled to escape what was coming. I pulled at the restraints, hoping that maybe one of them had weakened during my time here. I wrenched my head as hard as I could against the stiff pipe and the ring that mounted it into my muzzle. I probed my tongue up as far as I could reach, hoping for a flaw, a crack, anything that I could lever open. There was nothing. The system was as well-built as I had designed it to be. It would outlast me. Or...it would have, before I was Nulled. I had no idea how long Nulls lasted. Longer than a normal life, I suspected.
	The rattle of metal and the rushing flow of water; the flush. I braced myself. I begged and pleaded to any god who might be listening that Jeremy had been lying, that it would still taste as delightful as all the others had been.
	The water hit my tongue like a piston. It flooded and filled my mouth. I coughed into it, losing control of my gag reflex, my breath bubbling up. I shook in my restraints. He hadn't lied.
	The old nausea, which I thought had been banished forever, was now back and worse than ever. My stomach twisted in fear of what was coming, while my tongue dutifully relayed everything it sensed to my brain. My head filled with screams. My body tried to reject the poison in my mouth, but it had nowhere to go. The foul, acrid, lumpy liquid swilled in my mouth as my tongue thrashed in panic. Tears pricked in my eyes, only to evaporate away an instant later as the suit did whatever it did to stop the visor filling up.
	With reluctance, a word that came nowhere near describing what I felt at that moment, I swallowed the first mouthful. The flow into my throat meant that the rest of the vile liquid moved with it, bathing my tongue, refreshing the taste. There was no escape. No matter where I put my tongue, some part of it was always tasting. Even pressed hard against the side of my mouth, one side was exposed. Please, I begged, please make this end soon.
	I kept swallowing, knowing it was the only thing I could do. The acrid taste of the diluted urine was bad. But the solid lumps that drifted and bumped my tongue were the worst. The feeling of them sliding down my throat made me want to wretch. But my body still disobeyed. There was nothing I could do to make myself throw the waste back up. Probably to stop me choking. At that moment, choking would have been a welcome escape.
	Distantly, I heard Jeremy moving. I imagined what it was like on that side of the wall; an ordinary restroom, with nothing to suggest that I was on the other side of the wall. I wondered how many people knew that I was here. The project staff, of course. Maybe a few others. How many of them would care to remember as time passed? Jeremy knew that the victim back here was me, the poor creature once named Lucas. That damned cat knew too, but would he bother remembering? He'd probably already forgotten, moving on to some new and interesting sadism.
	As I swallowed the last mouthful and gasped into the empty pipe, keeping my tongue stationary and as far away from the slick and filthy edges of the ring, and from my teeth, as much as possible. I gave one last tug against the restraint frame, before falling limp. I couldn't escape on my own. I had only three hopes; death, escape into madness, or the slim chance that Jeremy would do the decent thing and rescue me.
	I clenched my eyes shut and tried to think positively, while my stomach churned and my balls ached and my traitorous cock strained against the squeezing latex. Just how many people disappeared at CKC, like I had? Surely someone else would notice? The fourth hope, perhaps, that someone might come looking.
	Please, I begged, silent in my head, not daring to grunt into the pipe in case it dislodged something horrible onto my tongue. Please let someone find me.

*   *   *

Log-sys V2.0
Project: 5232
Subject: 5232-A
Entry: 63-4412-01a PRIVATE LOCK CC-A

I was right. Poor little Lucas. Haha! I can't gloat too much; got lots to do. There are a lot of records to clean up, and documents to alter. It's a good time to have dirt on one of the guys down in IT.
	You're about to become a non-person, Lucas. Hope you enjoy your new position!

*   *   *

Project: 5232
Proposal overview
(excerpt)
Document author: ERROR-UNKNOWN (312912)

With these factors in mind, we are led to the conclusion that the opposite of the conventional approach may well resolve this social issue. Rather than attempt to tailor careers and lifestyles to fit the preferences of the individual, effort may instead be spent on tailoring the individual to find contentment in the careers and lifestyles available.
	This approach may not be as radical as it first appears. It is the basis of some spiritual teachings; to become content with the world as it is, rather than attempt in vain to change the world. This proposal simply intends to take a more systematic approach to the idea.
	With a combination of pharmaceutical intervention, hypnotic suggestion, and other techniques (outlined in section 15), we intend to alter a test subject's senses, thoughts, and preferences. To properly ensure we are testing the end result to its fullest limits, we intend to subject the test subject to an experience that our data shows would be repugnant and torturous to 98.5% of potential participants. Details of this experience, and the required resources, are outlined in the following section.
	Our work here at CKC often involves non-consenting individuals. What a boon it might be to have the capability, where preferable, to transform them into willing, and even eager, participants. If successful, the unpleasant experience of the initial test subject will be temporary, and they will be able to enjoy a long and happy life, serving a useful function, breaking the ground for future use of this technique.
	We thank you for your consideration, and hope that you will decide to authorise the resources necessary to realise this project.