Sewage Worker's
Birthday
by
Dougie fae Glesga

 
 

My name is Dougie Donaldson. I'm 27 years old. I'm a Hells Angel, tough, well build, been in the nick twice and don't stand any shit from any cunt.
I had been working in a sewage works on the outskirts of Workington for three months and tomorrow will be my twenty-eighth birthday. With a few of my Angel mates I was planning to go to a tough scruffy bar in Maryport, get drunk and go out looking for trouble. i.e. beat up some local Angels and skinheads.
There are twelve workers in the sewage site including myself and the group is nicknamed "The Dirty Dozen."

The guys are the filthiest of any sewage plant in the country. Not one of the workers washes his work gear. The majority change into their working clothes in a brick building which is used as an eating area at one end and has a shower and two WCs at the other end.
Me? I work in the same Angel gear as I come to work and when I finish my shift I go home or to the bars in the same gear. I like to stink the place out when I go to the bars.

The sewer group is a rough, tough bunch of guys often fighting between ourselves, especially on Friday afternoons when beer and whisky are readily available in a nearby shop.
The doors of the two WC cubicles had been broken off their hinges and anyone wanting to shit is seen by all. The water doesn't flush and the bowls are filled with a mixture piss and shit. Piss also lies in pools on the floor because the drains are blocked and nobody bothers to clean them.

 

***

 

On my first day at the site I wore an old pair of blue jeans, blue denim shirt and steel toe capped boots I had worn on my last job on a building site. I am proud to say I was sacked from that job for fighting. The same on the site before that. Again I was sacked for fighting at work. I am happy to do anything which makes me look a tough cunt among other Angels.

Within minutes of being introduced to the rest of the workforce I was dragged to a big bath of what looked like muddy water. In fact it was a mixture of shit and piss. My head was ducked under and then I was dumped bodily into the bath.
There was a cheer from the rest of the gang as I went under. I struggled to his feet. I was covered in watery shit from head to boots.
"You bunch of fuck'n bastards. I swallowed some of that fuck'n shit." I shouted furiously.
"This is a sewage works, or 'The Shit Farm' as we call it." said Joe, the foreman. "Every guy who joins the squad gets the same treatment. We only take tough guys here. If you're afraid of a little bit shit and the odd fight then get out. We don't want pansies here. If you don't want to work with real men then fuck off."

I managed to control my anger. I knew I was as tough as any of them. I would show them I was no fuck'n pansy. In fact as my anger subsided I quite fancied being dressed in shit-covered gear, especially on his motorbike. That would impress the other members in the Hells Angels gang, and in some of these "Trendy Wendy" type bars.

I could see those queens recoil in horror as I walk in to the 'Rose and Crown' bar.
Yes. I would stay here and I wouldn't wash my gear. It would enhance my reputation as a tough cunt.

Joe said to me "Don't ever wash your gear or you will get the same treatment every time you wear something new."
He needn't have worried. I had no intention of removing the shit. During my next three months at the site I started at least eight fights just to show how tough I was. I also started a few fights at The Engineer, my local biker's bar.

 

***

 

I was told that on every guy's birthday he received a special "birthday present" from the rest of the guys. Between the time I joined the site three months ago and my own birthday, five guys had received the "present" so I wasn't worried. I was expecting my "present" would follow the usual pattern, tied to a shit pan for three hours and used as a urinal by the other workers and soaked from head to foot in piss. I would also receive the usual kick in the balls from some of them, "just to make sure I was tough enough".

What I didn't know was that most of the guys were fed up with my "cocky manner" (their interpretation, not mine) and wanted to do something extra special. As my birthday fell on a Friday, the crew agreed on a special plan behind my back.
At lunch time several guys grabbed me and took me to the shit bowls where the rest of the crew assembled. One of the crew handed me a bar of chocolate. "Better eat this as you're not getting anything to eat for the next few hours, and have a drink of beer."
Some of the guys chatted and joked as I ate the chocolate and the half-full can of beer.

I was ordered to lie on the piss soaked floor with my arms round the stinking shit-filled bowl. My wrists were handcuffed together round the back of the bowl, which meant my cheek was hugging the side of the bowl and I smelt the stale piss. My ankles were pulled apart and tied to two heavy weights.
Dave, who was second in command took a cloth, dipped it in the bowl of shit and rammed it into my mouth gagging me. I was taken by surprise. This had never happened before. Another crew member grabbed my hair and pulled my head to the side sufficiently to get a rope round my head and secure the gag.

It was now impossible for me to move or say anything. I was completely at their mercy.
Joe, the foreman, who was wearing a pair of wellies, put one of them into the shit bowl making the mixture of piss and shit overflow the side of the shit pan onto my face. Joe then lifted his wellie out and rubbed it over my face.
He said "Well, kid. You're 28 today and the boys wanted to give you something to remember for a long time."
With these words he gave me a kick on his balls. I let out a muffled yell. It was no little tap. There were more kicks to other parts of my body from the rest of the men.

Joe grinned and said "I heard you like your cock sucked so I think we should add a little flavouring."
He ordered two guys to open my shirt, unzip my jeans and take out my cock and balls. Joe stood abreast of my body, unzipped his own jeans and crouched down. Immediately out of his arse shot a stream of yellow-brown shit straight onto my cock and balls. A cheer went up from the spectators. Dave rubbed the shit round my cock and balls and then zipped up my jeans, re-buttoned my shirt and re-buckled my belt. Next came the piss as several pissed over me soaking me from my neck to my boots. Finally they all trooped out leaving me soaked and sore.

During the next two hours several guys came in and pissed over me, rubbed their muddy boots or wellies over my chest and my face. Two guys shit on my jeans and rubbed it into the material, into my shirt and over my face.
By now I needed a shit and a piss. I had a shit that morning and was puzzled why I should need another one so soon. Finally I could hold back no longer and shit into my jeans. I then let out a long piss into my already soaked jeans.

At the end of two hours four guys came into the building and one said "It's a nice day and Joe ordered us to take you outside."
They untied my wrists and ankles and removed my shirt but kept firm hold of him preventing him from removing his gag. What the fuck were they up to?

Outside other guys were waiting and they secured ropes to my wrists and tied them to an overhead beam. My legs were pulled apart and my ankles tied to two steel posts in the ground. I stood spread-eagled facing a hot sun and stripped to the waist. The heat would soon dry out my jeans and leave a terrible stench.

That didn't worry me. The stronger the stench the more those stupid queens in the Rose and Crown would run off in disgust if I went into their bar.
Joe said with a grin "I forgot to tell you that chocolate you ate was a laxative and the beer had a water tablet to make you piss every half hour."
There was laughter from the rest of the crew.

The bastards. I let out a muffled curse and tried to free his bonds but they were secured. Once I got free that cunt would pay for this "so-called" birthday present. My "non-birthday" present to him would be a kick in his fuck'n balls.

After some of the guys had pissed on me and left, one guy returned. His name was Chuck and he hated me. The previous week I kicked fuck out of him. He's a fuck'n skinhead and all skinheads deserved to get a kick in the balls. They are nothing but a bunch of fuck'n wankers.

Last week I had been working in a trench. It had rained all day and the floor of the trench was inches deep in mud. Chuck had pushed me as he passed along the trench and a fight developed. Soon the two of us were rolling about in the mud. It was impossible to identify who was who as both looked like clay models come to life. I had managed to force the skinhead onto his chest and press the guy's face into the watery mud and holding it there for some time forcing him to swallow some of the mud.

Chuck now stood in front of me and there was an evil grin on his face. He unzipped my jeans and pulled out my cock and balls. Taking a firm hold of them he gave them a vicious twist. I let out a muffled yell. The pain shot through my body. I tried in vain to free my bonds but it was hopeless. The more I struggled the more the bastard laughed. When I get out of here I am going to kill the cunt.

Chuck stepped back and removed his own leather belt with three rows of studs. Gripping the belt he drew it across my balls. After that it was across my thighs, then down to the knees and up to the chest. My muffled yells had subsided into moans as the belt whipped into my thighs and my balls time after time. The bastard then went behind me and starting at his arse and moving down to the knees and up to the shoulder blades.

By now my legs felt like they were turning to jelly with pain, as I sagged on my bonds.
"I would love to bring my three mates round and we would fuck you, piss up your arse, piss down your throat and belt your arse and balls.
One of the guys I would bring is Vic Smith. You kicked fuck out of his younger brother and Vic vowed to beat you up and fist you if he ever met you. How do you fancy meeting him and his three mates? They are a bunch of sadistic bastards. They love to tie up a guy and fuck him, not once but twice, then work him over. By the time they were finished with you, you would be more dead than alive." he said with an evil laugh.

The bastard gave one final twist to my balls and although I am tough I nearly collapsed with the pain. He stopped and replaced his belt. Nearby was an old rusty container. He pissed into it and holding my head back he poured the piss on to my gag. I could feel some of the piss going into my mouth.

The cunt threw the container to the side and walked away laughing.
Five minutes later I heard a sound behind me and was about to turn my head when a sack was pulled over it. I shook my head but it was no use, the sack was being secured round his neck by a rope.
I wondered what was planned for me next and who was responsible. My first thought was of Chuck but quickly realised there were two guys involved.

I could feel someone unbuckle my belt and lower my jeans to my knees. I heard whispers but was unable to identify them. A hand gently rubbed my arse cheeks and probed at the crack. Instinctive I suspected the bastard was going to fuck me and tried to arch my body away but a hand gripped my balls and squeezed.

I let out a muffled yell and my instinct was to arch my body backwards. Something was pressing at my arse hole and then hands gripped my waist. I struggled but the hand gripping his balls squeezed tighter. I yelled and stopped struggling for I knew it was hopeless. I was bound tightly, blindfolded and gagged and completely at the mercy of these unknown attackers.

It reminded me of the time last week when with three other Hells Angels mates we cornered an Angel from a club in Whitehaven, beat him up, stripped him, tied him to a lamp post in a quiet unlit street, fucked him and left him there. Would these guys leave him tied to a lamp post in some quiet street?

The unknown fucker increased the rhythm as his cock rammed faster then suddenly rammed it up to the hilt. The guy let out a muffled yell tapering off to a groan. He must have shot his juice up my arse. The cock was slowly withdrawn and I sighed with relief, however it was short lived as the two guys changed places and the other guy rammed his cock up my arse hole.
I yelled with pain. What size of cock did this fuck'n guy have? It felt more like a fist.

Slowly the cock was withdrawn and then rammed up again. I gasped with the pain. I struggled but the guy ignored me and rammed his cock in and out again and again. My torture continued until the guy gave one final lunge and kept his cock in for nearly a minute. Finally the guy remove his cock.
I felt my jeans being pulled up and my belt being re-buckled.

Slowly I gathered my wits together. Whoever had fucked me would pay for it. I would get three of my mates, find the cunt, fuck him, fist hime then break his buck'n jaw. I stopped and thought. How was I going to find the bastard? There was nothing I could do except look for the guy with the biggest cock and beat him up in some dark corner. I would make sure I carried my knuckle-duster with me at all times. Then I would get my mates and work him over a second time.

During the next hour some guys approached me and pissed over my jeans but no-one made any attempt to remove the sack over my head. At one time I heard more whispers and suddenly a pain shot across my balls. I realised someone was using a heavy belt. There were about twenty strokes. Then it was my arse next with about forty strokes. By now my legs were like jelly as I sagged on his bonds.

Finally four guys came up and removed the sack and gag and released his bonds. One of them handed me my shirt and told him to put it on. As we all trooped back to the building I was thankful it was all over and at the same time angry that I had received such treatment. I would get his revenge. He would beat up the foreman, Joe, in some quiet street when he wouldn't expect it.
Joe asked me how I felt. Just like that. How do you feel?
How the fuck does he think I feel? I let out a torrent of abuse.

"Two bastards fucked me. They had cocks the size of a horse. When I get hold of the cunts I'll smash their fuck'n faces in." I said.
Joe grinned and "Only two. I thought you having a well shaped arse would get six or seven cocks up it. It can't be as well shaped as I had thought."

Before I could reply he said "This is your 28th birthday and the boys wanted to give you a little extra cash so we decided to let you work over the week-end. Grab him boys and tie him down."
There was a struggle as I was again pulled to the shit bowl and handcuffed in the same position as earlier.
I yelled "I'm not working tonight. I'm going out to get drunk with my mates."

Joe replied "We never thought of you working, just lying looking up at the ceiling."
It suddenly occurred to me what he meant. I was to be tied to the shit bowl all week-end. They can't do this to me. I cursed and swore at everyone and Joe ordered Dave to shove a gag into my mouth. Joe told him to shut up or he would receive a kick on the balls. That quietened me.

Joe called for a volunteer to stay with me and Chuck immediately stepped forward.
"I could bring round three of my mates to keep us company, maybe have a game of cards and a drink if that's OK with you. One of my mates, Vic Smith always wanted to meet a tough Hells Angel." he said.
"Why not?" said Joe. "Your mates can drink beer and Dougie can drink their piss."
There was laughter from the rest of the crew.

I remembered what Chuck had said earlier about bringing his mates. Especially that bastard Vic Smith.
I realised my own mates wouldn't come to the site looking for me. They would assume I had picked up a little sex-starved arse hole and was fucking him stupid.

With no witnesses I would be at the other guys' mercy all week-end. Four fuck'n skinheads. I knew that meant being fucked eight, twelve, even sixteen times. And Chuck said that cunt Vic Smith would fist me. I groaned. Some fuck'n birthday this turned out to be.

Joe said to me "I don't know what you're moaning about. Paid time and a half for Saturday and double time for Sunday and all you have to do is lie back and do nothing. Some guys would love to be in your position."

 
 
END

 

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2012

 

 

 

2012