Chad moaned and moved. He moved! He opened his eyes, he was still a rubber duck? He was in Jim's soap dish. He moved his legs. He moved his leg? He struggled to look at himself. He was yellow rubber, but definitely no longer duck shaped. He was covered with dried soap and cum from his weekend as Jim's bath toy.
Chad could see the outline of his leg under heavy yellow rubber as he stood up. He used the tiled wall for support, and could make out the vague shape of a mittened hand. He was sore. He was sweating. He had to be free. He stared down at the empty tub, and trembled as he remembered his horrifyingly ecstatic experiences as Jim's toy. He sniffled. Why was he missing Jim's torture of him, so much. He had to get out. He couldn't go down into the tub, at his size, there was no way out. Chad stood, and concentrated on being human. He was CHAD. He inhaled deeply, and thrust out his chest. The smell of rubber, soap, and Jim were his world now. He looked over at the tub spout, and jumped from the soap dish. He landed on the spout, air rushed out of his lungs, his whole body ached, he caught and clung on to the spout. He pulled himself up. He crouched to jump for the edge of the tub. He took another deep breath, and dove at the hard porcelain. He landed with a rubbery splat, and slid over the edge of the tub toward the floor below. He made it. He fell. PLOP.
Chad passed out. He was a yellow blob between the giant tub and the giant toilet. He quivered. He was sobbing. He was never going to be human again, he feared. NO, I will be me again. He inhaled. He stretched, and forced himself up. He looked up at the stained toilet bowl looming overhead. He looked at the huge doorway at the other end of the bathroom, and strode forward. He was only vaguely human shaped, like some sort of yellow rubber mannequin or plastic toy. He fought back the sobs, and walked forward.