It's been hours since you've had a smoke. The airplane prohibited smoking, so did the airport, the bus, and here in the dorm's hall was another sign prohibiting smoking. Your craving gets the better of you, and you duck out of the orientation group and into the Janitor's Closet to light one up.
Instead of buckets, mops and cleaning supplies, the closet is empty. You think this is strange, but figure that it's a new school year and the closet hasn't been stocked yet, or else the janitor has everything out to clean the dorm.
You hear a crash in the corridor outside the closet door. A man curses, "@#*, you broke the bust of Astrolathe. Now get a broom and clean up this plaster."
The door opens and hand reaches blindly into the dark closet. You drop your cigarette, and hold your breath. You feel strange as the hand gropes toward you. You're getting thinner, you can't speak, you stand upright stiffly unable to move. Your clothing drops in a heap on the floor. The stranger's hand wraps around your newly narrowed body, it feels warm and fleshy against your smooth hard body. Effortlessly the young lad lifts you out of the closet. You are disoriented, as he spins you upside down and lowers you to a pile of broken statue and plaster powder, you realize that you are now a broom. The experience of the dust, dirt and debris moving through your hair, face and head is very disconcerting. You want to shake yourself or cough, but you cannot, you are inanimate.
The mess has been swept up along with dust bunnies, dust, dirt, grass and mud. They used you to sweep it onto a newspaper which they fold up and deposit in a waste bin. You are unceremoniously tossed back into the Janitor's Closet.
It takes nearly 30 minutes for you to regain your naked human form. As you gulp down air, breathing hard for the first time in what seemed like hours, you hear the sound of someone vomiting. The orientation leader's voice is heard telling someone to get a mop and bucket. You reach for your clothing, but the door is opening and you freeze unable to speak or move as your body reshapes itself to serve the needs of the person searching blindly in the closet.
At last Sam finds, the mop sticking out of a rolling bucket. He takes the mop out of the bucket separating what was once your human waist. He lifts the bucket to the sink in the back of the closet and fills your lower half with hot water and ammonia. Strangely, you can feel his hands, and the water in your separated half. He plunges your mop head into the soapy bucket and wheels you out into the lobby where a young boy is heaving dry over a puddle of warm, smelly, wet vomit. Not only can you feel the vomit, you can taste, and smell it. On the floor, in the vomit, back in the bucket, on the floor, in the vomit, back in the bucket. So it continues again and again. Finally, he is done. Sam rinses you out in the sink. Then he puts your mop head into the bucket wringer and begins to turn the crank. As Sam touches your crank, you realize it's your genitals transformed. Your head is forced between the rollers, as the water is wrung into the bucket you orgasm. The pain of having your head wrung, while forcing you to orgasm produces sensory overload. Your last thought before you pass out is Good heavens! I just fucked my brains out!
When you regain consciousness, you aren't in the closet any more. You are...