He forced it into my hand.
I brought the glass closer to my face but stopped short and hesitated.
His fist smacked hard against my left cheek.
Some of the liquid in the cup spilled onto the floor and onto my sweat stained t-shirt.
He grabbed the glass from my hand and poured the remains into the sink before going about the process of preparing the concoction once more.
He didn't want me to miss a drop.
He filled the glass with water and a bit of...something, a mystery component whose identity I wasn't privy to.
I don't know if he'd tell me if I asked but of course there's no way I would.
This time I brought the glass closer to my face, paused - very briefly - and began downing the liquid.
He moved ever so slightly while I was drinking, causing me to flinch.
The thought that perhaps I wasn't being enthusiastic enough crossed my mind, prompting me to drink faster.
It tasted like water, mostly.
There was...something else.
I didn't dwell on it.
Suprisingly, or not, I was finding it easier and easier to form my honest thoughts and intentions to meet his demands.
That is a function of the human mind, I think, a survival mechanism.
Or something.
I didn't move an inch for a few minutes after I finished drinking.
I held the cup awkwardly in my right hand, my arm resting at a right angle.
He continued to stare at me.
Not quite in my eyes, I could tell, but definitely at me, or perhaps he was just deep in thought and his eyes happened to be pointed that way.
Eventually, he took the glass and placed it on the sink behind him.
He flipped on the television and paced the room for a while before leaving the hotel room.
I didn't know where he went when he left and my conditioned brain had stopped wondering.
I moved, finally.
I took a seat on the sofa in front of the tv, wedging myself as far as I could into the corner of the cushion.
The local news was on.
Nothing important.
I couldn't focus anyway.
Time passed.
An hour, according to the news.
Another hour.
I dozed off a couple times.
Sometimes my mind raced with...nothing important.
Sometimes I sat dormant.
Nothing important.
Nothing important.

Eventually...
I had to pee.
This whole ordeal was making me realize just how hard it was to control that urge, to stop myself from just releasing...I'd never felt like this before.
But now I felt like I couldn't keep it at bay for long.
I still didn't know exactly why but I knew I really, really needed to let it go.
Whatever was in that water couldn't be good.
It was my punishment after all.
I looked down at my crotch and gently touched the diaper I'd been forcefully fitted with.
This one was different than the blue one I had soiled earlier, it was a plain white.
Very...stereotypical.
I touched it lightly, pressing the inside of the garment against my body.
It felt kind of nice.
I didn't hate it.
I really had to pee, though.

A little later I woke up, not realizing I had falled asleep.
I felt...strange.
Because I just woke up?
No.
It was a different kind of strange.
I became conscious of a kind of lag between me moving and my body actually responding.
I lifted my arm...and then my arm lifted, a second later.
Was I tired?
I shook my head in an attempt to dispel this bizarre sluggishness.
No.
I was awake.
The TV was still on but it sounded very...distant.
I could hear what they were saying but it was like I was hearing it through a thin sheet of glass.
Blink...then I blinked.
Inhale...then I inhaled.
I tried standing and, through no small effort, managed it.
I could walk around alright but if anything required a quick reaction I'd be done for.
Uh-oh.
I had to pee.
What time was it?
Not good enough.
I had to pee.
I had to pee.
The muscles that I used to prevent the urine from leaking out were weaker now, like everthing else.
I really had to pee.

He entered.
I was sitting on the floor in a puddle of my own putrid excretion.
He moved to the sink and began preparing the liquid.
I waited patiently.
I traced my finger through some of the urine that had spilled out from my over-full diaper.
He handed me the glass and this time I quickly obliged.
I didn't think about it.
Any objections I might have had...
Not important.
I was a little sloppier about it this time.
Some spilled out and ran down my cheeks, clearing paths through the muck.
He didn't seem to care.
Good enough, I guess.
He set about the task of changing my diaper.
Like last time, he didn't bother wiping or cleaning anything, he just removed the old one and put on the new one.
This one was pink.
Cute.

Later.
My body was becoming even slower to react to my commands.
My mouth hung open slightly.
I would have to make a conscious effort to keep it closed and I just couldn't find the willpower.
It was fitting for a grotesque pig like me who pisses and shits all over themselves.
Drool.
Haha.
I told my hand to bring it to my face and wipe it off.
After a while it reached my face but it just kind of spread it around.
Haha.
Oh well.
I let it run.
It started to make a wet spot on my shirt.
My filthy shirt.
My own dirt and fluids had long since permeated the stitching.
It smelled okay - good, very good - to me because I'm a disgusting cow who should be slaughted and my meat discarded.
Not fit for consumption.

Time.
Time.
Time.
Days.
A week?
Weeks.
I had morphed into a piss-soaked animal, a fucking beast.
I couldn't be called human anymore, I had become truly repulsive.
I hoped he would punish me good this time.
Good enough to banish my shitty self from my empty skull.
I can't remember how many times now...
Not like it's possible for a braindead husk like me to remember each one.
Another drink, drink.
He had been feeding me them for a while.
I didn't move much anymore.
I couldn't move much anymore.
It felt very good.
I was wracked with guilt.
I didn't deserve this.
A sack of shit like me didn't deserve this.
It felt...very good.
VERY good.
God fuck.
I want to die.
I have to die.
It's the only way I can atone for this horrid thievery of pleasure from the grasp of the worthy.
I have to die.
I have to die.
I tried looking around for something...a knife...a pencil...something to stab my eyes out, something to put a stop to this.
My mind flailed but my body barely moved in response.
My head lolled to one side.
I spotted...something.
My vision was too blurry to make it out.
Something.
I could do it.
With this.
I needed to get.
Over there.
I have to do it.
I need to fucking.
My mind is screaming I HAVE to scrape my eyes out and jab my fucking brains until I stop stealing until I stop doing this, this shit, I can't, I can't, STOP.
Please stop.
Please stop making me feel good.
God please.
God.