"Welcome to Your New Public Trashcan!" the sign reads above the four posts supporting the seat you're tightly restrained in.

Every restraint has been adjusted to leave you completely exposed and utterly helpless, ensuring there's nothing you can do except endure. A firm gag keeps you silent, while a rigid tube prevents you from closing your mouth, leaving it permanently occupied. Every vulnerable part of you has been left open and accessible, inviting others to treat you as the sign intends.

The display sits in the very center of the busiest shopping district, right at noon when the crowds are at their largest. Hundreds of strangers pass by every hour. Some hesitate, others laugh, some pretend not to notice—but eventually nearly everyone understands the purpose of the display.

To the people walking past, you're no longer seen as a person. You're simply the city's newest public trashcan, available for anyone to use however they see fit before they continue on with their day. The sign's message couldn't be clearer: you are no longer seen as a person, only as another object serving the public.

(you are now a public trashcan any and everyone can put anything inside your holes, all of them.)