Bob:
Don't confuse tile grout with non-shrink precision grout. Two very different animals. Non shrink precision grout is made from hydraulic cement, fine sharp sand, and various admixtures to increase expansion as it sets, and often, a 'plasticizer' to improve how the grout flow or is packed to place it. Non shrink grouts tend to bond solidly with rough castings and rough concrete. Tile grout is basically a white Portland type cement, and may have very fine white sand if used on tile with joints wider than about 1/8". Tile grout also has nothing much to bond to, as it is run into the joints between tiles, or used to bed a toilet on a thin bedding of it. Different animals altogether.
Most non-shrink grouts will have a 3-day strength (compressive strength) of 5,000 psi or better, vs concrete which may have a 7 day strength of 3,000 or 3,500 psi for most common jobs. I like to get a bag of non-shrink grout and use it for patching mortar around the house as it bonds tenaciously if the concrete or stone substrate is chipped off and well cleaned. Where I punched thru the foundation wall above the grade line for a propane line, I did the patching in with the non-shrink grout and a bonding agent. Cut the edges of the busted concrete with a masonry saw, chipped out, and then parged on a stiff packable mix of the non shrink grout. I've also used it to repoint some stone masonry on our entry steps and it has held up with no problems when exposed to freeze-thaw and rocksalt/ice melting agents. Cement mortar crumbled away in a few years when exposed to those conditions. The stuff is some hard, so once it has been tooled and allowed to set, it's there to stay.
Consider yourself well treated if your toilet was grouted with tile grout. If it was grouted with non-shrink precision grout, you'd have busted the toilet bowl getting it parted from the floor.
Many years ago, when I was young, single and absolutely wild and uncontrollable, I put some of the Five Star Grout to a somewhat questionable purpose. I was working on a powerplant jobsite as a mechanical engineer and had gotten my PE License. Weekends, I did what I pleased, which varied from firing a steam locomotive when needed, helping my neighbors in their machine shop, or riding my motorcycle with whomever and wherever, roaming far afield and letting things happen as they might. Some of the company I was keeping was less than good, and I was called on the carpet at the jobsite and told to change my ways. I was told there was to be a golf tournament, and that I ought to take up golf and stop riding motorcycles and running with the types I had been running with. This got my back up, and I retorted that I was on the job to be an engineer, and as such, expected to be judged on the merits of my work and conduct on the job, and what I did on my own time was my own business. I got told I had better get in line with the program and take up golf. I saw people from the field office taking off all kinds of time to set up the golf tournament, and heard them raving about the brass who were coming to it from the regional office, and about the golf pro who would also be there. If I took a few extra minutes at lunch, I heard about it, but the golf tournament was apparently a sacred cow. Needless to say, I was not going to take up golf, nor was I going to stop my riding motorcycles and partying and running with the questionable people I was running with. Life was too wild and too much fun, and I was having a delayed adolescence or something on that order. Walking around with a bunch of suck-asses on a golf course was not something I remotely saw myself doing. I was going to sink or swim on my own abilities as an engineer, and did not see where golf had any bearing on that.
After yet another rebuke about my conduct off site and being told I would do well to take up golf, I'd had enough. My brain kicked into double overdrive. I went to the biker bar where some of the guys I rode with hung out. I told them what my problem was, and we hatched a plan to fix the golf tournament really good. Two older superintendents on the jobsite who also had no use for golf got into the plot and were my alibi. Add a couple of bikers and the chemistry was there for mayhem to result. I got some of that good Five Star grout from the jobsite, courtesy of the turbine erecting super. I was loaned a dirt bike, since I did not own one. We cut the lugs on the rear tires on the dirt bikes with a hacksaw so the lugs were nice and sharp like milling cutters. We taped the tanks of the bikes with duct tape to cover any identification of color, make or model, and we taped the headlights so there was only a thin cats-eye slit, like a military blackout light on a vehicle. We took the plates off the bikes and took the bulbs out of the tail lamps. A van dropped us at the golf course way late into the night before the tournament. Each of us had a knapsack with a plastic bag of Five Star Grout and some canteens of water.
Three of us raced around the greens, throwing rooster tails of earth. When we came to a cup and flag, we put in a couple of handfuls of Five Star Grout and added water from canteens. Mixed it with the flag's post and left the flags in place in the cups. Rode off the golf course in a very short time, onto a powerline right of way. Rode the right of way for a bit and were picked back up by the van. All of us wore the same denim jackets and jeans and full-face helmets painted rattle-can flat black.
Come Monday morning at the jobsite, I heard all about the disaster at the golf course. Aside from the torn up greens, people tried to still play golf, and when they got to the cups, could not get the flags out of them. I was asked about my own whereabouts, but my alibis piped up for me. Some sort of investigation was mounted but it went nowhere as tons of young men had dirt bikes and rode all kinds of trails and wild behavior was not an uncommon thing. As for the golf tournament, I did not see that the outcome was any different than it would have been had the course been playable. The end result was the same: the suck-asses from the jobsite sucked up to the brass from corporate in the clubhouse just that much sooner without having to go play golf beforehand.
The powers that were and local law enforcement never did find out who pulled off that caper. The greenskeeper conveniently offered his opinion that the flags were 'cemented into the cups- must be Waterplug'. 'Waterplug' is a packaged hydraulic cement sold in hardware stores and building supplies, which anyone could have gotten easily. That widened the field and took the heat off suspects from our jobsite. That 5 star grout did the trick handily with a fast set time and plenty of bond strength. As for me, I rolled into the parking lot on the job that Monday morning on my Airhead BMW wearing a leather jacket and managed to keep a straight face and act surprised at the news about the golf tournament that wasn't. The old superintendents knew, and we all laughed good about it.
That was well over 40 years ago, so if there was a statute of limitations for trashing golf courses, I am sure it has long run out. I have never hit a golf ball in my life and don't plan on it. People ask what I do in 'retirement' and my answer is: same thing I did in my working life: Practice engineering, welding inspection, machine work, and whatever else comes along. People ask what my hobbies are and get the same answer. I am still riding my old BMW Airhead motorcycle, often with my wife of 38+ years packing on the 'pillion'. Wife knows my past, and knows my buddies and I still joke about pulling off similar capers, remembering our wilder younger days.