The Shit Shacks

The dystopian tale of the human toilet continues. Newer & filthier scat visions are in the air. Gulp

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  • 940 Readers
  • 2775 Words
  • 12 Min Read

His stepmom was standing with a pair of marigolds on, and in her hand she held a bucket of water. She was a voluptuous woman with a beautiful smile and curves in all the right places. 

“Ohh, hi there.” I said a little angst. 

We walked away from the Shit Shacks so we could leave prying ears empty. 

Talk about a strange timing. I mean, I had just directly shit into her stepson’s stomach n all. What an odd scenario indeed. 

“I’m here on cleaning duty. And also to inform you that you are required to visit again.”

“But I have done my services here.” 

“You would have thought so, but you know this government, and it’s Stasi. Well, they have asked me to tell you personally that further duties are required!” 

“With your stepson?” 

“Yes. With him,” 

I tried to hide my glee. Yet, in tandem, felt all gooey on the inside and with a beating heart wondered what had changed? 

She put down her cleaning bucket, which was full of vile, brown, shit water. It certainly looked like it needed freshening up. Yet, if you were last in line, as my ex shag was, that’s all you got. It was very unfortunate, to say the least. They used water sparse for ‘Shit Shack’ detainees. The ministry of office was not too keen on wasting such a valuable mineral on such matters at all. 

Women, you see, were not required to fulfil ‘toilet duties’ no. It was men, and only men, who had such tasks. It was much a patriarch of a state. There were ‘gender roles’ and, as it may, the lawmakers sought to dish out punishment ‘man to man.’ If you defaulted, as our old friend had, then it was the anuses of men you would see for the duration of your incarceration. It was worse for the ones who were straight mind. To have only men take big, smelly excretions in their mouths. Such a terrible experience to endure. 

“You haven’t seen your stepson in months. Now you have to clean him up?”

She huffed, “I don’t mind at all. He was such a selfish brat when he lived at home. He treated my biological daughter really badly. She has PTSD now because of it.” 

“Oh god I am so sorry. I never saw that side to him when we used to date.” 

“No, not at all. He has always switched from the good to the bad. Like a flick of a light.”

I decided at this point to just spill the beans. Seems she didn’t give two hoots about him. So why was I to be concerned about her reaction? 

“You know I literally just shat right down his throat.”

She smirked something rotten, knowing for full well what I had done. 

“Great. He deserves it. He will get more toilet fun as his line of duty continues. Suppose him being gay makes it easier, huh?!” 

I laughed and wondered what exactly ‘more toilet fun’ meant? I mean, more shit? Well, why not, but if it was ‘wash, rinse & repeat’ then my old, lame shag was already becoming rather the artful master! 

“They had informed me I was to be reassigned to the next town for more shit shack stuff there. They had not presented a date to me but I would await to hear.” 

She shrugged her shoulders and took off her marigolds. “Ahh, well, things change. They were looking at his file. Turns out he has run up some nasty debts in another city which he never declared at the time of incarceration, trying to get away with it all as usual, huh! Well, they find everything on the computer systems with AI now, you know. Anyway, agents visited us.” 

“Oh gosh. They are scary people. I hope you aren’t in trouble now because of him?”  

“No, not at all. We are fine. They want to get him started on something new. A harsher punishment for his wrongdoings. The new initiatives are being referred to as, ‘correctional wastage depositories’ It’s for those who really have gone against the moral code of society." 

I was more than intrigued by the idea of this new system. But thus far, it made little sense. The title didn’t give too much away. 

“What on earth are they?” I asked with wide-eyed anticipation. 

“Put it this way. There isn’t only one hole you can shit in is there …!” 

I quickly scanned my brain on the subject. And it didn’t take an Albert Einstein to work out what she meant. 

“No way. I mean whaaat! Are you actually shitting me!?!?” 

She laughed devilishly. “No, not at all. His asshole is going to be used as an actual toilet!” 

“You mean men. Men of all shapes, ages and sizes are going to be using his actual anus as a fully functioning toilet?” 

“You got it bubz! And frankly, I’m so glad he isn’t actually mine. My daughter was laughing so bad I thought she would cry. It sure is good news all round.” 

We both at that moment gazed over at the ‘shit shacks’, a row of wooden cabins that represented ‘the badness of society.’ Their presence being a strict reminder of the importance of carrying a strong moral code toward the rule of law. For sure, they subjugated us ourselves under the harsh conditions of the current times. But to be in one of those things for 23 hours a day; well, we knew never to stand out of line. It made common sense to be obsequious and to uphold all the bounds brought upon us. It was a matter of one’s own personal importance to, at all costs, if clever, evade the utter tragedy that would prevail if we, or I, were to go against the arbitrary order. No wonder crime was at its lowest for 65 years. Yes, a stranglehold on the people with a notorious whip of an iron curtain was the only way to create a safer society. I was glad to be one of the good guys. I truly was. 

“The agents have said he will act as a ‘correctional wastage depository’ in the coming days. They need to hook him up first. Get him prepped.”

“His asshole will be a toilet bowl, then!” Haha 

She picked up the shit bucket at that moment and walked towards the shacks. 

“I must go. Agents are on the way down here as we speak. It was just to tell you. That was all. Yes, get yourself ready to do your new duty. We all have to do our bit after all.” 

And with that, she left. It appeared we would not have to go into the more sordid details of how the appliance would work right now. I guess, though, he’d find out soon from the agents how things were going to pan out with the new arrangements. 

I slept that night with an angst complex. As I drifted off, I fell into a dream land space. A ghoulish world. There was a huge spider. It was with all its legs wrapped around a giant glass tumbler. Inside of it, men were writhing in a sea of liquid shit. They were shouting for help and bashing at the sides of the container to be released from their peril. Was I one of the men? Agents suddenly appeared, and at all sides began harpooning at the spider. It had fierce eyes, and a wrath of contempt for the men. It was attempting to climb right inside and devour them. Then, suddenly, I became one of the agents in a wicked instance! I began throwing in unison harpoons attempting to kill the beast! Yet, it stood firm. The weapons just ricocheting off it, as minor pin pricks of nothingness to its mammoth body! Finally, out of nowhere, I saw my very self inside the glaring eyes of the spider! It was a headfuck. With my 8 eyes, I clasped onto the men. All of them ravaged from their shit covered bodies. Naked and torn from the inside out. I went to pounce relentlessly, going for the jugular kill! Yet, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain as a harpoon hit my leg. 

I woke up sweating, and after quickly checking there was no blood, I realised I had been in a wicked nightmare. A feverish panic of a space where I had taken on all facets of beings. It was all very confusing. And the strangest part is I had a huge erection that was bursting to explode. Yet I hadn’t felt horny, had I? 

I knew I was playing my part in this bondage of society. I was bound by its fist. Yet, I had to keep being a good man, an honest man, a man who would uphold the rule of law. 

But why were my dreams as fraught and as fractious as this? I knew my latest duty was around the corner. It was his fault, not mine. He was the erroneous one. He was the crook. He was the one who had brought the universe crashing down on himself. He was the one who was now a human toilet. And I was the one who would not falter in my agreements to the ministry.

I just had to brush my conscience to one side. But sometimes it had a way of catching up with you. But I had to protect number one. I just had to. 

That same night, another nightmare was playing out. Though this one was real, very real. It lived in the realist of realities, in the present. 

Agents. 2 of them had informed ‘the human toilet’ that a certain amount of tweaking was necessary to ensure he was adhering to his order. It was to aid and help comfort his stay in the ‘correctional wastage facility.’ A must in the eyes of the law, and an assuredness in him, he was applying himself accordingly to the ministry. 

“SHIT IN MY ASSHOLE!!!” 

He screamed with a perpetual tailgating on the word ‘asshole’, which never ceased to stop. But eventually did. With perspiration and dread, filling him up like nothing he’d ever heard so crude.

“Shut the FUCK UP!” One of the burly men barked. 

“We are agents of the state. You have any idea what we can have done to you if you don’t comply?”

The other agent, after bringing in some tools from outside and into the shit shack, whispered into his ear tenderly, 

“We will have your legs removed. And your arms. Then we will house you at ‘the farm’ in a chicken cage. Face upwards. Each day the cage will be open and all the ‘4 walkies things’ will use you as their own toilet. All different shit, from different ‘barking things’ or ‘oinking things’ or ‘mooing’ things, will use you! Is that what you want? We can make it happen?”  

“Yeah bud,” chimed in the first agent, 

“Think long n hard. One more outburst and we will whisk you away. No problem at all. No skin off our teeth. We are paid handsomely to keep society in check. Since you bozo fraudsters, debt failures and general crooks have been in, your new line of work crime is so low you could hear a pin drop on the streets at night.” 

The room went quiet. He said nothing. He kept his mouth shut. He thought of his ex-shag, his stepmom, his half sister and wondered how on earth had it come to this. But it had. At present, they had him sat back to the wall with his hands on his head as they made the adjustments. 

The coffin like structure he would normally lay in eating shit from men’s asshole’s needed changing. His asshole was now an acting ‘toilet’, of course, so would need to be raised up. 

Therefore, and in kindness of the ministry, a beautiful set of padding designed to mould the back, shoulders and head of the user was carefully placed all around the toilet bowl area and screwed into the wood. This special material would create a very comforting space for the toilet in long periods where his legs would be hoisted into the air. 

Which, of course, is what was necessary to raise his ass and legs up to create the new toilet. 

After the initial modifications, the two beastly agents thrust him into his new home. They then pulled his legs up as far as they could go, so his asshole came into a perfectly levelled view. Now, to make sure he wouldn’t fall back or lose tension, ankle locks strapped his legs with an extremely fine set of taught metal chains which were bolted into the ceiling by one of the notorious men. 

His little dangly cock was at present, not at all hard. But would you be hard, knowing your asshole was to become the toilet for as many men as you can imagine? Not likely. Haha 

“You see, normally, no human could take the physical strain of being in this position. But this new tech allows you to mould so wonderfully that it will be like laying on a sofa on a cloud.”

The other barked, “Yea, we can’t have you lazing off on your duties. But the ministry has been kind enough to let you laze off in yourself.”

It was true. He felt awfully comfortable. Even with his legs raised taught, and his ass at a perfect 90-degree angle, his back, neck and shoulders were in harmony with the material screwed into the side of his head box. The technology the new world offered, eh! 

It was just the right height for a man to take a perfect dump in his asshole. With his trousers down and in peace. All that was necessary now was a little metal toilet seat apparatus that would sit just slightly above his hole. So the user could take a perfect angling with no bother. With 4 feet, they would screw it into the top of the lowered box. The perfect toilet! 

He lay there in his own demise. Knowing for full well he should have disclosed the debts he had incurred from the other city when he was condemned. It was all his own fault. 

“Now, as you have already signed the papers accepting this as a new stipulation for your remaining months, then you will now like to hear how your asshole is going to be prepared.” 

The bigger of the two agents produced a ‘ministry of magic speculum’. It was an electronically powered device which would, through the night, crank his asshole open wide enough to be shat inside of. Just like a toilet bowl. 

“Yea, it will bust you open like you can literally give birth. A bucket hole, if you may. Or if so, a man vagina that’s seen so much hard fucking over the years it just won’t close. When its work is done, the metal ring will hold your anal ring open, holding the perimeter lining incredibly taught. So that many logs of shit or whatever else necessary can enter. This is going to hurt as it works itself. But don’t worry, it’s incremental and the full effect won’t feel too bad until, say, tomorrow at dawn.” 

And with that last notion, they set the contraption in place. Budding it nicely into his tight little pucker to do its thing. 

“Yep. It sure gonna get you heaving n huffing, boy. You gonna be sweating like a pig in a barn come mornin’”

They both laughed. Much to the toilet's dismay. 

We must remember, though, our ex-shag was a whiny bottom who couldn’t nearly take a cock properly. He was just that lame, to tell the truth. So this would take him to a whole new level. But as one agent had said, as his stepmom had said. Crime was at an all-time low. And it was all because of this new implementation of punishment. They programmed fear of the worst into the minds of the populous. The men of the new dawn dared not step out of line. The ministry was everyday giving itself a pat on the back. It was doing such a great job for society.    

But now the pain. Oh, the torment. Oh, the humiliation. Hahaha 

And with that, they left the ‘Shit Shack’, leaving the brand spanking new toilet in darkness. With its electronic speculum working, it’s magic!


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