That first entry into my new life as a human toilet was hell! It was fire and brimstone! A divine judgment cast upon me. In the present.
I wished it were the next life. And now. I would be happier there than I was here. That was for sure!
To be saved would be a mockery of my existence. This was no escapade! No hero was going to rescue me now. Or my sorry ass!
I had also succumbed to this awful way of contaminating my mind. Not being able to prevent the deep, dashing reflections. Guilt, shame, and restless toil swam nauseously and continuously. A perpetual gaze into the regret of my actions. Those of which had brought me here, to the Shit Shacks.
One has their fair share of luck, one has their fair share of bad luck. Yet, mostly, the life balanced out for the majority. But me, my balance had jacked up and harpooned to another astral plane.
The serendipity I once knew was dead. I used to use human toilets. Now I was one. Could I actually put the sheer magnitude of that polarisation into context? Into the minds of the populous? I doubted it, very much so. Their brains a mush with social programming. The repetition in the news outlets, radio and television told them so, that they were great people. They had, in-fact, lost all moral compasses for compassion. They had replaced it with the morality of the new age. It felt better for them. I couldn’t blame them. For I had once been just as them.
I gazed at the box that was my new home. The toilet seat reminding me of the many great things that would feed me. I starkly remembered my ex-shag saying one guy vomited in his mouth. I hoped it would not happen to me. Gulp!
I didn’t have a care in the world for his welfare. So who would for me now? Indeed, I was getting the biggest dose of my own medicine one could imagine. All because of me. My actions. Against the beautiful state.
I lay down in the box. Naked as I was permanent to be. Hearing the doors to the other Shit Shacks open and close, with a bang, or a bolting, I knew this was a trap. A trapped life.
Men who visited joked outside. They laughed, they scorned. They danced on words of high pomp. Ceremonial words akin to deep trust and love towards the state.
Sometimes, I could hear them exchanging stories. 'Man, that toilet took it well,' or ‘shit, I’m gonna have to complain about that toilet!’
Yes, complaints were rife. Chewing, swallowing, adhering to orders. The ministry took them seriously. After all, these men, these fine specimens of humans, were helping to bind and engage society toward a better place.
The police department, the medical department, and institutions of public expenditure were now thriving again. Everyone had to play their part. And in-part that eased these entities. To happier times. ‘Collective weekly’ the local rag, called this state, the ‘People’s State’ and 'The government of the century' everybody was happy about it. Well, nearly everyone …
Somebody unlocked the door to my Shit Shack. I heard the heavy bolt move. A sigh inside prevailed. Here was my first customer of the day.
I couldn’t see who it was. Being stuck, the box shielded my view. I heard light footsteps as somebody approached me.
A face peered down at me. A man. Around 50. He was gaunt. Black hair, a shadow of a beard. His eyes were black and sullen as the devil's card.
He began,
“I am the manager of these correctional waste facilities. I tend to them. I make sure things are swimming positively. For the men who visit you. I know everything about your story. How you arrived here? I’m not your friend. So don’t think otherwise. Think of me as your God. I represent the hierarchist trickle affect. That reaches so far above you that to climb the ladder would be impossible. We all have our place. In this glorious society.”
He gazed at me. Taking in my naked flesh. His eyes scanning my body. He stared directly into my eyes. As a feral animal. Smelling blood. Eyeing its prey. He then stepped back and scoured the shack. Before switching back again. In a daunting pose. Above me.
His big set of keys rattled on his belt. He had access to all 10 Shit Shacks. Able to enter as and when he pleased.
“Yes!” He said, in a sudden, jarring manner, “You are one lucky man. The ministry had sought to give you an indefinite term. Yet, as you admitted your guilt, they have taken pity on you. Personally, I believe it should have been so. But I’m not a lawmaker. They have determined that you will serve a 24 month sentence. 24 hours a day, right here in this Shit Shack!”
My heart sank. I just couldn’t understand how I was supposed to eat the shit of men for so long! As a human toilet!
Though on one front, at least it wasn’t to be a whole life of human toilet servitude! Still, how much shit would I consume in that time? It was beyond belief …
“Can you tell me how many men I will serve? Daily?” I asked meekly.
He tensed his lips. “You don’t speak unless we ask you a question. I won’t warn you again. Simple as.”
He jangled the big wad of metals in his hand …
“This bunch of keys represent your incarceration. It is a sign of your detriment. When ever you hear me walking, you will hear them. Reminding you of your shame and guilt. And as for your question, you will eat the shit of around 4 or 5 men a day! Dependant how busy we get. But the volume of that will increase sooner than you can expect. We have some Shit Shackers here who tend to 10 men a day! … Always a way to improve! Never a latent dormancy or a plateauing of your time will befriend you. You can count on that. The more men lined up here to shit in you, the better we are at consistently upholding society's happiness!”
I said nothing. No retort. I didn’t wish to get into trouble. I was already in a big pool of it. Like a little town on the shoreline, enveloped by a great tsunami. One of shit. Everywhere.
“By the way. Toilet routines. For yourself. When you need to shit, you shit in the box! They designed it to give grace to a lot of space. If it fills up, so be it. Each week you will recieve a good hosing! Then you will remove any shit from the box and into the drain. Under the mat. But you know about all that, right? I saw the report. Haha!”
This man was cold. The ice of a wintry planet was his aura. A wolf in the snow. A predator. Ready to devour. A kindness frozen, unable to defrost. Ever. A wickedness. I felt it so strongly.
And 10 men!!! What in the wholly fucks of fuck! I had missed that part. Oh shit!
“In the mornings, I like to take a dump. Just as a healthy man would. So hear it clear, you will receive a lot, and I mean a lot of my shit, over the coming months. You may even come to like it.”
He chuckled. Then pulled his jeans down. Those keys, jangling and jiggling about. The crashing of metal. Cold metal. To remind me, as he had said, of my captive status. As a human toilet.
“You used to enjoy these Shit Shacks. I know you took great pleasure in using your ex boyfriend. If you are wondering, he is still here. But not nearly as long as you left on his sentence. He’s probably one of the best we have! Customers can't get enough of his talents. It is high time you Plumbed that into yourself. We like fully functioning toilets here. Nothing else will do!”
"Now!” He said sternly, “Let’s see what you’re made of!"
He donned the toilet seat. He’d done this so many times before. After all, he was the manager. He had usage of 10 mouths of men. Whenever he wished. Lucky guy.
"It’s not too bad eating shit to tell the truth!” He chuckled, clearly delighted.
“But, and I say this strongly, I wouldn’t say you will ever get used to it … I mean, the fresh taste of shit isn’t like some type of vegetable you can get used to … You know, like spinach. Oh, did I mention I had that last night? My wife made some beautiful cheese and spinach tartlets. To go with a fine wine. It was lovely! Haha!”
Oh my fucking God! He was a monster!
But wait a minute, wasn’t I a monster once too? Gleefully telling my ex-shag how I had eaten tins of baked beans in mock? And how it would be messy, very messy? So, this is what human to human revenge feels like. I didn’t have a leg of pride to stand on.
He switched the toilet box light on. Just as the 18-year-old kid had. A light that would shine many a rancid asshole to my gaze over the coming months. Well, 24 months to be exact.
There was then a silence. A cold one. He just sat there, calmly on the toilet seat, with his ripe asshole exposed to my view. The light was bright; and it made it all the worse. Knowing it was purposeful.
That line he expressed about being a healthy man, who takes a dump in the morning. And how I would be eating lots and lots of his shit! Well, it really got to me. Utterly so. The contrast. Of our differing places in society. A chasm.
Then it began. He strained as the first movements of his morning dump came close to his opening. His hole contracted. I saw the initial makings of a snaking, thin line emerge. It was like a worm. With my mouth fully open, I watched as it glided out in flawless harmony. Continuing to slowly, ever so slowly journey out of his asshole. Dangling in mid-air. As it went. Suspending itself momentarily in motion. Clinging, to his sphincter, before he pinched it off! With a quick-snap traction it fell into my mouth! In a swoop! It hit my outstretched tongue, curling into it. Swirling into a heap! Like the markings would wind, on a colourful, spiralled lolly pop! Well, that’s how it amassed. Like a picture perfect doggy poo poo in the park! My mouth was filling. But then he eked out yet another lengthy worm!
The smell was revolting! It filled my nostrils as the thick smog of the oil refineries would. In the collective. If only.
“Take your time. Relish the scent. And chew. Different men will have different tastes. They will interchange. I will interchange. Today, though, you will chew. And greedily so, with self inspired, vim! Use your tongue to paint it over your front teeth. The back teeth. Allow it to sink into your taste buds. It is mealtime.”
I could literally taste spinach shit! It was deathly, a dark green. I had seen it clearly as it entered. And now my mouth was full of his stinking shit. I did as he required. It was bitter, so very much so. He was degrading me in such a relaxed manner! He thought nothing of me. At all.
I chewed agonisingly for a fair few minutes. Continuing as he had instructed. I didn’t dare swallow. Not yet. Even that, with this ruthless manager, could cause issues.
What in the actual fuck! I was now adapting to specific and calculated rule-makings of shit-eating! What a loser. An humiliated loser I had become.
“Now swallow.” He ordered. Still, his ass clamped firmly in front of my sight.
I did so. It really was a doggy mess. I felt my throat open and close. I was close to gag. But I stopped. I managed the reflex. But only just. I felt sick. Absolutely, to the marrow of my bones.
It took me several times to swallow his warm shit! It was as smooth as shit from a ducks ass! An embarrassingly, harrowing notion. But it was true. Rancidly true. That taste. Of anal vomit!
He stood up and inspected my mouth. He used a little wooden knife to peel away my lips. So he could see my gums.
“Still my shit residue. You will make sure you always tongue the insides of your mouth so it is once again squeaky clean and fresh for the next customer!”
"Do you understand your job role now as a human toilet?" He asked
“Yea” … I just about said as my stomach attempted its best to contain his vile stool.
He pulled his pants up. He didn’t need to use toilet paper. As after using the Shit Shack detainees for so long, he knew which shit would need a cleaning. It was not this one.
“You do as I have told you, and all will be well. Now, I have to go tend to another shack. We are close to sending one of the more mature men to a newer unit. Yes, I’ll tell you all about that soon. But right now, you are taking baby steps. Into your new life as a shit eater. Another man is to visit you within 1 hour. So more shit to come. I will ask for his feedback. Nobody slacks off on my watch. These are my Shit Shacks. Mine!”
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