In Shit Shack 3 lay another unfortunate soul. So unfortunate that his life was about to get much worse.
His efforts as a human toilet had waned considerably. He couldn’t eat shit.
If it wasn’t spluttering, it was vomiting. A man’s shitter did not deserve it. Splash-back happened.
From time to time, grace was permitted. Even by the ruthless manager. After all, they were in only human toilets.
Given the continual circumstances, itwas not an accepted attitude a Shit Shack toilet should carry. Excellent toilet skills being a key necessity of their role. If you had a bad cookie in the ranks, then something necessary had to happen.
Word got round. Quickly.
“Damn!” One huskily voiced man had said, “It covered my ass with shit-vomit! I had to go home and shower. I expected better from these Shacks. I had kinder service the next town up!”
Scathing words for the manager, on reflection of his well run line of Shit Shacks. Regional toilet tests would happen regularly. Either bumped up, or bumped down. By an invigilator. It was determined by a scale. Right now, it wasn’t looking too pretty.
He faced the man, eye to eye, ready to inform him of the next stage of his life.
“We are suffering at present. Here in my glorious Shit Shacks. And it’s because of you!” He said, grimacing at the toilet in dissatisfaction with his laboured efforts.
He had once been a high flyer. Yet misappropriating funds was a serious crime. Indeed, when it was monies involved with the collective, things got ugly.
They had incarcerated him at the Shit Shacks for 8 weeks. But he was not learning. This was akin to the many complaints filed against him. And now, the manager had laid the way to a new set of plans.
“We are trying something else. It isn’t working here anymore for you. Have you anything to say?”
“I just can’t do it. I have tried my best. I cannot carry on eating shit from men's assholes!” Pleading pathetically as he spoke.
“You carried on fine when you embezzled 10 thousand credits of ministry funds. You strategised that well enough. It was not a problem for you then, but now, eating shit is?”
“I didn’t intend to go against the State. It was never my intention to cause any—”
He cut him off, “Your intentions were clear. Very much so. That you had, with your own, self-centred, inclinations sought to embarrass our nation.”
He said nothing.
The manager then picked up a magazine. It was Collective Captured, which discussed all matters of business relating to prisoners. He opened the pages to reveal a picture of something. It was a large structural apparatus. He showed it to the man in his box.
“As you can see, we are looking for more levels of accessibility. With what human toilets can offer. A Shit-N-Go’ type of service will be made available soon. And We need guinea pigs for it! Here, take a peek!”
The man’s eyes widened in horror when he saw the computer-generated images in front of him.
It was a structure 6 feet tall and 4 feet wide. It was rectangular, like a vending machine. A big slab of metal. Produced in the steel factories, out on the plains.
At the front, just as any normal soda dispenser, was a program interface. After rolling credits down the slot, a green light would flash and you would select the item that caught your interest. An exchange would then occur and your purchase would be dispensed.
But this was certainly no ordinary vending machine. No, on the contrary…
Shortly after the mechanics completed manoeuvring, a drawer would eject. Springing outwards. The user would then be greeted by a face, mouth open. Ready to eat shit!
Torso present, all else absent. No control. No dignity.
It was for ‘accessibility’ — more capacity for the shit, basically. Lined at the top of the drawer would sit a conventional toilet seat above the face below. You would perch your buttocks on it. A lever allowed you to move the drawer upwards or downwards, to accommodate your height as your feet rested securely on the ground.
Then you would have 10 minutes to shit in it!
The head of the toilet could not move. It would be fixed into place. It would stay in the drawer, in the vending machine, for as long as the state desired. Or, until its usage became so lax, removal would take place.
The benefit allowed the user to shit directly into the human toilet’s mouth, unobstructed! There would be no concern for a ‘bad apple’ toilet, either. All they could do, confined in the drawer, was chew and swallow.
Endless logs of the purest brown shit! Gallons of slop. Mountains of sludge. It would be never ending!
After it had swallowed your shit, you would close the lid of the toilet seat. Overtop of its face. Submerging it into darkness. You would then press ‘exit’ on the keypad and ‘bingo’ — off it would pop back into the machine!
A vending machine you could now be proud of was just weeks away from rolling out.
Trials had taken place. In the ministry, Gulags! Where the worst men in society lived. Murderers and so forth. Tests, regularly, would take place. Naturally accepted in society. For their heinous crimes.
The manager continued in an upbeat manner. He felt imaginative today.
“Yes indeedly do. Mouth open for the queue. Stuck in a drawer eating lots of poo. Yes indeedly do.”
He chimed. Impressed with his little poetic stanza. He was in a zippy mood. He’d not long shit in the toilet in Shit Shack 6. The joy of initiating a recruit always filled him with happiness! It was a good day.
“When you are ready to vend, things will get nasty! A big sense of novelty will be in the air. It’s new after all. I can imagine a bunch of teenage boys taking turns to dump in your mouth. A gang of them. They will have lots of credits. And you know how rowdy teenagers can get!”
The human toilet’s brain turned to nightmarish clamour. He knew this wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a bad dream he would wake up from. This was the State. The manager never told you something unless it was going to happen.
“Please, please, no more shit!” He begged, in a last-gasp hope of mercy.
“You should have thought about that when you committed your graven offences.”
The man appeared to go into overdrive. His shit stained face perspiring at what he had just learned. Of his fate.
“You will sign the papers. Toward this. In agreement. Relinquishing everything of your body to the State. There is no going back. It is set in stone. This will be the final chapter of your life.”
“I wish I was in heaven,” he said, writhing about in his box.
“Death is a passage we all must face. It is only just the beginning. You will get your wish. In the end.”
The manager giggled. Strange for him. He was such a serious man. But a whimsical energy was his current mood.
The ‘Soopy gloopys’ which is what the human toilet vending machines are to be called, would be stationed in men’s restrooms. Highways and so forth. A quick, easy relief for the hard workers of the collective to make use of. These men deserve satisfaction. After all, they are spiritedly putting their sweat and blood back into the system!
The manager peeled away his jeans. That spinach sure had a way of causing bloat to one’s belly. His bowels needed to excrete once more.
“You will service countless men. Even on Christmas. Think of a man’s anal tract as a stocking. Plenty of brown filler to swallow.”
“So I’m just a shit machine now?”
“Exactly that. 7 days a week, 365 days a year.”
The manager mounted the seat, and with final words of wisdom, before shitting into the failure, he said,
“Living in a vending machine to eat the shit of men for the rest of your days will be perfect! I wouldn’t worry. It’s your destiny. The state knows best. A lot of ‘Soopy gloopy’ shit will go down your throat. You cannot do a thing about it. It will teach you that your folly of failing in the Shit Shacks has meant tougher regulations had to be implemented. It’s just common sense.”
“But, but, but… my arms… my legs… they’re going to—”
“Not forgetting your twin testi–“ too. Kinda important little things for a man, though, wouldn’t you think?”
“Oh my God!” His eyes bulged, threatening to pop from their sockets.
The manager smiled wickedly.
“Yep, what point would a sexed up human toilet be, anyway? You will live permanently inside a small drawer. Slurping shit down your throat. With no use of your limbs, what would be the reason for them?”
“BUT MY MANHOOD!”
“The only manhoods you will need to concern yourself with will be the ones who will use you!”
“I will go insane. In a box! Eating shit!”
“This is servitude! We have tried everything to embed you here at the Shit Shacks. But, it has only failed!”
“Where will I shit?”
“They will install a permanent pipe, deep inside your anus. Any waste will flow down into it. You have nothing to worry about. Everything will be comfortable!”
At that moment he let a pop. And a couple of shit nuggets shot into the mouth of the man!
“Chew them. Chew them. Chew them. Chew them! The Chew-Chew train of shit has arrived!”
Disgusting balls of spinach shit ravaged him. He had more questions. But now he had more shit in his mouth. Oh dear.
“You are to become a vending machine toilet! You have disgraced these Shit Shacks, therefore I had no other option than to recommend for you to become a vendor!”
He spluttered out a few more green blobs into the toilet’s mouth. For good measure. Then raised himself up.
“I’d recommend getting used to the idea that you will be ‘popping’ out of the vending machine just like a soda can! You will be ‘popping’ back inside too! Easy come and easy go!”
He clapped twice and grinned.
“Now, from the top!”
“Yes indeedly do. Mouth open for the queue. Stuck in a drawer eating lots of poo. Yes indeedly do.”
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