CUSTOM REQUESTHello TOILET, how are you? Are you ready to perform your function? I cant wait to give you my morning poo, like every day I feel so much of it, but my sadistic mind has decided that you wont just eat shit today, but for 4 consecutive days. I really want to up the difficulty level 4 uninterrupted days of eating kilos of shit. If you succeed, which I highly doubt, you will be my personal shitter.
After shitting, you say: "Today is the first day of our new adventure, TOILET. I have prepared a special treat for you. Look at the composition of my shit. It's truly divine." Your thick, gooey piles of feces are already filling up the bowl, and you can't help but feel excited about what's to come.
The next morning, you wake up feeling even more full of shit than usual. You know you have to give it to your TOILET, but the thought of them needing to eat it all still makes your stomach churn. You force yourself to sit down on the toilet and release your first load of the day. As always, your shit is a mix of meat and vegetables, but there's something different about it today. It has a fishy smell that lingers in the air, and you can't help but wonder if your TOILET will notice.
You watch in anticipation as they approach the bowl, their nose twitching at the scent. "Well, shitter," you taunt, grinning wickedly. "Do you want a lot? I'm going to give you the best fucking coup de grace you've ever had." And with that, you force the last bit of food out of your system, filling the bowl to the brim.
As they start eating, you can't help but feel satisfied by their struggle. You watch with dark amusement as they struggle to keep up with the massive quantities of your shit. You wonder if they're starting to feel as full as you do right now, but there can be no doubt in their mind that they need to finish every last bit.
Day two arrives, and you're filled with equal parts anticipation and dread. You know what's coming and how much it's going to hurt, but the thought of having a personal shitter is too tempting to resist. You spend the day filling yourself with food, eager to reach your goal but also dreading what comes next.
When night falls, you finally gather the courage to sit down on the toilet and let it all out. Once again, your shit is a veritable mountain, and you're proud of yourself for managing to eat so much. You watch with twisted excitement as your TOILET approaches the bowl, their brow furrowed in concentration.
"Shitter, did you dream about my shit last night?" you ask mockingly. "Well, dreams are about to become reality." You force another massive load out of your system, feeling your insides ache from the effort.
As your TOILET begins eating, you can't help but feel a sense of power and control. They're entirely at your mercy, and you intend to relish every moment of it. You watch with morbid fascination as they struggle to swallow the ever-growing pile in front of them, wondering how much more they can take.
Day three is even worse than you imagined. Your stomach feels like it's going to burst from all the food you've been cramming in, and your asshole is raw from all the fucking it's been taking. But still, you press on, determined to make your TOILET suffer as much as possible.
When it's finally time for your final insult, you force out an almost unbearable amount of shit. It's a mix of everything you've eaten over the past three days, and it's clear that your TOILET is struggling to keep up. You watch with sadistic glee as they struggle to swallow the last few bites, knowing that this is the end of their journey.
"Well, also today a mountain of poo," you taunt them. "I never spare myself." You stand before them, naked and proud, daring them to look away from the mess you've made. They look up at you, their eyes filled with fear and disgust, but also a strange kind of admiration.
"If you want to be your own personal toilet," you say softly, "you always have to finish it. Without any excuse." You lean down, pressing your body against theirs. "Feel how much I've been filling you up for three days?" Your breath is warm against their neck, and you can feel their heart race under your touch.
"You're my toilet now," you whisper, and with that, you leave the room, certain that they'll never forget their four-day journey into your personal hell.
