I let out a sigh of relief as I rush towards the bathroom, my heart beating faster than usual. Today's been one hell of a day and all I can think about is relieving myself of the burden weighing down on my bladder. I make my way into the bathroom, taking quick glances at my reflection in the mirror along the way. My skin is pale and my hair a mess from running my hands through it out of nervousness.
As I approach the toilet, I instinctively inhale deeply to calm myself down. To my surprise, an unusual scent fills my nostrils; it's faint but distinct. It takes me a moment to place it, but then I realize what it is - the unmistakable aroma of freshly excreted feces. My mind races as I try to process this new information. The toilet isn't supposed to smell like that... especially not before I've even sat down.
With a growing sense of unease, I lower myself onto the cold ceramic seat and peer into the bowl. That's when I see him - my toilet boy, lying motionless underneath my special toilet stool. His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful yet anxious at the same time. It dawns on me that he must be waiting for me to take a dump so he can consume it like always.
I try to suppress the disgust rising within me but fail miserably. This whole situation feels... wrong. I don't know how or why I agreed to this in the first place. But it's too late now. I take a deep breath and let one out silently as I start to unbutton my pants.
As soon as my legs are free, I position myself over the stool and release a heavy sigh. The feeling of relief is instantaneous as my full bladder empties itself into the toilet bowl. And then, without any further hesitation, I give in to my toilet boy's desires. I lower my underwear and expose my bare ass cheeks to him.
With trembling hands, he reaches up and grabs a handful of my ass cheeks, pulling me down closer to his mouth. I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he prepares to consume my feces. His hot breath on my asshole sends shivers down my spine despite the disgust coursing through my veins.
As he begins to lap at my drooling anus with his tongue, every instinct in my body tells me to get away from him. But I can't. I am his toilet slave, bound by the perverse desires of our twisted relationship.
Minutes seem like hours as he goes to town on my asshole, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers that are now digging into the soft flesh of my buttocks. I grit my teeth and try to block out the sensations washing over me. When he finally pulls away, leaving a trail of saliva and excrement behind, I feel a strange sense of emptiness wash over me.
"Thank you, my toilet princess," he murmurs before rising to his feet. He grabs a plastic bag from under the sink and starts scooping up the remainder of my shit, performing a graceful dance as he maneuvers around the toilet bowl.
I watch in horror yet fascination as he transfers the contents of the plastic bag into a smaller, resealable one. Then, with utmost care, he places it in the mini-fridge that sits discreetly against the wall. A wave of nausea washes over me as I realize this is how our days have been going so far.
I can't help but wonder how far this twisted relationship will go. And more importantly, how long can I sustain it before it completely consumes me?
