Once the new toilet slave had finished swallowing all the shit Missy could flush down his gullet, she didn't think it was enough. No, this slave needed to take more, to prove his worth as a human toilet. Missy pulled up a stool and straddled the man's face, her pouty pink lips hovering just above his mouth. With a devious smile, she unwrapped a fresh turd from itsdirty toilet paper and aimed it straight at his gaping maw.
As the warm, stinky log slid down his throat and into his stomach, the slave tried desperately to shield his face with his arms. But Mistress Michelle had other plans for him. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, keeping them away from his body as Lady Missy continued to feed him her foul-smelling feces.
The taste was unbearable, like eating raw sewage, but the slave knew he had no choice. This was his new life, his new purpose. He was nothing but a vessel for their filth, to be used and discarded at their whim.
By the end of it, Missy had packed six more turds into the slave's already-distended belly. He lay there on the dirty floor, his face covered in shit and piss, barely able to breathe from the weight of her disgusting offerings. The women laughed cruelly as they stepped over him and left the room, leaving the once-proud man lying in a pool of his own vomit and feces.
From that day forward, the slave would spend his days living in a state of constant humiliation and degradation, his body nothing more than a toilet for his mistresses to use as they pleased. And yet, despite the unimaginable horrors he experienced on a daily basis, the slave remained faithful to them, his twisted sense of loyalty preventing him from ever considering escape. For in this topsy-turvy world ruled by scatqueens, the concept of freedom had long been forgotten.
