Under Her

By: Seeanemone54

Part I

A sudden awakening. I opened my eyes in panic, my heart racing. Nothing but darkness lay before me, while I was drenched in sweat, my muscles cramping, but I couldn't move a millimeter. I couldn't feel either my legs or my arms. It was as if I were cast in concrete, I couldn‘t move a bit.

My gasping for breath slowly subsided, and I felt the air rushing back into my face, as if there was a wall right in front of me. Then reality slowly set in, and I realized where I was. My heart sank. Immediately, the second panic attack hit me. I began to cry. I was completely exhausted, my neck ached from the withdrawn position that apparently forced me to look up. The sounds of my breathing reflected from all sides, as if my head were trapped in some kind of fishbowl.

My head was the only thing surrounded by air, the rest of my body felt sealed on all sides, as if it were encased in something.

Slowly, the memories of the last few days resurfaced.

My panic subsided, and I was able to focus on my senses and the reality of my life again. Immediately, I started crying again. My life as I knew it was over. Irretrievably. In the darkness of my prison, it's completely silent, and the clarity of what was happening to me slowly creeps up my spine.

My vision blurs, not only because of the intense fear, but also because of a feeling of deep shame and humiliation.

I was now completely dehumanized, humiliated, objectified.

——————————————————-


But how did I end up here, you might ask. To understand that, we have to go back a few years.

In 1993, heads of state around the world were worried sick. A severe drought, triggered by climate change, led to inadequate harvests. Many farms resorted to emergency slaughter because the animals could no longer be cared for. Fortunately, thanks to countermeasures, the global food supply situation didn't yet look too alarming. Nevertheless, people wanted to be prepared for the future.
At that time, the debate about the Earth's overpopulation was greater than ever.
The world's governments wanted solutions to this problem, and as quickly as possible. And that was the moment when new causes for humanity emerged.

The world's elites knew how to blame the appropriate segment of the population for the problems. Those at the very bottom of society's food chain, without voice or prestige, had to pay the price for the continued existence of the rich and famous. One of the most perverse ideas in human history was born.

At first, it was only about a serious criminal. Murderers, rapists, and arsonists were considered useless to society. In order to give them a purpose and still provide added value to society, they were to become everyday helpers for the productive members of society.
A purpose that would manifest their status as inferior life forms.

They were supposed to be toilets.

The general public was initially critical, even outraged by such an idea. But politicians knew how to flood the media with propaganda and pseudoscientific explanations, gradually winning people over to their cause. Every prisoner converted into a toilet was no longer a burden for the taxpayer. It was also one less mouth to feed, at least when it came to food that a normal person would be interested in. The general population slowly warmed up to the idea. These people were no good for anything anyway and deserved punishment.

The prisoners were to be installed in specially designed toilet bowls. From the outside, they were indistinguishable from a conventional toilet and thus did not disrupt the aesthetics of people's bathrooms. However, as soon as the lid was lifted, the prisoner's face could be seen about two inches below the toilet seat. His mouth was tightly closed, his vocal cords severed to prevent him from making any unpleasant sounds in the privacy of his owners bathroom. When the user sat down, special clamps in the toilet's jaw forced their mouth open far beyond its natural jaw capacity. A wide tube was inserted into the throat of the toilet, which bridged the gag reflex and also cleared the path to the stomach.

Sanitation companies quickly specialized in the production of such toilets. And as demand grew, development progressed. In addition to the basic functions, countless configurations for the perfect personal toilet are available for an additional charge.

The release of such human toilets was only possible directly through the United States. Initially, only wealthy people could afford such a luxury. Over the years, however, the selection of possible candidates has expanded due to the ever-increasing population and popular demand.

The Social Score was established for this purpose.

How does it work?

Imagine: every one of your actions, every one of your interactions, every one of your movements – all reduced to a single rating on a scale. A higher rating opens up fantastic opportunities and special advantages, while a lower rating can essentially cut you off from the rest of society. This is essentially (albeit simplified) a social rating or scoring system.

The idea behind a nationwide social rating system is relatively simple: every citizen initially receives a certain score, and certain actions can either lower or raise it. For example, donating to charity increases the score, while buying cigarettes lowers it. People can then be considered more or less valuable to society depending on their rating.

And gradually, human toilets became popular among the general population.

Under the guise of environmental protection and the preservation of humanity, they became a status symbol, and the proceeds ultimately went to NGOs working to save the Earth. Moreover, people could do something for the world in two ways. After all, their excretions still contain enough energy for a second-class being.

———————————————————


Back to my story. My name is, or rather was, Alex. A completely average guy. Average looks, average grades, average appearance. I was an outsider at school. I had two good friends, Thomas and Dave, with whom I spent my free time. We spent most of our time in virtual space, playing LoL for hours. My parents had long since given up trying to persuade me to participate in any real-life activities and had grown downright resentful of my lifestyle.

My sister, Mia, was the complete opposite of me. A twin sister, to be exact. Mia was always the golden child of the two of us. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. She also had a perfect body. She's been a gymnast since she was ten, and of course, because how could it be otherwise, also a natural talent. The daily training worked wonders for her already beautiful body. The boys at school all fancied her. She was popular, pretty, funny, sociable, and incredibly smart, too. Everything I wasn't, and my parents made me feel that almost every day.

Mia always got everything she wanted. Whether it was clothes, a new iPhone, or a bigger room at home. The one with an attached bathroom, complete with shower, bathtub, and toilet. When we were children, she was allowed to choose first—the game, the food, the seat by the window. When I protested, she just smiled, almost pityingly.
My parents simply couldn't refuse her anything, and so it was always all about her well-being.

That was certainly a cause of tension between us siblings.

I developed a real resentment toward Mia, it was always about her, and even though it wasn't her fault that she was constantly pampered, this resentment grew ever stronger.
When I got grounded for a bad grade and argued with my parents, my mother simply said that God had given all the positive qualities for my sister and that is why I always caused so much trouble. From that day on, at the very latest, I became aware of my status in this family.

Mia herself, too, developed a certain self-assurance about her place in the sun because of all the spoiled treatment, and with that came an attitude that was simply disgusting. She constantly told me that she was the wanted child and I was the loser.

——————————————————-


In May of this year, we both turned 18. We celebrated with the family and had dinner. My sister wanted to go to a party later where she could be celebrated again by all our schoolmates.

"Happy birthday, my darling," my mother said to me as she hugged me and handed me my present. A small box with a card inside. "Thanks, Mom," I said happily, opening my parents' gift. A $100 gift card for the local supermarket. I was happy, even though I'd expected something more special for my eighteenth birthday. My sister smiled amusedly: "Wow, little brother, you can easily stock up on energy drinks for two weeks with that."

As she has so often done, Mia managed to annoy me: "How many times do I have to tell you, just because you were born 10 minutes earlier doesn't make you the older one."

Mia just smiled mischievously: "10 minutes older is 10 minutes older, little brother."

I refrained from responding while my mother walked away towards Mia: "And now to you, Mia, our little ray of sunshine."

My sister also received a small box, beautifully decorated with a bow.

She opened it slowly, and immediately her ice-blue eyes lit up.

"You can't be serious?!"

She grabbed the contents and held them in her palm.

What I saw took my breath away. Shocked, I stared at Mia's manicured fingers and saw a car key inside.

"Is that...?" "Look out into the driveway," my father said proudly before Mia could finish her question. She, too, was completely stunned. We all ran outside together, and sure enough, there in the driveway was a brand-new gray Audi A1 with a huge red bow on the hood.

"Ahhhhhhh, I can't believe this. Mum, Dad, I love you guys!" Mia screamed hysterically and fell into our parents' arms.
"Happy birthday again, my love."
While Mia examined her present, I had to gather my emotions, which explained my silence at that moment. My mother noticed my stunned look and tried to comfort me.
"Don't be sad, Alex, honey. I know this seems unfair to you, but your father and I thought it would be best if we wait and see what your future holds. Once that's sorted out, we can talk about a car for you."

Mia immediately intervened when she noticed my discomfort. "Don't worry, Alex, maybe I can let you wash my new car sometime, hehe. Besides, Mum and Dad are right, I can't imagine you'll ever need a car." She teased whenever she could, grinning snippily in my face.
"Shut up, Mia," was the only thing I could think of to say in my anger. I knew exactly what she was referring to, and her stupid remark made me feel even more uncomfortable. She was talking about the "Social Assessment Test."

———————————————————


The "Social Assessment Test," or "SAT" for short, was introduced in 2002.

The SAT is an exam that every student must take at the age of 18. It consists of several sections focusing on the natural and social sciences.

The goal is to determine each student's social worth before they begin their final two years of school before college.

There was nothing comparable to the SAT that could influence their social score as much as the SAT. For most people, this test was important in that it allowed them to prove themselves to be particularly valuable to society, and thus later to the job market. It was the ticket to a great career.

But there were a few exceptions. Weak students had only this one last chance to literally save their lives. Failing the "Social Assessment Test" meant that these young people could be deprived of their human rights. They are taken to institutions where they are modified so that they can still be of use to society. They lose their human status in the most perverse ways, all for the supposed purpose of population control. Those who don't contribute to society have no right to be a part of it.

In my case, passing this test wasn't the problem. I wasn't a particularly good student, but I wasn't at risk either.

No, the reason I was worried about the SAT was grinning smugly at me as she got into her new car.
"Well, Mum and Dad, I'm off to the party. Oh, and Alex, since you're not invited, I suggest you spend the evening in front of your textbooks instead of constantly staring at your lame computer."
As I watched the Audi slowly pull out of the driveway and disappear into the twilight, I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach. A mixture of fear and an awareness of this unfair situation.

With its new population control laws, the government ensured that parents were only allowed to have one child. Only in special cases, such as an extremely high social score due to outstanding performance in school and extracurricular activities, could a second child be permitted.

In the case of Mia and me, as twins, the rule was that the child with the higher social score was given priority, and the sibling with the lower score could only save themselves with an outstanding SAT result.

Sure, there was also the option of paying a lot of money, but that was only possible for multimillionaires, since the second child already cost over a million in compensation fees. Any subsequent children cost even more.

My family was very well off, our mother was a respected business owner.
Our dad ran a medium-sized company specializing in IT security, but that was beyond my capabilities.

Well, our little Miss Sunshine Mia, to my annoyance, had a talent for pretty much everything. She registered for the exams with at least 85 out of 100 points in every subject. Whether physics, sports, or history. She was a genius. Moreover, she had already accumulated more than enough social points almost solely through her status in our age group at school and her athletic achievements in gymnastics, with two participations in the state championships.

Me, on the other hand, had always had problems at school. And now I also had to achieve a final score of at least 75 points to prevent my life from being over before it had really begun.

It was always a mystery to me how the horror of turning a person into a toilet was so socially acceptable. Perhaps the origin of my sympathy lay in the years of teasing from Mia or that at school I was a loser and would end up like one too. Well, I was the only one in my family who had that perspective.

Eight years ago, my parents bought a human toilet for our master bathroom on the first floor.
As luck would have it, the unfortunate man was one of our neighbors. Glenn Miller had caught his wife with another guy. In the divorce, he lost everything: his house, his cars, and his shares in their company.
He fell into a deep depression, and unemployment and alcoholism eventually brought him home to us.

For my parents, it was clear: this man is a burden to the productive members of our society and deserves his fate.

I never had the heart to ever use a human toilet, let alone Mr. Miller. I still remember him teaching me baseball back then. He had always been good to me and certainly didn't deserve such torture.

My sister, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy reminding him a little too much of his place in the world. Every now and then we'd run into each other on our way to the bathroom, and you could see that sadistic fire in her ice-blue eyes.

She enjoyed it, and it always sent shivers down my spine. Perhaps she couldn't bear the fact that, for once, I was the center of all Mr. Miller's attention, and not her, as she was used to.

Years have passed since Mr. Miller has been firmly embedded in the floor of our bathroom, and Mia's interest in him waned as well.
She no longer said anything about the person lying down there, and from this I concluded that Mr. Miller was nothing more to anyone than an ordinary toilet. Just recently, as I was getting ready for school in the morning, I looked down at the being who had once been my neighbor. The person in front of me in the bathroom had apparently forgotten to close the toilet lid. Which might have been some small consolation for the man, whom I suspected must have suffered unimaginable torment, to be able to see further than two inches at a plastic lid for a change. But there was no sign of that.
A blank stare and pale skin made him seem more like a well-oiled machine than a flesh-and-blood human being. This look told me what years of abuse can do. I felt sorry for this man. Sometimes I wondered if he still thought about his ex-wife. She still lived on our street and was now happily married to the man she cheated on him with. She always greeted me quite kindly. The whole story was so unfair. That's precisely why I was careful not to tell the poor, abused man about it in our bathroom.

Well, it was clear that Mia would have no trouble passing her SAT.
So while she hung out with friends and got drunk at parties, I sat dutifully at home and studied. I studied for my life. Mia's taunts from the past months and years kept swirling in my mind:

"Maybe you should take it easy and accept your fate."

"If you become a toilet, I hope you become a fat guy's."

"I've always wanted to be an only child. I'm looking forward to the day they come for you. Hahahaha."

———————————————————


Three Weeks Later

I was sitting at the dining room table, my study materials in front of me. The house was quiet, my parents were still at work, and Mia was upstairs in her room. Unlike me, her room was big enough for a desk. Not that she was studying much anymore. By now, three-quarters of the exams had been written, and we still had math and social studies to finish. Despite the stress and enormous pressure, I've done pretty well on the exams so far. My gut feeling told me it would be enough.

As I was poring over the most complicated logarithmic function of all time, I heard footsteps slowly getting louder coming down the stairs from the open hallway. Mia stood in complete contrast to me. She radiated calm as she slipped into her shoes. She wore short black leggings and a black oversized shirt. Her long blonde hair was braided into a ponytail.

"Hey little brother, I see you're studying hard.
Math sucks, huh? You don't look your best at all. I think you need a break from all that studying."

She spoke with an arrogance in her voice that immediately made me angry again. With all the stress and worry lately, my fuse had run extremely short. I lost my temper.

"It's easy for you to say, Mia. Miss Perfect just gets everything she wants. She always gets what she wants. You're the best in sports, perfect in school, and Mum and Dad continue to support you as you become the most spoiled brat the world has ever seen. There are still people who have to work hard to be successful, so please, just leave me alone."

For a brief moment, as the room hung in total silence, I could see something like surprise in her eyes. Surprise that her nerdy brother was suddenly resisting her subtle barbs. But as quickly as it came, it turned into provocative amusement.

"Oh man, Alex, the SATs are really bothering you. Relax a little,it’s not like it's the end of the world if you don't pass," she stated ironically, standing opposite him in her skimpy outfit.
"Okay, anyway, I'm going to gym. Tell Mum I'll be back for dinner later." With that, she turned toward the door and was ready to leave when something suddenly occurred to her:

"Oh, one more thing, Alex. Mum and Dad said I shouldn't tell you before the exams are over. So you don’t think we don't believe in you. But that's silly."
It was immediately clear to me that she just wanted to continue mocking me.

"What do you mean, Mia?" I wanted to know, still with a slightly aggressive tone. She should just leave, but instead she leaned casually against the doorframe, waving her car key with the stupid pink pompom in one hand.

"So, I talked to Mum and Dad and told them about my worries. You know, my dear brother might not pass his exams. And that it would be unimaginable for me not to have you in our lives anymore. The thought of a complete stranger having you as a permanent slave in his toilet is simply unbearable. Blah blah blah. You should have seen me, I could even squeeze out tears," she sobbed, fake and mocking.

"What did you do, Mia?" I asked impatiently and slightly worried. After a brief, artistic pause, she continued:

"I asked Mum and Dad to file for family privilege. That means, just in case you're objectified, at least you'll stay with your loved ones. Isn't that great news."

She finished her sentence with feigned innocence. I was left breathless, trying to process what I had just heard. Before I could think clearly, she continued:

"Well, at first they were skeptical that this was really what you wanted. But then they decided that it wouldn‘t even be relevant anymore. I mean, you'd be nothing more than an object, and objects can't feel anything.
And you know what the best part of the whole thing is?"

From that point on, I knew things weren't going to get any better. I was still just realizing what Mia had just told me and the humiliation this scenario would entail when, beaming with joy, she delivered the final blow:

"You're definitely right about one thing, Alex. Mum and Dad really can't say no to anything I want.
They've agreed to let you be installed in my bathroom."

Mia had a mischievous smile on her lips as she told me the worst joke I'd ever heard. Fear pooled in my stomach. In her eyes, I saw, alongside the joy at my questioning, astonished look, the utter seriousness of her statement. She couldn't be serious. Anger rose within me:

"Fuck you, Mia. Fuck you. I'm sick of your stupid provocations. Mum and Dad would never allow that. And I assure you, I'll pass these tests, and then you can kiss my ass."

Mia looked at me unimpressed: "I'll remember that when I'm enthroned over your face. Anyway, if you say so. I really have to go now. And keep learning so that your wish will hopefully come true.”

She gave me one last wink, grabbed her gym bag, and headed for the front door.
For a moment, my gaze was fixed on her plump butt. The way her leggings-covered cheeks swayed slightly under the impact of her footsteps, silently mocking me. Every guy in our grade was drooling at the sight.
The hottest ass in school. All that came to mind at that moment was hatred. Hatred for Mia's attitude, for her looseness, and for that ass that was so symbolic of my possible future. I wasn't able to tell if her story was just a stupid joke or if she had actually managed to wrap our parents around her finger enough to allow something like that.

Either way, it was in my power to prevent this, and I was determined to do everything I could to avoid becoming some pathetic plaything for someone supposedly superior.
Let alone one for Mia. Still, I couldn't deny the queasy feeling that stuck in my stomach after her words.

I tried to block it all out and focus on math again.

———————————————————


Sweat ran down her forehead as Mia finished her last set of squats. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her shirt tucked in.

She didn't want to miss out on the attention her perfectly shaped butt could attract.
During her pause between sets, she thought of her brother, sitting at home, despairing in front of his textbooks.
A small smile was noticeable, the thought of making him even more nervous by letting him in on her plan was too funny. Sure, her parents had forbidden her from telling him before the final exam, but the joy of watching her brother fidget made it impossible for her to resist. And perhaps there was also some hope that it would give him another small disadvantage in the fight to save his life.

The twins had been rivals since early childhood. Everything was a competition for the two of them, but it soon became clear that Mia was far superior to her brother in almost everything.

When they finally learned that only one of them could enter the society of the superiors as an adult through conventional means, their brother-sister relationship deteriorated further.

Despite countless admonitions from their parents, Mia couldn't help but repeatedly tease her brother about her superiority.

It became clear early on that it would take more than a miracle for Alex to outdo his sister.

Every now and then, Mia imagined that her loser neighbor in the bathroom at home was her brother. In her mind, these losers were destined to one day enter the service of the superiors, among whom she considered herself.

A few weeks ago, while reading up on the laws governing population regulation through the SAT, she stumbled upon the family preference. After that discovery was a fire in her eyes that made it unmistakably clear that a diabolical plan had been born.

———————————————————


3 Days Later

I was sitting at dinner with my family. Today was the final exam. Even though Social Studies was supposedly an easy exam, I was still worried. I was completely exhausted from the stress, and the last few days since Mia's jokes about me becoming the toilet in my own home were taking their toll on me.

I didn't sleep well, plagued by a nightmare.

I only remembered fragments. All I saw was Mia's fat butt and then... oh, I didn't even want to think about it.

What I do know, though, is that my concentration during the math exam was at rock bottom. I was so tired that I had a few lapses. I calmed myself down and tried to think positively. The SATs were over, and summer vacation was just around the corner. It was a beautiful summer day at the end of July, and I finally had time to hang out with my friends again.

My sister was the opposite of me, she was glowing. The SATs never worried her. She knew what she was capable of and let everyone know it.

To celebrate, my mom cooked her famous lasagna, my sister's and my absolute favorite meal.

Her glow rubbed off on the rest of my family, while I watched her relaxed demeanor with annoyance. She could be the sweetest girl in the world, wrapping everyone around her finger. It was sickening.

"Mom, your lasagna is amazing. I'm so glad it's finally vacation time.
Two months without school and stress. I can hardly wait."

So sweet and unschooling dig.

"Oh, I'm at Chaela's tonight. She's having an end-of-exam party. The whole class will be there. Liam is picking me up later."

The whole class? I just heard about it for the first time. My interest was limited anyway, so I just kept my eyes on my food and enjoyed my mother's cooking. All those cocky kids who had regularly ridiculed and mocked me over the past few years. This Liam was one of the biggest idiots. He was the star quarterback of our school team. Tall, well-built, and a deadly face card. He embodied everything girls wanted. He was also a bully who liked to let losers like me know that they were beneath him on the food chain. And even though he was a complete idiot, thanks to his athletic achievements, he was never in danger of his social score falling below the minimum.

This system was so damn unfair, and no one seemed to care.

Man, I hated that guy. And as luck would have it, he's been dating my sister for a few weeks. The perfect couple.

My mother chimed in, "That's great, sweetheart. You should celebrate this milestone. And Liam seems like a nice boy, feel free to invite him to dinner sometime."

Our father chimed in, a little more critically than our mother: "Yes, I'd like to meet the boy who's dating my daughter in person. And Mia, don't forget. We have an appointment with the bathroom designer tomorrow morning."

"Don't worry, Dad. You'll meet Liam, and no, I haven't forgotten our appointment. In fact, I've already done a little research today. I already know how I want my toilet configured."

I couldn't help but notice her mischievous grin in my direction.

"I saw a video on TikTok today explaining how the human toilet works. That was really interesting to know. First, all limbs are removed so the person can fit into the opening under the toilet. Then they wrap them in a special jumpsuit that has an antibacterial effect and prevents rashes or infections from developing. A tube is inserted into the neck, stretching the throat wide. The jaw is equipped with a clamp that is triggered by sensors and opens wide as soon as someone sits on the bowl. Then the person is connected to the plumbing system in the floor, and finally the bowl is installed above them.
To keep the person alive, they receive the essentials intravenously.
After that, the toilet is ready for use."

"Mia, please. No details. We're eating," my father reined her in. He was right, I'd lost my appetite after my mind started wandering. I couldn't stay in the uncertainty any longer and overcome my shame to ask.

"Mum, Dad? Have you submitted the family preference? For, ... you know." I couldn't bring myself to say it. The shame was too great, and besides, I didn't want to give Mia the satisfaction. She was listening, wide-eyed, and now followed our conversation with interest.
"Did Mia tell you about this?" Mum turned to her daughter, obviously angry. "Mia, we've discussed this."
My father interrupted her: "Listen, Alex, we wanted to tell you. We just thought you didn't need to feel like we didn't believe in you during the exam period. It's just that we want the best for you, and in the unlikely event that the exams don't turn out as expected, we wanted to get everything cleared up."

I just sat there, my eyes blank. My mind desperately tried to compensate for what it had just heard.
Mia hadn't lied, it was all true.
My parents were willing to turn me into my sister's toilet. As reality sank in and tears slowly began to form in my eyes, a horn honked from outside.

"Oh, that must be Liam. So, guys, I think you have a few things to discuss. I have to go. Love you all," said Mia as she hurriedly got up, grabbed her purse, and got into the car outside with her boyfriend.

My mom tried to offer me some reassurance: "Alex, honey. It's best for everyone. Mia came up to us, worried sick that she might lose her brother forever. And before you end up with who knows who, we'll all be at ease knowing you can continue to live in your safe environment."

"Exactly, besides, you don't have to worry about it, we all saw what you put into passing the SAT.
You'll see, next week, when the results come in, we'll all be laughing about it."

I couldn't believe what my own parents were telling me. They were blind, absolutely naive, if they would have assumed that this was a A good solution. They didn't know Mia the way I know her. To Mum and Dad, she was always the sweetest person in the world, but behind their backs, she was a huge bitch to me.

It burst out of me: "You can't understand what I've been going through for the last few weeks, and then you come up with something like this?! Mia is a fucking bitch, she's lying to you. If it were up to her, I'd probably have been cemented under her floor long ago."

My father also got angry: "Be careful how you talk about your sister. She's worried about you, and to make up for it, you're so disrespectful."

"Dad,..."

"Enough, go to your room, and I don't want to see you again today."

Angry and dejected, I went to my room and sat in front of the computer until I went to sleep, searching in vain for distraction.

——————————————————-


The first week of the holidays flew by.
For most people, anyway. Mia enjoyed the summer weather to the fullest and was happy that school was finally over for the time being. She met up with Liam almost every day and was on cloud nine.
Me, on the other hand, wasn't having as much fun. I felt betrayed by my own family. I hadn't expected anything less from Mia, but from my parents. The past seven days had been difficult. I mostly retreated to my room and distracted myself with video games. My sister's constant nagging, coupled with the tension while waiting for the results, was too much for me.

Today, it was Friday and therefore the day of truth. The results of the "Social Assessment Test" will be uploaded at 3 p.m. Today, my heart rate has been steadily increasing since I woke up this morning.
It was 2 p.m., and I was sitting at the kitchen counter. My mom had gotten home from work early and was doing the laundry in the basement. The silence in the room as I stared at the clock on the oven was oppressive.

I was at my wit's end. This exam was robbing me of sleep, making me sick, and the longer I waited for certainty, the more nervous I became.

I was suddenly jolted out of my daydream when Mia entered the kitchen. She was wearing nothing but her black bikini.

"Hey Alex," she greeted warmly as she opened the freezer.

"I'm going out into the backyard to soak up some sun. Don't you want to go outside sometime? You just hang around here, driving yourself crazy over this stupid test."

Intentional or not, Mia's indifferent behavior infuriated me every time. I tried to ignore her as best I could. She grabbed a box of Ben & Jerry's and turned her back to the countertop. Her plump, perfectly shaped ass was now directly in my field of vision. Clad solely in a thong bikini bottom. It was hypnotic, beautiful, and at the same time, it filled me with fear.

In an hour, I would know if my future would be determined by that ass. I couldn't and didn't want to imagine exactly what that meant for me. What I did know, however, was that I definitely didn't want to find out.

Those two full ass cheeks, shaped by years of gymnastics, swung back and forth before my eyes as Mia portioned her chocolate fudge brownie ice cream into a bowl. Every little jolt sent ripples through the soft, firm flesh of her cheeks. I felt like they were mocking me with their very existence, because I couldn't look away.

Mia pulled me out of my trance again:
"You know, you should enjoy the holidays. Go out in the sun, hang out with your weird friends or something." She gestured with the ice cream scoop, still with her back to me.
"Here, or have some of the ice cream," she turned around and held out the package to me.
"It might be the last time you get to taste it. At least without it going through me first."

Mia couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," I replied curtly, through gritted teeth.

She grabbed her bowl and headed toward the patio door.
"Your loss. If you're looking for me, I'm going to sunbathe for a while before the results come in.“

———————————————————


Finally, the time had come. The results had been uploaded. My father had also returned from work, and the whole family gathered around my laptop. Meanwhile, Mia had thrown on a huge white summer shirt from her boyfriend, and everyone was excited. After refreshing the school website five times, the link for the SAT results finally appeared.
Mia was the first to enter her login information. By now, she too was feeling a slight excitement. Even if it was nowhere near as much as mine.
"So let's see, there it is."
She scrolled slowly down, and the list of individual subjects appeared.

Politics 97
History 96
Physics 92
...

Overall average for all exam sections:

93/100 points

Mia beamed and jumped for joy
"Yay! Over 90 points on average."
My parents hugged her joyfully: "My darling, your dad and I are so proud of you. We knew you could do it. A great career awaits you, I'm sure of it."
It was clear from the start that I could never compete with Mia, which is why my only hope was to clear the 75-point hurdle.
Meanwhile, I typed in my password, my fingers trembling with nervousness.
As the page slowly loaded, my heart sank again. Now all four pairs of eyes were fixed on the screen again. Mia was standing right behind me, my dad put a hand on my shoulder.

The page appeared, and I slowly scrolled down. All I wanted to see was a 75 or higher in the overall score.

Politics 77
History 79
Physics 72
English 73
Geography 80
Chemistry 73
...

The only thought in my head was that it would be close, but in the end, it would be enough. Hopefully.

Then the last two subjects. I scrolled slowly on, and in that moment, my blood ran cold:

Math 57
Social Studies 71

Overall average for all exam sections:

72.75 out of 100 points

Silence

It was as if the ground had been pulled out from under me. Everything around me was blanked out. The only thing I saw was that damned number: 72.75
I was going to lose my life as I knew it because of 2.25 points. Even worse, I'll become a slave. A pawn sacrificed for those supposedly better than me.

In the background, my parents were saying something one after the other, presumably comforting words. My mind wasn't receptive.

After a few minutes, I slowly returned to reality. I saw the pitying faces and listened to my parents' euphemisms. Everything would be taken care of, I'd be fine. Bullshit.

I would become my annoying sister's toilet. She struggled to hide her joy, but somehow managed to put on a sad face for my parents.

I was still sitting in front of the screen and this horrific result.

Suddenly, a shrill ring: Mia's cell phone. She answered it while simultaneously moving away from the rest of the family so as to not disturb anyone: "Hey baby,... what? ... 53 points? Congratulations, that's more than you expected..."
Mia's indifference was obvious, but my parents didn't realize that either.

Tears of resignation welled up. It was all so unfair. Simply unjust.

———————————————————


That same day, the school administration called to explain all the formalities to my parents. How my basic rights as a citizen would be suspended with the signature of the examiner on my test results. How my name would be removed from all records and my parents would soon officially have only one daughter.

That evening, my mother cooked her famous lasagna. She had meant well, my favorite meal one last time before...
Tears welled up again.
Mia seemed unfazed by it all, while my parents' mood was a bit more subdued.
She obviously enjoyed her dinner as if nothing extraordinary had happened today.
I couldn't eat anything, I'd lost all appetite. Across the table sat my spoiled, successful sister, savoring every bite of her lasagna.
I couldn't help but watch her and imagine this meal slowly making its way down her stomach, exposed by a white crop top. Then it made its way through the rest of her digestive organs, and finally flushed what was left of it down the toilet. Only, in the future, that toilet would be me. I felt sick.
Then the doorbell suddenly rang.
My mother went to the front door. Shortly after, she called for my father. Mia and I could only hear fragments of what she was saying from the dining room. It seemed like there were two men at the door, my sister stood up briefly to listen in the doorway.
My parents seemed worried.
Mia turned to me, a slight smile on her flawless face:
"They're coming to pick you up now, little brother. From the sounds of it, Mum and Dad are trying to persuade the men to let you stay the weekend."
Suddenly, footsteps sounded, and Mia quickly hurried back to the dining table.
My parents entered the room, along with two men whose uniforms revealed they were police officers.
"Alex, honey," my mother began.
"It's time." I saw genuine sadness in her eyes. She cried as she held me and told me that everything would be okay. My father also gave me one last hug.

Even Mia couldn't help but pull out all her acting chops.

But in the same breath, she was as empathetic as can be.

"Don't worry about your lasagna. I'll just eat your portion."

"Come on, kid. It's about time,"
said one of the police officers, not particularly empathetic. I stood there frozen.

The police officers grabbed my arms as I suddenly panicked, faced with my impending fate.

"No, please. Please, I was only two points short, please let me go."

I stamped and thrashed, my family had shocked expressions, when I suddenly felt a stab in my arm.

Almost immediately afterward, while still walking to the car, I slowly began to lose my senses. The last thing I saw was my parents at the front door, bidding me a sympathetic farewell. Behind me was Mia, giving me a small smile.
Then everything became quiet and dark.

———————————————————





———————————————————


The first thing I noticed as I slowly woke up was a steady vibration accompanied by occasional rumbling.

I opened my eyes, my vision still a bit blurry. Slowly, my surroundings became clear. I could see shelves of tools to the right and left. Drawers for screws, and a vacuum cleaner next to me. Then I noticed I was lying on the floor. Another rumbling. Then I realized where I was. I was lying in the trunk of a van. How long had I been sleeping?

Panicked, I tried to sit up, but nothing worked. I couldn't feel my legs. And why couldn’t I feel my arms?

I slowly remembered what Mia had said. I felt cold.
I wanted to scream, but my mouth wouldn't open. My jaw and neck were also in excruciating pain.

Oh God. I had already been completely modified. I was no longer a person.

I was just an object. And it seemed like workmen were driving me to the place where I was to be installed.

Before I could fully process my situation, the car suddenly stopped. Two men appeared at the open back door of the car. Neither of them paid much attention to me, as if I were nothing more than an object.

One of the men roughly grabbed me and placed me on a push cart.

I felt another rumble. I was apparently being pushed up a driveway. I couldn't move my head, so the only view was the sky and one of the workmen pushing the cart.

When we finally arrived at the front door, I immediately recognized where we were.

This was my home. It shouldn't have surprised me, but returning home wasn't what I'd hoped.

The men rang the bell. Footsteps from inside, then the door opened. My mother stood in front of the men and greeted them: "Ahh, good morning, nice to see you."
"Good afternoon, Mam," one of the men replied, "we're here to install the new toilet."
"Oh yes, of course, this way. I'll show you the bathroom."
I stared up at my mother, my eyes pleading, in the vain hope that she might help me.
Before she turned around to lead the men into the house, she looked down for a moment. There was only one word I could use to describe her expression: Disgusted. This only increased my humiliation. My own mother had stopped acknowledging me as her son, apparently, I was now just an object to her.
I didn't realize how much time had passed since the police took me away.
But no matter how long it had been, my mother's reaction to my appearance made me more than sad. My eyes glazed over again. It was as if she had already denied my existence.

We climbed the stairs to the second floor. My sister occupied almost the entire floor of our house. Her room was in the attic, but still very spacious. The same was true of her adjoining bathroom.

"So, here we are. This is my daughter's bathroom. She won't be home until late today, so you can work undisturbed. If you need anything else, I'll be downstairs in the kitchen."

With that, my mother left me and the two workmen alone in my sister's room. The room had always been a taboo zone for me. Mia would freak out if her brother dared to enter her room. Now everything was different.

The men leaned me upright against the wall next to the door and then left the room to go back to the car.

I looked around the room.
On one side of the sloping roof, there was a large window that flooded the room with morning sun. A huge king-size bed stood against the wall. The bedding and upholstered headboard blended in perfectly with the overall look of the room, even though the bed wasn't made. There was also a large mirror on the walls, a few plastic ivy vines, and a picture with two handprints and a small dedication underneath that I couldn't decipher. Right next to me was Mia's large desk, which also served as a dressing table.

The cozy atmosphere was rounded off by the pleasant scent of perfume. You could say it was a classic teenage girl's room.

The men returned. They carried a heavy package into the bathroom. The packaging showed a picture of a toilet, with the words "Johnson - World Market Leader for Human Toilets" above it and "Model X" underneath. It was clear that only the best would do for the brat.

One of the men returned and carried me, or what was left of me, into the bathroom. He leaned me against the entrance, right next to Mia's laundry basket. Now I could see the entire bathroom.

It was still brand new, and my sister managed to convince our parents to buy her a new bathroom. Simply because she didn't like the old one.

Of course, as always, they couldn't refuse their angel's wish, so Mia designed a bathroom according to her own ideas. She certainly had a talent for that, too.

Straight, clean lines as the theme, uncluttered work surfaces, and geometric shapes full of clarity dominate the bathroom.

Sleek, cool lines and a simple color palette with neutral tones go hand in hand with modern design elements.

The focal point was the freestanding bathtub.

To the right of it was the glass shower.

On the left, the floating vanity with a minimalist frameless mirror and indirect lighting.

The neutral color scheme of beige and cream provided calm and clarity. And a huge skylight flooded the room with natural light. The perfect oasis of well-being.

Only one thing was missing.

The craftsmen were busy next to the vanity, the fluffy rug rolled aside.
They had already removed the old toilet and pushed it next to all their tools.
The men were drilling a small hole in the ground to install a small tub, which I would presumably be pushed into.

I was just lying there, limbless, about to be installed in my spoiled sister's new toilet bowl. While this sad realization still seemed so surreal to me, I thought of Mia.

How she was probably driving her car right now, the one our parents had given her for her birthday, to a friend's house to enjoy a nice day in the summer sun. She'd go shopping, take a walk, hang out at the beach, or something like that. Meanwhile, she's fully aware that her own brother, her own flesh and blood, is being installed in her bathroom toilet. And the thought doesn't make her uncomfortable at all, quite the opposite.

The brat will be happy to come back tonight to greet me in my new hell.

Just as one of the workmen turned off the drill, reality hit me again. I had a panic attack. Gasping for breath, sweating, nausea, all of it overwhelmed me at the sight of my imminent future.

One of the men noticed my pitiful wriggling and immediately came over to me.
Then again, a stab, this time in my hip.

I slowly calmed down until I finally fainted again.



Part II

The sun was high above the city as Mia and Chaela strolled through the busy pedestrian zone. The shopping bags in their hands grew heavier, their steps slower, not only because of the bags or the midday sun, but also because of the faint growling in their stomachs.

"Okay, stop," said Mia, stopping in front of a shop window. "If I don't eat something right now, I'll fall over here."

Chaela laughed. "And I thought you were a shopping pro."

"I am. But a pro needs to recharge. Look over there, that little restaurant on the corner looks cozy."

Chaela followed her gaze. The restaurant had a green awning with a few tables underneath. A sign read in handwritten script:
"Special of the Day: Tagliatelle al Tartufo - $15.50."

"Pasta sounds like music," said Chaela, pulling Mia by the arm. "Come on, before you starve to death here."

After the two of them had made themselves comfortable outside under the awning and their food was served, Chaela could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, Mia, your brother is seriously being built into your house."

Mia smiled snippily after shovelling a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"Not just my house. No, he's being built into my bathroom. The contractors have announced they're coming today."

Her best friend almost choked on a sip of her Coke when she heard that.
Chaela knew Mia all too well to know there was a perfidious plan behind it.

"How on earth did your parents allow this?" she asked, a mixture of astonishment and giggles.

"Well, it was quite a lot of work.
I had to pull at the tears, thinking how sad I would be if my dear brother were no longer in our lives.
And how nice it would be for Alex if he could continue to stay in his familiar surroundings." Mia rolled a new portion of tagliatelle on her spoon.

Chaela, who was still busy processing everything, asked questioningly but amusedly:

"And you call your toilet a familiar surrounding?"

Mia couldn't help but feel caught out. With cheerful energy, she wanted to enlighten her best friend.

"You know, Chaela, I firmly believe that everyone, consciously or unconsciously, follows their purpose in life.
In Alex's and my case, the whole thing started before we were even born.
I snatched his nutrients. No joke. I was the greedy little power embryo who took what it needed and more. I was strong, healthy, and loud.
The midwife laughed and said, 'Well, someone knows what's going on up front.' And Alex? He was pale, tiny, and barely cried.
I took over."

"How mean!" Chaela replied, amused by Mia's speech.

"Well, whoever shares with me loses.
I always won. Always. School? I'm more brilliant. Sports? Faster. Friends? More popular. Even when we both did the same thing, people still only saw me.

Whenever there was something to be had—sweets, attention, success— I took a bite. You could say I'm the lion, and Alex is... well... the animal who hopes the lion is full." A smug grin flitted across Mia's plump, beautiful lips.

"Pretty cold."

"I call it destiny. Alex comes at the very bottom of the food chain. I'm the one who eats first, and the best. He gets the leftovers. Always has been. No pun intended." She turned back to her pasta.

Chaela was both impressed and shocked by her friend's icy categorization. She laughs out loud:

"Okay, that's really... pretty bossy."

Mia just shrugged self-righteously as she rolled up the last of the pasta with her fork.

"Say, do you think Alex likes truffle pasta?"

"Ewww, Mia, you're disgusting."

The two girls laughed at Mia's joke and casually finished their lunch in town.


———————————————————


All that defines my existence at this point is silence. This damn silence, and darkness.

I don't know how long I've been stuck here, I have no sense of time at all.

I assumed the workmen had finished their work long ago since I woke up. After recovering from my latest panic attack, my situation became increasingly clear.

I had now officially been demoted.
To nothing more than an object. This was real. It really happened. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

There was no turning back. I am forever trapped in this nightmare.
I had no way to free myself from this hell, let alone move an inch.
All I had left were my thoughts and the constant, faint sound of the sea, like listening into a shell on a day at the beach.

Only this shell was a damn toilet bowl.

Anger rose within me. I was tired of running away from my own thoughts. I'd repressed it long enough, until it was too late.

It was time to face the bitter truth.

My life was over. My entire existence was now irretrievably transformed into a toilet.
I would spend the rest of my days here in this bowl.

Dehumanized, objectified, humiliated.

And as if all that wasn't bad enough, I wasn't trapped in just any toilet.

No, I was now my sister's personal porcelain throne.

All these years, I thought I was supposed to feel some kind of love for my sister.

We're family, even more so, twins who will forever share a special bond.

Well, in a way, that might be true, but not in the truest sense.

Mia has always been a brat. Pampered and protected like a princess, she's developed a way that's always made it difficult for me to like her.

And now the princess finally has me where she's always wanted me.

A thousand thoughts raced through my head at once. In the darkness, completely isolated from the outside world, I had no choice but to wait.

Anger, sadness, shame—it was difficult to think clearly. Only the pain I suspected I was experiencing all over my body due to the modifications distracted me.


———————————————————


The sun was now low as Mia unlocked the front door. Her arms were full of shopping bags, which rustled softly against each other as she pushed herself into the hallway with a sigh of relief. The day with Chaela had been fun, they'd spent hours trudging through the boutiques downtown, rummaging through clothes, laughing, and fooling around. But now she was tired, pleasantly exhausted.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, a familiar scent hit her, something hearty and warm, smelling of summer. Crispy chicken with a spicy marinade, rosemary lingering in the air, and the fresh, cool scent of cucumber and tomato. Her mother was making one of her favorite meals: grilled chicken with rosemary potatoes and a light salad.

It had been a while since her lunch, so Mia was happy about this pleasant surprise.

She kicked her sandals off her feet, brushed off the light dust from the street, and heard the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. She set her bags down at the edge of the hallway and stretched.

"Mom, I'm back!" she called toward the kitchen.

"I'm glad you're back, darling! Dinner's almost ready!" Her mother's voice was as warm as the scent that permeated the entire house.

"I just need to freshen up quickly, Mum! I feel completely cooked!" Mia called back and, without waiting for an answer, hurried upstairs with her shopping.

Her skin was sticky from her day in the city, and she longed for a cool splash of water on her face.

Upstairs, she set her shopping bags down next to her desk, tossed her phone onto the bed, and slipped out of her sweaty, white crop top into a fresh, airy top.

She quickly swapped her jeans for short biker shorts.

Then she let the bathroom door slam shut behind her and went straight to the sink.

She quickly washed her face and hands with ice-cold water and breathed a sigh of relief.

Mia pulled her shoulders back again and looked at herself in the mirror. Better. Much better.

A moment later, she caught sight of the toilet through the mirror. The sight was new.
A brand-new toilet, with a modern, round design, firmly planted on the floor.
Mia had chosen a classic white toilet with a soft-close lid from the bathroom fitter.
As expected, it fit perfectly into the sophisticated, modern design of her bathroom.

The craftsmen had done a good job.

Only the small display on the right wall next to the toilet paper holder suggested anything special.

A mischievous grin appeared on Mia's lips as she slowly approached the toilet.


———————————————————-


Time passes as if in slow motion while my mind has no input to process except the pain rippling through my body.

It could be noon, but maybe later. Since the installation, my thoughts have constantly revolved around my new situation. How my mother just looked at me disapprovingly, probably knowing that I was now nothing more than an object, possession.

To my sister, as our parents' little princess, of course, no wish can be refused. Which inevitably brings me back to this situation. I could have cried again.

After my emotional rollercoaster slowly subsided, my body's normal functions returned. Above all, I was thirsty.
The panic attacks and sweating were dehydrating my body, and I couldn't tell how long it had been since I'd last had something to drink.

My stomach was also slowly making itself known, but considering my prospects, it was more likely to feel queasy than anything resembling hunger.

Suddenly, there were noises. At first, a soft, dull rumble that slowly grew louder.

I recognized it as footsteps, Mia must have been back. I heard paper rustling, as if someone was putting down a shopping bag.

Then silence. For a moment, I thought she might have gone to bed or was on her way downstairs again. But then I heard the bathroom door swing open and back.

My sister's footsteps were now clearly audible.
My breathing became more unsteady again.

The sound of running water reached my ears, soft at first, then louder as she turned on the tap. It splashes as it hits the smooth surface of the sink. Then uneven dripping, presumably she was washing her hands or face.

I hear her drying her hands with a towel.

Silence again. I hope she'll just leave, but then suddenly, a footstep.

A slow, determined step.

She comes closer, I hold my breath.

Based on the footsteps, I can now tell quite accurately that my head must be about 15 inches above the floor.

Suddenly, the lid of my prison lifted. Bright light replaced the darkness, my eyes were severely dazzled and only slowly adjusted to the fresh conditions. Surrounded by the brightness, a silhouette was visible, and with the sharpness of my vision came clarity.

My gaze slowly moved upward, past the muscular, bare legs, up to the hips encased in short, black leggings.
Further, past the slim, beautiful waist, accentuated by the piercing in the navel. Her upper body was covered by a loose, white shirt, her breasts clearly visible.

Further, past the small heart necklace, into my sister Mia's face.
From my perspective, she towered like a queen, looking down at her slave with a smile. It was impossible not to feel small and inferior.

Her expression dripped with smug arrogance.

"Hey, little brother," she began, sweet as ever.
"Well, I have to say, this is even better than I imagined.
You look absolutely adorable down there."

Mia began to giggle, obviously amused by the sight before her.

I tried in vain to open my mouth, not knowing what to say. Nothing could change my situation now. Mia was enjoying my predicament, and although I had already realized this, my sister's reaction hurt me deeply.

Mia bent down, her heart necklace dangling rhythmically from her neck, the faint scent of her Hong perfume in the air.

She carefully inspected my new form:
"The craftsmen did a really neat job. You're really perfectly integrated into the bowl. And believe me, my new toilet looks great from the outside too."

At her words, my eyes slowly glazed over again, the shame and fear too great.

Mia noticed my tears, but instead of pity, another triumphant smile formed on her lips.

Suddenly, a loud shout echoed through the house:
"Mia, come on, honey, dinner's on the table!" the mother of the two siblings called upstairs.

Mia looked toward the door and answered:
"I'll be down in a minute, Mum!" She turned directly back to her brother.

"I'd love to chat a bit longer, but you heard Mum. Dinner's ready.
But don't worry, I didn't come for nothing."

With that, Mia turned around and presented me with her leggings-covered butt.
Her hips were comparatively narrow, but her ass was all the bigger for it.

From my perspective, her butt cheeks stuck out like two giant moons.

Her manicured fingers dug into her waistband on either side. She slowly pulled her pants down while teasingly rocking her hips back and forth.

Her perky butt bulged out of the tight pants.

Next came Mia's Calvin Klein thong, the strap completely swallowed by her cheeks.

The sight that now met my eyes would have been every man's dream under normal circumstances. But in my case, it made my heart finally sink.

Just at that moment, Mia looked down at me over her left shoulder with a nasty smile.

My worst nightmare come true.

My spoiled brat of a sister, my parents' favorite, my eternal rival will use me as a toilet.

Our whole life had been a competition. Not a contest with medals or trophies, this was more personal, deeper.

Maybe it was the first time she could run faster, shout louder, answer more intelligently.
'Oh Alex, did you want that too? Oops... I guess you were too slow.'
With that smile. Not wide, not open. No.
That narrow grin that lifts the corners of her mouth just enough, as if she were giving me a kiss, and at the same time stabbing me in the back.

And yet... I always believed that someday it would be my turn. That I would surpass her. Just once. The one victory that would let me breathe.

But it never came.

„That's where you've always should have been“, she smiled down at me smugly.

In a tone that sucked the last bit of pride out of my chest.

I didn't lose. Losing would have been dignified. No, I was crushed. Torn to pieces.
Mia won. And she'll make sure I never forget it.

Her ass slowly lowers, getting closer and closer to me. In a final, pathetic attempt to escape the inevitable, my whole body tenses.
I struggle in vain against my prison.
She sits comfortably over my face as if I were nothing more than an ordinary toilet. After a little adjustment, she sits comfortably enough, I suspected.

Immediately after my sister sat down, something forced my jaw painfully wide open.

Panic set in again, the pain, both physical and mental, bringing new tears to my eyes.
The next thing I noticed was the moist heat emanating from Mia's lower body.

And then the smell. Immediately, a sharp, pungent odor hit my nose.
A mixture of old sweat, boiled skin, and the earthy aroma of ass after a long day in too-tight pants. I gagged slightly.

There was about two inches of air between Mia's buttocks and my face. The information my mind was trying to process all at once after a long day in the dark was hard to grasp.

Right before my eyes rested Mia's flawless asshole. It was perfect, as apparently everything about my sister was.

Not a bump, not an irritation, not a blemish anywhere. The skin around it is soft, almost delicate, as if it had never encountered sweat, friction, or the harshness of everyday life. A sight carved from a block of Greek marble, functional yet aesthetic. There's nothing superfluous, nothing that bothers. Not a shadow of razor burn, no traces of life.
Just pure, simple perfection in an area rarely talked about, but that everyone possesses.

An asshole that's not just there, but proudly exists. Well-groomed and confident.
It pulses calmly and serenely, as if it were mocking me.

I roughly glanced down to get a glimpse of Mia's pussy.

It was beautifully shaved, her labia regular and a light pink, invitingly different from the rest of her skin color. It‘s juicy and plump, surely a heavenly sight for a man who‘s not in my situation. In between, almost hidden, was the small slit that blended seamlessly with the beauty of her vulva.

In the face of my ultimate defeat, time passed as if in slow motion.
My sister has now taken up residence over my helpless, trapped face, my mouth wide open, with no chance of escape.

I wait, full of fear and humiliation, for the final act of this rivalry.

It was never a rivalry, I've always been beneath her, now literally.

The stench of her sweaty ass made me gag inside as it happened.

At first, I felt warmth on my tongue. When I looked down, I saw a trickle of drops coming from Mia's pussy.

It quickly grew stronger until it finally turned into a yellow-gold stream that filled my mouth.

The stream was powerful, aimed precisely at my helpless tongue, and completely wet my mouth before the yellow liquid flowed down the tube in my throat. And then the taste.

It was unbearable, slightly salty with a bitter, metallic note.

The flood felt like it had no end, Mia must have been holding it for a while.

"Welcome to your new home, Alex,"
I heard my sister say from far above, with an audible giggle. My tears flowed uncontrollably.

The pain and humiliation were too great.

I was being used like an object, I was no longer a human being, just mere possession in the hands of my sadistic sister.

After what felt like an eternity, the stream of piss slowly diminished, gradually retreating as if it was running out of power, until it finally, silently, disappeared.
A few drops still clung to Mia's labia, struggling against gravity. Then the sound of toilet paper being ripped from the roll.
Mia rose slightly to the side, her beautifully manicured fingers emerging with the paper, and she wiped herself thoroughly clean.
After she was finished, she tossed the paper into the bowl somewhere under my chin, a slight sucking sound made me think it was already gone.

Then she slowly rose again, pulling her thong up in the same movement.
My mouth slowly began to close, and once again I was entrusted with the intense, bitter taste of Mia's urine. I shuddered.

Her ass cheeks jiggled slightly as they returned to their natural position.
My vision was a little blurry from the many tears.
Last but not least, her black biker shorts were worn. Mia slowly forced it over her plump cheeks until, with a final tug, it once again covered her entire bottom.

My sister turned to me, her eyes showing no sign that she had just subjected her brother to the ultimate humiliation.
On the contrary, her smile was almost proud:
"The last time I went to the toilet today was at lunchtime. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, little brother."
Mia smiled at me so sweetly and innocently as she paused for a moment to let the humiliation sink in even further.
"But I have to go now. Mum will be really angry otherwise. See you later."
With one last loving smile, Mia grabbed the toilet lid and dropped it.
I could see her walking to the sink as the lid slowly plunged me back into the darkness.

Mia walked toward the sink, emboldened, with a smile on her lips. With a sense of superiority and power, she washed her hands with a soap that smelled heavenly of rosewood and cashmere.

She went to the door, turned off the light, and made her way back downstairs. Dinner was waiting, and she was really hungry.


———————————————————


Did that really just happen?

It was hard to interpret the emotions I was experiencing at that moment.
Grief, disbelief, anger, humiliation.
My own sister, my twin, had actually just peed in my mouth.
Mia had peed down my throat.

Not only that, but she had completely dehumanized me. Just a few days ago, I was somebody. A feeling of deep shame and humiliation overcame me.

This isn't fair.

Am I really that worthless? My hopes and dreams, the struggles and challenges I've overcome so far. My entire life, is it all just thrown away? Just so I can become a toilet for someone supposedly better than me?
The thought makes me tremble with impotent rage. How can someone be so cold? So confident in their superiority that they don't even need gratification anymore.

If I still had any illusions of sibling love, they were now completely gone.

I had nothing left for Mia but hate.

Every grin she gives me.

Every word she says.

I hate the way she speaks, the way she directs. As if this were a play, and she's the leading role.

I feel my hatred like an ember under my skin. Not a raging fire. Not an explosion. But this quiet, constant burning that never stops.
But the worst part is that she can feel more empowered in all of this than ever before.

I was literally beneath her now.

I see her sitting at the dining table, chewing her food with relish, probably knowing that I'm trapped here forever. In the darkness from which only she can free me.

At the thought of my mother's dinner, my stomach suddenly starts to growl. It's hard to say when I last ate.

I get the feeling that Mia's urine hasn't just made me nauseous, but has also stimulated the activity in my stomach. The anger is rising again, first she torments me, and now she's stuffing herself. The injustice brings tears to my eyes again.


———————————————————


The atmosphere in the family dining room was nothing like that in Mia's bathroom, or rather, inside her toilet bowl.

Mia sat relaxed at the table with her parents, her fork hovering delightfully over her plate. The golden-brown skin of the chicken glistened in the twilight, slightly crispy, with small bubbles that crackled quietly when cut. The marinade, a mysterious mix of paprika, garlic, and a hint of honey, had absorbed into the skin and, together with the rosemary, exuded a captivating aroma that permeated the entire house.
The meat was tender, the fork almost slid through it by itself. The cool salad, fresh cucumbers, and light Red tomatoes, a squeeze of lemon that awakened the senses. Everything was well-rounded, harmonious, perfect.

Mia felt like a VIP guest in her own home. No arguments, no annoyed comments, just calm voices, the gentle clinking of cutlery, and that delicious feeling that everything was exactly as it should be.

And Alex?
Not there.

Her parents made it clear that weekend, right after the police picked him up, that Alex was no longer part of the family. Mia was now an only child. They didn't want to hear another word about him, which Mia certainly had no problem with.
No complaining, no moaning, no interrupting. Just peace.
And an extra chicken leg that had quite by chance ended up on her plate.


———————————————————


More hours passed, leaving Alex with nothing but silence, darkness, and the disgusting taste of Mia's piss in his mouth.

He wondered if this was what his life would be like from now on. Endless waiting, only to be pulled out of the darkness for a few minutes, probably knowing that the alternative activity would be far more humiliating and worse.

He heard the bathroom door close, and footsteps at the same time. Mia was back. Alex found his whole body shaking with tension. The fear of further humiliation at the hands of his sister was too great. But that didn't happen at first.

Next, he heard the shower running, then the sound of the Bluetooth speaker connecting to a phone.

Music filled the room with life.

Mia stepped into the shower and sang along carelessly, slightly off-key, to Taylor Swift.

His sister's indifference was killing Alex. He was lying just a few meters away, cooped up in absolute hell.
And Mia?
Barefoot on the warm tiles, eyes closed, lips pursed, she was singing.
Not quietly. Not shyly.

A few minutes later, he heard her getting out of the shower. About 10 minutes later, the loud music was replaced by the soft, piercing voices coming from Mia's television. Probably her favorite show. Then, the most horrible sound you can hear when you've been going on an empty stomach for hours. Crackling.
That goddamn bag of chips. Alex realizes she'd intentionally left the bathroom door open. He should listen to her carefree, letting her end her evening.
She's not even hungry. She's eating on a whim.
Alex just lay there, all he could do was listen. Her voice, her bell-like, annoying, yet perfect voice. She's apparently lying comfortably on her bed, talking on the phone with her friend Chaela.

They talk about trivial things:
Makeup, reality TV, boys.

The normality of this scene, which took place just a few meters away from Alex, made his left eyelid twitch with anger.
He felt the blood rush to his head.
Not out of shame. Not even out of anger.
But out of this brutal, pure powerlessness.

After what felt like an eternity, Alex heard footsteps again. He also felt the vibrations from the floor, of which he was now also a part.

Suddenly, his sister appeared imposingly standing over him. Apparently, she was already wearing her pajamas, her blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and she was already brushing her teeth.

"Hey Alex. I'm getting ready for bed and wanted to stop by", Mia said, slightly unintelligible through her toothbrush.

"I just thought the adjustment to your new life wouldn't be so radical, so I wanted to give you a little bit of normality."

Something like surprise, but also hope, shone in Alex's eyes. Maybe she had something for him to eat.

But before he could finish his thought, Mia bent down toward him, pressed one hand against the toilet seat, and pursed her lips over his now wide-open mouth. With a short, deliberate spit, she spat the mixture of toothpaste and saliva into his waiting mouth.
A thick splash, and the white foam hit most of his mouth. A second time, Mia gathered all the residue from her toothpaste and spat the last bit down his throat.

Satisfied, she stood up and smiled sweetly down at her brother.

"Sooo, there you go. Brushing your teeth is important if you're a real person. But I just realized I should have waited until after I'd been to the bathroom."

Mia giggled almost apologetically.

With these words, she turned around and pulled down her pajama shorts.
Before Alex could even get used to the situation, his sister was already sitting with her smoothly shaved pussy over his wide open mouth.

Her ass smelled fresh this time, practically scented with her strawberry shower gel.

The pleasant scent was quickly replaced by something sour and warm.

Alex watched in horror as the stream flowed so calmly that it seemed to be cast from glass. Completely still, as if time had stopped it.

On his taste buds, however, he felt the opposite. The disgusting taste of Mia's piss spread everywhere.

All his body's efforts to reject the unwanted liquid were in vain. And she sat quietly above him, with a malicious smile.

She wiped herself clean, put on her panties and shorts, and looked down at her brother again.

"You're a real natural, you drank it all. Not that you had any other choice. Heehee," Mia giggled wickedly in his face. Her expression seemed as if she wanted to give her brother the opportunity to respond.

Mia yawned and stretched exaggeratedly, mockingly, knowing that Alex could never do something so banal again.

"This day has really worn me out. Who would have thought shopping could be so exhausting?"

She moved away from Alex, the lid still open. The faucet started running, and Mia washed her hands.

"Good night, little brother. Sweet dreams." The bathroom light went out and the door closed.

Mia sank into her soft pillows with a contented sigh. The blanket still smelled of fresh lavender, her favorite scented candle smoldered on the nightstand. Her eyes were already closing. With a smile, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, snuggled in, and slowly drifted off into the realm of dreams. Everything was warm, calm, safe.

While Mia dreamed, Alex stared up at the bathroom ceiling, counting the seconds until it got light again.
The uncomfortable position he was in, coupled with the now agonizing feeling of hunger, made it impossible to think about sleep.


———————————————————


The sun had barely crept over the horizon. The first light of the morning shone warmly in Alex's prison. He had fallen asleep from exhaustion during the night and was finally able to find some peace.
He was awakened by footsteps that were slowly getting louder. His tired eyes, clogged with the dried tears of the previous day, were slowly adjusting to his surroundings.
In a moment, he recognized the ceiling of the bathroom, and high above his head, a few incense sticks in a beautiful smoked glass on the tiled shelf set into the wall.
With the next blink of an eye, his mouth suddenly opened, and he was finally awakened by the sight of an asshole.
"Morning, bro," she yawned, freshly on her feet herself. Before Alex fully understood what was happening, he tasted morning urine. It was strong, much worse than what he had drunk yesterday.
Much more concentrated, salty, and pungent in smell and taste. Alex wanted to vomit, it stuck in his mouth, in his throat, almost in his memory itself. Then there was his stomach ache, he hadn't eaten for days.

"I just realized you haven't eaten yet. You must be starving, you poor thing." Mia's words dripped with irony. Alex has no choice but to listen to his sister, face to face with her asshole.

"But don't worry. Mum's making her famous pancakes this morning. As soon as I'm done eating, you'll have some too."

Alex's thoughts drifted away, away from the stuffy darkness of the box and the dark yellow stream that made its way into Alex's mouth.

Golden brown on the outside, fluffy like clouds on the inside. That perfect browning when they're fresh from the pan... And the maple syrup, not too much, just enough to slowly run over the edges. And the butter melts on top, sinking into the tiny pores like a secret that only the palate can solve...

His hunger was too great to think clearly. He was now only dreaming of his mom's pancakes.

With berries... she'll probably make them with berries again today. Fresh, slightly sour, just the right contrast to the sweetness...

Alex is so lost in thought, he doesn't even notice Mia getting up, getting dressed, and making her way downstairs.


———————————————————-


It was warm in the kitchen, almost cozy.

The sunlight streamed through the shutters and danced goldenly across the table, on which a small tower of pancakes rose majestically. Mia was already sitting on her chair, fork in one hand, bottle of syrup in the other, ready to crown her masterpiece.

"Mom," she said, her mouth full and her eyes sparkling, "I know I say this every time... but you've outdone yourself this time."

Her mother smiled as she flipped the next batch at the stove. "Oh yeah? And what exactly is better today than usual?"

Mia closed her eyes dramatically, as if she'd just tasted the first bite of a Michelin-starred dish. "The edges are more golden. The center is fluffier. And that hint of vanilla? Poetry in batter."

She dipped a piece of pancake into the syrup, balanced it on her fork, examined it reverently, then shoved it into her mouth with relish.
"This isn't just a meal. This is an experience."

Her mother laughed softly. "You're exaggerating."


———————————————————


Alex's hunger had become unbearable. The last few days had taken their toll on him. He had no limbs, his sister had subjected him to the ultimate humiliation, and he had barely any strength. Nevertheless, his mind clung to his sister's words out of sheer desperation.

She would bring him something to eat.

His mum's pancakes were truly infamous.

The floor began to vibrate rhythmically, Mia was back. The footsteps came closer until they finally stopped right next to his head.

The lid opened again, and Mia stood towering over the toilet. She wore a white crop top with a subtle neckline and tight, dark gray jeans.

"God, I'm so full. Mum is simply an artist when it comes to making the perfect pancakes. But now I'm ready for your breakfast, little brother."

By the time Mia turned around, Alex realized there would be no pancakes for him.
He stared up at Mia's enormous, denim-clad butt. The hem dug deep between her fat buttocks. Slowly, almost ritualistically, Mia pulled down her pants. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the panic in her brother's eyes. She couldn't help but smile smugly. After her thong was also around her ankles, she plopped down onto her new porcelain throne.

Everything happened in slow motion for Alex. Panicked, he tried to defend himself against what was coming with every means at his disposal.
His back was stuck to the hard floor, every breath felt too big for the cramped space. He wanted to turn his head so as not to make it too easy for his sister, but that didn't work either.

His muscles twitched and tensed, but the movement was pointless. Frustration was building up inside him like pressure in a closed valve.

Mia's asshole was now hovering threateningly over Alex's face when he suddenly heard a faint engine noise. He moved.

Confused, he looked in all directions as he slowly moved backward. This didn't go unnoticed by Mia, who, looking over her shoulder, watched as Alex's eyes slowly appeared beneath her.

"Hey, hey, you look confused. No problem, I'll be happy to enlighten you. You know, this toilet is the most modern model on the market.
I have a little touchpad on the wall next to me that lets me select all sorts of functions. I can even raise you to create a tight seal between your mouth and my asshole. You know, in case it stinks too much." She grimaced.

Alex's body finally comes to a stop.
His mouth and throat are inhumanly wide open, just two inches below a throbbing asshole, waiting for Mia to defecate. He cries from the humiliating feeling of not being able to stop his sister from using him as her personal toilet.

"But the salesperson said this setting lets you see your meals before they disappear into your mouth.
And since I'm a good sister, I thought we'd try it this way first.
As we all know, you eat with your eyes first." She winked at him with a sadistic smile.

"But enough talk. You're hungry and I won't keep you waiting any longer."

Alex looked hysterically down at her anus. The asshole hovering above his mouth was still pulsing threateningly until it slowly widened. He wanted to scream, cry, lash out, all at once.

"Enjoy your meal, Alex," he heard his sister's gleeful singing voice in his panic as he briefly looked up. Mia wasn't looking at him anymore. All he saw was Mia's blonde hair falling down her back like liquid gold.

Immediately after those last taunting words, Alex, in his small room, heard the unmistakable, characteristic sound of feces sliding through the narrow space of Mia's colon. His eyes were forced to her asshole, he couldn't look away.

What had just been a sweet little star in the middle of her two toned cheeks was now wide open to serve Alex his breakfast.

Almost as if in slow motion, the turd emerged from Mia's anus. The stench was immediately overwhelmingly unpleasant and penetrating.
A mixture of rotten, sulfurous, sour, or even sweetly musty notes.
Alex gagged uncontrollably, but the tube in his throat only caused great pain in his esophagus.

The modifications that were made to him were absolutely inhumane and by no means designed for his comfort.
The sole objective was the comfort of the user. The person who, in the eyes of politics and society, stood hierarchically far above what was now permanently installed in their toilet.

Alex watched in horror as a medium-sized turd slithered its way into his mouth.
It was smooth, fleshy, and shimmered with moisture in the dim light of the toilet bowl.
"Eat my shit, you loser," he heard his sister laugh arrogantly above him.
Then, with a soft smack, the turd first made contact with Alex's helpless tongue. He was immediately frozen in shock, not that there was any possibility of escape.

Never in his life had Alex tasted anything so intense and yet so disgusting.

The taste was like biting into a rag that had been sitting in sewage for weeks. A mixture of rusty iron, sour bile, and burnt leather settled like a greasy film on his tongue.

Bitterness exploded in his mouth, closely followed by a dull, putrid aftertaste reminiscent of fermented innards ...warm, musty, meaty.
It was as if decay itself had taken form and settled on his palate. Every breath intensified the taste, carrying it deeper into his throat until gagging and disgust became a single, burning knot.

The greasy film spread throughout Alex's mouth as Mia's shit slowly but steadily made its way into his widened throat.

Mia rhythmically tensed her toned abdominal muscles to leisurely expel all her waste.
Her eyes were closed, her expression relaxed with pleasure.

Alex, on the other hand, was in agony. The brown dough pressed into his mouth until it was forced, piece by piece, down his throat and made its way toward his stomach. His tears flowed uncontrollably, his throat aching in the futile attempt to reject his sister's gifts.
It was absolute horror.
„Please! Please just kill me. I can't. The stench,...the smell. I can't live like this.“, were the only thoughts Alex could grasp. All useless, every part of him was being tailored to make a perfect toilet.

At that exact moment, the giant turd broke off from Mia's asshole and took a 2-inch drop into Alex's waiting mouth, while his own throat actively helped to contain the turd.
As a thank you, Mia let out a breathy, long fart, signalling the emergence of her second turd.

The second turd also passed easily over his tongue and into Alex's esophagus. This turd, too, is thoroughly tasted by him.

Finally, Alex sees Mia squeeze off the last of the rest by contracting her anus.

Ashamed, Alex lies there, his mind now permanently scarred. Traumatized, humiliated, used, defeated.

What seemed like an eternity to her poor brother was over for Mia in barely two minutes.
Alex saw Mia's butt lift from the seat, he was relieved that it was finally over.
She wiped her ass, a few brown marks visible on the toilet paper.

Again, the paper disappeared under his chin with a gentle suck.

Mia's panties and jeans are back around her hips as she turns to her toilet with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

With a genuinely happy smile, she looks down at the misery that was her brother until last week. He was completely distraught and avoided all eye contact with his torturer.

"What's with that sad face? You're exactly where you should have always been.
Below me. It's embarrassing enough that you had the same status as me for eighteen years.
But don't worry, from now on you can finally pursue your destiny, and at the same time our twin bond will be closer than ever, I'm sure of it." She continued to grin smugly in his face.

"So, little brother. I still have something to do. You know, something real teenagers do on vacation. You can just lie here and keep crying. Bye-bye."

With that, the lid to Alex's prison slowly closed, and he was left in the darkness again.
Alone with his pain, his thoughts, and the bestial taste in his mouth.



Part III

A rumble broke the silence.

Alex flinched, it sounded so loud in the total darkness. It was his stomach, but not the usual hollow growl of hunger. This was deeper. More annoying. As if something inside him was arguing with him.
Not pleading, more accusatory.

His stomach was not happy at all with what he was being processed.
Alex felt his stomach desperately trying to come to terms with what he had eaten.
He shuddered at the thought of what was currently swimming inside him.

Mia had shit in his mouth.
Her body had selfishly and efficiently used most of the nutrients, as nature intended.
The rest, which her body no longer knew what to do with, she simply excreted.
Now it was Alex's stomach's turn to find something usable in his sister's pre-digested food.

A few hours had passed, but the taste of her shit still lingered in his mouth.

Alex hopelessly pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to soothe the disgusting taste. But his stomach was equally rebellious against the unwelcome guest, causing Alex to burp disgustingly, which inevitably made him gag repeatedly.

He asked himself how he would endure this. He hadn't even been a toilet for two days, and he was already suffering absolute agony.

This was pure torture, how could this be legal?!

His thoughts wandered one floor down to the master bathroom of the house where his former neighbor had been installed for eight years now.

This poor man has been enduring this for an eternity. The injustice this story entailed was always particularly hard for Alex.

Mr. Miller's wife was the one who cheated on him and subsequently robbed him of everything he owned. Every time Alex saw her on the street with her new husband, he inevitably thought of Mr. Miller and the contrast their lives now faced.

He wasn't sure if anyone in his family had ever told her where her ex-husband had been for years.

But she didn't seem to care much either. She looked happy and at peace with herself, and that was all that mattered.

Her ex-husband, on the other hand, had become a lifeless shell of his former self.
The man looked as if he no longer felt anything, neither anger nor sadness. He stared out of the bowl, completely apathetic, with his lifeless eyes.

As if he had forgotten his existence in fulfilling his task. Alex wondered if he would end up like that one day. Feelings of fear formed within him at the thought.

He remembered civics class a few years ago.
Most people in his class were aware of the existence of human toilets.
Although only a few people had one at home at the time, they were very present in advertising and social media.

Alex's teacher, Mrs. Williams, explained to her students exactly what the Social Score was, how it worked, and why it was so important for every citizen of this society.
But above all, what happens if you fall below the minimum threshold. Even then, Alex inevitably wondered how humanity could become so heartless that it would allow something like that. No one can comprehend the unimaginable torment someone condemned to a toilet must endure, but the world's elites and leaders didn't care.

The only thing that mattered to them was a quick and relatively uncomplicated solution to the problem of overpopulation, one that could simultaneously be communicated meaningfully to the population.

Certainly not to save humanity, no.
It was primarily about preserving themselves and their own lifestyles.
The rich and beautiful used their power to maintain their overconsumption and excess in all areas.

The fact that a group of ordinary people had to pay the price for this was completely irrelevant to them. Many members of this elite believed they were significantly superior to the "losers" of this world anyway.

The general population was also quite receptive to the narrative that some were better than others. And so the gradual normalization of a society in which the unfortunates, legally legitimized, were condemned to eternally consume the excretions of their superiors developed.

At Alex's school, it had become a widespread joke among many students that the losers would eventually be turned into toilets.
Once, he observed a scene in the school corridor around which a large group of his classmates had gathered.
In the middle of the crowd, a few boys from the grade above Alex were holding a boy named Milton Crabb, for many a classic loser, straight out of the book, and stuck him to the ground.

The leader of the group performed like a gladiator in the Colosseum, enjoying his audience as he exuberantly stepped over Milton's head.

He rhetorically asked the crowd who wanted to see him give the "loser down there" a little taste of his future as a toilet.
The students practically cheered him on, while Milton, pinned to the ground, whimpered in fear and humiliation.

To the cheers of his schoolmates, he squatted down, his denim-clad butt pressed directly against Milton's nose, and then, with a triumphant gesture, he let out a powerful fart.

The boys roared with laughter, while the girls, only after a rush of disgust, slowly saw the funny side of the situation.
Alex looked into the eyes of the boy gagging on the ground, tears forming in them.
The many students, all laughing at his humiliation, were too much for him.
The boy ran away in shame. Alex felt a little sorry for him, but even then, he was more worried by the reactions of his classmates.

Milton graduated last year; despite, or perhaps because of, the bullying, he passed the SAT and was now living his life somewhere else.

Alex, on the other hand, hadn't made it that far.

He was now lying miserably in the bathroom of the girl who had giggled at the humiliation of that poor loser in the school hallway at that time at dinner.


——————————————————


A peaceful summer idyll spread across the modern, elegantly landscaped garden. Between artfully arranged stone paving and lush ornamental grass lies a clear, turquoise pool, its water sparkling like liquid glass in the afternoon sun. The surface was calm, only occasionally rippling from the warm breeze, which carried the scent of lavender and the gentle trickle of the waterfall at the edge.

Mia lay at the edge of the pool, on a stylish sun lounger with light cushions and a wooden frame. She wore a simple, elegant bikini in a soft sandy shade that accentuated her tanned skin. Lying on her stomach, she closed her eyes as the sun warmed her shoulders and golden reflections danced on the fine film of sunscreen that made her skin shine. Her two buttocks stood out like a golden focal point in a living painting. The oil smelled faintly of coconut and vanilla, a hint of vacation hung in the air. Her right foot tapped slowly to the beat of a song only she heard in her head, while sunglasses rested loosely on her hairline.

All around her, grasses, herbs, and delicate blossoms bloomed, swaying gently in the breeze. Time seemed to stand still, with only the chirping of birds, the soft buzzing of a bee, and the rhythmic lapping of the water accompanying the moment. It was a day when there was nothing to do but breathe, dream, and feel the sun on her skin.

Mia lay on the lounger, her head resting on her crossed arms, the back of her bikini slightly open to prevent streaks from showing. Her skin shimmered in the suntan oil like lacquered copper, warm, golden, flawless.

Her eyes were closed, but her thoughts were wide awake, not about the heat, not about the birds above her, or the gentle sound of the waterfall. She thought of Alex.

Her twin brother, currently trapped in her bath, who had eaten her shit just a few hours ago. How ridiculous.

He, who had always considered himself more dutiful and righteous.

She smiled. Slowly, with pleasure.
A butterfly settled on the armrest of her lounger for a moment. Even that. Everything seemed as if it had gathered just for her: the sun, the scent of lavender, the light breeze that barely stirred her hair.

"He doesn't deserve to be here," she whispered almost silently, stretching a little so that her back flexed like a bronze sculpture.

Mia savored this thought. That this was her moment. Her summer. And that Alex, with all his pride, would never understand how sweet power feels when it reveals itself very quietly, in sunlight, tranquility, and the certainty that you've won without having to do anything.

Her brother. Her twin. And yet, how far beneath her he was. Not out of malice. Not because she hated him. It was simply so. A silent order of things, like day and night, like heaven above earth.

This order had finally been established after years of illusion and this fantasy that he could also be part of the productive, superior society.

Mia, on the other hand, didn't have to strive. She was what others strove for: beautiful, desirable. Life came to her, like the rays of sunshine that followed her without invitation.

He struggled through life while she lay on the lounger, the sun on her skin, the world at her feet.

"He would wonder why I have this," she thought, her fingers casually reaching for an ice-cold drink. "Why it's me who gets the happiness. The lightness. The beauty."

She grinned, not harshly, not sneeringly, more pityingly. As if he had never quite understood. That there are people like her. And that they're always above the rest.

Mia remembered a day in this very garden of her family home.

It had been an early evening in late summer. The air was still warm, but the sky was already turning orange, as if the day had slowly stretched out in tiredness.

Mia and Alex were nine, maybe ten, and they had played tag in the garden with the neighbors' children.

Mia had been faster, more agile. She had laughed, loudly, clearly, with her hair flying in the wind. The other children had sought her side, wanted to be on her team, just to be near her. Alex had been good, maybe even better at the game. But no one had cared.

Then he had tripped. Not badly. But visibly. He had fallen, to his knees, his jeans dusty, a thin tear in his skin. And everyone laughed. Not maliciously, but thoughtlessly.

Mia had seen it. She had looked at him, that moment when he was no longer Alex, her brother, but simply someone to laugh at.

And she had done nothing. Not out of cruelty. But out of that strange, early realization: It wasn't her job to save him.

She had stopped, looked around briefly, then two of the children had called her.
And she had kept running, the game continued, and so had the laughter.

Now, years later, under the summer sun, she didn't remember with regret. Only with this quiet certainty:
Even then, something had been decided. Not spoken, not planned. But clear.

She was born to shine.
And Alex, he was meant to be in the shadows.

Thinking that Alex had more than enough time to find his way around in this shadow, she grinned smugly before turning to her phone, which vibrated softly on the side table, jolting her out of her sluggish reverie.

'Hey, babe. What are you doing?'
The message was from Liam.

She smiled, not surprised, more satisfied. Of course he was texting now. Somewhere they always felt it when they were supposed to be thinking about each other.

'I'm sunbathing. I'm already a nice golden brown, almost like melted honey.'

She typed slowly, with pleasure, her finger still slightly glistening from the oil.
It wasn't even a minute before it vibrated again.

'I want to see. Send me something.’

Mia rolled halfway onto her side, pulled her sunglasses down into her hair, and held the camera so that only her legs were in the foreground, a bit of her back, the pool behind her, sun, water, skin, and of course, her enormous butt, covered with nothing but a thin strap that disappeared between her cheeks.

She knew what worked.

Intent needs no explanation when it's elegant.

‘Your parents are not there?’ he asked after the picture.

Mia took her time with the answer. She looked up at the sky. Listened to the crickets chirping.
Then she typed:

‘Not tonight. Just me. And the whole big house, empty and silent.’

Send.
A moment of silence. Then three dots danced in the chat window.

‘Should I come over?’

She bit her lower lip, a game she played only for herself. No nervousness. No doubt. Just that sweet tension before the next move.

'If you know how to behave.'

Send.

Then she put the phone back down next to her, stretched, the sun burning like warm gold on her back.

It was one of those days when everything fell into place exactly as it should. Naturally.
Because life always came to her, all by itself.


——————————————————


Time had thickened, viscous like syrup that doesn't flow.

Alex stared into the darkness as if it were a screen that should be showing at least something. Memories, perhaps. Thoughts. But even those couldn't clear up.

Mia was surely out there somewhere again, in the sun, with her people, her possibilities. She had this gift of making everything revolve around her without her demanding it. And him?

He was just a slave, forgotten, until at some point she lifted his lid again.

A yawn rose within him, but he held it back. Even this everyday movement was painful now, because he could no longer even open his mouth independently.

So he just lay there. In this silent darkness that wasn't even comforting, just absence.

A constant reminder that he was disconnected from life.

The faint knocking in the distance, steadily getting closer, felt to Alex like a prank from his subconscious.
His brain was understimulated and desperately seeking something to do.

But the knocking was real and belonged to the gentle footsteps of his sister Mia, who was making her way to her room to prepare for her boyfriend's arrival.

Arriving in her room, she wasted no time, untying the knot at the back of her bikini top and then immediately removing her bottoms.

Her glossy skin still shimmered in the sundrenched bedroom, while the fruits of her tanning session were visible in her bikini lines.

Now completely naked, with only her phone in one hand, Mia went to the bathroom and opened the trapdoor to Alex's dungeon with satisfaction in her eyes.

The sight of her brother made her smile.
How he lay there miserably, squinting, slowly adjusting to the light, only to look up at her each time with an expression of horror.

Alex looked up at his sister.
The first thing he noticed was that she was completely naked. Her skin was tanned and oily, a stark contrast to her bikini line, which continued to gently reflect the sunlight from the window.

At the sight of her succulent labia, standing just 20 inches above him, he immediately felt a sense of shame. Her bare breasts, also lighter than the surrounding skin, only intensified this feeling.

As beautifully shaped and perfectly voluminous as they were, towering high above Alex and proudly defying gravity as if self-aware of their own absolute beauty, it felt wrong to see his sister so exposed. Perhaps the discomfort stemmed from the obvious power dynamic, as he literally looked up at her from a toilet bowl.

Seeing her brother like this always gave Mia a new rush of power.

Knowing that she played a large part in her pathetic twin's current situation was a moment of rare sweetness.

A pleasant tingling sensation spread deep within her, like warm honey lazily swirling over a cool spoon. It wasn't cruelty she was enjoying, at least not in her eyes. It was justice, a kind of cosmic retribution for all the years Alex had thought he could hold a candle to her.

Her gaze, however, half amused, half arrogant, was a silent symphony of glee.

"What's with that scared expression, little brother? You don't have to worry, I don't have to poop right now," Mia stated with a sweet smile.
Alex tried to avert his gaze, despite his limited range. His sister recognized his problem.

"Oh, you're not afraid. You're embarrassed because I'm standing here naked. Honestly, don't worry about it. You're part of the bathroom now. I agree, if you were still my brother, it would be weird, but you're just a toilet.
I'll be naked in my bathroom every now and then, so get used to it. You're no more to me than any other object in here."

As usual, she turned her back on the toilet and sat down on it. For Mia, it was the most mundane thing in the world, whereas Alex was still far from getting used to his role in his sister's bathroom. Her butt was making itself comfortable, the comfort was driving Alex crazy.

His mouth was already ready for his drink, his gaze fixed on her asshole, when he heard Mia speak again:

"Wait, I have to fart."

Far above him, he heard the faint clicking of fingernails hitting a screen, and then those faint motor noises below him.

Alex headed straight for Mia's bottom, looking around in all directions with ominous anticipation, but the only view he could see was a pair of plump ass cheeks getting closer and closer.
The engine corrected its course, the system would align Alex's nose directly with Mia's asshole.
Panic spread through him.
With gentle pressure, his nose made contact with Mia's bottom, or more precisely, her asshole, which Alex determined from the pulse he felt.

Mia giggled up above at the feeling of Alex's nose on her anus. She felt the pressure creating a seal and, at the same time, Alex's breathing quickening, now blowing hard against her puckered hole.
The stench was one thing, musty and earthy,  he could tell Mia must have been sweating in the sun all day.
Then there was the humiliation: the dirtiest part of his sister's body pressed ominously against his helpless nose.
Mia had the same thought and couldn't help but add the cherry on top of the humiliation:

"Take a deep breath, loser."

And then, without further ado, her anus rippled ominously outward, like a volcano about to erupt.
Alex barely managed to close his eyes from what was happening. He started to wince as a disgusting sound rang out.

Pffffffffffffffffffffft

The warm explosion of gas hit him with full force, as if someone had slapped a damp, sulfurous rag across his face.

It was impossible to escape, the disgusting fart was forced directly into his nostrils.

His face immediately twisted, somewhere between disgust, surprise, and the threat of gagging.

Upstairs, he heard Mia laughing heartily at his humiliation:

"Ew, you poor thing, that was burning. I think the protein shake is to blame. Sorry."

Malice oozed from every pore, she grinned broadly and gloriously superiorly.

Alex's nostrils were still forced to flare frantically, his modifications made it impossible for him to breathe through his mouth. The stench was just unbearable.

A moment later, his head lowered again, this time only an inch, and positioned herself so Mia could do what she'd come for in the first place.

Her piss flowed forcefully into Alex's receptive mouth. The taste became almost irrelevant after what he was currently smelling directly from the source. Nevertheless, his throat again spasmed futilely against the pipe inside.

He gagged, fighting the disgust, but it was nothing compared to the burning anger that was building in his chest.

He could imagine her enthroned there. With that grin. That contemptuous, smug grin that made him realize how much she reveled in his misery. Her eyes didn't shine with joy, but with pure, cruel satisfaction. She laughed. Loudly. Brightly. Viciously.

In that moment, he could have screamed. Not with pain, but with pure rage.
Something dark stirred within him. Not childish anger, not offended sulking. No, this was real hatred. Hot, cold, all at once. He could hardly believe how much he despised her at that moment.

Mia had finished peeing, but something wasn't right. Eye to eye with the asshole that was currently making him suffer, he eagerly waited for her to get up from his face. But instead, he heard her voice, soft and loving, a little conspiratorial:

"Heeey, baby..." she began softly.

"Before you come here, I wanted to tell you something... I've been thinking about something.
Tonight there's a little surprise, just for you."

She paused briefly, and Alex realized she was recording a voice message.

"A reward... for doing so well on the exams."

A quiet giggle escaped her. Then she suddenly became dramatic: "But! Before you come here, please do me a huge favor: Bring us a pizza. I'm starving. Really. I can't think straight anymore."

She laughed and added sweetly, "Something with extra cheese, yeah? You know how I tick."

Then, with a loving undertone, almost like a promise: "I'm looking forward to hearing from you. See you soon."

She sent the message and stared dreamily at the screen.
Alex couldn't believe it, his heart was beating loudly, he wanted to kill her.

She's seriously sitting on the toilet, texting her bastard boyfriend, talking about cheese pizza and surprises... while he's slowly wasting away down here?

Before he could finish his thought, his sister gradually got up, absentmindedly wiping herself clean, and typing another message with her free hand.
Alex could only glare up at her angrily as his mouth closed and he gradually returned to its original position.
Her obvious carelessness, and the fact that she was paying him zero attention after what she had just done, made him furious.

Mia typed the last few words into her phone, sent the message, and sighed softly. As she lowered the phone, her gaze casually wandered down and settled on Alex.
His face was obviously bright red with anger. His eyes bored into her like two small, glowing daggers.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. You look a little pissed off", she murmured, completely unfazed.
A smirk crept onto her lips, slowly expanding into a soft laugh.

"I'd love to chat some more, but... I really need a shower. You heard Liam is coming, and I don't want to scare him."

With an almost elegant turn, she left Alex's field of vision. Her footsteps faded, then the shower started. Humiliated, he listened to his sister happily singing a tune.


——————————————————


Mia stood in front of the mirror, turned slightly to the side, and examined her reflection with a scrutinizing gaze. The summer dress, airy, light blue, with small white flowers, was new.

But that wasn't the only thing. Underneath, she wore something Liam hadn't seen before: delicate, cream-colored lace lingerie, as fine as a blossom that she had bought especially for today with Chaela on Monday.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled briefly to herself, half proud, half excited. Tonight, she would wrap Liam around her finger with her new lingerie and have an unforgettable night.

A soft ping sounded from the cell phone. Liam:

‚I'll be right there.‘

She took a deep breath. One last check. The neckline was perfect, the fabric accentuated just the right thing, and underneath, the surprise.

Then the doorbell rang.

She walked to the door, the dress floating slightly with every step. When she opened it, Liam was standing there, muscular, tanned, his shirt tight around his upper arms. In his hands: pizza. Two large boxes, already smelling of hot cheese.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said with a broad grin.

"Hey," said Mia, her voice slightly playful. "You're just in time."

Liam entered, put down the pizza, and gave her a meaningful look.
"New dress?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Maybe. But you haven't seen the best part yet."


——————————————————


Liam was in heaven.

The last seven days had been the best of his young life. Liam was the type of guy for whom almost everything seemed to fall into place, at least at first glance. Twenty years old, tall, athletic, with a body like he'd stepped out of a fitness commercial. As a football player, he was a wall of muscle on the field, but off the field, he was more of a charmer with a grin that had melted more than one heart.

At school, Liam had never really stood out for his intelligence or dedication, at most for his constant presence in the hallways, in the gym, or outside during smoke breaks. Study material usually bounced off him like a ball off a helmet.

But he had something that couldn't be learned: a high social score.

Popular, always present at parties, somehow always just on the right side with the teachers. That had been enough to let him repeat the grade twice, without much opposition. Now, on his third attempt, he had finally scraped past the 50-point mark, close, but sufficient.

No wonder that college scouts were already interested in him. Nothing concrete, no offers yet, but they had his name on their radar.

It was only a matter of time before the next big chapter would open itself. As always.

Liam knew he wasn't a genius, and it didn't bother him.

He played well, looked good, and had Mia, by far the hottest girl in school, who at that moment had wrapped her full lips around his massive, rock-hard cock. Liam moaned blissfully at his girlfriend's blowjob skills, his pants pulled down to his ankles. He was literally on cloud nine, the world at his feet.

After a good ten minutes of Mia caressing his penis and his now bulging balls, he couldn't stand it any longer and pounced on her.

He helped her out of her summer dress, and Mia appeared to him in delicate, cream-colored lace lingerie. Finely crafted, flattering, but with an elegance that wasn't overdone. The fabric was tight, softly contouring her figure and leaving just enough room for the imagination.

Her ass, perky and toned, was perfectly accentuated, and her breasts were a picture to behold.

A slow, smug grin spread across Liam's face as his gaze took her in, piece by piece.

"Baby, you're so beautiful. What did I do to deserve this?" Liam asked rhetorically, his right hand kneading her bottom. She giggled softly and moved even closer to him, snuggling up to his side like a small cat that belonged only to him. Her voice became softer, gentler:
"I'm so proud of you. You've worked so hard... And I love you."

They lost themselves in a kiss as they pounced on each other. Liam frantically took off his pants and shirt and wasted no time reaching for the condom in his wallet. The sweet, playful Mia had suddenly given way to a predator who knew exactly what effect she had.
Her kiss was no longer a soft promise, but a claim of possession, deep, demanding, electrifying. She had first lulled him into a sense of security, then, with a single glance, pulled him into a world where only desire and closeness mattered.

And Liam could do nothing but give himself over to her, completely, helplessly, fascinated.
Lying on her back, with her legs bent, she gestured for him to take off her panties, and he obeyed instantly.
What lay before him between Mia's legs was a pure work of art from nature. Her beautifully swollen pussy glistened with desire, eagerly anticipating a large cock inside her.

"I want to feel you," she breathed, pulling him with her as she slowly moved under him. Ready to receive him completely. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her fingers dug into his back, pulling him toward her as if they couldn't be close enough.
When their bodies finally found each other completely, they merged in a movement that was both soft and yet of unbridled intensity. No hesitation, no word, just the moans of two people who had completely lost each other.
They moved together, fluidly, deeply, like a dance of skin, heat, and desire. Every thrust, every touch spoke the language of their love.
Raw, honest, passionate.


——————————————————


While Liam's cock was buried deep in Mia's wet pussy, just a few feet away, Alex was in his prison, listening to every moan, every creak of the bed frame, and every thrust that Liam made into his girlfriend's willing cunt.
For the first time, he wished Mia had closed the lid of his bowl. Or at least the bathroom door.

But instead, he was forced to listen to his twin sister having sex.

He'd heard everything.

First the voice of Liam, one of the guys at school he despised.

Then how the two lovebirds started their shitty romcom and the smell of hot pizza wafted over to him in the bathroom.

The scent of the pizza was a warm, inviting current that wafted through the air and immediately made Alex's stomach growl. The freshly baked dough gave off a gentle, yeasty warmth, while the savory smell of melted mozzarella mingled with the tangy aroma of tomato sauce, fruity, slightly sweet, and with a subtle hint of garlic.

Alex was slowly going crazy just thinking about food.

At some point, occasional smacking and popping noises crept into the television sound, as if a vacuum had been released. When deep, affirmative groans joined the background noise, Alex finally realized what was happening just a few feet away.

Thoughts swirled in his head.

No words, just fragments, incomplete and loud. Everything inside him wanted to scream, kick, smash something, just get it out, get out of this body that was becoming far too small for what he felt.

Rage. Pure, untamed rage. Against this feeling of injustice. An urge, a wave that overwhelmed him and left him no air.

Alex trembled, his jaw clenched, his vision blurred with heat that was not fire, but despair.

And then, as if out of nowhere, the silence came.

The rage didn't dissipate. It broke. He collapsed in on himself, like a wall giving way under too much pressure. What remained was weakness. An emptiness that suddenly weighed so much more than any anger. His chest was tight, his heart beating fast, but no longer angrily, but in panic. As if it wanted to escape from what was coming.

Tears.

At first only in his eyes, then they flowed. Quietly. Without sobs, without sound. As if they had waited a long time to finally be free. And he let them. He couldn't help it. Everything inside him was tired. No more resistance. Only pain that could no longer be hidden. It sank inside him, like dark water that slowly but mercifully enveloped him.

'This is all so unfair. Why did I have to lose my life?

Now I'm lying here, completely helpless, my arms and legs amputated, in a toilet, having to endure listening to my sister fucking her boyfriend. Liam Chase, too. Liam fucking Chase. That son of a bitch should be in my place, eating my shit. Instead, he's moaning over there in my sister's bed, enjoying his cock sucked.

How can the universe be so unfair?

I gave my all to pass that shitty SAT, only to be damned forever because of two points.

How is it possible that this guy got 20 points less, had to repeat the class twice, and is now living his best life? I know exactly why.

Because this society is a fucking joke. Nobody gives a damn about how fair or logical this system is. Just because I have a sister who, unfortunately, is better than me at everything, I'm the victim, the dregs of society.

And Liam? He's a complete jerk,
but he's good-looking, can run fast, and can throw a ball. Apparently, that's enough to be considered a productive member of society these days.

Everything's so fucked up.'

What Alex so desperately blurted out went unheard, however. The only person he could share his thoughts with was himself.
His humanity was stripped away, making it impossible for him to ever communicate anything to anyone again.


——————————————————


A room away, Liam couldn't hear the outburst of anger and the pitiful sobs from his girlfriend's brother.
He was busy keeping an eye on Mia's full breasts, bouncing wildly up and down just inches from his face.
Meanwhile, she was riding him passionately, the bed making a struggling noise with each thrust.
The two of them were now making unbridled noises of pleasure, completely lost in pure ecstasy.
Mia's pussy gripped Liam's cock, which was thrust all the way inside her with every thrust, its full seven inches, her love juices already flowing lazily along his thick balls.
The rhythm increased, and the two of them were getting closer and closer to their climax.

"Ohh fuck, baby, I'm coming," Liam moaned in absolute bliss. He was completely in a trance, while Mia kept up the pace. She, too, was approaching her climax and was now moaning nonstop.

Then it was finally time, the couple came in unison. While Mia spread her juices all over his cock, Liam's balls pumped out cum incessantly.

After what felt like an eternity, both of his balls twitched one last time, and the two lovers collapsed on top of each other.

Mia lay flat next to her boyfriend and the two let their orgasms fade away together, both completely out of breath.

"That was incredible", Mia broke the silence, still catching her breath.

"It was. I love you, baby", Liam replied, leaning in for a kiss.

Mia snuggled up to his side, cuddling him lovingly, his hand slowly stroking her back. Looking down, she saw Liam's cock, still semi-erect, draped over his abs.

Smirking, as she lifted her head slightly to face him, she remarked:

"It seems like someone missed me a lot."

She couldn't suppress a soft giggle. He looks at her, confused but smiling.

Mia raises an eyebrow and points at his cock. She was obviously referring to the massive load of cum he filled the condom's reservoir with.

"What can I say, I haven't seen you in two days", he apologized self-deprecatingly. She half-rolled her eyes, then snuggled even closer to him.

"Okay, you're excused... but only because it's kind of sweet."

Liam wasn't ready to move yet, stroking Mia's hair in post-orgasmic contentment.

The atmosphere is calm, almost sleepy. Mia's head rests relaxed on Liam's chest, his other hand resting warmly on her back. Her breathing is even, until suddenly...

Mia suddenly jumps upright as if she'd been electrocuted. Her eyes flash, and a mischievous smile creeps onto her face. Her gaze falls on Liam, who looks at her in surprise.

"Oh no... I know that look."

He props himself up on his elbows and looks at her, half amused, half alarmed. That twinkle in her eyes is the sign.
Mia's planning something. And when she looks like that, it's definitely not going to end well.

"Come with me." She stands up, pulls on her panties, and gestures for him to follow.

Liam is both amused and confused when he asks again, "Mia, what's wrong?"

"You'll see."

Barefoot, her hair disheveled and a
mischievous, almost mysterious smile, she backs toward the half-open bathroom door. Her hand remains outstretched, a silent invitation.

Liam props himself up, follows her gaze, then her movement. He grins, shakes his head slightly, but his heart is beating faster.
He stands up, slowly, almost reverently, and walks over to her. Without a word, she takes his hand and pulls gently. Liam lets himself be led without resistance, his gaze fixed on hers, curious and a little tense.


——————————————————


The quiet was a pleasant change for Alex, for him, for once, it wasn't empty. He had space to think clearly again.

The quiet, incomprehensible murmuring that now came from Mia and Liam in the bedroom was more than bearable compared to what he had to endure for the last half an hour.

The silence, however, only lasted about two minutes, when suddenly the narrow strip of light from Mia's bedside lamp, shining through the crack in the door, gave way to the bathroom's overhead light.

Alex had hoped Mia would fall asleep right away and was almost immediately on alert again. Soft footsteps approached quietly, and with each one, Alex's body tightened further in tension.

Mia suddenly appeared in his field of vision again, but this time she didn't even look at him. From his vantage point, she appeared like a goddess who had all the power to judge him.

She turned her ass toward him, clad, as always, in a gorgeous beige lace thong. Alex expected the usual, but was surprised by what came.

"Look here," she raised her finger. She pointed at him. A sign, a silent judgment.
Then, a shadow next to Mia.
A movement.
And as Alex followed the finger, someone suddenly stepped into the frame.
Liam.
He was naked. Just like that. Without shame. Without hesitation. Naked and flawless.
The light hit his body, making the lines of his muscles appear sharp and sculpted, as if carved from stone, but alive. From Alex's low perspective, he seemed even larger than usual. More powerful.

Most symbolic of this were Liam's genitals, dangling just a foot above Alex's face.
Alex could tell Liam's cock was now flaccid, but that did nothing to lessen his feeling of inadequacy. It was still huge, significantly larger than Alex's even erect, thick and veined. A symbol of pure male potency.
At the sight of the heavy balls, the size of two chicken eggs, also dangling above his face with a quiet superiority, a wave of inferiority overcame him that he couldn't stop. Liam's body was the complete presence, while Alex's own cramped form was barely perceptible.

Mia just stood there, beautiful as always and ice-cold. Her eyes rested heavily on Alex, mocking, but he also recognized a hint of pride in them.

Liam, on the other hand, seemed initially surprised by the sight before him, but then came this smile. Broad, superior, curious. Like a child who's discovered something strange and now wants to admire it in peace.

"Wait,..." Liam leaned forward, his brow furrowed, as if only now trying to truly understand what he was looking at.

"Baby, I knew you were getting a human toilet, but not..."

"Not what?" she asked innocently.

"Not that it's your brother."

Mia laughed brightly. Not a bitter laugh, a genuine, amused, almost childishly evil giggle. She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with delight.
"Yeah, cute, isn't it?"

Liam still seemed a little taken aback. His gaze flickered between Mia and Alex.

"Holy shit, Alex, I always knew you were a loser, but this really tops everything." He turned to his girlfriend. "And your parents let you do this?"

"You know how convincing I can be," Mia stated, leaning pointedly against her boyfriend. Her eyes glittered with glee. Liam shook his head slowly, a grin on his lips that hovered between fascination and disgust.

"And you're actually using him? I mean, he's still your brother," he asked, still incredulous.

"Of course. What good is a human toilet if you don't use it? Alex may have resisted, but I’m sure deep down he always knew what he was meant to be."

"You really are the devil, Mia." There was no accusation in his voice. "But you're my devil, and I love you for that."

Mia knew that her boyfriend would take the situation positively and cast a loving look at her lover, and the two kissed passionately in front of her huddled brother. She began to slowly massage Liam's penis as the two lost themselves in each other. His cock, still wearing the condom, slowly rose again, muscles flexing effortlessly beneath his skin, the contrast to Alex's motionless, bound body could hardly be more brutal.

Mia's lips slowly separated from Liam's, wet and glistening, as if she wanted to savor the kiss in the air. Her eyes remained closed for a moment too long, then she opened them and lowered her gaze again.

Crouched, squeezed into the bowl, his eyes anxiously expectant, lay Alex. He couldn't move, only tremble, breathe, and stare.

Mia leaned forward a little, an almost tender smile on her lips.

A smile that in other moments would have been comforting.

"So, little brother," she said softly, in a sweet tone that burned in his ear like poison.
"We haven't forgotten you. We came because of you. In the truest sense of the word," she let her mischievous words echo slowly, as if to emphasize them.

With these words, Mia pointedly grabbed Liam's cock, as if she wanted every single moment to be burned into Alex's brain.
Very tenderly, she began to pull the full condom off his semi-erect member.
Her lips curled into a thin, superior smile.

Alex immediately understood what his sister was planning. She was going to feed him her boyfriend's used condom. He wanted to writhe, to scream, to tear something apart. But all he could do was stare back silently and breathe in her malicious glee.

With a final, careful tug across the swollen glans, the condom came off.

By now, Liam's mind had also realized what his girlfriend was planning.
He laughed quietly, incredulous, but fascinated: "Mia... Baby... you let him eat our condom," he said it in the tone of someone who wasn't horrified, but rather amused.

Mia now held the condom at the back of the opening and let it hang in the air like a pendulum, with the heavy, white content at the end. Without taking her devilish gaze off her brother, she replied:

"Nonsense, I don't want to break my toilet yet. It may not look like it, but biologically, that's still a human being down there, and they can't tolerate plastic."

Liam's expression showed that the explanation was plausible, while Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Mia, who was feeling particularly playful and cruel today, noticed his look and smiled broadly.

"Our little Alex down there only gets the white cream inside of it."

Immediately after these words, Alex panicked again as he watched Mia lean forward and tap on the screen next to the toilet.
As his mouth was forced open, he stared helplessly between Mia's devilish smile and the ominously swinging condom.

"Shit, baby, you're sick," Liam laughed with a throaty, subdued sound.

"Hey, you're the one who shot that monster load in there."

Alex looked up at Liam. He just grinned down mischievously. His penis was almost fully erect again, ready for a second round of sex. This son of a bitch was enjoying his humiliation and his sister's cruelty, Alex thought.

And his big balls just hung there, silent, calm, superior.

As if they'd long ago known what was in store for him.
They were unconscious, not a sound emanated from them. And yet there was something there, a mockery that didn't need to be spoken.

Something burned in his chest, anger and sadness at the same time, wildly intertwined.

It wasn't fair. He had more points than that smug bastard. Nevertheless it would be Liam‘s cum he was about to taste.

Mia bent over the toilet, bringing the condom about two inches from Alex's face. She carefully dangled it right in front of his wide-open eyes.

The cum inside was heavy, and the tip sluggishly pulled down. The clear rubber shimmered in the light, still wet with Mia's juices.

With that smug, proud look he knew all too well, the one she always wore after she had once again outdone and humiliated her brother, she began to grasp the end of the condom with her index finger and thumb, slowly twisting it inside out.

"Say Aaaaaa!"

Alex closed his eyes immediately. Maybe that was the only thing he could control. But then: nothing.

Not a drop, not a smack, not a disgusting taste. Just silence.

Alex opened his eyes hesitantly. Mia's gaze, seemingly just as confused as he was, was fixed on the condom, inside which her boyfriend's sperm moved reluctantly.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "It's too thick!"

She laughed, almost cackled, with a joy born of old rivalry. And then, with two fingers around the condom and exaggerated care, she began to push the creamy mass from top to bottom toward the opening. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. The mass crept forward, Alex's stomach churning. He closed his eyes again, preparing for the worst.

Alex whimpered softly as the first lump touched his tongue. Cold. Greasy.
The taste was like a slimy mixture of old egg white, metal, and chlorine. The consistency was thick and slightly lumpy, like spoiled mayonnaise. The smell was extremely pungent and fishy, ​​like the fumes in a poorly ventilated locker room after a hot day.

Panic spread, heat rising in his face. Alex's eyes widened without any control. He could only gag. The thought of where that came from only made the whole thing worse.
And he knew this was exactly the moment she'd been waiting for. The cum was everywhere, a lot of it, so much that it covered his entire tongue. It was so damn disgusting and humiliating.

Mia looked into his eyes, triumphant.

"Does it taste good?" she whispered.

Liam couldn't hold back any longer, he laughed smugly at the humiliation.

His cock was now rock hard, his girlfriend's cruelty to her brother was making him horny.

"Look at his face. I think he wants to die right now."

The couple enjoyed the sight, Alex trembling and apparently writhing silently at the bottom of the bowl. Tears welled up in his eyes. The pain and humiliation were too deep. The disgustingly bitter and soapy aftertaste of what refused to drain from his throat was too much for him.

Mia noticed her boyfriend's erection and began to rub it seductively. With the expression of a predatory cat about to devour its prey, she snuggled against his chest.

"I think we've seen enough. Now I'll take care of that not-so-small friend down there," she pointed at Liam's cock.

Before the couple turned around and making her way back to the bedroom, Mia closed the gaping maw of her toilet with the push of a button.

As Alex's mouth closed, the disgusting taste of semen once again filled every taste bud.

He gagged softly, the taste clinging to his palate like something not only disgusting, but intentionally degrading. His eyes were moist, but he didn't cry. It was something deeper. A breakdown that didn't require a sound.

The last movement he perceived was Mia's two firm buttocks, now devoted to something less insignificant as she left the bathroom with her boyfriend.

Then... click.

Darkness.

Alex was left behind, alone with the dull pounding of his heart and the bitter silence that followed everything.
He could see nothing.
And forget nothing.


Part IV

It rained in thick, heavy drops that clung to the shabby brown shirt on Glenn Miller's chest. The scent of wet asphalt mingled with the humid late-evening air. The lights of the enormous house in front of him, once his home, shimmered through the twilight rain like a distant dream. But the gleam was now merely a memory of what he had lost.
In his hands, he held the bottle he had tucked into a weathered paper bag in the parking lot just minutes ago, and he kept reaching for it.

He pulled his crumpled jacket tighter around him and stepped onto the patterned stone of the driveway. The rain was incessant, but it seemed as if the sky was drowning just as he was. As he trudged forward, his eyes darted to the gleaming cars parked in the driveway.
A Porsche, a Mercedes, the Tesla. All so immaculate and expensive, all things he no longer owned. The luxury that had once been so familiar to him was now a distant stranger. A bitter mockery.

He knew the value of this street, the houses here, the buildings, and the life he had lost. Once, he had dominated every room in this house, letting his music echo through the walls, laughing, talking, enjoying life.

But that was all history. Everything he had built in love, trust, and his life's work was no longer his.

The house, the valuable jewelry, the cars, the artwork on the walls, they all went to her.
His now ex-wife, Lisa.

They had met in college.
Lisa was the quiet, intelligent beauty from the literature class, he was the ambitious business student with the boyish charm.

They had talked for the first time at length on one of those mild spring days when they had to work together on a group project. Glenn was immediately fascinated by her personality, by the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about books, and by the gentleness with which she listened to him.

He had worked his way up, quickly making a career. A good company, a steady contract, steady advancement. He never wanted her to work. He wanted her to live a life without worries. No bills, no commuting, no sleepless nights because of too much work.

He had provided her with everything:
a beautiful house, vacations, a car that she never had to fill up herself. He wanted Lisa to feel free, loved, protected.

But in the end, none of that was enough.

She had cheated on him. With a guy named Marc Keller.

Marc wasn't just a fitness trainer, as Glenn had first believed. He ran a small but thriving corporate fitness consulting firm. A clever concept that helped companies keep their employees healthy, motivated, and loyal. Not a huge corporate boss, but definitely someone with style, ambition, and a clear plan.

He was athletic, well-groomed, always with that subtly tanned complexion you get not from the beach, but from regular early morning jogs. He wore shirts with rolled-up sleeves, knew how to listen charmingly, and was never pushy in conversation, but rather witty or profound at exactly the right moment. The type of man who orders a latte in a café, knows the staff by name, and drops the tip as he leaves with a casual wave of his hand, as if he didn't even notice.

All of this attracted not only customers, but also women like Lisa.

Lisa fit perfectly into Marc's world. She was aesthetically pleasing, well-groomed, and attentive to her body and her appearance.
She wasn't vulgar, not garish, more like a statement made of marble: cool, smooth, beautiful.

The kind of woman who felt just as comfortable in the lobby of a boutique hotel as she did at a champagne brunch on the rooftop terrace of a club known only to insiders.

At 33, Lisa had retained her youthfulness, but she knew exactly how to use it to her advantage. She was the type of woman who didn't sweat in a gym, but rather shone with a perfect complexion, simple, high-end activewear, and that look that stood out everywhere, without even looking.

She had long, straight, hazel-brown hair with subtle caramel highlights, professionally groomed and never messy. Her skin was flawless, pale, with a hint of summer freshness, like something out of a natural cosmetics commercial. Her features were soft but clear: high cheekbones, full lips, and almond-shaped eyes in a warm brown that reflected almost gold in good light.

Her body was athletically slim, with feminine curves in just the right places. The result of yoga, personal training, and a very conscious diet. She usually wore tight-fitting but tasteful clothes in muted tones that emphasized her figure without looking cheap. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, she looked like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.

The day Glenn learned about his wife's affair, it had been a fog of anger and emptiness. After a big argument in which words were spoken that could no longer be taken back, it was clear: Nothing could be saved between him and Lisa.

He had accused her of forgetting everything, every sacrifice, every step he had taken for her. And she had announced, in an ice-cold voice, that she would "squeeze him dry." Not crying. Not apologetically. Just calculating.

After the argument and the final separation, Glenn fell into a deep hole.

The days blurred, saturated with bitterness and self-loathing. Alcohol quickly went from comfort to compulsion, first in the evening, then in the morning, and finally at any time.

He was late for work, seemed fidgety, unkempt, and lost focus. Colleagues avoided him, superiors warned him. But he had long since disappeared inside. A few weeks later, the termination came: officially because of declining performance, unofficially because Glenn was now a shadow of his former self.

A few months later, they sat in front of the divorce court, two meters apart, in separate worlds. Not a glance, not a hesitation. Just lawyers, files, evidence, and a judge who didn't know the first thing about the life that was being torn apart.

The decision came after a trial that had passed far too quickly. Lisa was prepared. She had carefully constructed her version, allowing herself to be portrayed as the cheated wife, even though it had been the other way around. Glenn had been late with his evidence. Too chaotic, too emotional. Her presentation was controlled. Her arguments seemed credible. All in all, her presentation was convincing.

The verdict hit him with cold force.

Lisa got the house, a modern architect-designed house on the outskirts of town that he had once helped to plan and pay for.
The SUV, a Mercedes-Benz GLS, officially registered in his name but which she had been driving for years.

The Tesla also went to Lisa. The car Glenn had given her for her birthday to impress her.

But the real blow came when his beloved 1967 Porsche 911, the "baby" he had cherished for years, also became Lisa's property. A piece of his past, his identity, now became part of someone else.

The downtown condominium, intended as an investment, also went to her.
All the stock portfolios he had painstakingly built up over the past ten years were largely transferred to her, on the grounds that she couldn't work during the marriage to "support him." Even the small vacation home in Vermont, his retreat, was awarded to her.

In addition, Glenn was ordered to pay alimony. A large monthly sum, far beyond what he could afford in his current situation.
His income had plummeted since his termination, but the court ruled based on his previous figures.
"Adjustment could be reviewed later." At some point.

All he had left was a small savings account with a few thousand dollars. Enough for maybe two months. No car. No real estate. No stock value. Only debts in the form of alimony.

As the verdict was read, he looked over at Lisa. She sat motionless, seemingly neutral, but Glenn recognized it immediately: the tiny, barely visible twitch of her lips. No grin. No smile. Just a thin hint of triumph seeping through her mask, quiet but venomous. A look that said, 'I did it.'

All of this led to this moment. Glenn stood in front of the house that had once been his home. It seemed unchanged.
Clean windows, symmetrical front yard, the light from the designer lamp in the hallway. Lisa had kept everything. The life. The security. The control.

With a hesitant hand, he pressed the doorbell.

A moment passed. Then the door opened. And there she stood.

Lisa. Cold. Well-groomed. No pity in her eyes. Just distant surprise, like someone spotting a stray dog ​​on the porch. Her hair was perfect, her face flawless. She looked like she'd just done yoga or drunk half a glass of white wine.

"What do you want?" Her voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact.

Glenn swallowed. His lips were dry, his voice brittle.

"I... I need your help, Lisa."

She didn't answer, just blinked slowly.

"Please. You've got everything... the house, the Tesla, even my Porsche. I can't afford the alimony anymore."

His voice trailed off. "The social score. I'm almost below the minimum. A few more points... and I'm out."

She crossed her arms. "So what do you want me to do now?"

"Waive the alimony. Please. You don't need it. You're living well, better than ever. And I... I have nothing left." His eyes gleamed. "If I fall, there's no turning back. You know what happens then. Lisa,... I can‘t do this any longer."

For a moment, it was quiet. Only the wind gently stirred the branches of the hedge next to the door.

Lisa tilted her head slightly, looking at him as if considering whether to feel pity or simply boredom.

"Yes,... that's kind of your problem now, Glenn."

He closed his eyes briefly, struggling to regain his composure.

"Please. I'm begging you. Think about the past... about us. I gave you everything. Everything."

Lisa didn't flinch. Then she shrugged one shoulder. She looked him straight in the eyes. And before she closed the door, a hint of mockery appeared on her lips.

"Maybe you'll finally get a job that really suits you."

Then the door closed, slowly and finally.

Glenn stood there for a moment. The rain had stopped. But inside him, everything continued to collapse.


——————————————————-


Back to the present. A golden summer evening settled softly over the estate. The air was warm, filled with the scent of flowering shrubs and grilled delicacies. Lisa and Marc were sitting on the terrace of the modern townhouse. A fine wooden table, two glasses of white wine with foggy rims, freshly grilled sea bass on porcelain plates, roasted asparagus, and a light lemon risotto.

Lisa laughed quietly at something Marc had just told her, an anecdote from a business lunch. She wore a simple beige summer dress, her skin slightly tanned, her hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Marc took a sip of wine, briefly placed his hand on hers, a gesture casual and well-rehearsed. The garden behind them was perfectly manicured, sculpted early in the morning by a quiet gardener.

So, while Lisa was happily biting into a piece of fish, as luck would have it, at the same time, just three doors down, her ex-husband was also about to eat his dinner.

Mary Smith, the lady of the house, sat on the toilet, her brow furrowed, her gaze fixed on the beige tiled wall as if she could find a way out of her constipation there. Her face scrunched up, she snorted softly, pushed, loosened her shoulders, and tried again.

Yesterday had been a late, over-the-top dinner:
Potato gratin with four types of cheese, a sumptuous pot roast beef with brown gravy, buttered peas, a whole basket of white bread. Eggnog for dessert, and two glasses of heavy red wine.

A meal like a concrete block.

"Damn gratin," she muttered, taking a few deep breaths. Below her, it was silent, or almost silent. A faint hiss, a click, then the mechanical sound of a jaw opening.

Glenn's mouth opened, automatically, without willpower.
Powerlessly, like the opening of an old garbage chute hatch. His eyes were glassy, ​​a dull gray without purpose or expression. He stared at the underside of his owner, who simply wanted to rid herself of the culprit responsible for her constipation, while the first chunks slowly made their way out, hard, misshapen, gray-brown, with greenish inclusions of undigested vegetables.

Mrs. Smith grunted, followed by a wet gush.
"Finally," she sighed.

What came out was hard to describe, a tough, sluggish mass, dark brown with yellowish inclusions.

Only the corn was still recognizable: whole kernels, round, undigested, like foreign memories in a broth of contempt, landed with a smacking sound in Glenn's open mouth. One kernel bounced against the roof of his mouth. Nothing moved in his face, neither disgust nor pain. Only the rigid automatism of a body that had forgotten that it had once been human.

At the same moment, on the terrace, Marc used his knife to push some of the risotto onto his fork and handed it to Lisa with a smile. Lisa nodded and sipped the forkful into her mouth with relish.

Glenn lay there, curled up, collapsed, barely more human than a shell. His skin was pale, his lips chapped. His eyes gazed into nothingness, not tired, not sad. Just empty.

Glenn was no longer human. At least not in the sense in which people used to speak of humans. He was not a subject, not a bearer of dignity or will. He was a useful being, an officially registered object in the social architecture of the new order.

He once had a job and opinions, hopes, favorite music. But that was gone since his social score had fallen below the threshold. Not through violence or fraud, but through weakness. And the system showed no mercy for weakness.

What remained was functionalized.

Now Glenn was part of the Smith family's domestic infrastructure, a biological interface in the lower sanitary area. He no longer had a language, no possessions, no right to sleep or protest. His body was used as a service. Managed service: absorb, process, keep silent.

He was no longer there to live, but to make life easier for others.
Like a trash can. Like a piece of pipe.

He had been reduced to nothing, only the basic systems of his body still functioned.
His sole purpose was to serve.
To process their waste, absorb their waste, swallow their filth. And to do so with the silent, mechanical discipline usually expected only from machines.

Nobody called him by name anymore.
Neither Mary Smith nor her husband, and certainly not their twins.
Not out of malice. But because names are only given to things that still count as human.
Glenn wasn't human.
He was a component. A part. A function.

And the world ran precisely, elegantly, and orderly because people like Glenn lay silent, motionless, and forgotten in bathrooms.

The mere everyday act of Mary wiping her bottom and putting her pants back on at that moment, without even a glance at the poor figure in the toilet bowl, demonstrated the loss of his status in this society.

And while the wine flowed outside and the summer evening sang, Glenn, inside the house, swallowed the remnants of what had once been dinner, only for someone else.


———————————————————


Darkness swallows time, turning everything into a single black nothingness.

Time.

The word loses all meaning when you can no longer see the sky. No windows. No light. No shadows by which to measure the passing of the day. Everything blurs. Thoughts, memories, hope, everything becomes sluggish, dragging, and dull.

I don't know how many hours have passed. Or days? Minutes? It all feels the same. Equally heavy. Equally empty.

I haven't slept. I don't think I can do this anymore. What is sleep in a body that is no longer one? I'm just lying here, completely still, while everything else continues. Flowers are growing out there, people are eating, laughing, or having sex. And me?

I'm the ground beneath her feet.

The bowl beneath her ass.

I still remember evenings when I was lying in bed and Mia was listening to her music one floor above me. Way too loud, of course. I'd knock on the ceiling, and she'd either knock back or yell at me to relax. It was annoying. It was annoying, but it was life. And I was part of it.

Now? Now I'm something she relieves herself into. Relieved. What a cynical term.

The taste of her shit isn't gone. It's not just in my mouth anymore. I feel like I'm already made of that disgusting aftertaste of her digestion. It's not just physical disgust. It's humiliation in molecular form.

And what's worse: I can't even scream.

I'm trapped in my own head, mute, unmoving, powerless. I'd beg to be killed if I knew someone was listening.

I see her. Again and again. She's the flicker behind my closed eyelids, the image I can't erase, no matter how hard I try. Mia.

The world outside is her kingdom. Warm, bright, full of laughter, full of life. And me?

I'm frozen in the darkness. A thing. A silent reminder that she won. That I lost. And worse: That there was never a real fight. Just a game for which she had long since written the rules.

In my mind's eye, she stands there, perfect. Blonde, flawless, radiant. Her eyes, those ice-clear, shining crystals, no longer look with curiosity or childlike warmth; no, they sparkle with something that eats me away inside: triumph. Ice-cold, silent, final triumph.

We share the same DNA, the same birthday. But something always took her... further. Further out. Higher. And left me behind. As if she were the original and I were just the flawed copy.

She looks down at me, smugly, with a smile, and a perfectly shaped butt that I can never not see again, even with my eyes closed.

I hate her for it.

While she strolls through her life, day after day, with light steps, with careless movements, with this terrible matter-of-factness, I am trapped inside. I feel nothing but the cold beneath me, the burning inside me, and the leaden weight of silence. I exist only in the shadow of her everyday life.

And yet I see her.

I see how she moves. How her presence fills every room. How she carries her power like a perfume, light, barely noticeable, but everywhere. I see her laughing, how she lives. And I hate her for it.

Not just because she broke me. But because she enjoys it. Because I'm no longer a brother in her life, but at most a trophy.


——————————————————-


When Mia opened the door to her room, she immediately felt the familiar, calming atmosphere she loved so much. It was a typical summer evening, and the last rays of sunlight flooded the room through the window, which offered a perfect view of the garden. The floor was still warm from the rays of sunlight shining through the curtains. Chaela followed her, entering the room with her usual, almost bouncy energy, while Mia collapsed onto her bed with a tired sigh.

"Oh my God, I can't go on," Mia murmured, letting her body sink into the soft pillow and closing her eyes for a moment. The day outside had exhausted her. They had strolled through the streets for hours, sunbathed on the beach, and talked about all sorts of things. The hot summer breeze had cooled her pleasantly, but now that she was finally back in her room, Mia felt every last trace of exhaustion in her bones.

Chaela entered the room, closed the door behind her, and glanced at Mia. Her friend seemed truly exhausted, a state that didn't occur often. Chaela was always on the move, always full of energy. But she, too, felt the fatigue of the day, and so, without saying much, she walked straight to the desk chair. She turned around once, grabbed the cushion on the chair, and pushed it aside to sit down on it.

The two girls scrolled boredly through their Instagram feed. Mia created a story about her afternoon with Chaela.

Ten minutes passed without the girls exchanging a single word. They were simply too exhausted and enjoying the peace and quiet after a long day on their feet.

Mia let herself be bombarded by the colorful pictures and endless stories without really seeing anything. Her thoughts were elsewhere, but after a while, a slight feeling began to form in her stomach. It was subtle at first, but then it became more and more noticeable, an urge that slowly grew stronger. The large milkshake she'd drunk after lunch was now making itself felt. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled slightly.

"Hey Chels, I just realized I haven't shown you Alex in his new home yet."

Her friend slowly looked up from her phone, slowly processing what Mia had said to her.

"Shit, that's right. We talked about that earlier, but I've already completely forgotten about it," Chaela said with an excited expression.

Mia smiled contentedly as she abruptly sat up from her bed. Her tiredness vanished for a brief moment. She was looking forward to showing Chaela her new toilet.

"Then follow me to the bathroom."

With that, the two of them rose from their seats, and Chaela followed her friend into the bathroom. Mia opened the door to her bathroom with an almost solemn gesture.

"Ready?"

"Always," said Chaela, entering and pausing briefly when she saw the bathroom. She had been to Mia's house many times and was confronted with a familiar sight.

It was chic, modern, almost clinically clean. But what caught her eye was, of course, the brand-new toilet: elegant shape, rounded design, as if fresh from the showroom. A discreet digital display on the wall, nothing you hadn't seen before.

Mia walked over to the toilet and slowly opened the lid, grinning with satisfaction when she saw the familiar face beneath it. Alex blinked against the light, his eyelids heavy, the skin around his eyes slightly reddened.

Chaela stepped next to her, leaned forward slightly, and there he was: Alex.
His face was embedded in flawless porcelain, neatly framed, incredibly real, you could clearly see how high-quality Mia's toilet was made.
His eyes were wide open, looking up almost fearfully at the two girls who now towered above him.

He didn't look like someone who had resigned himself to his situation, but rather like someone who was about to collapse at any moment.

From Alex's perspective, the two girls stood up. Mia was dressed casually: light high-waisted skinny jeans and a white sleeveless crop top with a closed collar.

He could tell from a distance that his sister wasn't alone, which is why he wasn't surprised by her company. Alex knew Chaela's voice well, they had been in the same class for years, and as Mia's best friend, she was often at their house.

Chaela, like Mia, was a very pretty girl. Her mother was from Singapore, her Asian touch was extremely striking, as it was her unique selling point at the school.
Alex always noticed that her eyes were large and expressive, often emphasized with subtle or striking makeup that often highlighted her eyelashes. Her complexion was fair and flawless, with a fresh glow, often enhanced by a light, glowy makeup look. Her cheekbones were slightly highlighted, giving her face subtle definition. Her lips, on the other hand, were full and often accentuated in soft or bold colors, further emphasizing her features.

She had long, slightly wavy black hair, with two blonde strands falling down either side of her face.

Her tall, slim figure contrasted sharply with her gigantic breasts.

Every boy drooled over her two perfectly round, large tits, and Chaela knew how to show off her assets.

Alex could only properly see her face after she leaned forward slightly.

They were wrapped in a fairly simple light pink top with a medium-sized neckline.

Chaela also always wore a delicately crafted crucifix necklace, as was the case at this moment. It dangled slightly from her neck as she bent down toward her.

She initially looked down at Alex neutrally, but he felt a tiny hint of confidence.

Alex had never really held out much hope of having a chance with Chaela. From the very beginning, he was certain that someone like her, with her beauty and natural charm, would never notice someone like him. She was the center of attention in every group, always had the perfect outfit and that smile that lit up any room. He, on the other hand, often felt like a shadow, rather inconspicuous and stuck in the corner.

Still, he couldn't help but admire her. Her eyes always radiated so much warmth, and even if he was just watching from afar, it was hard to ignore her gaze. But Alex knew that her world was far removed from his. And most of all, he knew that her best friend was his sister.

No matter how many times she gave him dirty looks or tried to belittle him with a sarcastic comment, Chaela always seemed kind to him. At school, during recess, or even in the library, she greeted him with a smile that somehow brightened everything inside him. She sometimes spoke to him, asked him questions, and Alex was always surprised at how she never treated him like an outsider, even when his sister was around, a snide remark on her lips.

He often wondered why she was even nice to him. Maybe it was just politeness. But deep down, he knew he never really had a chance with her.

After a quick inspection of what was in Mia's toilet bowl, Chaela took a sharp breath.
"Oh. My. God," Chaela breathed, and then, "That's... sick. But kind of brilliant, too."

At that moment, a smile formed on Chaela's lips, and Alex's hopes for some sympathy vanished instantly.

She stared, then blinked again. Then the laughter came. It burst out of her like a waterfall, completely unfiltered, loud, incredulous, shrill.

After she had calmed down a bit, Chaela gave Alex another curious look.

"He looks a little... sad."

Mia also looked down at him with a superior smile:

"Oh, it'll pass. It's an adjustment period. It's completely normal," as she sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"In a few weeks, he won't even remember what it was like not to live in my toilet."

Chaela shook her head in disbelief. "Okay. So... as a friend, I have to say: You're officially a legend. As a person, I say: You need help."

Mia laughed softly. "And you're still jealous."

Chaela twisted her mouth. "Maybe a little bit. My ex would have fit in there nicely, too."

"See?" Mia stood up again, her small, smug grin on her face as she looked down into the bowl. "You understand me."

Alex heard every word.
He couldn't turn away, couldn't close, couldn't disappear.
And Chaela's laughter cut like needles into his already shattered self-image.
He was here. He was visible. And he was the target of scorn and ridicule.
A human toilet. His own sister as the owner. And her best friend as the audience.

His features hardened, his lips twitched slightly as he tried to keep his composure. But the heat of humiliation had long since brought tears to his eyes. The fact that they talked about him as if he wasn't even there, as if he were just a piece of furniture without consciousness, only made everything worse.

"So, do you want to use him?" At Mia's question, Alex's eyes wandered expectantly and with a hint of panic to Chaela's face, who was looking at him again with an amused look. She was seriously considering it, the bubble tea she had bought earlier at the beach was slowly making itself felt in her bladder.

"I don't know, that's... It doesn't seem right to me", she stated, much to Alex and Mia's surprise. A weight was lifted from his heart. He knew that deep down, Chaela was a good person. He looked up at her, and for the first time since his time in the bowl, something like gratitude flashed in his eyes.
But Mia promptly intervened:

"Chel's, this thing down there is no longer my brother. Alex deserves to be down there, just as we deserve to stand freely above him.
What was that phrase we learned back in social studies? 'Not everyone deserves a life, but everyone deserves a job.'
And his job is to process human waste.
You're welcome to go downstairs and use the bathroom there, but I don't see any reason for it."

Chaela looked down again. She avoided looking Alex directly in the eyes.
Her thoughts wrestled with each other, Mia's words, so convincing in their logic, collided with a quiet but persistent unease deep within her.
Yes, Alex had always been an outsider. Weird. Quiet.
And yes, sometimes she felt sorry for him when Mia and the others made fun of him.
But pity was no longer a standard in this world.
He was a toilet now. A thing.
Just like all the other failures who had lost their value to society.

"Oh, screw it. You're right."
Chaela's words came out sharper than she intended. Only when she looked into Alex's face did she realize the full weight of her voice.
Something in his gaze shattered, not just hope. It was more. Deeper. Raw.
Not just the hope of being spared the next humiliation.
It was the last, desperate belief that humanity still existed somewhere out there. With a single, carelessly thrown-out sentence, she'd snatched that away from him.

What remained was a silent recognition in his eyes: The world wasn't just cold. It was intentionally cruel. Especially to those who were already down.

With a satisfied smile, Mia rose from the edge of her bathtub and slowly made her way toward the door:

"Feel flattered. You're the first one to use it after me. Well, at least if you don't count Liam's visit.
Anyway, I'll leave you alone for a minute."

Chaela had already turned her back on Alex and closed her eyes for a moment. Her heart was pounding faster, but not out of fear, more out of a dull, inner resistance that was slowly crumbling.

"Oh God, I feel so bad," she said, more clearly this time, as she slowly reached into the waistband of her jeans. Her voice trembled just a little, even though she tried to sound calm.

She smiled crookedly, almost apologetically, but there was no real regret, just a kind of... ironic self-relief. More a gesture to herself than a genuine emotional confrontation.

For Alex, those false words were nothing more than mockery. He suddenly became angry at the girl he always thought was different from the others.

He watched as, piece by piece, her two pale buttocks emerged.

Even as she slowly squatted down and pulled down her panties, she glanced over her shoulder at her former schoolmate.

"Sorry, Alex."

She smiled crookedly, not out of joy, but to convince herself that it wasn't so bad. It was that typical, half-apologetic way you try to stop yourself from hating yourself.

A self-justification wrapped in a crooked grin.

Alex's mind raced, he felt like shouting all sorts of insults at her at that moment.

'You feel bad?! Who's staring at a naked ass about to relieve itself into a mouth?!'

His inner outburst of rage went unheard, of course, and as the anger gave way to fear, Chaela's cheeks made contact with the toilet seat, forcing Alex's jaw wide open.

Her ass was noticeably smaller than his sister's, but that was absolutely no shame.

She drew attention with her large tits, but other than that, her ass cheeks were also beautifully shaped. Her anus was slightly more asymmetrical than Mia's, but of a similar softness and color.

This beautiful shape would now take up Alex's entire view. He was face to face with her flawless buttocks, her pretty little pussy, like Mia's, above his wide-open mouth.

Alex couldn't have imagined, even in his wildest dreams, ever enjoying this prospect.

Chaela, like her best friend, usually hung out with football players. As far as Alex knew, her ex-boyfriend was a wide receiver at UCLA.

Alex hated him without even knowing him.
To him all football players were the same.

Still, he had something in common with him now, even though he was sure the guy usually had her huge tits in his face rather than her ass.

Although the sight before him was tempting, Alex couldn't enjoy it. Instead, he was once again overwhelmed by the fear of what was about to happen. He couldn't take it anymore.
For only a few days, Alex had been trapped in his sister's bathroom as a human toilet, and the recurring torment was unbearable every time.
The pungent stench, the intense taste of excretions, whether solid or liquid, and the immeasurable humiliation that came with it made him feel like he was going crazy.

A girl he had known and always valued for over 10 years was about to indifferently and coldly empty her bladder into his mouth. The low blows never ended.
And before he could finish his thought, Chaela urinated above him.

A strong yellow stream accompanied a soft sigh of relief from above.
The piss wet Alex's mouth, every single taste bud destined to savor Chaela's digested bubble tea.
He gagged at the salty, bitter taste that filled his mouth intensely.
The liquid flowed freely and quickly through the tube forced into Alex's throat. The tube made it impossible for him to swallow conventionally anyway. One of the most important modifications for its user's comfort.

And while Alex's stomach gradually and involuntarily filled with urine, Chaela's just-full bladder emptied in the same breath. She was barely aware of the torment she was subjecting Alex to. Instead, she studied the many functions on the toilet's touch panel.

Like a soldier under constant fire, Alex simply hoped for an end to this torture. He could already feel the amount of liquid in his previously empty stomach, and at the same time, the taste and the knowledge of what he was drinking made him nauseous.

Chaela was gradually finished peeing, and with a few routine muscle contractions in her pelvis, she squirted the last few drops out for Alex. He watched the last few drops cling to her labia before her hand suddenly appeared between Chaela's legs, holding some toilet paper. She wiped her pussy thoroughly twice and disposed of the paper in the suction cup under Alex's chin.

His eyes tearful, completely exhausted from the procedure, Alex watched her pull up her pants. His mouth gradually began to close again. Chaela turned to him as she buttoned up her pants. Her expression betrayed nothing; she seemed completely unconcerned.
Then she looked down at him again, a pitying smile forming, similar to that of a mother whose child is crying over something trivial.

"Hey Alex," she said carefully, her voice trying to sound gentle.
"You don't have to be so sad. You did a really good job, you know?"

Alex wasn't quite sure if she was genuinely trying to make amends with her words, or just easing her own conscience. Either way, it wasn't helping him.

"Don't see this as a punishment. You know how we learned it. Everyone contributes their part to the community.
And that's how you're enabled to participate in society."

Chaela interrupted her attempt at consolation, thinking about her own words.

That was indeed what they were learning in class, but it was perfectly clear to her that what they were being told was absolute nonsense. And judging by the expression on Alex's face, which she was examining at the same moment, he didn't believe it either.

Virtually everyone in the world knew that the system was created solely to get rid of useless people and those rejected by society, cheaply and "humanely."

Nevertheless, most people didn't care, as they didn't see themselves affected, or if it did happen, it was too late to seriously rebel.

Chaela couldn't sugarcoat it, her former classmate and brother of her best friend would be eating shit and recycling it a second time for the rest of his life. Sure, he wouldn't be wasting valuable resources anymore, but she always considered these measures to be very extreme. But in this case, Chaela was also a product of the system.

As long as she could enjoy the benefits, she was willing to let others pay the price.

The tears of bitter reality once again met Alex's eyes, which triggered guilty unease in Chaela.

"Well... I'll leave you alone then. See you later."

With a final, fleeting glance she stepped back, away from the toilet. The lid remained open.
She washed her hands carefully, almost mechanically, and dried them. No hesitation. No looking back.
Then she opened the door and stepped out, back into Mia's room, where she was already sitting on the bed, waiting.

Through the still-open door, their voices drifted back to Alex. Muffled, but clear enough to hear every word.

"So? Is little Alex nice and hydrated again?"
His sister, her voice practically dripping with sadistic joy.

"You're unbelievable," Chaela replied, laughing, playfully putting her best friend in her place.
"Honestly, I feel kind of sorry for him. It's just weird. Two weeks ago, he was sitting two tables away from me during the exams, and now he's just... a toilet. I think he even cried."

This classification wasn't new to Alex, but its brutal clarity hit him like a blow. Tears welled up in his eyes again. There was genuine compassion in Chaela's voice, but that didn't change the fact that just minutes ago she had urinated in his mouth.

A brief pause in the conversation, in which only the distant sound of the bed from which Mia rose could be heard.

"You reap what you sow. And Alex brought this on himself. I think we're actually being pretty nice to him."

A quiet chuckle followed, cool and full of superiority.

"Don't you need to go to the bathroom too?" Chaela asked after a moment's hesitation, her gaze fixed on the door behind which Alex lay.

Mia shook her head. "Nope, I just used the toilet in the bathroom downstairs." Her voice was calm, almost casual, as if it were nothing more than the weather report.

Then she changed the subject without transition: "Do you actually want to stay for dinner? My mom cooked. Something with sweet potatoes and salmon, I think."

A barely perceptible smile crossed her lips. Relaxed, as if nothing had happened.

"I'd love to. If it's no trouble for your mom", Chaela said hesitantly.

Mia waved her hand. "Oh, well, you know she's always happy when you're here. And honestly... she just can't bring herself to cook for just three."
A thin curl played on her lips, not quite a smile.
"Old habits, you know?"

Alex heard her footsteps moving away from the room. Shortly after, there was the faint squeak of the door, then a dull click as it closed.

Silence fell over the room again.
Alex blinked back the tears that had once again welled up in his eyes. Only his own breathing could be heard, shallow, shaky, and suddenly much too loud.


———————————————————


Dim light hung over the living room, broken only by the flickering blue of the television, which played monotonously in the background. The elegant screen was set into the wall, the volume set so low that the speaker's voice was little more than an accompanying murmur, a familiar soundtrack in the background of their evening ritual.

Mia lay across the couch, one leg crossed over the arm of the sofa, the other resting loosely on the floor. Her fingers whispered restlessly across the surface of her phone as she scrolled through an endless stream of perfectly staged images. Vacation photos. A new face after a surgical upgrade.
She continued swiping. An acquaintance from the gymnastics club posted a selfie with the caption "#CleanLiving #ObjectFreeHome."
Mia frowned, wondering if that was meant as self-congratulation or a moral stand. Probably both.

Bored, Mia put her phone aside and reached for the potato chips on the living room table. Using the remote, she flipped through the channels, looking for something interesting, when she finally came across a reality TV show in which two shirtless men were apparently fighting over a girl by a pool.

Mia just thought, 'What idiots! If these guys weren't so good-looking, they'd have a really hard time.‘, while she ate the chips.

And as quickly as she'd switched on the channel, the channel switched to commercials.

'Typical,' Mia thought to herself when she saw the first spot.

It showed the Earth from space, a slow zoom on a shining metropolis, clean, bright, and controlled.

"In a world with limited resources, efficiency is not an option, but an obligation," the speaker began, speaking neutrally and elegantly.

The spot cuts through various modern households around the world.
Tokyo, Berlin, Lagos, and Los Angeles.

"Across cultures and borders, forward-thinking households are taking responsibility.
Johnson's HumWasteUnit transforms underperforming human potential into clean, controlled, and compliant functionality."

Mia didn't flinch as she stared boredly at the screen. The only thing that came to mind at that moment was that she now regretted not having watched something on a streaming service.

"Through targeted biological realignment and the allocation of residual functions, people who can no longer contribute autonomously continue to serve.
Quietly, sustainably, and with dignity."

A family with two children, a boy and a girl, sat together at breakfast.

"By integrating a unit into your household, you contribute to waste reduction, strengthening the community, and ensuring that no human value is lost."

The final image was the silver Johnson® logo on a white background, below which was the HumWasteUnit™, a similar model of the human toilet that Mia had chosen.

As the next cat food commercial started, Mia suddenly felt an unpleasant tugging in her stomach.

The commercial had probably reminded her body that she should slowly but surely pay a visit to the toilet.

Sluggishly and with a slight stomach ache, Mia got up from the couch and made her way to her room.

Mia entered her bathroom and went straight to the toilet. Absently, she lifted the lid and looked at an unfamiliar sight. Her brother was lying there, but unlike when he usually looked up at her in panic, his eyes were closed.
He seemed to be asleep.

The encounter with her best friend must have really worn him out, Mia thought with a tired smile. As she looked at him, she almost felt a bit of sympathy for him. He lay there completely peacefully, a stark contrast to the pleading, desperate look he usually wore when she used him.

Suddenly, her stomach rumbled again. Mia grabbed her stomach, which was exposed through her teddy bear fur pajama crop top. Immediately, all thoughts of respecting her brother's dreams vanished.

With cold determination, she turned around, presenting her butt to the toilet as she pulled off her matching pajama shorts.

Alex found himself by a quiet lake, its surface shimmering in the silvery moonlight, gently rippling in small waves. The gentle lapping of the water mingled with the distant hoot of an owl and the soothing chirping of crickets from the nearby bushes. The air was warm but not oppressive, filled with the delicate scent of damp grass, blooming wildflowers, and a gentle breeze that caressed his skin.

He sat on a moss-covered wooden bench surrounded by old trees, their leaves gently rustling, creating a soothing whisper. Above him stretched a clear sky, dotted with twinkling stars that shone like tiny diamonds. The light of fireflies danced in the darkness, while somewhere in the distance, the faint crackle of a small campfire could be heard.

Alex felt completely safe and free. No pressure, no worries, just this moment of peace and quiet. He took a deep breath of fresh air and felt his muscles relax and a warm smile spread across his face. A light breeze caressed his skin. Everything around him was peaceful and calm. A moment of pure lightness, in which all worries seemed far away. He felt warm, safe, and free, as if the world had forgotten him for a moment.

In front of him on a small wooden table stood a glass filled with ice-cold Coke. The bottle shimmered in the soft light, and the fizz of the carbonation seemed almost tangible. Alex reached for it, felt the cold bottle in his hands, and slowly raised it to his lips. The sweet, fizzy taste sent a pleasant feeling through his body, as if each bubble intensified the lightness of the moment.

He leaned back, relaxed, savoring the cool drink, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything was perfect: the scent of fresh grass, the soft chirping of crickets, the gentle gurgling of the water.

But suddenly, the mood changed. A pungent, unpleasant smell crept into his nose like a dark mist, putrid, sharp, and repulsive. It was as if this smell were poisoning all the peaceful impressions. His stomach clenched, and the sweet taste of the cola gave way to a bitter aftertaste.

Alex opened his eyes wide. The dream shattered, and he found himself back in Mia's bathroom, surrounded by reality. The disgusting smell remained, tearing him from the deceptive calm, an unpleasant awakening that abruptly tore him back from the peaceful illusion.

Right before his eyes, his sister's flawless asshole rested ominously.

Mia was almost finished peeing when she quietly let out a hot fart that filled the toilet bowl, in which her loser brother was trapped, with poisonous gas.
A dull pressure spread in waves through her abdomen, accompanied by an unpleasant pulling sensation that was hard to ignore. She grimaced and breathed slowly through her nose, hoping it would somehow subside.

"Ugh..." she murmured quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. Her stomach rumbled again, louder this time, like a protest against the past few days.

She knew what was causing it. The bags of chips during the TV marathon, the pizza with extra cheese that Liam had brought for their date, the creamy ice cream with double caramel, and all the sweet little treats in between.

Everything she had strictly avoided during her active training period had now landed on her menu in a very short time. The holidays had begun, gymnastics training was over for the time being, and with the end of the season, she thought: Why not indulge a little?

Normally, Mia was very conscious about her diet. Her athletic lifestyle, her energy during training, her toned figure, all of it was the result not only of discipline in the gym, but also of a well-thought-out diet. Lots of vegetables, protein, balanced meals. She had trained herself to take care of her body. And most of the time, it wasn't even difficult.

But now… now she felt sluggish, bloated, and a little guilty. Not because of the pizza or a few fries, but because she wasn't feeling comfortable in her own skin right now.
The pain in her stomach was like a physical reminder that balance was important after all.

Just then, a whiff of the fart she had just released at Alex without a second thought reached her.

Mia immediately grimaced, the smell was disgusting, she dry heaved, and at the same time, she remembered her brother, whose face was right under her butt.

It was impossible that he was still asleep after that attack. As she slowly moved his face back, Mia glanced over her shoulder, only to catch a glimpse of the more familiar image.

Alex looked like he'd run into a wall. His eyes still seemed a bit dazed from the sudden awakening, while tears streamed down his face on either side.

The stench surrounding him made him gag uncontrollably, which was extremely painful with the pipe in his throat.
The moment he moved backward, Alex immediately knew what that meant. He panicked again, his breathing becoming irregular and shallow. He began to sweat.

Mia had to shit.

Just as he came to a stop, he heard her voice.

"Hey little brother, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to tear you from your dreams, but duty calls," she clarified, certainly not entirely seriously.

To Alex's surprise, he moved again, only this time heading for his sister's butt. As if in slow motion, Alex approached Mia's rear end. While he stared fearfully at his tormentor's underside, she waited patiently for contact with her toilet's lips despite her stomach aching.

Alex's open mouth headed straight for Mia's asshole. The moment his lips first made contact with her ass, the system stopped, only to then fine-tune upwards at an even slower pace.

The pressure the system exerted on Alex's face wasn't painful, but it was extremely uncomfortable considering he was being pressed against his sister's ass.

With his open mouth draped over her anus.

Mia's buttocks were so thick that they almost blocked Alex's entire view as they sat comfortably on his cheekbone.

At least they were resting nicely and softly on his face, which spared him further pain.

The only thing he could still see was part of the back of Mia's head, which turned slightly to the side as she spoke to him again.

"I know I said I'd let you see your meals, but I almost puked just from that fart.
I really can't smell it.
God, just thinking about you eating that makes me almost throw up."

His sister pitied herself with a hint of mock disgust in her voice, while once again demonstrating her talent for mocking her brother.

"This could be the special sibling bond I was talking about the other day."

Alex wept with humiliation, pain, but mostly with disgust at what was about to happen.

Mia was now concentrating only on herself and her aching stomach. She had come to do her business, not to have a friendly chat with her toilet.

The moment the hourglass on her control panel chimed softly with a small green check mark under the word "Odorless", Mia relaxed her sphincter.

Immediately, a large and noticeably hot fart escaped her anus. Despite the insulation provided by Alex's mouth, it was still clearly audible, even to Mia. The tight seal of his lips around her anus reliably ensured that none of the toxic fumes could escape and potentially attack Mia's pretty nose again.

The gigantic intestinal gas filled Alex's entire mouth and more, while his cheeks inflated like two balloons. In addition to the heat emanating from the fart, he also felt a few tiny wet drops, which primarily stained his tongue.

The attack came so quickly, Alex didn't initially realize what was happening.
But at the exact moment his brain processed the taste that Mia's fart had just exposed him to, his eyes immediately opened in panic.
He gagged uncontrollably and without pause, his throat contracting at a high frequency. The tube that was inserted not only blocked his gag reflex, but also caused endless pain with every muscle contraction in his throat.

Above him, someone was also in pain.
Mia was still clutching her stomach, her eyes now squeezed shut and her face contorted in pain.
Despite the pressure in her abdomen, her body wouldn't grant her easy release.
With all her strength, she began to tense her abdominal muscles to finally get the demon out of her.

Directly below her, Alex had just managed to swallow his sister's gases.
The only thoughts in his head were pleas for mercy and insults directed at Mia.

Then he felt her anus slowly push outward and open, like a flower on a sunny spring day.

Except what she held in store wasn't fragrant pollen dust.

Mia felt the beginning of her turd very slowly making its way to freedom. It required consistent pressure to expel the solid, doughy mass millimeter by millimeter from her intestines. The brief and slight resistance as her large turd hit the back of Alex's mouth before finding its way down his throat went unnoticed by Mia, which couldn't be said for Alex.

The first thing Mia's turd hit was Alex's suffering tongue. The taste was immediately processed by all the synapses in his brain. His palate was instantly coated with a furry, slimy texture that felt like old dishwater with chunks of something soft yet crunchy, like biting into moist cornflakes with toothpaste. A bitter, metallic aftertaste lingered, like rusty cutlery on the tongue, paired with the sour, biting aroma of manure after a warm summer day.
At the mercy of the bestial taste, he tried to avoid the slowly advancing source of all evil with his tongue, but in his limited mouth space, this only resulted in him licking Mia's shit even more intensely.

Alex gasped, new tears welling up in his eyes, every pore sweating with panic. His mind screamed to rip it all out, but his body betrayed him. Despite the endless gagging that robbed him of all his strength, the other muscles in his mouth and throat worked unwaveringly to force his sister's offerings into his stomach.

Back on the toilet, Mia had now found a suitable rhythm for tensing her abdominal muscles to expel the greasy food of the past few days.

At the time, she wasn't truly aware of the torture she was subjecting her brother to, too focused on her own suffering.

The foul taste continued to spread across his tongue like a slowly creeping poison.
The consistency was waxy and greasy, like cooled frying oil mixed with half-melted plastic. It had a taste of modeling clay that had been sitting too long in a hot pocket, soft but laced with resilient, tough fibers that stretched like old rubber bands when crushed.

And the taste, as much as the human mind resisted analyzing it, was a pungent mixture of bitterness, fermentation, and a greasy film that settled on the tongue like a dirty blanket of pure fat. It tasted of everything the body desperately wanted to get rid of: digested pizza, old grilled meat, and a barely definable sweetness, like fermented syrup or sugar water rotting in the sun.

It wasn't just gross. It was an assault.
A creeping, insidious poison that could not be appeased with a bite, but rather tainted the memory, mutilated the taste buds, and provoked a deep, animalistic choking sensation within.

A taste that not only irritates the palate, but also defiled the soul.

But Alex swallowed. Because he had to.

His stomach rebelled, bulging in waves of reluctance, and yet he forced himself on. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead, his gaze blank, almost broken.

Gagging accompanied each subsequent bite, and his entire body tensed, as if trying to defend himself against this torture.

Mia slowly but surely felt better with each piece that left her body.

Like an ice cream maker, the disgusting mass pushed itself steadily out of her opening.
Still, there was no end in sight.

She tried to bend her legs a little further by resting on her tiptoes, which gave her rectum a better angle.

At the same time, this change in position ensured that her soft, fleshy ass cheeks now covered Alex's entire eye sockets. Almost apologetically, they helped him wipe the tears from his face while their owner continued to feed him her slimy dough snake.

But after perhaps the fiftieth sip, the consistency changed. Suddenly, the mass was no longer heavy and greasy, but light.
It became porous and soft, reminiscent of the airiness of a chocolate soufflé as it melted on his tongue.

At the same time, Alex heard a sigh of relief far above him.

Mia felt the last trace of shit leave her anus and dared to release her tension.

With her eyes closed, she recovered from this torture for a few seconds before slowly rising from her toilet mouth.

She reached for the toilet paper and began to clean herself. When she brushed her right buttock with her hand, she felt it was wet. Irritated, Mia turned to her bottom. As she ran her hand down her cheek again and found even more moisture, she realized the reason.

Mia had almost forgotten about him, but had since emptied herself into her toilet bowl again, when her gaze met Alex's pitiful, tear-stained face.

A seemingly understanding smile formed on her lips.

"Oh, Alex. My cheeks are all wet because of you," she playfully scolded him.
"You can save yourself the whining. Besides, you're doing a wonderful job." Mia took a demonstrative deep breath.
"I don't smell anything at all, it's like you were born to serve as my toilet."

Alex wanted to hide, his mind now completely damaged by what his sister had just done to him. But instead, he had no choice but to endure her condescending smug looks while she humiliated him further with every single word.

Mia took another piece of toilet paper to wipe away Alex's tears. Her plump buttocks bounced slightly before she deposited it in the suction cup under Alex's chin with a neutral expression.

Without another unnecessary thought for her brother, she pulled up her panties and shorts and headed toward the sink, where she contentedly washed her hands.

Then she turned off the bathroom light and headed back downstairs.

Her series continued, and she must have missed a few minutes by now.


Part V

The cutlery clinked softly. It smelled of fried chicken, garlic sauce, and caramelized carrots, one of the twins' many favorite meals since they were very small.
Ten-year-old Mia had settled down with one leg tucked under her bottom, rocking gently back and forth as she devoured her second helping. Her blond hair was braided into two neat pigtails that swayed with her every movement.

Her brother Alex, on the other hand, was poking at the mashed potatoes with his fork. He had barely touched a bite. Something was gnawing at him.

For three weeks now, the family's neighbor had been installed in their new bathroom toilet. Alex still couldn't understand what Mr. Miller had done to deserve such a cruel treatment.

He had always been a good man, taught him a lot about baseball, and Alex couldn't understand what his parents had been telling him about this man since he had become part of their plumbing system.

The memory of the man who had looked at him so pleadingly earlier haunted him.
Just before dinner, he'd been in the bathroom. He'd washed his hands, as always.
Those large, still eyes, reflecting a mixture of fear and hope, Alex couldn't forget them.

Finally, he put down the cutlery. He looked over at his mother, hesitant.

"Mum?"

"Yes, honey?" She smiled at him. Her voice was soft, warm, as always when he felt unsure.

"Can we... well, can't we give Mr. Miller some of our food? Just a little bit? He looked so sad earlier, I think he needs help."

His father frowned slightly, but said nothing. His mother paused. She didn't look angry.
She looked like someone who knew her child "still had a lot to learn."
With a gentle smile, she put the cutlery aside and interlaced her fingers over the table.

"Oh, my dear,“ she began quietly.
"I know this is confusing. It's hard to understand, especially when you're so young."

She reached out and placed her hand gently on Alex's arm.

"But Mr. Miller... doesn't get any more food. Not real food, anyway. He gets exactly what he deserves."

She tried to say it as neutrally as possible. Like a teacher explaining to a child why the hamster had to be put down.

She smiled gently. "He doesn't need real food anymore. This is meant for humans. For real humans like you and me.
Not for... well. For him."

Mary looked into her son's eyes, who still didn't seem to understand what she was explaining. She tried again to break it to him as gently as possible.

"Mr. Miller is no longer our neighbor.
He's now... a help to the community.
And as sad as that is, he's made many mistakes. Big ones. And this is... well, his new job."

Alex nodded slowly, but his gaze was blank.
It felt wrong. Cold. Even if his mother wrapped it in cotton wool.

"Stupid Alex," Mia giggled suddenly, her legs swinging happily under the bench. Calmly, she popped another piece of chicken into her mouth before it was completely empty.

„He‘s just hungry. That's why he's staring so sadly!" she mumbled around her mouth full, each bite accompanied by a smacking sound.

She swallowed slowly, with relish, then looked up at him with a grin so sweet you almost forgot how sharp it cut.

"But I have an idea, Alex," said Mia, tilting her head to the side, her two perfectly braided pigtails bobbing in time.

The parents were silent, expectant.
They knew that look, their daughter, at ten years old, was not only smart, but knew exactly how to express herself. They were proud of her, sometimes maybe even a little too much.

Alex looked at her with wide, shining eyes.
The whole situation felt terribly unfair to him. And why did Mia always get to speak?

"Tomorrow morning," she continued with mock seriousness,
"I can put an extra-large stinker in your friend's mouth for breakfast.
And in return, you'll finally stop being such a crybaby."

Mia beamed from ear to ear, as if she'd just concocted the cleverest plan of the day.
Then she laughed, bright and pure, like a child who'd just invented something particularly funny.

Alex, on the other hand, felt nothing but anger and sadness. He silently looked down at the ground, while Mia obviously took pleasure in torturing an innocent man for no reason.

The mother smiled weakly, gently shaking her head. "Mia, my darling, you're impossible."

Alex stared at his plate, the feeling of injustice growing within him like a heavy stone. Everything here seemed wrong to him.
How could everyone stay so calm and collected? How could Mia laugh as if it were all a game? And why did his parents act like it was perfectly normal?

Around him, the family seemed completely relaxed. His mother smiled warmly, his father just nodded slightly, and Mia? Mia was treated like the little princess she always was.
Not a word of criticism for her nasty remarks. Not a single "You don't talk like that!"
Instead, she was quietly admired for being "so smart." Alex felt he was all alone here with his guilty conscience.

"Alex," his mother said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "You have to eat now, or there won't be any apple pie for dessert."

Her smile was warm and loving, as if she were trying to encourage him. But to Alex, it felt like a gentle pressure to just play along, even though everything seemed so wrong to him.

Mia shoved the last bite of roast chicken into her mouth, chewed leisurely, then licked her fingers. Her eyes sparkled.

"Mum?" she asked cheerfully, picking up the napkin from the side of her plate and wiping her hands with it.

"If Alex doesn't eat his apple pie, can I have it? I'm full, but there's always room for dessert."

Mia glanced at Alex briefly, but not too long, just long enough for him to sense the grin behind the smile.
Then she looked at her mother with her sweetest smile. Wide, warm, with the tiniest hint of embarrassment in her eyes, just enough to make it seem as if she didn't want to be a burden.

Her mother visibly melted.

Alex felt his stomach clench. He knew that smile.
She wore it like a mask, one she put on whenever she wanted something.
And it worked every damn time.

His head shot up. His eyes flashed.

"Just shut up, Mia!" he snapped at her, his voice shrill, almost hoarse.
"You're so mean!"

A moment of silence followed, sudden, like a cut in the warm evening atmosphere.

His father slowly placed his fork next to his plate.
"Alex," he said calmly, but in that voice that brooked no argument. "You don't talk to your sister like that."

"But she..." Alex began, but his mother interrupted him gently but firmly.
"That wasn't okay. You apologize to your sister now."

Mia sat next to him, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly twisted, as if she were about to burst into tears, a small, barely visible, but to Alex, crystal-clear, triumphant grin sparkling in her eyes.

Alex clenched his fists under the table.
Everything inside him rebelled. It was always like this.

Mia was allowed to say whatever she wanted. She was the little one, the smart one, the funny one. And him?

He was the one who had to pull himself together.

He pressed his lips together. It took a moment, then he pressed out:
"...I'm sorry, Mia."

His voice was quiet, rough, and full of resentment. He didn't mean it at all, but apparently no one cared.

Mia blinked slowly, then looked at her mother as if seeking approval, and suddenly smiled again, very gently, very golden.

"It's okay, Alex," she said with exaggerated benevolence, before shortly returning to the important things.

"Can I have my apple pie now?"

"Let's see how much is left," her mother replied kindly, getting up to go into the kitchen.

Alex stared at his plate again. The chicken had gone cold. The mashed potatoes suddenly looked like concrete. And while Mia happily tapped her feet and her father poured himself the last sip of water, he once again felt like the only one who noticed that something was fundamentally wrong in this house.


———————————————————


Alex lay, as usual, in an inhuman position, sunk into his sister Mia's bathroom floor.
He remained motionless in total darkness, mentally preparing himself for another day of boredom, silence, and humiliation.

It was still mid-morning, Alex knew, because just a few minutes earlier, Mia had lifted the lid over him to relieve herself in his mouth.

She wished him "Good morning," still looking sleepy, her hair disheveled, and in her pajamas, as if she had just gotten out of bed. And yet she seemed refreshed and full of energy.

After ridding herself of her harsh morning urine, Mia didn't hesitate to remind her former brother once again where his place was.

With a smug, indulgent expression, her ice-blue eyes glinted in the morning sun that shone through the large skylight.

The sun's rays also warmed Alex's face.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the gentle warmth wander silently over his skin, briefly trying to forget where he was.

This brief escape from his reality didn't go unnoticed by Mia, and she couldn't suppress a smirk.

She bent down close to Alex, her tits practically spilling out of her top, her right hand already on the toilet lid, as she gestured to him:

"Sunshine isn't for losers, little brother. Losers don't get to enjoy the day, that's something reserved for people like me.
You lie here in sad darkness, waiting for me to come and use you again."

Without another word, Alex's prison, as it often did, was enveloped in darkness as the lid slowly lowered.

He guessed that maybe an hour had passed since then, which was hard to tell without any sense of direction or activity. In the periods of waiting and solitude, he kept wondering if that wasn't the real torture.

Then suddenly, a noise.

Barely audible at first: a faint creak.

Wood on wood. As if someone were walking slowly across an old floor, carefully, feeling their way around.

A brief moment of silence. Then: a dull thud. Not loud, but heavy. Like a box being put down. Then the scraping, drawn-out, hard, something being dragged across the floor.

Alex couldn't quite identify any of the sounds. It sounded like someone was moving furniture, but he had no plausible explanation.

He occasionally heard voices. He recognized the first voice as Mia's, he couldn't make out any clear words, but she seemed busy, as if she were organizing something.

The second voice was a man's, the low tones even harder to decipher, but there was another male voice.

Alex wondered what was going on down there.

Mia was slightly out of breath, her chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath the tight gray sports top, which had taken on a dark hue from the sweat stains on her back and under her breasts. Tiny salt crystals glistened on her forehead where stray strands of hair had escaped her blond ponytail and clung to her damp skin. Her face, flawless despite her exhaustion, appeared slightly flushed, especially on her cheeks and cleavage, which was clearly visible beneath the fine fabric of her top.

The black leggings she wore were stretched tightly around her athletic thighs. A bit of dust from the floor of Alex's old childhood bedroom, which she had just completely cleared out with Liam and her father, still clung to her knees. Her feet were in open white athletic sandals that scraped quietly across the tiled floor as she walked into her bathroom.

With a deep sigh, Mia stepped to the sink, leaned forward slightly, and rested both hands on the edge. Her gaze wasn't directed directly at the mirror, but to the side, briefly at the place where her brother had become an integral part of the decor.

"Phew..." she gasped softly as she ran a hand across her forehead and tucked the sticky strands of hair back into her ponytail. A light veil of moisture lay over her eyes, not from crying, but simply from the physical exertion. She shook her head slightly, as if she couldn't believe how much work it was to remove the last trace of someone who had never truly belonged.

She approached the toilet, glanced at it briefly, the lid was off. A small, almost arrogant grin crossed her face as she lifted the lid.

And there he was, lying in his usual position, this time Mia could tell Alex had heard her coming. He seemed relatively composed, looking up at her with at most a nervous expression. He knew as well as she did that he was in for another dose of humiliation. With an exaggerated sigh and a smug grin on her lips, Mia began:

"Seriously, Alex... Couldn't you have at least been useful before? You know, back when you still had arms and legs? Hauling all that junk out of your old room was really exhausting."

She looked him straight in the eye with a smug smile. It was immediately obvious she was testing him.
At first, Alex didn't quite understand what his sister was getting at. His confused expression, coupled with a hint of uncertainty, aroused a palpable sense of glee in Mia.

"Dad, Liam and I are just clearing out your stuff from my new home gym," she said, seemingly casually, as she adjusted her ponytail.

At that moment, Alex realized what she meant and suddenly felt uneasy. His horrified look only made Mia smile even more as she finished the finishing touches to her hair.

Then she put her hands on her hips and continued with exaggerated cheerfulness:

"What did you expect, little brother? That your old room would be left untouched. It remains, like a shrine to your existence?
Tz, tz, tz... I mean, we all knew you were never the brightest candle on the cake, but this naive? I really didn't expect that."

Alex organized his thoughts. He hadn't thought about what would become of his room and all his things.
Sure, he had no use for them anymore, but facing the harsh reality was extremely painful.
Absentminded as he was, he only subconsciously noticed Mia turning her enormous ass toward him and pulling her leggings down her thighs.

When she planted herself with her bare butt on the seat above Alex's face, he was brought back to reality.
Almost instantly, a steamy atmosphere arose in the small space of the toilet bowl.
The sour smell of Mia's sweaty thighs hit Alex, and he gasped desperately, with no hope of any imminent release.

Mia hadn't lied, cleaning up had been exhausting, and now she was ruthlessly rubbing it in his face.

Mia felt the moisture on her thighs and ass, as she bounced off her tight leggings, and couldn't suppress a small smile. If he couldn't help erase his existence for good, he could at least smell the effort required to do so.

As she slowly relaxed, Mia continued her explanation:

"You know, Mom and Dad thought I deserved a little reward after the exams. And well, your room is small and unused. It was the perfect opportunity."

It became increasingly clear to Alex that he was no longer part of this family. Even his own parents had already moved on from him.
Like so many people, they were products of the system. His fate meant complete exclusion from society, he was a disgrace to his family, and it was in their interest to eliminate any evidence of his existence.

Years ago, he had already witnessed how his mother and father treated their neighbor after he was demoted to a toilet.

This sudden emotional coldness and indifference towards a former friend sent shivers down his spine. The same thing was happening to him, their own son, and they were apparently finding it much easier than he'd ever thought possible.

Just as tears slowly welled up in his eyes, single drops of yellow-gold fluid dripped from Mia's clean-shaven pussy. The taste hit him hard and triggered his usual negative physical reactions, like gagging, but the emotional anguish of the latest findings overshadowed this agony.

"You could have cleaned more often. I mean, what were you actually doing there, cultivating a biotope?
While I was cleaning out, I actually felt like gagging in places. Old socks under the bed, dusty gamepads, empty chip bags that had already been alive... just disgusting."

She rolled her eyes demonstratively and sighed theatrically, as if she'd heroically survived a dangerous undertaking.

"By the way, all the furniture is already in the dumpster, no need to worry. Everything was old, crooked, and ugly anyway, if you ask me."

Alex had never cared much for his room, at least not in the traditional sense. While Mia got a completely new interior design scheme every two or three years, from modern high-gloss furniture to a specially installed LED mirror wall, his room remained as it was: small, plain, and functional. No private bathroom, no stylish lamps, or floor-to-ceiling windows. Most of the furniture was from his childhood. A simple wooden wardrobe with worn handles, a squeaky single bed, and a wobbly desk that had long since accommodated more technology than textbooks.

And yet, it was a place Alex liked. His room was his fortress, his little world, a kind of refuge from his sister's constant presence, his parents' judgment, and the underlying expectation that he had to somehow justify his very existence. It wasn't big, but it was full of things he'd chosen, collected, and painstakingly saved up for himself. Posters of old video game classics were stuck crookedly to the wall, next to a shelf that creaked under the weight of his fantasy novels and sci-fi anthologies. In the corner, his homemade computer, the centerpiece of his little nerd cave, hummed quietly.

Here, among the tangled cables, coffee stains, and worn seat cushions, Alex felt at least a little autonomous. Here, he didn't have to please anyone, fulfill any role, be no brother, no student, no failure. Just him, amidst all the things that truly interested him.

In comparison, Mia's room seemed like it was made of a Straight out of a glossy catalog. Large, bright, perfectly coordinated.
Every piece of furniture new, every object thoughtfully placed. Her room was an expression of a life that had always been encouraged, always desired.
Alex's room, on the other hand, was silent proof that with little space and little attention, you could also create a home, even if no one else cared.

And now Mia was taking away the last thing that was left of him.
His small, chaotic cosmos, the only place where he had ever felt like he existed.
And now? Gone. Repurposed. A gym. For her. Of all people.

The image of her ripping the posters off the walls, carelessly stuffing his books into boxes, viewing all his belongings as worthless trash, burned itself into his consciousness.
No outburst of anger, no protest, not even a whisper could escape him. His body was no longer his own, his life no longer his. And now his room was no longer his either.

What remained was a painfully clear feeling: He was being erased. Piece by piece, quietly and thoroughly. And Mia, with her smile and her flawless life, was peeing in his mouth as he did so.
The stream was now strong and seemed to quench Alex's thirst incessantly, even though he would have preferred to do without the drink.

"Liam and I are currently going through the rest. Maybe we can still sell a few things.
Well, at least the ones that aren't completely filthy."

Alex's eyes filled with tears, hot and bitter.
He couldn't reply, do anything, not even look away from Mia's asshole, which seemed completely relaxed not two inches from his eyes. The humiliation ate into every fiber of his consciousness.

He was nothing more than an object. And she knew it, enjoyed it.
The rage inside him was blazing, desperate, helpless. And the only thing he could do was cry.

"You should really thank us. We're finally making something useful out of your old mess."

The flow of urine gradually subsided, and Alex heard the sound of the toilet paper being torn off. Mia shifted her weight onto her left buttock to make room for her hand. As she did so, Alex watched as her right cheek returned to its natural, almost unrealistically round shape.

The act alone, as she now naturally wiped her flawless pussy clean right in front of his helpless eyes, made him extremely aggressive.

After the last drop of urine was absorbed by the paper and discarded, Mia stood up.
As she pulled up her thong, Alex noticed the bounce of the flesh of her fat buttocks.
The same thing happened with her leggings. Without even giving him a glance, she moved away from the toilet.

Her body moved with a naturalness, a freedom that made Alex's stomach clench.

Her butt, firm and toned, swung to the rhythm of her stride, casually, carelessly. And yet, to him, it seemed like pure mockery. As if even this body part had a life of its own. Autonomous. Unburdened. Free.

Free, while he was trapped in complete immobility. Enclosed, silent, a nothing.

The contrast hit him like a blow.
Her thoughtlessness, his powerlessness.
Her lightness, his endless stillness.

It wasn't just her gaze, not her words. Even her movements mocked him.


———————————————————


It was late afternoon when Mia quietly entered the bathroom. Her footsteps were muffled, barefoot, the tiled floor cool beneath her soles. She was still wearing her dark leggings, which had now left behind some dust from the move.

Together with Liam and her father, she had cleared the last piece of trash out of her brother's room, and although relief welled up inside her, she was also exhausted.

Liam had said goodbye shortly afterward, preseason training began tomorrow morning, and his coach wasn't exactly known for his leniency.

Mia had been a little disappointed. She would have liked to thank him for his help in peace. The way he had carried the heavy furniture, his strong arms, hadn't escaped her.
A sight that had burned itself into her mind and now, all alone, caught up with her again.
Her skin tingled, a subliminal heat rose within her, her pussy grew wet.

But for now, all she wanted was one thing: to free herself from the day. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her, her muscles were tired, the sweat on her skin felt cold.

In one hand, a fresh towel, in the other, a water bottle, from which she took a small sip before turning on the light. The only thing she could think about now was the gentle sound of the water that would soon welcome her.

Her gaze casually fell on the closed toilet lid and her grin returned immediately. With a small, almost loving tug, she lifted him up.

Alex lay there motionless as always, his gaze directed upwards toward her, silent, waiting. Mia imagined she saw an angry fire in his eyes.

"Hey, Alex... I just wanted to let you know that your room is now completely empty. And the best part is, we actually found something usable. Liam did some research, and it turns out those stupid superhero figures you've been collecting actually have value. You wouldn't believe what some nerds pay for such plastic junk."

Mia calculatedly watched her brother's expression. He was horrified by her words, and... she laughed. It was a bright, almost cheerful laugh that didn't fit what she was saying at all. Or maybe it did, to her, it was just a game.

In a dust-free glass case, directly above his desk, sat Alex's pride and joy: his Marvel collectible figures. In their original packaging, immaculately preserved, each one arranged with precision.

From a limited-edition Iron Man from the "Hall of Armor" series to a rare Deadpool edition, produced in only 500 copies worldwide. Some of these figures were now worth several hundred dollars, collector's items that fans clamored for at auctions.

To outsiders, they were just toys, but to Alex, they were silent testaments to patience, dedication, and a keen eye for what truly mattered. Hearing now that his sister was planning to sell them off just like that made him feel very uneasy.

Mia tilted her head slightly, acting thoughtful.

"I don't even know what I'm going to treat myself to with the money. Maybe new sneakers, a dinner, or a spa day."

She was easily lost in the possibilities offered by the unexpected pocket money.

Then she leaned slightly toward him, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his downcast one. Her tone became honey-sweet.

"I'm going to buy a new lingerie set for Liam. Black, with lace, and those thin straps that cover almost nothing."

She playfully bit her lower lip.

The horniness she'd been feeling for half the day spoke through her. The fact that her brother hated her boyfriend with all his heart made the whole thing even funnier. The thought of Alex paying for Liam's pleasure made her shiver pleasantly.

"After all that work throwing your junk in the trash, he certainly deserves a little reward, don't you think?"

She waited a moment, as if expecting a reaction. Just a flinch, a hint of reluctance, something. And sure enough, Alex's expression darkened briefly. Not much, but enough for Mia to notice immediately.

"Speaking of rewards..." She straightened up and slowly pulled off her leggings, carelessly tossing them aside.

"Mom spoke to Aunt Susan on the phone today."
She peeled off her panties and tossed them toward the laundry basket as she continued:
"Cousin Jake is thrilled. The little bastard is getting your computer. Your high-end gaming PC that you've been saving up for months."

She giggled and sat down on the toilet at the same time. The musty stench of feminine musk mixed with stale sweat hit her brother's nose.

"He was yelling about how he could finally play 'properly'. Your pride and joy. And now this drooling brat with ADHD and ketchup fingers is getting it for his thirteenth birthday."

Mia now laughed heartily at her brother, at the same time almost casually filling his mouth with urine. But she still hadn't had enough of further humiliating him.

"It's really nice how everything fits together. Your things bring in money, your computer makes a child happy, and you... you're the toilet bowl under your sister's ass. I think that's a complete picture."

The humiliation burned deep into Alex's psyche, his sister never tired of belittling him.

Meanwhile, she peed into his mouth with a noticeably sublime air. His swallowing impulse was triggered despite the tube in his throat, the system of the state-of-the-art toilet forced his esophagus to transport Mia's waste into Alex's stomach as quickly as possible.

His sister took advantage of the quiet in the bathroom to remove her shirt and bra. Alex didn't notice, his view was reduced to his sister's asshole and plump buttocks.
Instead, he heard an ominous rumbling, amplified by the surroundings of his bowl, which he suspected was coming from Mia's abdomen.

Mia suddenly felt a gentle pressure in her colon. The knowledge that she still had a small gift for her loser brother brought another smile to her face, a smile of surprise. Dripping with pleasure and glee.

She closes her eyes with pleasure and pushes a warm, smelly fart directly into Alex's helpless face.

Pffffrrrt

Something in his inhuman prison forced Alex to inhale the fart deeply through his nose, and he suddenly began to gag. The foul smell hit him, sharp, unpleasant, almost like rotten vegetables or stale air in an overheated room.

It's the disgusting whiff of something that has been fermenting in silence for far too long.
But instead of slowly but surely spreading through the environment, it climbs into Alex's nose and constricts his throat.

The giggles of his hated sister don't make things any better. She can feel the pull her brother creates on her anus when he inhales her stench.

"How does your dinner smell, Alex?"
she giggled mockingly from high above his face.

"Mum made turkey club sandwiches for everyone for lunch today. You should have tried them, they were really delicious."

Every word she said was razor-sharp.
Not a casual remark, but a deliberate stab.
Mia knew the effect it had on her. She enjoyed reminding Alex of his new role.

Below her, meaningless, erased, while she loomed over him like the princess she was, finishing her toilet break.

"Although... technically, you do taste them afterward, but I doubt they'll still taste good."

Mia finished her rant as she slowly rose from the bowl.
Alex tried to keep a straight face.
He didn't want to give Mia the satisfaction of having gotten him all over again.

But it was in vain, his tears flowed again, the disgust, the humiliation, the loss of his last piece of personality were too great.

Selling all his belongings, giving them away, or simply throwing them in the trash was one thing.

But what hurt him more was the finality, which even his parents not only tolerated, but actively encouraged.

No one wanted or should remember his existence anymore. His life was over, and the system sold his torture as mercy.

As the last chance for social participation.

In that brief moment, his cynical thoughts overshadowed the grief for what he had lost. When he looked into the smugly grinning face of his sister, who was now standing naked over him, it buzzed through his head.

'I should be grateful to be allowed to eat my sister's shit.'

'I can't develop future technologies or cure diseases, so I'm given this valuable task.'

'This way, humanity's resources are used efficiently, and it's only fair that she always gets to eat first.'

Did anyone seriously believe that?! He could have vomited again, only this time at the thought of this sick world that had accepted such a perfidious system almost without resistance.

He stared blankly ahead, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks. Not from pain. Not even from shame.

More from that paralyzing mixture of anger, powerlessness, and the slow realization that maybe everything really was broken.

Mia noticed his gaze, expressionless, almost lifeless, and paused for a moment. Her initial satisfaction gave way to a cool irritation.
It was as if she had already destroyed him.

Without another word, she gave him one last, dismissive look, then turned away to head for the shower. She turned on the water, hot, steaming.

Now she only wanted to take care of herself and quickly forgot about her brother's pitiful face in the toilet bowl.

As the steam slowly filled the room and the sound of the splashing water masked any silence, she stepped into the shower, reached for the shampoo, and softly hummed a song.


———————————————————


I heard the denim slide down her cheeks as I slowly opened my eyes after a nap.

The bowl vibrated slightly with her movement, and I felt her body working above me, quite naturally, quite casually, as if I didn't exist.

Then came the pressure.
A jolt went through the system as the clamps on my jaw activated.
My mouth was spread open, mercilessly.

I could feel nothing but the stretching. The joints cracked, my jaw felt like it was about to burst.

She started to pee, and my entire mouth was coated with the acrid yellow liquid before it passed unhindered down my throat.

The stream was surprisingly light and subsided quite quickly.

The small motor slowly propelled me backward, while I was able to study my owner's underside in detail and up close. When the gears shifted and my head rose, I knew that my mouth would probably once again represent an extension of Mia's intestines.

I felt the warmth of her flesh on my lips, which were carefully guided gently by the toilet system to her anus.

The fine adjustment felt like an eternity, although in reality it had probably only been a few seconds.

And then it came.

Her body twitched almost imperceptibly.
A deep belch from my sister's backside, warm and muffled, wafting through her asshole directly into my gaping mouth like a sickly intimate breath. The stench was brutal, not even the classic smell of feces. It was more. More animalistic. Raw. Heavy like spoiled butter, sour and hot.

I gagged, in vain. Because I wasn't allowed to gag anymore. My throat was blocked, my muscles shut down. I was only there to consume it.

Then she pushed. I heard it. Felt it.
A cracking, gurgling sound, then I felt a misshapen, hard lump press against the roof of my mouth.
It was huge.

A massive, hard lump. It hit my uvula like a brick, pressed into my throat like a dry twig, and tore small tears in my throat as it slid down. The pain in my throat brought tears to my eyes. I couldn't do anything. Nothing.

I tasted everything.
It was dry, thick, grainy. Intensely earthy in flavor. The edges ripped across my tongue before the tube in my throat pushed it further down. My stomach rebelled, but the system shut down any movement. No escape. No vomiting. Only intake.

I couldn't grasp it. Not hold it. Not gag. Just... swallow it. Bit by bit.

And during this torture, I heard her above me. Scrolling noises, silly TikTok sounds, her quiet laughter, a quick tap.

She was completely relaxed.

I cried. I couldn't control it. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, mingling with the sweat running down my face in that airless glass box.

I felt shattered. Inside. Outside. Everything inside me was empty.

And she... just sat there.

I expected, as always, a comment.

Something cynical, or simply pure scorn.

But nothing came. Only silence. Only the soft smacking of her skin on the cold seat and the muffled tapping of her fingernails on her phone.

No mockery. No barb. No glance.

I lay there, my head clamped, my mouth spread open like a slaughtered animal.

The restraints under the seat had held me in position for days. Everything I was existed within a radius of ten centimeters and more... her.

Her buttocks fell back over my tear-stained eyes, her sitting position apparently not yet ideal for feeding me the gigantic lump of shit.

The turd wasn't just wide, dry, and hard. It was also, above all, long and endless. I felt my throat being stuffed with it like a Christmas goose.

But there was no mercy.



Mia spent the evening with Chaela in town. They had agreed on sushi for dinner and were enjoying the warm summer evening to the fullest.

At the same time, this meal did the rest to get her digestion moving again. Once home, she made a determined walk toward the bathroom.

As she sat on the toilet, Mia regretted not having drunk enough during the day.

She suspected she had sweated out most of the fluids she had consumed. Combined with last night's large portion of whole-wheat pasta, the result was a large stool that was painful to pass.

She had promised her brother a turkey club sandwich for dinner, but who cared?

As if the loser could still taste any difference in his one-sided diet, she thought, completely relaxed, as she scrolled through her TikTok.

As she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to release the second half of her massive stool into freedom, she once again felt the warm, moist tears of her toilet on her buttocks. Mia sighed in mock annoyance.

"God, stop crying. I'll be done in a few minutes."



Her voice came muffled through the porcelain. She sounded as if it shouldn't be a big deal for me to swallow this pile of shit. Mia continued to force the turd into me. I felt her push harder again, her asshole blooming like a flower into my gaping maw.

As if an anaconda were slithering through a tube.
The texture I felt on my tongue slowly changed from hard, sausage-shaped chunks to a very smooth and oily surface.
The diameter also narrowed, which I welcomed despite the resulting more intense flavor.
Mia's big pee was slowly coming to an end.
I felt her jerking a few more times. Pushing, then pinching the end through her anus until the turd stopped in my throat.

I waited impatiently until Mia was finished with her TikTok session.

The pressure on my face eased. I heard the characteristic squelch of her skin as she rose from her seat. For a moment, everything was silent before a single drop of piss fell from her labia onto my face, cold and humiliating.

Her ass raised high above my pathetic form. Her asshole still slightly stretched by the monster emerging from her guts.

Her cheeks taut, toned, defying gravity, as if they themselves were a little proud of what they had just served me for dinner.
Mia wiped herself clean between her legs and around her asshole and disposed of the soiled paper.

Then the rustle of fabric as she pulled up her pants.

I lay at the bottom of the bowl, humiliated once again. The narrow tip of the gigantic shit sausage still protruded in my mouth as I began my gentle descent back down into the depths.

The system in my throat was only very slowly coming to terms with my meal. The end slid along my tongue once more, disgustingly humiliating, before completing its descent into my digestive tract.

I didn't quite know why, but somehow I was hoping for some kind of attention at that moment.

No recognition, I hadn't expected that. But no mockery or anything like that was surprising and made me feel like I was losing even more of my humanity.

Mia turned to the bowl, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen, without even acknowledging me for a moment, and absentmindedly closed the lid of my prison.

I continued to hear her, albeit a little muffled, in the bathroom and assumed she was going about her evening routine before snuggling up in bed and falling asleep soundly.

I had never felt so insignificant until now.

Part VI

Glenn was just waking up as the workmen were unloading him from the van onto a handcart. The last few weeks had been the worst of his life.
After he was arrested, everything happened very quickly. First, he was anesthetized, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a clinically sterile room, in immense pain, unable to move or speak.

As he tried to get his bearings, Glenn concentrated on the medical equipment to his right, left, and above him. However, when he focused on the reflection in the parabolic mirror of the surgical light, his heart suddenly sank.

His body lay bandaged on some kind of operating table, but the worst part was that where he expected his arms and legs to be, only stumps protruded from his torso.
A panic attack began to take hold. Glenn knew what that meant; he'd been aware for a while that his life was gradually drifting in this direction. It was really only a matter of time, after his ex-wife had rejected all his pleas for help.

He would become a toilet.

The medical devices he was still connected to sounded an alarm as Glenn's heart rate increased.

Two people entered the room with a firm stride and walked straight toward him.
While the woman, apparently a nurse, added a sedative to his IV drip, the man, neatly dressed in a lab coat, studied the clipboard attached to Glenn's bed.

The last thing he heard were the man's words to the nurse:

"This one will stay here for an extra three weeks until the alcohol withdrawal symptoms have mostly subsided.
When that's the case, we'll release him for installation..."

The three weeks had now passed, and Glenn was on his way to his new assignment. The days in the clinic seemed to stretch on forever, as he was left completely alone, with only himself and his thoughts. After the panic attacks slowly subsided, a deep fear of what awaited him spread within him.

Glenn's mind tried to prepare for every possible scenario, as far as such a thing was even possible in his situation. It was all so unfair.
His wife was cheating on him with that fitness guy, and yet in the end, he was the one who would pay for it.

Now he was being stripped of all his human rights and would be turned into a toilet.
He wondered where he would end up.
Glenn knew that practically every very wealthy person now owned human toilets. He kept thinking of one of his former clients.
He had been invited to his home at the time; he and his wife had just bought a beautiful mansion in Encino. As the two gave him a detailed tour of the house, they practically boasted that each of their four bathrooms and the guest bathroom was equipped with a human toilet.

The wife, Laura, or was it Lauren, Glenn didn't remember exactly, was a committed climate activist, at least when it came to her image, he thought at the time.

You could see it, not in the sense of age or wear and tear, but in the shine of her perfectly manicured fingernails, the sloppily expensive bun that required three stylists, and the shimmering smile that was as practiced as her small talk. She smelled, without any perfume, of having married rich.

Not out of love, but with the determination of a woman who probably knew at sixteen that wealth ages better than romance.
She was beautiful, in an intimidatingly flawless way. Every syllable she spoke dripped with self-absorption, even when she was ranting about the shrinking rainforest or riding a moral crusade against fast fashion at dinner while posing in the latest designer dress.

Environment? Important, as long as the hybrid SUV offered enough space for her shopping bags. Justice? Absolutely, as long as she always stood on the winning side.

She explained to Glenn how important it was to protect the planet, and therefore it was important to her that every toilet in her house was equipped with a wastebasket that recycled previously eaten food not only for her, her husband, her guests, and, last but not least, for the planet.

She also emphasized that she supported the idea that this way, valuable resources would no longer be wasted on people of no value to society.

While he awaited his fate in the hospital, Glenn imagined what it would be like to potentially end up in such a household. Locked in the toilet of a wealthy couple.
With a woman who sat above him so naturally, as if it were her birthright to sit above him, as if he had been nothing more than a function for their comfort.

These kinds of women didn't just see themselves at the top of society, they knew they belonged there. And with equal ease, they expected everyone below them, the failures, the weak, the useless, to help them rise even higher.
Not even out of malice, but out of that icy, unshakable conviction that this is exactly how the world works.

For women like them, everything was a stage: the smiles, the compassion, even the humility, perfectly orchestrated, rehearsed like a play performed for self-aggrandizement.

And Glenn? Men like him? They were nothing more than props. Useful as long as they kept quiet and played their part.

Their smug way of striding through the world as if they owned everything. This constant feeling that they were better, not because they'd accomplished anything, but because they knew how to sell themselves. The thought made Glenn angry every time.

And the worst part was: They were right.

The world agreed with them. They stood at the top, on the ruins of all those too weak to defend themselves.

Perhaps he was the last person to still feel this was an injustice.

Perhaps this was the real punishment: not what they had done to him, but understanding that no one cared anymore.

He could just as easily find himself in a luxurious hotel or an exquisite restaurant. On his business trips, he had booked a room or two in hotels with exceptionally well-appointed bathrooms, with human toilets that one would expect to find in the most exclusive establishments. But these hotels were in the upper price range, and he rarely had the privilege of staying in one.

By now, the luxury of human toilets had already penetrated far into the upper middle class of society.
So it was far more likely that he would end up in a household more in keeping with his now-lost social status. Many of Glenn's acquaintances and friends had equipped their bathrooms with them over the past two or three years.

He and his wife had also discussed it back then. Lisa had wanted to have a human installed in the large bathroom adjacent to her bedroom several times.

But Glenn had always been a bit hesitant, which is why it never came to that.

He supported the idea of ​​having the lazy and criminals work for the good of society, so that they could contribute like everyone else. But the introduction of human toilets always seemed a bit brutal to him.

Yes, that would be it. The probability of being installed somewhere in a nice suburb of Los Angeles, perhaps with a family with people around his age, was highest in Glenn's view.

During the weeks of uncertainty, he imagined several possible scenarios of what his new home would look like.

Would it be installed in the guest bathroom, where he received relatively few visitors?

That would be the lesser of two evils in his view.

Or would it be placed in the bathroom of a large family, possibly with one, two, or even more children? He couldn't and didn't want to imagine how he would be able to eat so much human excrement.

And of course, the thought of being installed as a toilet in the home of someone he knew was also buzzing through his head. He dreaded most of them; the humiliation of having to consume the feces of former friends would be too great.

He also thought of his then-secretary, Vanessa, who, as he had come to know her, was a very kind-hearted person, and also incredibly hot.

The thought of her sitting with her tight little ass over his helpless face to relieve herself into his wide-open mouth almost triggered a feeling of anticipation in him.
Of course, Glenn knew it was all nonsense. The time spent isolated from any human interaction, except for the nurse who administered his medication, combined with the lust that had been building up over the weeks, was playing tricks on him.

The fear of what was to come dominated most of the time, and it barely managed to calm him in any way. What awaited him would be nothing but torture and endless agony. Consuming another person's shit and urine was absolutely repulsive and contrary to nature. And even a pretty face or a tight butt wouldn't change that.

The transporter came to a stop, and shortly thereafter, the door to the cargo area swung open. One of the two men stepped forward, grabbed the trolley, and rather roughly lifted Glenn's limbless torso onto it.

Glenn's vision wavered slightly as the trolley rolled across the A flat ramp rumbled against him. Cold air hit him, followed by a familiar smell: damp leaves, asphalt, late summer. He blinked against the light, trying to get his bearings.
Then it hit him.

His heart leaped, and the next moment, it would have sunk into his pants, if only there were another one. Stretched before him was a driveway, every crack, every damn bump.
The front yard, the porch, and above it, the house, his house.

Glenn shook his head desperately, panic in his eyes, as he tried with all his might to escape from the dolly.
The thought of becoming the toilet of his ex and the guy she'd cheated on him with was unbearable. This humiliation, this loss of all dignity, he couldn't allow himself to submit to this fate. Never.

But before Glenn could move even a centimeter from the dolly, one of the workmen started rolling away.
To his surprise, he turned right away and rolled with him down the sidewalk. When they changed direction again a few meters later, Glenn finally found himself looking up the driveway that would house his new home.

Number 218.

Glenn knew it.

The Johnsons.

It was one of those typical California suburban houses, friendly, well-kept, with a few bumps that made it charming. The crooked fence, the small maple tree in the front yard, the ever-overflowing herb pots on the windowsill.

The Johnsons had once been close neighbors.
Not in the sense of shared vacations or deep conversations over red wine, but in a good way.

When Glenn was mowing the lawn and Mary was drawing chalk on the sidewalk with Mia, they often chatted for a few minutes. Nothing earth-shattering. School, weather, food.

There was birthday cake on paper plates, and a few times Glenn helped take out the Johnsons' trash cans or bring in the mail when they were out of town.
He shared a quiet familiarity with Mary, a kind of unspoken agreement:
We'll take care of our little piece of the world here, and we'll do it as best we can.
But after his divorce from Lisa, contact diminished.

And now he was back.
Not with a smile on his face.
But as a delivery.

He lay motionless on the cart, strapped in, unable to move.
The sun glared slightly as the workmen checked their final touches. One of them picked up the clipboard, another stepped to the front door and pressed the buzzer.

It took only a few seconds. Then the door opened.

Mary Johnson stood in the frame.

She was barefoot, wearing simple black leggings and a loose, sky-blue shirt that slipped loosely off one shoulder. Her hair, slightly tousled in a loose braid, was honey-blonde with a hint of gold, just as it used to be. In one hand, she held a half-open notebook, in the other, a half-eaten granola bar.

She was obviously in the middle of her daily routine, yet she seemed to consciously make time for each guest.

"Oh, hello! You're probably here for the plumbing, right?" she said pleasantly, immediately stepping aside to allow the men to enter.

"Exactly. Delivery and installation, bathroom upstairs, right?"

"Yes, exactly. We've already cleared everything so you can work in peace. Come in, I'll show you."
She smiled openly, naturally, and prepared the men to enter the house.

The men rolled the handcart into the house. Glenn's view was slightly tilted by the mount, but he saw enough: the coat rack, the children's small shoes, the mail on the dresser with the candlestick, and Mary.

She had turned back to face forward, now very close. She briefly examined the device, more out of curiosity than inspection.
Then her eyes settled.

At first, there was only a fleeting glance. But then her expression changed.

Her face didn't freeze; it simply became... still.

The movement of her jaw paused.
The notebook in her hand dipped slightly.
Her brow furrowed into a barely visible frown.

A pair of eyes searching, not panicked, but irritated, almost like someone who thinks they've seen an old acquaintance on a crowded subway.

Glenn knew exactly the moment it clicked for her.

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, the smile fading into a cautious, startled seriousness.

"...Glenn?" she said quietly.

Almost questioningly. Not accusingly. Not dismissively.
Just... surprised.

Glenn's heart skipped a beat when Mary said his name.
It wasn't a loud cry, not a panicked horror, just a faint, almost tender recognition, like a memory groping its way to the surface.

For a moment, there was a hint of something real in the air. Maybe...
maybe this was the moment when everything could turn out differently.

Mary's gaze lingered on him.
Her face was soft but serious, a mixture of surprise and regret.
In her hand, she still held the half-eaten granola bar.

The handyman driving the front of the car had stopped. He noticed that something had changed in the mood.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?"

Mary didn't answer right away. She stood still for a moment, took a deep breath, then raised her head and looked at the men.

"Yes... just... I know him," she finally said quietly. Her voice was calm, controlled.

"That was our neighbor. Glenn. He... uh, used to live three houses down with his wife, Lisa."

The men exchanged a quick glance.

"If that's a problem, Ma'am," said the younger of the two, checking his clipboard, "we could organize another installation for you. It'll take a few days, but there are alternatives. I imagine you don't want any... familiar faces in the house."

It was said professionally. Not insensitively.
But functionally.

Mary was silent. Her gaze slid once more down to Glenn, who lay motionless on the cart, bound with straps and metal. His eyes were open, and although he couldn't move, his hope was as palpable as if he'd been calling out to her.

She lowered her gaze, took a slow breath.
Then she shook her head.

"No. It's okay. I knew this could happen from time to time. I... it's okay."

The older workman nodded curtly.
"Then we'll bring him up right away."

Mary stepped aside, making room.
"The master bathroom is at the end of the hall, first door on the right. I'll show her up."

As the men pushed the cart past her, she gave Glenn one last look. Not cold. But final, as if they didn't really care that it was him.

The stairs creaked softly under the workmen's footsteps. Glenn lay rigidly on the cart as they carried him carefully upstairs, one in front, one in back, routinely and wordlessly.

Mary walked ahead.

She was still barefoot, and her loose braid bounced slightly with every step. The half-eaten granola bar was now gone, but a subtle scent of warm food still hung in the air, as if she had just walked out of the kitchen.

Glenn couldn't help but place the smell: something tomatoey, perhaps, with a sweet undertone, like oven-fresh bread or baked cheese.
It was a family smell.
A normal home.
A lunch before the children came home from school.

His gaze slid over the walls as they took the stairs.
Photos. Drawings.
A group portrait of two blond children, Mia and Alex, in blue school uniforms, with gap-toothed smiles and scraped knees.
Next to it, a framed picture from what looked like the last camping trip: tent, stick bread, one of the twins with a headlamp and a chocolate mouth.

Glenn felt his stomach tighten.
Not from hunger, but from something else.
Something that had once been life.
His, perhaps.
Now he was just what was to be installed.

Mary reached the upper floor, turned around, and glanced briefly at the men.

"It's just up ahead. The main bathroom," she said quietly, almost like someone who didn't like to disturb anyone.

Then she stood there for a moment, looked at Glenn, or what was left of him, and added:
"Take all the time you need. I'll leave you to work in peace. My children will be home from school soon... we'll have lunch first."

She said it calmly. Without judgment.
Almost as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Then she turned around and disappeared down the hallway.


———————————————————


About an hour had passed.
Glenn was still leaning against the bathroom wall, where the workmen had left him, right next to the door, like a bulky bucket, set down and forgotten.
His gaze was blank, his eyes red.

He hadn't tried to hold back the tears.
What good would it have done?

The old toilet had been removed long ago.
The remains, bolted to pieces, lay on a tarp in the hallway. Inside, the workmen were now working on the floor, creating the pit into which Glenn would soon be lowered.

Drill dust hung in the air like a fine mist; it smelled of rubber, mortar, and cleaner.

No one spoke. Only the rhythmic hammering and the screeching of the drill filled the room.

And Glenn, weeping quietly.

Then the bathroom door opened again.

Mary entered.
She had obviously just finished lunch. Her hair had been retied, the braid tighter. She was still wearing the loose cotton shirt, only now with a light tomato stain and the black leggings that rustled softly as she walked. In her hand, she held a glass of water.

"So, how are things?" she asked casually, stepping into the hallway a few steps. Two steps closer.
One of the craftsmen half-sat up.

"Looks good. The pit will be finished soon, so we'll put it in."

"Great. I just wanted to take a quick look.
I sent the kids outside to play, so you can keep your peace."

With that, she stepped closer, leaning over the freshly tiled area to get a closer look at the progress.
Without knowing, or caring, that she was filling Glenn's entire field of vision.

Her body was now less than forty centimeters from his face.
Her butt directly at eye level. Centered. Inevitable.

Right in front of Glenn.

He couldn't ignore her body, not from this position. Her butt was now exactly at eye level. Only half a meter away. The soft material of the leggings stretched slightly as she leaned forward to take a look at the work.

Her ass was shapely, a testament to a blend of natural elegance and the strength that life had brought with it. Not perfect, but honest and vibrant, like a reminder that there was no artificial flawlessness here, but real strength and femininity. Time had softened it a bit, but it perfectly suited her charisma: authentic, warm, and with a touch of serenity that only a woman in her thirties with motherhood experience could radiate.

Glenn stared. Not because he wanted to, but because there was nothing else to see.
And in his mind, only a single, bitter thought echoed:

'I'm going to eat out of this ass.'

Glenn's stomach clenched. Not out of excitement, not out of embarrassment, but out of a painful, humiliating clarity.
This was it.
This was his new horizon.
This ass, which was currently moving slightly in the fabric as Mary shifted her weight, would soon be upon him.

Not even out of malice, but as casually as placing a plate on the table.
Just like sitting down on the toilet,
as a matter of course.

That asshole is going to shit in his mouth.

The thought hit him coldly and absolutely.
He lowered his gaze, but it was no use.
The body remained in his field of vision, present, alive, real.
And yet, Glenn was no longer a human being in this room.

Just an object. A piece of installation equipment. Soon sealed, plugged in, and ready for use.


———————————————————-


After an endless day of hectic schedules and appointments, Mary finally entered her apartment.
The door closed behind her, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. But the relief of finally being home quickly gave way to an urgent need.

Without looking back, she hurried up the stairs, straight to the bathroom. Her stomach was churning, an unpleasant heaviness weighing on her lower abdomen. She'd been struggling with a heavy feeling all day. The stress at the office, the hasty gulping down of her lunch between meetings, and, above all, the constant forgetting to drink enough water. Her body hadn't simply accepted all of this.

Now, sitting on the toilet, she felt how out of balance her daily routine had become. Her thoughts revolved around the tense knot inside her, both physically and mentally.

The constipation had lasted for three days, and despite all her attempts, there was no relief. She had already tried several home remedies – but none had any success.

On the first day, she had tried to wake up her bowels with a glass of lukewarm water and a little lemon juice, hoping the natural acid might stimulate digestion. But the feeling of blockage persisted.
Even stirring a few teaspoons of flaxseed into her morning yogurt had no effect.

Instead, she still felt bloated and uncomfortable, as if nothing were moving.
The tension within her grew, accompanied by the faint fear that the problem wouldn't simply resolve itself.

Below her warm thighs lay Glenn, motionless and otherworldly.
He hadn't moved for years, crammed into his silent world, banished to his usual position, his face sunk deep into the Johnson family's toilet bowl. His mouth hung wide open, a silent abyss that seemed to have swallowed all life.
His gaze was glassy, ​​empty, a dead mirror without reflection, into which nothing penetrated.
The years of isolation had sucked him in and spat him out, erasing every trace of consciousness and humanity.

Interpersonal stirrings, conversations, feelings, all of it trickled like sand through his faded soul, erased by the crushing loneliness.
Glenn was more shadow than human, a faded imprint of himself, trapped in a body that had long since become nothing more than an empty shell.

Despite his deep mental retreat, Glenn now reacted automatically to a simple physical stimulus:
As soon as someone sat on the toilet above him, his mouth would involuntarily moisten. A thin film of saliva slowly collected on his lips, as if his body had memorized the expectation of a meal, completely unconsciously, completely mechanically. Even the now bestial smell of decay that escaped with each of Mary's farts seemed to encourage rather than inhibit this physical reaction.

It was a silent, almost animalistic reflex that showed how much his humanity had vanished. Nothing more than an unconscious remnant of a long-gone time, a faint sign of his diminished existence.

Mary would have loved to satisfy his instinctive longing for food at that moment. Directly above him, Mary felt the pressure building in her lower abdomen, a painful, urgent pull.
With a convulsive grip on the cold edge of the bathtub, she braced herself against the resistance of her body, while pressing on her stomach with her other hand, as if that could relieve the cramped tightness.

Her anus was so exposed that it bulged between her buttocks like a volcano, trembling ominously on the verge of eruption, aiming directly at Glenn's wide-open mouth.

She pressed with all her might, feeling her lower abdomen resist the pressure, every fiber of her body tensing and screaming. Her breath was coming in gasps, the pain constricting her throat. But despite all her efforts, nothing moved, nothing except the agonizing tightness that settled inside her like an insurmountable wall.

Glenn lay beneath her, completely motionless and unfazed. Not a sound, not a twitch, only the deep emptiness in his glazed gaze, which made her desperate struggle seem even more lonely. While she fought, he was just an empty shell, completely cut off from any consciousness or feeling.

Finally, Mary gave up and finished her toilet break once again without the hoped-for relief. She straightened up, zipped up her pants, and fastened them with a quick, practiced movement. Her legs felt heavy, her lower abdomen throbbed dully, the frustration of her lack of success written all over her face.

As she pulled up her pants, she mumbled casually, barely audibly:
"Sorry, Glenn... I guess I won't be able to do anything today."

The words were nothing more than a tired ejaculation of her thoughts, not consciously directed at anyone. More of a reflex, like the washing of her hands, which she began afterward: cold, mechanical, without a glance in the mirror. No pause, no thought of the lifeless eyes that had just stared back at her from the depths below.

She left the bathroom unhurriedly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Then there was silence.

Glenn stayed behind. As always. As every day. But this time something was different.

His name had pierced the thicket of his shattered mind like a faint ray of light. Not sharp, not clear, more like a dull echo, not quite graspable, yet impossible to ignore. It was the first word that had reached him in a long time. Perhaps in years.

His eyes, glassy and foreign, seemed less empty for a moment. Something twitched deep within him, not a conscious memory, not a real emotion. But a reaction. A silent attention.

He saw, out of focus and from his blind spot, Mary dressing.

Her movements were casual, disinterested, as if he weren't there at all. And to her, he wasn't. Not really.
But to him, this moment meant everything.
One word. A stirring. A hint of return.
Then darkness fell back upon him.
But it was no longer complete.


———————————————————


It smelled of garlic, onions, and a hint of rosemary as Mary swirled the wooden spoon and leaned over the steaming pot, examining it. The evening sun cast a warm, golden light through the half-open windows, which reflected off the shiny kitchen countertop and bathed the room in a cozy glow. Jazz played softly in the background, something by Chet Baker; Mary loved its soothing sound.

She heard the front door open.
A brief jingle of keys, then it slammed shut with the familiar clack.
"I can smell that I'm late," Paul called before turning the corner. His voice sounded tired but warm. When he saw Mary in the kitchen, he paused for a moment. Just stand and look at her, like he sometimes did when he thought she didn't notice.

"You're exactly right," she said without turning around, a smile in her voice.
He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck, where a single strand of hair came loose.

"Hi," he murmured, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

The moment was quiet and natural, like a daily gesture that nevertheless never lost its value.

"Hi," she answered softly. "Hard day?"

"Not harder than yours, I guess."

He let go of her, grabbed a wine glass, and poured himself a small sip of the open red wine.

"Mia here yet?"

Mary shook her head without looking up from the stove.

"No. She wrote that she wouldn't be back until late. Something about going to the movies and then having drinks with friends."

Paul grimaced, as he always did when Mia was out later than he liked. "How late is late?"

"She didn't say anything specific. Sometime after midnight, probably."

He put his wine glass down, a little too forcefully.

"I don't like it. Running around town so late, you know how it is sometimes."

Mary turned slowly to him, a smile on her lips that she couldn't suppress.

"Paul. She's eighteen. She knows what she's doing." Then, in a softer tone: "We can't keep her forever. And honestly, were you so much more sensible when you were eighteen?"

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but instead he just sighed.

"I was a complete idiot."

"Exactly." Mary stepped closer, placed a hand on his chest, and looked at him with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

"And yet you survived. And besides…" she lowered her voice, "we have the house all to ourselves tonight."

Paul blinked, as if he was still trying to comprehend what she had just said. Then a slow, youthful grin spread across his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm." Mary turned back to the stove and continued stirring the pan as if nothing had happened. "But if you keep looking so grumpy, I'll just leave you sitting alone in the living room."

He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and laughed softly.

"I'll behave. I promise."

Paul leaned back against the kitchen island, but his gaze didn't slid back to the wine glass; it lingered on Mary.

On the slight movement of her hips as she stirred. On the loose bun from which a few strands had fallen. On the fine fabric of her dress, which gently clung to her curves without concealing much.

She wasn't thirty anymore, and hadn't been twenty for a long time, but that was precisely what attracted him to her so much. The certainty of knowing every line, reading every gesture, and yet still being surprised again and again. He'd never taken her closeness for granted.

"You look beautiful," he said finally, his voice a little deeper than it had been a moment ago.

Mary smiled but didn't turn to him. "You only say that because you're hungry."

"Maybe. For more than just pasta," he murmured with a grin.

She laughed softly, but the smile didn't last long. Instead, a familiar ache came, dull, oppressive, unpleasant. It spread from her lower abdomen like a slow, growing tension. She held the wooden spoon in the air for a moment longer, closed her eyes briefly.

'Not now,' she thought. 'Not tonight.'

At first she'd ignored it, then resorted to home remedies, but nothing had really helped. And today... today it had gotten worse. She'd swapped her jeans for the loose dress earlier, and not just because it would be more comfortable while cooking. And now that Paul had that look, that 'I'd love to pull you right here on the countertop' look, she was filled with worry.

'Great, Mary. First you promise him a hot evening, and then you end up lying in the bedroom all swollen up like a balloon.'

She forced herself to continue stirring calmly, even though a slight pressure was building inside her.
An unpleasant churning, not painful, but very present.

"I'll go get us some candles for the living room," Paul said, his voice slightly playful.

"If Mia's not here, we could skip the TV today, what do you think?"

"Sounds good," Mary replied, trying to be relaxed. "Let's get comfortable."

As soon as he was out of the room, she put down the wooden spoon, braced herself with both hands on the countertop, and exhaled softly through her nose. Her forehead wrinkled.

'I have to get this off my chest. Right after dinner.'

Not because she was ashamed of Paul; they'd been through much worse together. But she was determined that this feeling, this pressure, wouldn't ruin their first romantic evening together in a long time. Some things, she was sure, could remain hidden even after twenty years of marriage.

She had only one possible way out in mind. Possibly the solution to her problem.

Mary had sworn to herself that she would only consider it in an absolute emergency.

And now?

For the first time, she wondered if this moment might already happen today. had arrived.


———————————————————-


When Paul closed the bathroom door behind him, the noise of the day seemed to magically fall away. For a moment, it was quiet, only the soft rush of water from the tap reached his ears. Before Mary finished dinner, he wanted to quickly freshen up. He dipped his face in the cold water, let it flow over his skin, and felt the stress of everyday life melt away. With a deep breath, he stepped to the toilet; going there had long since become routine, a small moment of peace after the hustle and bustle of work, which he always appreciated.

For Glenn, who functioned as a fundamental part of the toilet, this was usually the exact opposite. As soon as Paul lifted the toilet lid, bright light streamed into his cramped prison room. Since Mary's visit that morning, something seemed to have been reawakened within him.
It was obvious that years of dehumanization and oppressive isolation had left their mark. Yet even after so long in the darkness, Glenn reacted, however hesitantly, to the sudden light. His eyes, once lifeless, slowly began to stir, as if trying to confront the brightness they hadn't seen for so long.

It was a slow, almost desperate encounter of the senses with a world he had long believed unapproachable.

Outside the toilet bowl, Paul noticed none of this. As usual, he pressed a button on the control panel that positioned the mouth of the unfortunate soul inside. Then he unbuckled his belt, turned his back to the toilet, and let Glenn gaze upon the familiar sight of his bare bottom, unaware of Glenn's newfound senses.

With a crash, Paul stepped over his helpless face, plunging Glenn back into darkness. Only a small gap behind Paul's back left him with a vestige of light. At that moment, he noticed for the first time how much of his senses Mary had brought back into his life.

The air in the bowl suddenly became heavy, almost oppressive. A stuffy, humid haze settled over the room, while the salty, sour smell of sweat-soaked balls, which Paul had let stew in his pants all day, inexorably made its way into the air.

It was the pungent, unpleasant scent of a long day at work, now fully present in the confines of the toilet bowl. The smell crept into his nose like a damp veil, reminding him with brutal clarity where Glenn was.

The hairy crown jewels dangled lazily right in front of his eyes, a single pubic hair tickled his cheek, while Paul's penis hung over Glenn's now receptive mouth.

Then, suddenly, the information reached him from his body: warmth on his tongue.
A powerful stream of urine flooded his throat, the taste spreading in a dull fog. Glenn's taste buds, still somewhat dulled by years of isolation, fortunately only dimly perceived the bitter, creamy flavor.

The focus shifted again, threatening to further overwhelm Glenn's already damaged brain. A warm wind blew against his forehead, covered in beads of sweat. The smell suddenly became pungently putrid, turning the air into an oppressive veil.

Then, suddenly, movement. His horizon shifted with every inch his face moved backward.
The transition from Paul's heavy balls, to his hairy ass crack, to the source of the earthy stench. Glenn's eyes moved with cruel slowness past his dinner, a shiny, light-brown turd, its head already peeping impatiently from Paul's quivering asshole, ready for its release into the waiting maw of the toilet.

With a slight jerk, his head came to a stop, Glenn's mouth perfectly positioned, not even an inch below its user's rear entrance. In ominous anticipation and unintentionally, conditioned over the years to eat nothing but human excrement as his main food, Glenn's mouth watered again.

At the same moment, the shit slid over his tongue before finding its way down his throat and disappearing.

First the heat of the feces, then the bestial taste reached the synapses in Glenn's toilet brain.

And he reacted. And how he reacted.

All the natural instincts in his body, which had protected him for years from such a disgusting thing, were now awakened for the first time in a long time. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he choked, spat, and pleaded silently, but the agonizing reality could not be averted.

The muscles in his throat, long since too weak and atrophied, tried desperately to resist the resistance. He was trying to escape, but it was powerless. It was as if his body were fighting against life itself, as if it were resisting what it inevitably had to accept.

The pressure of the pipe in his throat was too much. Every fiber of his remaining strength left him until he collapsed in a twitch of exhaustion, his strength giving way as if his body could no longer bear the pain and humiliation.

Meanwhile, Paul calmly finished shitting and rose with a natural effort.

A low, exhausted wheeze emerged from the toilet, little more than a desperate sound that faded into the silence of the room.

Mechanically buttoning his belt buckle, he slowly turned and looked down. For the first time in years, he saw Glenn active, but the sight struck him not as a realization, but as a casual observation. Glenn lay there, completely exhausted, and his condition was catastrophic. Paul didn't know if this pale, lifeless appearance was due to age or years of abuse, but the wheezing Glenn was making was new, a small but significant break from the usual pattern.

"Hey, man, I wanted to have sex today, okay? So it would be really nice of you if you could save choking on my shit for tomorrow. You don't want to ruin my evening, do you? For old times' sake, huh?"

With those flippant words, Paul casually dropped the toilet lid over Glenn's suffering face and turned toward the door, heading for his wife in the dining room.


———————————————————


Alex lay motionless, staring up, not at the sky or a ceiling, but directly at the dull, slightly scratched underside of a cheap plastic toilet seat. Barely ten centimeters separated his face from this dirty white surface, which, with cruel indifference, denied him a view of the world.

Mia had fobbed him off with a fleeting smile after her last visit to the toilet that afternoon, wished him a nice day, almost mockingly, and then closed the lid. With a soft click, darkness fell over him as she went off to have a nice day.

A thin rim of light crept through the narrow gap between the seat and the bowl, the only evidence that there was still a world out there from which he was excluded. No sense of time, no sound, only his own breathing, the cold porcelain beneath his back, and this mercilessly white surface above him, which seemed to rob him of every shred of dignity.

It must be evening by now. Alex recognized this from the light, which was inexorably fading. The thin, dull glow that had crept through the narrow gap between the toilet seat and the bowl during the day was now little more than a pale gray, struggling against a darker gray. Everything was just a dull shadow, form without content.

Boredom gnawed at him like an animal.

It was no longer just a feeling, but a physical condition, a throbbing behind his eyes, a tingling in his fingers that he couldn't quell. It was an agony that had become so unbearable that he almost wished Mia would finally return. Almost.

But as soon as he remembered what her return meant, the humiliation, the disgust, he grimaced inwardly. He'd rather stare at this white surface for a few more hours. This dull, hostile surface that stared at him like a silent judgment.

Suddenly, a deep rumble broke the silence, dull and unmistakable. His stomach. A memory of a different kind of torture. The last thing he'd eaten had been this morning. Mia fed him a shit sausage, admittedly not a small one, and as usual, Alex gagged and just wanted to vomit. Not because of the taste alone, which was disgusting, metallic, somehow sweet and greasy at the same time, but because of the situation.

Meanwhile, Mia had been talking to him cheerfully. As if he were nothing more than a funny pet she kept on the side.
"By the way, my breakfast was delicious today, thanks for asking," she'd said as she served him his fresh from her rectum.

Her voice sounded bright and carefree.

"Fresh scrambled eggs with chives, a croissant with apricot jam... and this coffee, oh my God, Alex, with oat milk and cinnamon.
Honestly, I would go insane if I weren't allowed to have that anymore.
I mean, the smell alone... I think I would honestly go crazy if I were denied such a treat forever. Luckily, I'm not you. Hehe," she giggled smugly.

Alex closed his eyes. Not out of shame, which had long since fallen away like dust, but out of self-defense. He tried to imagine her breakfast, to grasp it in his mind, to make it so vivid that his body didn't notice the deception. Scrambled eggs... warm, buttery, fluffy. He could almost smell it. He saw the croissant, golden brown, slightly crumbly, with the sweet sheen of the jam slowly oozing out.

The coffee, hot, spicy, a hint of cinnamon tickling his nose.

For a fleeting moment, he wasn't lying under her butt, her mouth forced wide open with her anus defecating above it.

For a tiny instant, he was someone sitting at a set breakfast table, knife in hand, sun on his skin.
But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

He opened his eyes, and again saw only two plump buttocks, the hints of her tan lines above them. Surrounded by the stench of her shit and the ungodly taste on his tongue.

But by now, the hunger had returned, even stronger than in the morning.
There was nothing to distract him, nothing except that gnawing feeling in his stomach. Sometimes he even thought he could feel the IV drips artificially delivering nutrients to him, as if his body consciously registered every drop. But no artificial diet, no matter how sophisticated, could replace what he truly lacked: real, solid food.

His stomach lurched as the image of a steaming casserole dish suddenly appeared in his mind's eye: his mother's lasagna. Thick, golden-brown layers of cheese, delicately layered pasta beneath, laced with spicy Bolognese that had been simmering on the stove for hours.

The smell was unforgettable: a promise of warmth, comfort, and childhood. Whenever she knew he'd had a bad day, she would be in the kitchen preparing this very dish. No restaurant, no ready-made package could ever come close to capturing the taste of love, patience, and home that her lasagna contained. The mere thought of it made his mouth water, making his hunger even more unbearable.

A faint squeak made him sit up and take notice.

Then footsteps. Quiet, but not timid.

Was Mia back? His muscles tensed involuntarily, a dull pressure settled on his chest. This rhythmic, slow approach, it sounded like her. Like every time she came, and something inside him knew nothing good would follow. He felt the old anxiety rising, that paralyzing feeling that always settled in his body when she was there. Doom hung in the air.

But something wasn't right.

These footsteps were... different. Calmer. Heavier. More controlled.

Not Mia.

The lid opened slowly.
Light flooded in, blinding him after so long in the dark. He averted his gaze reflexively, but when he looked again, everything inside him froze.

She stood over him, like a statue. In a light summer dress, airy, with a floral pattern. The light behind her let the thin fabric shimmer slightly, her shoulders were bare, the dress moving gently in the breeze from the open window. She seemed... peaceful. Carefree. And now she stood here, above him.

His mother.

For a moment, there was nothing but pure shock, not even pain, only this one, clear realization: She sees me. Something inside him twitched, like a flame suddenly flickering. Hope? Was that possible?

Perhaps she had come to save him. Or at least to see him, really see him, not like Mia, not like an object, not like a toy to be humiliated at will.

But then her gaze met his.
Cold. Unmoving. Not even surprise. Only a sober distance, like looking at something beyond repair. Her eyes slid over him, without flinching, without a trace of compassion. As if he weren't her son. As if he'd never been born.

And in that moment, everything collapsed.

The hope that had lit up inside him for a fleeting heartbeat shattered silently. She didn't see him. Not really.

He, motionless in his wretched position, in a toilet bowl, voiceless, dignityless. And she, above him, upright, clean, alive, in a pale dress that fluttered in the breeze.

How could she look like this? So untouched? So pure, while he... lay here?

He felt like a piece of dirt beneath her shoe. Like a squashed insect, the remains of which one hastily brushes off without a thought, senseless, destroyed, forgotten. And yet she looked. Looked down at him, without a movement. Not a word. Not a shake of the head. Not even disgust.

She wasn't angry or sad either.

Just distant, as if she were observing something that no longer concerned her. A closed chapter.

Alex stared at her, silent, as always.

He couldn't speak, couldn't ask, couldn't beg. Only see. Only feel. And what he felt was like a punch in the gut.

She was beautiful, strong, untouched, while he lay there, dehumanized, forgotten.

A carousel of thoughts began to spin. Intensely. Anger, shame, helplessness, love, hate. All at once.

'Why are you looking at me like that?' He wanted to scream. I am your son. You held me when I was little. You read me stories when I was sick. You cooked me this lasagna whenever I was sad. Don't you remember?'

But she said nothing. Did nothing. Just that look, as if he were a thing.
His heart clenched.
Yes, he knew what he had become. Knew there was no place for him in the world anymore.

But here, in this moment, it became final. Even she had moved on.
Tears welled up in his eyes. Not loudly, not dramatically. Just quietly, slowly. An inner drop that no one could see.

There was nothing inside him but shame. Shame that she had to see him like this. Shame that he still had hope. That, somewhere deep inside, he still believed she could save him. That her love was stronger than what he had become.
But it wasn't.
And it didn't stay that way.

Mary stood motionless, her gaze fixed on Alex. She no longer saw the little boy she had once held in her arms. No longer the child who had once filled her world with joy.

What lay before her was something else, broken, lost, a shadow of what he had once been.
She felt no sadness, only a cold certainty. He had lost his place, and this was exactly where he belonged, in this silent isolation, in this dark corner of his own making.

A part of her wanted to feel pity, but crushing tiredness left no room for it. As a mother, she always had to pretend she loved both children equally.
But the truth was that Mia was simply better, smarter, more athletic, more successful in everything. Alex, on the other hand, always followed her, never really getting close to her.

She had repressed that for a long time, but now that she stood above him, it was unavoidable.

Her gaze remained cold and distant, without a trace of warmth. It was as if life had decided that he could no longer be a part of this world.

Then she felt it again, that pulling in her stomach, an unpleasant, sharp stab that brought her back to the present.
She remembered why she was here. Not for him. Not for lost hopes. But for herself.

In utter horror, Alex watched from his lowly position as his own mother turned her backside towards him.

'She's not getting serious, is she?! Mum! Please!’

Alex pleaded in his mind, but before he could further process what was happening, his mother reached under her airy summer dress and pulled down her panties.

Next, she lifted her dress on both sides of her hips to give Alex his first glimpse of her bare ass cheeks.

What Alex saw made him feel panic and shame. It was now clear what his mother was planning.

She was presenting her enormous ass to her own son, but to her, it was nothing more than a toilet. And that's how she would use it.

He never would have thought he'd be in this situation, facing his mother's ass with dread in his stomach.

Her ass was soft and round, a body part that bore the signs of age, but at the same time clearly showed that she had never neglected it. The skin was no longer flawless; here and there, fine dents appeared, slight traces of cellulite, like gentle ripples in the light. And yet there was nothing off-putting about it.

On the contrary: It was a mature, toned body, not young, but vibrant. Firm enough to betray her discipline, soft enough to be inviting.

Her pussy also looked very graceful in its age. The large, juicy vulva was covered with a fine carpet of hair; Mary had last shaved her pubic area four days ago. The two flaps of skin hanging slightly outward in her slit radiated a maturity that was quite different, but no less inviting, than the pussy of a woman in her twenties.

And as Alex was forced to look up, he suddenly realized where Mia got her genes.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, it was as if the last scene had played out in slow motion, Mary slowly lowered her bottom onto the toilet seat.

As she lowered herself onto the seat, she shifted a few more times to find the ideal position, the plastic toilet seat creaking softly under her weight.

Beneath her, Alex was already in tears. His own mother now sat just inches above his fixed face, the pale summer dress draped over the bowl enveloping him in a pale light.
His eyes were fixed on her asshole, which rested almost directly in front of his nose.
It was finely wrinkled, the skin tone around it a few shades darker than her natural color, and yet he recognized that she was a woman who always took good care of herself.
Only a few tiny stubbles of hair dotted her crack, the last hair removal apparently a few days ago.

Besides the scent of feminine musk, Alex also easily caught the scent of her perfume, which was so familiar to him.

Then, without much warning, she relaxed over him, and immediately the acidic urine bubbled onto his tongue and down his throat. At the same moment, she let out a deep, throaty fart directly into his nose, helplessly exposed to her asshole.

Alex had no choice; he had to breathe through his nose. The warm blast of air hit his nostrils, barely a finger's breadth from the source.

He felt the wind brush against his skin, moist and heavy.

The stench was pungent, rotten, and so overwhelming that he felt like gagging. It smelled as if something had died inside her, rotted deep inside.

As he drank, he felt another rumbling in his stomach. His stomach still longed for a warm meal, anything edible, but all Alex could offer him at that moment was his mother's pungent urine.

As Mary felt her bladder slowly empty, she waited a moment until the last drops of urine landed in the mouth of her toilet before rummaging through the modern control panel next to her to find the function she had come for.

Admittedly, she was initially reluctant to use her daughter's toilet, knowing that her son was installed in it.

However, the moment when she looked her son in the eye for the first time since its installation was far easier than she thought.

She had become quite comfortable with having only one daughter, on whom she and her husband could focus exclusively from now on.

When she finally found what she was looking for, she didn't waste another second and had the device realign its prisoner.

Alex watched in panic as Mary alternately rocked from her left buttock to her right to facilitate access to her asshole.
After his sister Mia, his own mother was now about to subject him to the ultimate humiliation as Alex was slowly moved backward.

Alex now had a perfect view of his own mother's most intimate part, only the tears in his eyes clouding his vision.

As if in slow motion, the engine beneath him worked to position its mouth beneath her asshole. Alex held his breath. His eyes widened, panic flooding his body, hot and paralyzing.

Amid his mother's large, fleshy cheeks, her wrinkled, greasy asshole gaped.

Alex was so close, he could see it pulsing slightly, contracting and expanding as if it were breathing.

From his position, it looked like a terrifying monster. He imagined it was watching him, even though it had no eyes. Just wrinkles, dark furrows from which a foul, musty fume emanated.

The pulsing could just as easily have been a malicious wink, as if mocking Alex, making fun of him, as if it were saying: now it's feeding time.

When his mouth was centered under his mother's waiting anus, Alex tried to calm himself, but suddenly he heard the faint hum of the engine again. With a gentle jolt, he felt it now heading for her bottom.

His body began to shake, the tears falling silently, hot, bitter.
Alex's face twisted, not in pain, but in shame, as he wept like a beaten animal, humiliated to the core of his existence.

'Why is she doing this to me? What does she get out of it?'
No shame. Not a spark of humanity. Just... nothing. As if I had never been her son, but merely a mistake she'd finally gotten rid of. Why is she doing this? How can you kick your own child so deeply...?’

Alex didn't know that after all the torment he'd endured so far, he could still feel so empty and yet so full of shame. He knew that she almost didn't care about him after looking into her eyes during his installation, but the fact that he meant so little to her that she humiliated him just for the sake of it tore him apart.

Then the contact. His lips touched the underside of his user, and as mechanical as the process was, it was to continue just as inhumanly.

The system gently adjusted Alex's mouth over his mother's waiting asshole.

The pressure with which he was pressed against it grew steadily, slowly, mercilessly, until finally there was no gap left.

A complete seal formed between her exit and his entrance, and despite the warmth of her body on his lips, Alex felt nothing but cold.

Suddenly, fine electrical impulses shot through his tissue, barely noticeable, but unmistakable. Before he even realized what was happening, they had already changed something.
His entire mouth spasmed, as if an invisible force were manipulating him.
An artificially created vacuum was created, it didn't feel like a command.
It was a compulsion. The system wanted him to suck on his mother's asshole.
Almost immediately, Mary began to press, which Alex also noticed immediately.

Her anus spread into his mouth and tried to open.

But just when Alex thought it couldn't get any worse, his tongue suddenly moved. Without being able to control a single movement, the prison he was in, which simultaneously controlled him, steered his defenseless tongue straight toward the anus in his mouth.

With a wet smacking sound, it made contact with its target, which made Alex immediately gag. The sour yet bitter taste of sweat and old farts spread over his sense of taste. And as if that weren't enough, his tongue, without his intervention, began to circle the puckered anal sphincter in a controlled manner.

Alex already felt like he was at the end of his strength, even before his mother had begun her big business. Why all this? What did that mean? Why was she humiliating him so much?

Mary was initially irritated by the suction on her bottom, but after she started pushing, she immediately felt a pleasant sensation. She had hoped this might help finally relieve her constipation.

After the contractors had finished installing the new toilet, Mary sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and curiously leafed through the manual. Among the many technical functions and strange technical terms, she finally came across something that caught her attention:

"Extract Aid - activatable support mode for targeted emptying in cases of constipation."

Suddenly, Mary felt the pleasant warmth and moisture of a tongue on her asshole. With slow circular movements, it began to stimulate her anus, hopefully stimulating her bowel movement.

Beneath her, Alex constantly licked and tasted the dirt and sweat that had accumulated around her sphincter throughout the day. He heard his mother occasionally moaning above him, as if she were in pain, but his sympathy was limited.

By now, he guessed two minutes had passed, his tongue rhythmically licking around the hole five times before pressing flatly with its entire surface a few times, like a paramedic performing CPR, before finally drilling the tip of his tongue directly into the center. And despite all that, nothing happened.

Alex was beginning to wonder if she hadn't even gotten around to shit, but at the very moment his tongue pressed flat against her asshole, she thanked him by farting directly onto his sensitive taste buds.

A huge, bassy fart roared down his throat at that moment.

For a brief moment, the suction in his mouth was replaced by enormous pressure, and his cheeks puffed out before he was forced to swallow her gases.

Furthermore, the intense heat and moisture of the fart, combined with the sour taste of decay, told Alex that his mother would most definitely shit in his mouth.

Mary, her face contorted in pain, massaged her lower abdomen to further stimulate her digestion. She could already feel the suction and stimulation of Alex's tongue helping, but it was still a huge struggle to finally get rid of this beast that had been stuck inside her for days.

Once again, Alex would be used like a mindless object, meaningless, merely a means to an end. But what finally broke him this time wasn't just the act itself, but the fact that the very person he had trusted most his entire life, his mother, dehumanized him with cold matter-of-factness, as if he had never been more than a thing.

Mary pushed more rhythmically now, tensing her abdominal muscles in bursts, while her son's throat also did everything in its power to finally give her relief.
And finally, after minutes that felt like an eternity, both for Alex as a receptive toilet bowl and for Mary, who sat suffering above him, the stubborn sphincter slowly opened a little.

Alex experienced everything in real time, his tongue relentlessly exploring every fold, every bump on and around the asshole above him. He felt another surge of fear. By now, he had realized that his mother was having trouble relieving herself inside him, and his tongue was supposed to stimulate her anus to open.

By the fifth circle around her exit, Alex knew exactly what would happen next. His tongue no longer obeyed him; it spread of its own accord, pressed flat against its target, and began to massage it in steady movements. Only now her sphincter was slightly open, revealing what hadn't seen natural light for days.

The head of her feces, still surrounded by the tight sphincter, peeped out like an opening eye.
The first thing Alex felt was the solid texture of the shit sausage; it practically scratched his working tongue. With every movement of his tongue, he licked the slightly oily film that lay over the lump.

It was warm, extremely earthy, with an eerily sweet aftertaste that didn't belong there. Like overripe fruit mixed with rusty metal and foul breath. An aroma that etched itself not only on his tongue, but into his entire consciousness, sticky, unyielding, shameful.

Then his tongue withdrew for a brief moment, only to immediately curl up. With incredible precision, it landed directly on his eye, on his mother's feces.
The movement originally intended to spread Mary's sphincter now drilled directly into the shit, delivering Alex a full-bodied experience of disgusting sweetness, which the taste buds at the tip of his tongue could savor with particular intensity.

The only recognition Alex received for his efforts was the soft, irregular moaning of his mother far above him. When Alex's tongue finally returned to the beginning of its humiliating cycle and circled Mary's rosette again, he felt it widen further and further.

Millimeter by millimeter, the turd snaked its way into his mouth, while his tongue dutifully circled it, involuntarily exploring its entire surface structure. Alex felt her anus opening wider and wider, pushing out something with a diameter his helpless throat could not possibly handle.

He fell into total panic, while Mary above him felt great relief.
Muffled by the buttocks blocking his access to the outside world, he heard her moan again.

"Ugh, finally!"

Suddenly, his tongue stopped its routine, and Alex could practically feel the subtle electrical impulses changing direction. The system was preparing for the next phase of the extraction aid.

First, his entire mouth began to secrete an unnatural amount of saliva.

The next moment, his tongue became active again, working to moisten the lump of shit all around so that it could slide more easily down Alex's esophagus.

No one who had the privilege of being recognized as a fully-fledged human being could even begin to imagine the torment those poor souls had to endure. It was an unbearable torture every time, a living hell, a complete humiliation. Like another human being, without any compassion, trampled on their dignity and shit in their mouths without a second thought.

By now, the turd had already protruded several centimeters and was about to find the only way out open to it. With unpleasantly strong pressure, the head of her feces pressed against Alex's throat before finally finding its way and beginning to spread the narrow tube unnaturally wide. As if it desperately wanted to get in there.

In addition to the burning pain that the rough surface of the turd left on his sensitive mucous membranes, Alex now also felt the rhythmic waves of his esophagus, methodical, crawling movements, almost like the gliding of a caterpillar or the pulling of an accordion, tirelessly trying to propel this monstrous lump towards his stomach.

Mary's back entrance also hurt; her excretion was too big and too hard.
For days, the remaining moisture was sucked out of the pile of feces in her rectum before, fortunately for her, it finally decided to leave her body.

But neither she nor Alex were released yet.

Alex was at his limit. His mouth still tightly draped, sucking, over his mother's asshole, he himself looked like a wreck.

His eyes rolled back as pain and the disgusting taste flooded his senses, burning and beyond all endurance.

But just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Mary suddenly felt a sense of release in her bowels.

With a sudden jolt, reminiscent of a champagne cork bursting, everything from within her was released. What was an extremely liberating feeling for her was, for the sad figure beneath her, the final act of his ultimate humiliation.

What had previously taken ages to prepare now suddenly discharged into Alex's throat in a matter of seconds.

Then what had previously taken ages to prepare was suddenly released into Alex's throat in a matter of seconds. The intense overpressure sent the massive pile of shit down into Alex's stomach at extreme speed and with the feeling that it would tear his throat open to make room for a bestially tasting, thick, hot, viscous porridge that filled every gap in Alex's mouth.

Mary moaned softly as the knot in her stomach loosened, a surge of relief flooding over her, and a wave of dopamine swept her away, spreading a liberating, almost redeemed smile across her face.

The last three days now flowed together in a single, thumping moment. Mary could still vaguely remember the meals, all simultaneously making their way through her digestive tract.

The three eggs and the tough buttered toast, hastily devoured one morning as the day overwhelmed her with its haste.

The warm, creamy potato salad she'd eaten for lunch, which had felt like lead in her stomach after a while, but had still satisfied her hunger.

The greasy burger in the afternoon, overloaded with cheese, meat, and onions, which had lodged itself far too heavily in her stomach.
And the glass of red wine in the evening that made her stomach burn, accompanied by the chips she had carelessly stuffed into her mouth.

Finally, this morning's breakfast, a cup of coffee and a quick cookie that lurked like a shadow in her stomach.

Now, with a single, powerful jerk, everything seemed to unravel at once, as if her body had been preparing for years to experience this moment of release.

The knot had been undone, and with it came relief. The many days spent in a constant alternation of hastily devoured meals and vague feelings of hunger finally found their way out. Everything pushed downward, a tempestuous torrent that burst through her body, bringing with it the relief that only a long, overdue release could bring.

Alex tasted everything, felt everything, smelled everything as his mother relieved herself inside him, filling his mouth with shit that flowed lazily down his throat like hot magma.

The mass was viscous and tugged at his throat as it moved, thick, almost sticky, with a viscous consistency that clung to the walls of his esophagus like cold tar.

It was as if something heavy and resistant was struggling through his intestines, pushing deeper into the folds and curves of his throat with each movement.

The surface was uneven, with occasional lumps that clung stubbornly, while other pieces slid along, heavy and slimy, like thick pudding, pushing from one resistance to another with every step. The smell was stifling, and the thick, disgusting texture continued in a slow, steady stream that was almost impossible to contain.

And while his mother was busy squeezing the last remnants of her digestion into her once-son's mouth, he was completely destroyed. Unable to think clearly, he simply lay there, helplessly trapped in the toilet bowl of his former home.

Mary pinched the last piece of feces from her anus, which unceremoniously landed and stuck to Alex's strained, pain-ridden tongue.

Without a single gesture of appreciation for her helper, Mary ended the Extract Aid mode on the touch panel.

A soft pop of a vacuum being released was audible as Alex's head slowly sank back into the toilet bowl.

Ashamed and forever scarred, Alex watched from his lowly position as his mother's immaculately manicured hand wiped her ravaged, severely irritated asshole clean with soft, moist toilet paper, so as not to irritate it further.

With a sigh of relief, Mary slowly rose from the toilet. In an almost automatic gesture, she pulled her white lace thong back between her buttocks as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The graceful elegance with which she adjusted her summer dress left no room for the dark, unimaginable truth of what she had just left to the poor worm in the toilet bowl.

Slowly, Alex's mouth closed after this agony, and with a final, exhausted sigh, he began flushing away the remnants of her waste with his saliva.

Mary turned with almost mechanical precision and reached for the toilet lid. For a moment, she paused as she looked down at the inside of the toilet bowl. Her eyes surveyed the scene before her, but the view before her was anything but shocking.
It was simply pathetic.

Alex's face was a sad, washed-out expression of tears and sweat that clung like sticky threads to his battered skin. His eyes, wide-open and empty, gave a disturbing glimpse into what had once been his soul, now nothing but an empty abyss.
An abyss that endlessly grew within itself, protruded into it, as if he had lost himself, as if there were no way back.

Mary looked at him with complete indifference, as if she no longer felt the need to concern herself with him.

There was no emotion in her, no pity, no mercy. What lay before her was no longer the person who had once been her son.

It was a miserable relic, broken in despair, and she could barely remember that this body had once supported life, laughter, and love.

An imperceptible snort escaped her.

It wasn't a gesture of compassion, but an almost derogatory reaction that echoed in the silence of the room. The nauseating sight evoked nothing in her but a cold, almost disgusted contempt.

How could she ever feel attached to this person? It was an absurd thought that now had no place in her mind.

With a precise movement, she closed the toilet lid, and the soft, almost final sound echoed around the room.

With a brief, despairing glance at the now-closed toilet, it was as if Alex had vanished from the world for good.

The darkness of the bowl, now swallowing him, reflected his inner emptiness. Every moment he spent watching his mother's features felt like another defeat, a painful reminder of what he once was and what he would never be again.

Her derogatory snort still echoed in his mind, like the final, painful cut. Her reaction was an unmistakable sign that in her eyes, he was nothing more than a failed, despised object. A waste she had thankfully disposed of.

But that thought, painful as it was, quickly faded as the bathroom door closed. It was the last sound Alex heard before absolute silence enveloped him. Nothing. No sound, no feeling. Only the endless darkness that surrounded him.

Mary turned away and walked out of the room with an almost casual step. Her gaze was cool, lifeless, as if she had just accomplished something that didn't deserve further attention. She closed the door behind her, as if it were just an everyday action performed out of habit. Her face was already back in the mask of someone who no longer carried any emotional baggage.

The moment of horror was long gone.
Down the stairs, her steps firm and purposeful, as if she had already left everything behind. Her focus was now back on what was important to her. Paul, the man with whom she shared her life and to whom she had previously promised something.


Part 6.5

The summer heat of the past few days still hung heavy in the air, even now, in the early hours. The window was slightly ajar, allowing a barely perceptible breeze to sweep through the room, just enough to gently sway the pale curtains. They moved slowly, rhythmically, as if dancing to the beat of a silent song.

The first rays of sunlight made their way into the room between the fine folds of fabric.
They traced soft patterns on the floor and on the duvet that had settled over Mia's sleeping body. The clock on the nightstand read
7:48 a.m., but that didn't matter. It was still summer vacation. No alarm clock, no training, no class schedule.

The sounds from outside were muffled.
A distant chirping. Perhaps the distant drone of a lawnmower from one of the neighboring yards. A dog barked briefly somewhere. But in her room, everything was quiet, as if wrapped in cotton wool.

Mia's face lay half in shadow, half in the warm light filtering through the curtains. But even though her eyes were still closed, her expression was no longer completely relaxed. Her forehead was slightly wrinkled, the corners of her mouth curling imperceptibly, as if her body were already reacting to something wrong inside her while she slept. Her breathing was shallower, more irregular, no longer a deep, peaceful sleep.

Her blond hair lay tangled on the pillow, a golden shimmer in the morning sun.

Then her eyelids slowly began to move.

A soft moan escaped her lips as Mia slowly stirred. Her eyelids twitched one last time, then opened halfway. Still tired, sleepy, irritable.

She blinked in the dim light, grimaced slightly, and turned lazily to the side.

With an annoyed sigh, she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. A quick glance at the screen. 7:49 a.m.

"Ugh... seriously?" she mumbled hoarsely, letting the device plop back down on the wood.

She slowly sat up in bed. Her hand automatically went to her lower abdomen, where an unpleasant pulling sensation was located. Not strong, but noticeable. Added to that was a dull pressure in her lower back, slowly spreading, heavy, unpleasant, like a wave pressing against the inner wall of her body at regular intervals.

Mia rubbed her forehead, then her temples. Her eyes felt dry, her limbs heavy, as if her sleep hadn't been restful. She swung her legs out of bed, her movements slow and slightly stiff.

She wore a loose, pale pink T-shirt that fell loosely over her shoulders, along with short gray pajama shorts with small white stars on them. Her legs seemed slightly tense as she sat up, barefoot.

The first contact with the carpet was pleasant. Fluffy, soft, warm, a luxury she'd allowed herself so she wouldn't have to step on the cold floor in the morning.

Mia stretched briefly, yawned softly, then padded slowly to the bathroom door. There was something languid, almost reluctant, in her movements, as if each step reminded her of something she'd rather ignore.


———————————————————


The light was merciless.

Usually, Alex found the first sunlight of the morning a small comfort. A last faint hint of warmth caressing his skin, like a forgotten memory of another life.

But today was different.

Today the light reminded him not of hope, but of loss.

As it settled over the tiles, slowly creeping across the white ceramic, and finally reaching his face, he felt nothing but emptiness.
It was the beginning of a new day, a world he no longer belonged to.

The toilet lid was still open. Mia hadn't closed it last night. Whether out of thoughtlessness or intentionally didn't matter.

Alex blinked into the light that now hit his reddened eyes. He hadn't slept a wink all night, not even for a moment.

How could he?

The angle at which his head was tilted upward seemed designed to create the maximum degree of tension a human body could endure without passing out. His lips were chapped, dry. And yet, all of that was nothing compared to what was truly raging inside him.

The images of yesterday wouldn't leave him alone.

He had heard her before she came into the bathroom. Her footsteps. The bright click of the light switch. And then her face. Not Mia's. But his mother's.

She had looked at him. A gaze that no longer knew warmth, cool, penetrating, almost alien. Maybe only a moment, but long enough to make him feel like he had long since become invisible to her.
And then… then she had simply acted. As if she had never given birth to him. As if there was nothing left between them except cold ceramic and his new new purpose in this world.

No hesitation. No looking back.

Even while using him, Alex was at the limit of his strength, every breath heavy, tears flowing uncontrollably. But when she closed the lid and enveloped him in darkness, he truly realized the hopelessness of his situation. The tightness that already held him captive tightened even further, as if the darkness itself were crushing him.

No fight, no escape, only the oppressive feeling of being in a world that had long forgotten him. The tears now flowed unchecked, while despair settled over him like a cold wave.

The room around him was silent, but within him a storm of pain and despair raged. It wasn't a physical pain he recognized, not a pulling, not a burning, but a deep-seated emptiness that spread like cold fog.

How can a person be used like this, by their own mother, and still continue to exist?
This question bored deep into his mind, gnawing at his last shred of hope and leaving him in the darkness, alone with his shattered trust.

His whole body tensed, as if trying to defend himself against what had long since happened. But there was nothing left to hold on to. No control, no strength. Not even the shred of dignity he sometimes lied about at night to survive the humiliation.

It was as if every muscle inside him was screaming, not in pain, but in insignificance.

He was no longer human. Not a son. Not a brother. Not even a person.


———————————————————


Mia entered the bathroom without fumbling for the light switch. The morning sun was already penetrating the large window above the tub, filling the room with a warm, pleasant light that made any artificial source superfluous.

The tiles seemed brighter than they had been the night before, the matte white of the ceramic slab gleaming softly, almost sterilely. The air was still, only the distant sound of the lawnmower still permeated the walls like a low hum.

The toilet lid was open.

Mia noticed it, somewhere at the edge of her consciousness, without really thinking about it. No pause, not even a thought of Alex.

Her body moved out of habit, her mind still half-foggy. Everything ran on autopilot, mechanical, routine.
She was tired, numb from the lack of sleep and the dull ache that had settled in her stomach like a stone.

Without hesitation, she pushed her shorts over her hips, her panties along with them.
The fabric slid effortlessly down her thighs, pooling above her knees as she slowly lowered herself onto the seat.

The contact with the cool toilet seat made her shiver, and with a soft sigh, she closed her eyes.

The first urine flowed in a steady, unruffled stream, accompanied by a barely audible splash that sounded almost uncomfortably clear in the silence.

But while her body did what it did every morning, her mind remained awake, irritated. The pulling in her lower abdomen was stronger than yesterday. And the pressure in her back, that dull, swirling feeling that lay like a weight beneath her skin, just wouldn't go away.

She placed a hand on her stomach, gently rubbing her fingers over the taut tissue.

A soft grinding of her teeth as she briefly tensed her jaw.


———————————————————


Alex slowly came back to himself.
His sister's morning trip to the toilet brought him back to the present, not gently, but reliably. For a moment, it distracted him from the much deeper pain that had hung over everything like a dark shadow since yesterday.

The pungent smell, the warm mist gathering in the narrow chamber beneath her, all of it was familiar to him by now. He felt trapped, almost sealed under the firm, almost airtight pressure Mia's ass exerted on the toilet seat. But even that which was usually difficult to bear lost its sharpness today.

Alex was still choking on the yellow liquid that burned in his mouth and felt heavy in his throat. Every sip was torture, but at the same time, he felt his body gratefully absorbing the much-needed moisture. After all the tears and the constant dehydration during the night, this small portion of water was like a rescue, a faint glimmer of hope that resonated deep within him. Despite the resistance, he knew that this very liquid was slowly helping him survive again.

Alex heard a soft hiss, followed by a warm breeze gently brushing across his face. Reflexively, he took a deep breath and immediately began to gag again.
A bitter taste rose in his throat, making his stomach churn.

For a brief moment, he saw it as a small taste of what would likely become his vile, dehumanizing breakfast later, once Mia had jumpstarted her digestive system with her own meal.

A relentless rhythm he was trapped in, with no chance of escape.

Alex watched her wipe herself clean and instinctively expected her to get up at once, finally getting some fresh air, a little bit of freedom to breathe. But instead, she remained seated.

Then he heard the faint but unmistakable rustle of plastic wrap, which made his senses even more acute.

But before he could seriously ponder what his sister was doing above him, Mia slowly rose slightly from her seat and remained in a squat.

Alex now had a perfect, front-row view of Mia's admittedly extremely attractive backside.

Mia's firm, toned buttocks now hovered slightly above the toilet seat.

Her cute little asshole, which usually caused him a lot of agony, almost disappeared among the large mounds of flesh in this position. Alex surveyed his horizon with awe as Mia's hands appeared from both sides.

He watched as her left hand reached for her vagina and gently spread the juicy, pink labia slightly with her index and middle fingers.

Then her second hand appeared, right in front of his eyes, holding a white fabric cylinder in its fingers. Alex immediately recognized the act of feminine hygiene he was witnessing at that moment and felt another pang of shame.

Not only because he was witnessing another highly intimate moment with his sister. What was truly uncomfortable was the indifference with which Mia let him watch it from such close range.

With a practiced grip, she now placed the tip of the tampon at the entrance to her vagina. Then, with her index finger, she carefully pushed the tampon deep toward her uterus.
All that remained was the retrieval string, which now swung like a rope with every slight movement.
As Mia bent down once more to grab her panties and shorts, the thin string briefly brushed against Alex's now-closed lips, a faint harbinger of what was to come.


———————————————————


When Mia stood up again, her rhythm of movement was still tenuous, but not quite as heavy. The light in the bathroom seemed warmer now, almost inviting.

She reached for the small towel next to the sink, mechanically wiped her hands, and then quickly ran her hand through her hair. A glance in the mirror, disheveled, pale, a trace of tiredness in her eyes, but something about it suddenly seemed less strange.

Maybe it was the light. Or the silence. Or simply the thought that the day wasn't over yet.

As she walked back into her room, she paused for a moment by the door. The curtains moved again, softly, tentatively, as if the morning itself were breathing.

She hesitated, then reached for the hair tie from the nightstand and loosely tied her hair back.

Since she was already awake, she might as well go downstairs.

She knew her mother was probably already sitting at the table, the newspaper open, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Her father would join them later, as always, a little sleepy but in a good mood.

The thought was unexpectedly comforting and somehow nice.

She still felt the tug in her stomach, the pressure in her back, but it seemed a little farther away now.

Maybe it was the light. Or just the fact that everything was so quiet right now.

Without giving it another thought, she left her room and headed toward the stairs, barefoot, her steps still sluggish, but no longer quite so reluctant.
Downstairs, the smell of coffee already filled the room.

—————————

When Mia opened the kitchen door, warm light streamed through the half-open shutters. The table was already set, a basket of bread, butter, jam, a pot of coffee, and two plates.

Her mother was sitting on the chair by the window with a newspaper in her hand, a steaming cup in front of her. When she noticed Mia, she immediately put the newspaper down and smiled in surprise.

"Well, good morning, honey! That's early for you."

Mia shrugged slightly. "Couldn't sleep anymore."

"Then come on, sit down. I'll quickly get you a plate."

Mary stood up, put her cup aside, and walked to the cupboard. She seemed awake, but not quite ready for the day, her bathrobe loosely tied, her hair roughly brushed back from her face.

"Do you want juice or tea?" she asked casually, taking a glass from the shelf.

"Juice is good."

Mia sat down in the empty seat at the table, leaned back, and briefly glanced over the familiar objects, the familiar fruit basket, the small vase of fresh flowers, the slight mess that had somehow always been part of it.

The kitchen door swung slightly back into place. when Paul entered. He smelled of aftershave and summer air, his step confident, as always when the day was really starting for him.

"Well, the family's already sitting there."
His gaze slid to Mia in surprise. "You're early."

"I was awake anyway," she murmured, without looking up from her bread.

Paul sat down at the table and reached for the coffee pot.
"Well... he's still coming along badly," he said between sips, directly to Mary. "I don't think he'll last much longer."

Mia looked up, blinked.
"Who did you get it from?"

Mary was just putting the jam jar back in the middle of the table.
"Glenn," she said casually as she sat back down. "It seems like it's almost over for him."

Paul poured himself more coffee and stirred in a little milk before answering.
"Hmm. Still, I have to say, we haven't really had any problems for years."

He bit into a piece of toast and continued chewing calmly.

"Well, now he has the weekend to recover a bit while we're with Richard and Claire."

Mary and Paul were invited this weekend to the home of old school friends, Richard and Claire Monroe, who had recently moved into their new beach house further south in California.
A welcome opportunity for both of them to escape everyday life and spend a few days by the sea.

Mia raised her eyebrows and popped a piece of fruit into her mouth.
"Well, with what he's been eating these past few years, I'm not surprised he'll give up soon."

Mary cut herself a piece of croissant, rolled it slowly in the apricot jam, and then said, almost thoughtfully:

"When you see what the new models can do these days... our old toilet seems a bit like a relic from another era."

She smiled vaguely and glanced sideways at Paul.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, Glenn has served us faithfully. But a little more comfort in the bathroom... wouldn't be a bad thing, would it?"

Paul snorted quietly without looking up as he buttered a piece of toast.
"I don't know, Mary... in the end, it's still a toilet. To be honest, I'm not expecting a major revolution."

Mary raised an eyebrow, as if he'd just claimed the earth was flat.
She turned slightly in her chair toward him, calmly but with the tone of a woman who wanted to clarify something fundamental.

"Have you tried the toilet in Mia's bathroom upstairs?"

Mary let the question hang in the air for a moment and then continued.

"Just the swallowing interval... clearly noticeable, but absolutely coordinated. Not an uncomfortable pull or resistance.
It practically mirrored my pace.
Then such a smooth gait when positioning, the soft lips on your bottom... it's just a different level of comfort."

Mia stopped mid-bite, a gleeful grin spreading across her lips.

"You used Alex?" Her voice was amused and slightly mocking, as if she were already imagining the chaos Alex must have experienced as a result.

She dabbed her fingertips with her napkin before calmly saying:

"Yes, last night."

She then turned directly to Paul, who was still stoically chewing his toast.

"And I can tell you firsthand:
The difference is huge. It's nothing compared to our toilet. If you don't believe me, try it for yourself."

Mia could barely contain herself.
The unexpected realization that her mother had literally sat on Alex was absurd enough. But the added possibility that her father might be using her brother as a toilet took the whole thing to a whole new level.
Images formed in her head of Alex desperately trying to somehow hold on to hope in his life while his own parents gradually shit directly in his mouth.

Mia bit her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud and looked at her father with mock seriousness.

"Really, Dad. You should really try it."

But inside, she was about to explode with glee.
If Alex had any dignity left in her, she'd definitely be going down the drain by now.

Paul grimaced briefly when the thought occurred to him that he should actually sit on Alex. He didn't really like the idea, his son as a toilet was somehow... wrong. But he didn't stand a chance against Mary, and if the technology was really that much better, they could think about modernizing.

"Okay," he finally gave in, nodding slowly. "When we get back from our weekend with the Monroes, we'll take a look at a specialty store. Maybe it's time for something new after all."

He looked at Mia, who was still grinning, and adopted a more serious tone.

"And you, Mia, while we're away, you have full responsibility for the house.
No parties, no chaos, no strange characters still lurking in the garden on Monday, got it? I'm counting on you."

Mia placed a hand on her chest and said with exaggerated seriousness:

"Of course. No parties, no escalations. I'll run the house with iron discipline."

A grin crept onto her lips.

Paul just shook his head, Mary laughed softly, and for a moment, peaceful silence fell over the breakfast table.


———————————————————


The sun was already clearly visible when Mia returned to her room. The day was going to be hot, you could already tell from the heavy, stagnant air. If she wanted to go jogging, it would be now, before the asphalt started to shimmer and every step became torture.

She had already changed into a light, black sports top that fit tightly and left her shoulders bare, paired with short, chocolate-brown leggings that hit just above her thighs and didn't restrict her movement. On her feet were her worn, white-and-gray running shoes, the soles slightly worn from all the training.

As she walked to the bathroom, she tied her braid and pulled the dark-brown hair tie tight with a practiced movement until not a single strand fell from her smooth, blonde hair.

The bathroom door was ajar. She pushed it open with her foot and stepped in. The light fell softly through the window, casting bright streaks across the tiles. The air was cool, almost pleasant compared to the stifling heat outside.

She actually wanted to leave right away, a short walk through the park, maybe to the river and back. Not long, just enough to get her circulation going before the day became too difficult.

But first… she wanted to pay someone a visit.

Her gaze slid toward the toilet.

She approached, slowly, calmly, almost casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and stood in front of the bowl.
She hesitated briefly, then leaned forward a bit and looked down.

In the clear morning light that filtered through the window and brightly illuminated the white ceramic, Alex was clearly visible.

His face was bathed in the full light, every movement, every shadow visible: his pale cheeks, his reddened eyes, the expression of quiet exhaustion that had settled over his features. He looked at her, his eyes tired, tormented, but underneath lay that shallow, frozen fear of the next humiliation that always rose within him when it came.

His eyes searched desperately for a hint of compassion, a spark of mercy. But what struck him was something else, something that took his breath away.

Mia's gaze bored deep into him, and a radiant, nasty smile spread across her lips, so cold and merciless that it felt like a slap in the face. This smile was full of triumphant glee, as if she were celebrating his complete powerlessness at that moment.

Mia leaned a little closer, her eyes flashing with mockery and joy, while a mischievous smile played around her lips.

"What's with that face again, little brother?"
Mia laughed brightly, her voice sparkling with glee.

"You know, ever since you were trapped in that bowl, you've had this pitying look on your face. Whenever I look at you, I see this pathetic hope in your eyes, as if you truly believe you can somehow get out of it."

She shook her head, as if it were almost cute, and added:
"It's almost sweet how you still believe in your salvation. But you've known for a long time that this is your new home."
A slight, mocking giggle escaped her as she lowered her gaze to him.

Alex wanted to avert his gaze, to hide, to bury his shame. But in the narrow bowl, avoiding it was almost impossible. His gaze briefly and involuntarily slid to Mia's legs in the chocolate-brown leggings, to her crotch, where the contours of her labia were clearly visible, before returning to her face.

He forced himself to stay still.

Mia suddenly grimaced, tilting her head slightly and pulling a mock-offended pout. Her voice changed abruptly, from mock superiority to exaggerated innocence.

"You know, you could have said something."

She pointedly crossed her arms over her chest, took a half-step back, and looked down at him, like a friend waiting for an apology, except that dangerous glint still lingered in her eyes.

A slight twitch crossed her lips, barely perceptible, as if she could barely keep herself from smiling.

„Yesterday, I gave myself such a hard time for taking a shit at the restaurant.“

An exaggerated sigh escaped her throat, theatrical, almost amused. "I really thought you'd have to go hungry all night."
Her eyes bored into his, as sharp and clear as glass, as if she were actually waiting for his opinion. But the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement, her expression said something else.

Then she leaned forward again, almost confidentially, as if she were about to tell him a secret. Her voice lowered to a soft, almost whispering tone:

"And now I just found out that Mum took care of your dinner."

Mia let out a loud, unabashed laugh that cut coldly through the room. She slapped her thigh in amusement, her eyes flashing with pleasure.

Reality hit Alex like a blow, harder than any humiliation before. In that moment, everything around him began to blur.
Not only was he being used by his own mother, now his sister knew about it too.

"You know, she was absolutely thrilled," Mia said, grinning as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Her voice dripped with mockery.

"She said you were more comfortable than any other toilet before. Really cozy, she said. Almost... luxurious." She giggled, softly and cruelly.

"A little sick, don‘t you think? Our mom pooped down your throat. But hey—congratulations, bro. You made quite an impression."

A hot sting gathered behind his eyes. His heart pounded, heavy and loud, as if fighting the despair spreading within him.
Slowly, inexorably, the first tears trickled down his cheeks. Alex sank into a sea of ​​shame and pain, all alone, while Mia's laughter echoed in his head.

He wanted to run away, hide, block out the world. But he couldn't. Not here. Not now.

After a while, Mia slowly fell silent. Her laughter subsided, but the mocking grin remained, firm and unchanged, as if it had just gained the upper hand.

Mia straightened up slightly, gazing once more into his eyes, which now glistened with moisture. She watched the tears streaming down his cheeks and made a theatrically pitying face.

"Don't tell me, did Mum's shit actually taste better than my delicious dumps?"

She let the words slide into the room with a smug smile and sparkling eyes, clearly enjoying the ironic pleasure of even asking the question.

"Don't worry, I can handle the truth."

Her grin widened, almost challenging, as she waited for him to respond.
She shook her head amusedly, as if she perfectly understood his silence.

In an almost mocking tone, she answered for him:

"Well, as long as you’re stuffed, right?

Then, without a shred of compassion, she dropped the toilet lid over his face. A final, bright laugh echoed through the room as she closed the door behind her, leaving Alex alone with his humiliation.



Part 7

Freshly showered and wrapped only in her cozy bathrobe, Mia wanted to start her weekend off relaxed. She had just returned from her run in the park and had managed to say goodbye to her parents before they left to visit friends.
 
As they left, her father had turned around and said a warning: "I don't want the neighbors to hear you had a wild party here!"
 
Of course, Mia had reassured him with the most innocent smile she could muster. In truth, she had already planned everything: a big party was scheduled for tonight. All her classmates were coming, and even a few guys from college had agreed to attend.
 
She wasn't worried. Her parents wouldn't be back for another two days, plenty of time to leave the house spotless.
 
But first, something else had to be done: she had to get herself ready. After all, she wanted to look perfect as the hostess.
 
Calmly, Mia stood with one foot on the toilet seat and began to trim her toenails. With practiced precision, she let each small, pale clipping fall into the bowl below, or more accurately, directly into her brother's wide-open mouth.
 
Alex's eyes followed her every move. Angry, helpless. His face was pressed firmly against the porcelain, his jaw grotesquely open, as if he had never done anything but remain silent and swallow.
 
Mia seemed as if this were a perfectly normal part of her daily routine.
 
She leaned forward slightly, checking that she was catching the next nail correctly, and smiled with satisfaction as the small cut landed neatly in Alex's mouth.
 
Her gaze fell on his angry face, but a smile only flickered slightly across her lips. She nodded at him calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Well, Alex," she said softly, almost casually, "aren't you looking forward to the party a little bit?"
 
Mia was slightly bent forward, her bathrobe pushed back over one open knee, as she worked intently on her big toe. With a soft crack, a wide section of nail came loose. Satisfied, she examined the crescent-shaped piece between her thumb and forefinger, shimmering, slightly curved, almost like a small piece of shell.
 
Slowly, she lowered her hand, holding the piece right in front of his face, as if showing him something delicious.
 
"Here, a real treat for you," she murmured with a smug undertone, letting her fingers hover over his mouth for another moment, almost as if she wanted to savor his reaction.
 
Alex's stomach clenched, a shiver of disgust rising in his throat.
 
The thought of having his sister's severed, slightly sour-smelling toenails in his mouth made his bile rise. Each one felt like a tiny, dirty splinter of foreign matter scratching against his tongue.
 
He desperately wanted to turn his head away, spit, scream. Anything to rid himself of this feeling of humiliation. But he forced himself to remain still. Only his eyes betrayed him: a flickering, angry glare that met her for a fleeting moment, sharp and cold. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of showing even a flicker of his disgust.
 
A crooked smile flitted across her face before she precisely dropped the piece into his open mouth.
 
The nail fragment landed on Alex's tongue, right next to the other pieces. He couldn't do anything, neither chew nor swallow.
 
Despite the burning rage against his sister and the searing humiliation, he forced himself to keep the smooth, hard pieces still on his tongue.
 
Every little jolt Mia caused with her foot on the toilet seat made him shudder; one wrong breath and the dry shards could slide down his throat. It was disgusting, it repulsed him, and yet he had no choice: only with some liquid would he finally be able to flush his sister's clipped toenails down the toilet.
 
Alex's eyes narrowed even further, but his silent rage bounced off Mia's composure.
 
Her face was perfectly calm as she bent over her foot with cool concentration, almost indifferent, as if it were all part of an everyday routine.
 
For a moment, their eyes met: her icy blue eyes, clear and unmoved, shimmered above him like cold glass. Alex's chest tightened; anger and disgust burned hot beneath his skin, but he could do nothing but look back, caught between rage and helplessness.
 
Suddenly, a faint ringing sounded from downstairs in the hallway, barely more than a muffled chime that cut through the silence of the house. Mia blinked, sat up slightly, and listened for a moment. A small, knowing smile flickered across her lips.
 
“Ah,” she murmured, half to herself, half to him, “that must be Chaela.”
 
Mia slowly lifted her foot from the toilet seat. “Don‘t run away,” she said in a voice that was both calm and smug, and took the first step toward the door.
 
She was just about to step out when her gaze fell on the floor, on the small pile of dirty laundry she had carelessly left behind after her shower.
 
The T-shirt was still damp, the shorts were stuck together in places, and a sweet, sharp smell of sweat hung over them. After the heat today and the five kilometers she had run in the park, it would have been unthinkable to put any of it on again anyway.
 
She paused for a moment, her eyes settling on one of the sweaty, crumpled gym socks.
A barely perceptible twitch at the corners of her mouth betrayed that an idea had occurred to her, which quickly spread into a satisfied, mischievous smile.
 
Mia suddenly reappeared over Alex, the still-damp sports sock already firmly in her hand. In his eyes, she saw the brief flash of surprise, the involuntary wince of his body.
 
Without hesitation, she leaned forward slightly again and pressed the heavy, clammy sock directly against Alex's nose.
 
Immediately, his face contorted in a mixture of disgust, anger, and panicked revulsion. The sock, soaked with sweat and unusually heavy, yet also repulsively cool, now lay on his face.
 
The pungent smell of sweat rose sharply into his airways, mingling with the musty warmth of the fabric, which clung uncomfortably to every contour of his face. Not a millimeter of movement was possible, no evasion, no escape.
 
Beneath the oppressive, damp sock, his seemingly untouched facade began to crumble, his helplessness became palpable, and the humiliation burned hotter than the raging anger in his chest.
 
Mia lingered for another moment, observing every twitch of his face, the involuntary hunching of his shoulders, the flickering eyes in which anger and disgust battled. A soft, satisfied smile played around her lips as she slowly straightened up.
 
"Little brother, you look kind of angry," she murmured with a mischievous undertone.
 
"You'd better calm down and take some deep breaths."
 
A soft, almost mocking giggle escaped her as she briefly laughed at his tormented face. Mia adjusted the sock slightly once more to ensure that every breath tormented him with its pungent, revolting odor.
 
Then she slowly straightened up, took a few steps back, and headed for the door.
 
"Well," she called over her shoulder, "I'll be right back."
 
Alex's eyes widened even further as the heavy sock encircled his face. A shiver ran down his spine, and his stomach rebelled against the intense smell of sweat that filled his nostrils. The sock's moisture pressed stickily against his skin, almost seeping into his pores, and every breath felt like drawing a veil of stench through his lungs.
 
He wanted to turn his head away, wanted to fight back, but the sock was too tight, and his helpless position made any movement impossible. At the same time, anger surged within him—at Mia, at her cold-bloodedness, at the way she repeatedly humiliated him like this. But this anger clashed with the reality of his situation: he was completely trapped, forced to endure the weight and the stench, and could only try to breathe calmly to avoid gagging.
 
Every second under the heavy sock felt as if it were pressing down on him even more, as if it wanted to amplify his helplessness and disgust. His body tensed, his muscles trembling slightly, while his thoughts raced: How long would she leave him like this? Would she ever turn around and free him from this nightmare?
 
And as Mia closed the door behind her and her footsteps faded into the distance, Alex remained seated. Trapped, humiliated, forced to focus on nothing but the heavy, damp sock that had made him the object of her simple but cruel whim.
 
 
———————————————————
 
 
The doorbell rang briefly through the entryway as Mary glanced up at the large windows, behind which warm light shone. A feeling of anticipation mixed with a touch of stage fright stirred within her.
 
Mary and Paul stood before the Monroes' impeccably modern house, completed only a few months prior.
 
Clean lines, expansive glass facades, and dark accents gave the building an elegant, almost futuristic feel. It had clearly been occupied only recently, spotless, with a cool sophistication that immediately inspired respect.
 
The invitation was twofold: firstly, it was for a dinner party, and secondly, the Monroes wanted to finally share their new home with their friends. The house was the couple's latest showcase project, a symbol of their success and status, which they proudly presented.
 
The door opened almost silently as Claire Monroe stepped into the frame with a radiant smile.
 
"Mary! Paul! How wonderful that you're here," she greeted them warmly.
 
Mary smiled broadly and gave Claire a warm hug.
 
"Claire, it's so lovely to see you! And your house is simply breathtaking, a real gem even from the outside."
 
Behind her, her husband, Richard Monroe, stepped forward. He, too, made an immediate impression with his polished appearance and confident demeanor.
 
"Mary, Paul. It's great that it finally worked out, so glad you're here!"
 
Paul stepped forward, extended his hand to Richard, and said in an appreciative tone, "Richard, congratulations on your new home, it's truly impressive! We've brought a little something with us."
 
He handed him a fine bottle of wine, which Richard accepted, opening his arm to invite them both in.
 
"Come in, make yourselves at home."
 
He studied the wine label with a brief smile.
 
"Ah, a fine vintage, just my taste. Thank you so much, Paul, that's very thoughtful."
 
As soon as Mary and Paul crossed the threshold, an impressive living space unfolded before them, reflecting the Monroes' generosity and impeccable taste in every corner.
 
The entrance hall flowed seamlessly into an open, spacious room that seemed to have been lifted straight from a design magazine. Warm, dim light sources subtly accentuated dark woods, matte metal, and velvety textiles in deep, elegant hues. Everything appeared thoughtfully designed and luxurious, yet never overdone. The walls were painted a warm gray, stylishly complemented by large-format artworks in muted colors, lending the room a timeless modernity.
 
To the left stretched a cozy lounge area with low, plush sofas in a deep petrol blue, in front of which stood a coffee table made of smoked glass and black steel. A modern fireplace was artfully integrated into the wall, casting a soft, flickering light.
 
To the right was an elegant bar area, almost like a luxury hotel lounge. Dark wood, a backlit shelf with carefully arranged bottles and crystal glasses, and midnight-blue velvet bar stools completed the look. A subtle hint of citrus and smoky wood filled the air.
 
The room opened up further into the kitchen, which stretched across the entire back wall of the house—a real eye-catcher. The kitchen island alone could have been the star of a cooking show: a black stone countertop with gold veining, elegant pendant lights above it that looked like floating sculptures. Behind it, a wall of high-gloss, handleless fronts, integrated appliances—everything top-of-the-line. The dark herringbone parquet flooring ran like a red carpet across the entire area, visually unifying the space.
 
"Wow…" Mary murmured softly, almost reverently, as she took in the room with wide eyes. She slowly turned in a circle, absorbing every detail.
 
"This is really… incredible," Paul added, clearly impressed. "It looks like something out of a magazine, except it feels totally homey. Our living room can't compete."
 
Claire beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. We wanted to create something… unique. Something you don’t see everywhere.”
 
She gestured expansively toward the bar. “And yes, the bar was Richard’s idea. He insists on mixing drinks himself every Friday night. I always say: if you can afford it, you can go a little overboard.”
 
A mischievous smile flickered across her face as she was clearly pleased with the impression her new domain was making.
 
Mary continued walking slowly, letting her gaze drift from the bar to the tall windows.
 
“It’s truly beautiful here, Claire. You have an incredible sense of style.”
 
Claire followed her with light steps.
 
She laughed softly, almost casually, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, which probably hadn’t been bothering her at all.
 
“Thanks, Mary. I’m glad. I mean, if you’re building something new, it should at least look the part, right?”
 
She smiled, like someone who was used to receiving compliments and took them for granted.
 
Claire was beautiful in an almost unassailable way. Not dramatic or garish, but soft and flawless. Her blonde hair shimmered in the light of the designer lamps, the contours of her face as if calculated by an algorithm. Measurements, luster, perfection. Her outfit, a light gray silk blouse over slim-fitting trousers, was understatedly expensive, chosen precisely so that one couldn't immediately tell how much it cost, but enough to suggest that it wouldn't be found in an ordinary store.
 
She seemed relaxed, charming, approachable, but beneath her friendliness lay a naturalness in her tone that shone through every now and then: Claire had never had to assert herself. Her whole life had been a smooth glide through open doors.
 
To Paul, she was like a living picture from the past, still the same Claire who used to be the center of attention at every garden party, while Mary was more likely to be on the terrace collecting the glasses.
 
"The kitchen is huge," Mary remarked, now stunned again.
 
"Well," Claire said with a shrug, "I mean, we worked hard enough for it, so it's allowed to be a little more exclusive."
 
As Claire walked across the open space, seemingly casually adjusting a vase, she appeared as someone for whom this environment was not unusual, but rather the natural state of things. Yet it wasn't she who had made this lifestyle possible, not really.
 
Richard had built everything himself. Even in school, he had been the one who always had a goal in mind. While others spent their afternoons in shopping malls or on skateboards, he studied, worked odd jobs, and completed internships. Ambitious, disciplined, highly intelligent, he was someone who, in any setting, immediately stood out as the brightest mind in the room, without making a fuss about it. Graduated with honors, then spent his first years at a large management consultancy, little sleep, no vacations, no plan B. He was the epitome of self-discipline.
 
Claire had never come far during this time, but she had never truly been part of the path he had fought for. Her experiences were... shorter, more varied. Six months in a fashion boutique, a few months in a PR firm, later a job in a small gallery, always accompanied by the conviction that life would somehow work itself out. And it did. Because Richard was there. Always.
 
She never pretended to be more than she was. And perhaps that was precisely her true strength: fitting in. Into beautiful spaces, into roles, into expectations. When Richard came home late from work, she was there. When he was networking, she made small talk with his wife. She was perfect at shining alongside a successful man without shining herself.
 
That she benefited from this today—from the house, the status, the applause—was no surprise. It was the way things went. Just not for everyone.
 
Richard stepped up to the bar, reached with practiced ease for one of the slender bottles on the lower shelf, and took four narrow champagne glasses from a glass case that opened silently. Everything looked like it came straight out of a design catalog; even the cork popped as if it had timed itself perfectly.
 
"So," Richard said as he poured, "here's to a relaxing weekend with friends, and to finally bringing our new home to life."
 
He handed everyone a glass, the golden sparkle reflecting in the soft light above the bar. Claire stepped beside him, taking her glass elegantly between her thumb and forefinger, as if it were a prop in an advertising campaign.
 
"And here's to an evening that will hopefully taste as good as it already smells," she said with a slight, self-satisfied smile.
 
"The main course is already cooking. I'm making a lemon-rosemary chicken today, slow-cooked in the oven. The meat will be so tender you can cut it with a fork."
 
A delicate, aromatic scent did indeed hang in the air—warm, spicy, a blend of herbs, butter, and baked lemon.
 
And here's to an evening that will hopefully taste as good as it already smells," she said with a slight, self-satisfied smile. “But before we eat,” Claire continued, setting down her glass, “we’ll have coffee first. I baked something I discovered in Paris, a pistachio and orange tart with mascarpone cream. Very light, but dangerously good.”
 
She smiled conspiratorially as the coffee machine hummed softly from the kitchen, and the scent of freshly ground beans mingled with the aroma of the roast.
 
“It smells fantastic,” Mary said spontaneously, glancing briefly and appreciatively at Paul, who nodded silently.
 
“Well then. To you, to us, to our time together,” Richard said, raising his glass.
 
The glasses clinked gently together, champagne bubbles rose elegantly up the sides, and for a moment everything was filled with that weightless lightness that seems to exist only in homes where there are no worries.
 
Mary cleared her throat and asked,
 
“Claire, where’s the restroom?”
 
Claire smiled confidently and replied:
 
“Come on, I’ll show you. The bathroom is really something special.”Large, bright, and so beautiful that you almost forget why you came in at all.”
 
She stood up, strode elegantly ahead, and Mary followed.
 
“They really thought of everything, from the elegant fixtures to the fine marble surfaces. It almost feels like a little spa…”
 
 
——————————————————-
 
 
The door had barely clicked shut when all that remained was the muffled echo of her footsteps and the pungent smell that had gathered under the sock.
 
Alex’s breath came in gasps, shallow and shimmering, as if the air itself were mocking him. Each breath burned his nostrils, carrying with it Mia’s sweet, sharp sweat, a revolting relic of her superiority.
 
But even breathing was an effort. The fabric lay heavy on his face, saturated with moisture, thick and sluggish like wet felt.
 
Each movement of his lungs pulled the sock tighter, pressing it even more firmly against his skin, until breathing felt like wrestling with an invisible hand. The air he got was warm, stale, almost liquid in its density, as if he had to draw it through a layer of someone else's breath.
 
He tried to focus on something else. The sound of footsteps in the hallway. The hum of the pipes behind the wall. Anything to remind him that the world still existed beyond this absurd, humiliating prison.
 
He knew long ago that any movement was pointless. His body was trapped, every muscle paralyzed, as if it no longer belonged to him. All that remained was to endure, to forcefully bear the pungent, sweet-sour smell of his sister's feet, which enveloped him like a foreign skin, inescapable and omnipresent.
 
From downstairs, movement once again penetrated the house, voices, bright and familiar. The dull click of the front door, footsteps in the hallway.
 
Alex's heart beat faster. He recognized Mia's voice immediately, that light, casual laugh that always sounded like she owned the place.
 
A second voice answered, Chaela.
 
He knew her well enough to picture her face: the confident grin, the inquisitive eyes.
 
"Why aren't you dressed yet?" he heard Chaela ask, half teasing, half surprised.
 
"You know, I thought my feet could use some pampering after the run," Mia said with a casual shrug.
 
"Alex's helping me."
 
Both faces suddenly appeared above the toilet bowl. Alex felt his heart race even more as he looked at them. Mia seemed completely relaxed, her smile content, almost triumphant.
 
Chaela appeared in Alex's limited field of vision, her dark hair falling in loose strands over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with eager curiosity. She was clearly in a good mood, her mouth curved into a wide grin. When she saw Alex's face, a soft, surprised laugh escaped her lips.
 
The damp, dark ball of fabric on Alex's face made her frown.
 
"Is that... a sock?"
 
Mia smiled, the thin, smug smile Alex hated so much. A touch of pride crept into her demeanor as she tilted her head slightly and replied, almost with relish:
 
"My sports sock," she said, speaking with calm clarity.
 
"From today's run. Still fresh."
 
Chaela could barely contain herself. A gurgling laugh rose in her throat, bright and carefree, as if she couldn't quite grasp the absurdity of the moment.
 
"Oh God, Mia!" she giggled, glancing at Alex, who barely dared to breathe. Her smile softened, almost pitying.
 
"Poor guy... that must stink to high heaven."
 
Tears stung Alex's eyes, not only from the pungent odor that hit him with every breath, but also from the sheer humiliation of being so defenseless under her gaze.
 
Chaela shook her head slightly, as if wavering between amusement and genuine sympathy, and then looked back at Mia, who just stood there silently, completely content.
 
Mia tilted her head slightly, her icy blue eyes sparkling coolly, while a thin, mocking expression played across her lips.
 
“That’s why I’m letting him air them out for me,” she said softly, almost gleefully, a smug grin flashing across her face.
 
As she spoke, her gaze flickered directly onto Alex’s eyes, as if she wanted to register every movement, every twitch.
 
Chaela shook her head, amused, the laughter still lingering in her voice.
 
“Well, I’d better let him go,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I really need to pee.”
 
Chaela leaned forward carefully and, with two fingers, grasped the sock that still covered Alex’s face. She immediately felt the weight and damp heaviness of the fabric, and a faint shiver ran down her spine.
 
“Ew… Mia!” she exclaimed, frowning as she pulled the sock away from Alex’s face.
The damp fabric left a mark on her face.
A pungent, sweet-sour smell lingered, lingering in the air.
 
"It's completely soaked."
 
Alex gasped softly, relieved when the sock was finally gone, while Chaela held it between her fingers for a moment, wincing to avoid inhaling the acrid odor. With a soft sound of disgust, she turned halfway to the side and tossed the damp sock back onto the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.
 
Mia casually waved Chaela's worried face aside and grinned coldly. As she slowly peeled herself out of her bathrobe and adjusted her bra, she said, almost gleefully:
 
"Oh, don't worry about it. Just the other day I farted right into his nostrils, compared to that this is child's play."
 
Chaela rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, but couldn't suppress another giggle. Her gaze slid to Mia, who now had her back to her and was studying her reflection.
 
Her luscious bottom was barely covered by a blue lace thong that matched her bra.
 
Her hands were in her hair, as she carefully adjusted each strand, scrutinizing her reflection, completely satisfied, while Alex still lay there, breathing heavily and enjoying the fresh air.
 
This relief was short-lived, however, because before he could fully grasp what was happening above him, Chaela's sweet, bare bottom descended upon him. Chaela instantly flooded his now parched mouth with her urine, casually rinsing Mia's toenails down his throat in the process.
 
While Alex drank beneath Chaela, struggling against the tube in his throat and gagging at the disgusting taste, a much more relaxed atmosphere prevailed outside, in the restroom.
 
"Hey, did you bring your mom's Ped Egg?"
Mia turned slightly in the mirror to Chaela and asked casually.
 
Chaela, still sitting on the toilet, nodded and grinned.
 
"Sure, it's in my bag," she replied, holding out her hand to point.
 
Mia deftly reached into her bag and pulled out the Ped Egg as Chaela finished peeing. She stood up, let the toilet paper be emptied by the vacuum cleaner under Alex's chin, pulled up her pants, and straightened up.
 
Chaela went to the sink to wash her hands while Mia took a seat on the still-open toilet.
 
"Tell me," Chaela began, raising an eyebrow, "since when have you been so concerned with your foot care?"
 
Mia felt slightly caught out and smiled briefly as she placed her left foot on her knee and began to remove the calluses on the balls of her feet with the Ped Egg.
 
"Well... Liam's kind of into feet," she confessed quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly.
 
Chaela chuckled softly and shook her head. "You're kidding?"
 
Mia shook her head slightly, a smile lingering on her lips.
 
"No joke. I also thought it was more of a fetish for losers who like smelling stinky socks. But Liam's more into nice, well-groomed feet."
 
Alex stared silently at his sister's bottom. The strap of her thong didn't quite manage to completely cover her wrinkled vulva, and the string of the tampon she'd inserted that morning still peeped out of the side of her panties.
 
"And since I'm on my period right now, I thought I'd give him a nice blowjob first, and then I'd finish him off with my sweet little feet."
 
"Wow, how romantic," Chaela giggled, teasing her friend.
 
Every laugh, every casual word from the two girls pierced Alex's self-esteem like an arrow. It was as if he didn't exist; their voices filled the room while he lay beneath them, powerless and humiliated, his gaze fixed on their buttocks, unable to defend himself or even utter a normal word. The weight of his inferiority lay upon him like lead.
 
"Hey," Mia replied, playfully indignant, giving Chaela an amused look.
 
"He'll be happy; my feet will be as soft as a baby's bottom afterward."
 
With a small smile, she switched feet, placing her right over her knee and continuing to work on the balls of her feet with calm, even movements.
 
"Speaking of which…" she continued, glancing briefly at Chaela, "what about your new guy… what was his name again? Jake, right?"
 
Chaela leaned casually against the sink, folded her arms, and glanced over at Mia, who was still intently working on her feet. A slight eye roll accompanied her smile.
 
"His name is Cole," she began, her voice soft and dreamy.
 
"And you know what? He treats me really well, he's always in touch, and tonight he even wants me to come to the party."
 
Mia raised an eyebrow and smirked mockingly.
 
"You said the same thing about your ex. And we both know how that ended."
 
Chaela shook her head vigorously, almost indignantly, but with a dreamy smile on her lips.
 
"No, no, Cole is different, I can just feel it."
 
She let her gaze wander briefly as she continued to massage her feet and murmured softly, "You'll understand when you see him tonight. He's so good-looking... those muscles, those broad shoulders..."
 
Then her expression softened even further, almost dreamily, as she quietly added,
 
"And his hands... so big they can really grab you... damn it, Mia, I'm going to fuck Cole tonight."
 
Mia paused briefly, resting the ped egg on her foot, and looked at Chaela seriously.
 
"Okay, hold on a minute... where exactly did you think that was going to happen?"
 
Chaela giggled softly and shrugged questioningly, her eyes twinkling playfully.
 
"Well... I was hoping my very best friend would let me use her room... just for tonight."
 
Chaela gave Mia a pleading look, like a little puppy, her eyes wide and innocent, her lips slightly pursed, trying to entice her relentlessly.
 
Mia grimaced theatrically as she shook her head.
 
"No, you won't do it in my bed. You can do it here in the bathroom or something."
 
Chaela immediately raised her eyes again, pleading, and her voice became soft and convincing:
 
"Pleeease... we won't make a mess, I promise! I'll even change all the sheets for you tomorrow!"
 
Mia sighed, shook her head once more, and twisted her face into a half-feigned, half-concluding smile. After a brief hesitation, she finally relented.
 
"Okay... but I want to meet this Cole tonight. If he's an idiot, I might reconsider. And the sheets will be changed tomorrow, understand?"
 
Chaela beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy.
 
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best friend anyone could ask for, Mia! I really do owe you one!"
 
She practically jumped for joy and hugged Mia almost effusively.
 
Slightly taken aback by Chaela's effusive reaction, Mia offered a dry, ironic comment:
 
"Okay, fine. His dick must be huge, huh?"
 
Chaela just grinned broadly:
 
"Ohh, it is."
 
Mia slowly stood up, her buttocks bouncing back into their natural shape, seemingly mocking Alex from his lowly perspective with her own freedom of movement.
 
"There, all done."
 
Mia slowly turned back to Alex in the toilet bowl, her grin widening as she stood there in her underwear.
 
Slowly, almost theatrically, she leaned down towards him, her fingers carefully twisting open the Ped Egg.
 
"Look, Alex, what a delicious treat I've prepared for you," Mia purred smugly, her voice playful and malicious at the same time, as she held the open Ped Egg directly in front of his, her vulnerable, face.
 
Mia tilted the Ped Egg slightly, so Alex had no choice but to look inside.
 
His gaze followed the disgusting contents, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed, his lips curled into a helpless, open scream he couldn't utter. Alex tried to turn away, but his body lay rigid and unyielding in that position, unable to react.
 
The dead skin cells from her feet lay in fine, crumbly clumps in the Ped Egg, some yellowish, some pale white, dry and brittle. A musty, sour smell rose from the lid, barely perceptible, but strong enough to make Alex's breathing uncomfortable.
 
Chaela leaned over the bowl next to Mia to get a better look at Alex. A soft giggle escaped her, but her eyes followed Mia's every move and Alex's reaction.
 
"Don't you ever leave him alone?" she murmured, the question rhetorical, almost inaudible, her voice tinged with amusement and pity.
 
She could feel his discomfort reflected in every tense muscle movement, and a slight frown betrayed her discomfort. Nevertheless, she couldn't look away, fascinated and entertained at the same time, as Mia slowly hovered the Ped Egg over Alex's face.
 
His silent rage was reflected in every twitch of his face. He couldn't move, couldn't say a word, and that's exactly what Mia enjoyed.
Her grin widened as she savored every moment of his helpless humiliation.
 
She tilted the lid a little further, so that a few of the crumbling scales tumbled right into the corner of his mouth. Mia watched every movement, every twitching eyelid, every tense muscle, and every tiny sign of his helplessness only increased her pleasure.
 
She tilted the Ped Egg a little further. He continued, and the dead skin flakes slowly trickled into Alex's open mouth. He immediately felt them spread like dry, crumbly dust. The sensation was unpleasantly gritty, sticky on his teeth and palate, and his tongue reflexively resisted distributing the disgusting mass. Each breath carried the acrid, musty smell of the dead skin particles through his nostrils.
 
Mia frowned slightly, concentrated, and gently tapped the back of the lid so that the last remnants fell into his mouth like a fine rain of tiny, crumbly flakes. Alex's eyes widened, his whole body tensed, but no movement escaped his lips except for a hurried gasp.
 
Chaela was still standing right next to her friend, her head tilted slightly to the side, looking down at Alex's tormented face.
 
A slightly disgusted look crossed her features, as if she herself had just eaten something unappetizing, but her giggles and shining eyes betrayed pure glee.
 
"Ew, Mia, you're so mean," she giggled, her voice a little pitying, but still mocking, as she looked down incredulously at his pained face.
 
"Just imagine it was freshly grated Parmesan!"
 
The laughter trembled in her voice, and tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to focus on how helpless and humiliated he looked.
 
Tears also welled up in Alex's eyes, not from laughter, but from shame and humiliation that felt like a burning lump in his chest.
 
He could barely swallow; his palate felt rough and sticky, the tiny particles scratching at his throat, each breath carrying the musty aroma further into his mind.
 
Mia tapped the lid a few more times with her fingertip, each gentle tap sending tiny new crumbs trickling into Alex's mouth. The last remnants, fine dust, barely visible, settled like a dry film over his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. He couldn't swallow, hardly dared to breathe, as the bitter, stale dryness gathered in his mouth.
 
Mia held the lid over him for another moment, as if checking to make sure everything was gone. Then she slowly straightened up, took a deep breath, and surveyed her handiwork with an expression of cold satisfaction. Her lips curled into a crooked, smug smile; Alex's failed attempt to show strength only made her triumph sweeter.
 
Chaela stood beside her, her eyes sparkling with amusement. A broad, almost radiant grin spread across her face. The incredulous, breathless laughter still lingered in her throat as she looked down at Alex's ashamed, rigid face.
 
Mia let out only a soft, satisfied snort, barely audible, but brimming with smug superiority.
 
Then she leaned slightly toward him again, the shadow of her body falling across his face. Her eyes gleamed mockingly as she tilted her head, studying him with feigned sympathy.
 
"Well, little brother..." Her voice was gentle, almost solicitous, yet every sound was laced with derision. "Is your mouth a little dry?"
 
She waited a heartbeat, savoring his tense, pleading gaze, the trembling of his lower lip. Then a new, smug smile flickered across her lips, making her words even more dripping with smugness.
 
"Don't worry... I can help."
 
Alex knew exactly what to expect as his sister turned over, presenting her perfect ass to him and slowly pulling her thong down from her hips. Mia quickly straddled him again, and immediately afterward, she began urinating into his mouth.
 
Alex instantly felt the dust from Mia's feet mix with her urine and soften. The disgusting cocktail flowed freely down his open throat.
 
As he gagged and struggled, he watched intently as the yellow stream hit his mouth with unerring accuracy, like a rainbow hitting a pot of gold. In his field of vision, at the nearest part of Mia's vulva, the white retrieval string of her tampon still dangled.
 
Humiliated and completely overwhelmed, Alex knew no other way out than to close his eyes. He wept silently to himself, thinking that his stomach was now filled with nothing but nail clippings, dead skin, and urine.
 
Only when his mouth began to close for the first time in ages did Alex open his eyes again. The last thing he saw before he could only stare at the bare bathroom ceiling was once more Chaela's gleeful face as she checked on his condition one last time. He heard Mia's voice again as she washed her hands. h.
 
"I'm just going to quickly get dressed, then we can go."
 
Chaela gave him one last smug smile and wordlessly mouthed "Bye" before the two girls left the bathroom.

———————————————————


Claire opened a door that was flush with the wall and could easily have been overlooked in passing. It slid silently to the side, and Mary took a step forward, only to stop involuntarily.
 
The bathroom looked less like a functional room and more like a private wellness suite.
 
The floor consisted of large marble slabs in a warm cream color with fine, golden-gray veins, laid so perfectly that no joints were visible. The same grain continued up the walls, interrupted by indirect strips of light that gently illuminated the stone from below and gave the room an almost floating depth. Nothing was garish, nothing was random. Everything seemed calm, controlled, luxurious.
 
"Wow..." Mary said quietly, almost automatically, as her gaze swept across the room.
 
On the left side was a freestanding bathtub, oval-shaped, made of matte, snow-white stone, placed like a sculpture in the middle of the room. Above it hung a minimalist brushed gold faucet that came down from the ceiling as if it had simply been left to grow there. Next to it was a small pedestal with rolled, immaculate white towels, a scented candle made of heavy glass, and a tray with bath oils whose bottles were more reminiscent of perfume than care products.
 
"This tub is my favorite place to retreat to," said Claire, casually running her fingers along the edge. "When I lie here, looking out at the garden with music playing, I can completely shut out everything else."
 
She smiled.
"Richard usually finds me here when he's been missing me for a while."
 
She laughed softly, as if it were a charming little luxury flaw.
 
Mary stepped closer, looking at the clean lines, the sheer size of the tub.
"It's huge," she remarked. "You could live in there."
 
"Almost," Claire replied with a smile. "But wait, the best is yet to come."
 
She pointed to the right.
 
The shower took up almost an entire wall. A glass surface without visible frames, so clear that it expanded the room rather than dividing it. Inside, the marble continued, complemented by darker stone accents. Several shower heads were integrated into the ceiling and walls, a wide rain shower head, fine side showers, and a recessed bench made of the same stone.
 
"The shower is bigger than our first living room," Claire said with feigned thoughtfulness. "And it remembers everything. Temperature, water pressure, even whether you prefer rain or mist."
 
She tapped briefly on an inconspicuous touch panel on the wall, which lit up only when touched.
 
"Richard thinks it's all a bit too much. I think it fits our lifestyle perfectly. After all, you don't work for such comforts for nothing."
 
Mary had to laugh, even though she felt a little out of place.
"That's... really impressive," she said honestly. "Like a spa. Only... more private."
 
"That was the idea," Claire replied with satisfaction.
 
The washbasin consisted of a single, solid marble slab with two flat, seamlessly integrated basins. Above it was a wide mirror that not only reflected light but also emitted a soft glow, perfectly balanced, with no visible light source. Below it were floating drawers made of dark wood, without handles, everything neat and tidy, nothing personal visible.
 
Claire leaned casually against the slab as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
 
"And now," she said, lowering her voice slightly as if sharing a secret, "my pride and joy."
 
She took two steps further, to a slightly separate area of the bathroom. There it stood.
 
The toilet was not a classic model, but rather a futuristic object. Matt white, elegantly curved. Next to it, or rather above it, was another touch panel, discreetly embedded in the wall.
 
Claire raised her hand and casually tapped the touch panel.
 
Almost silently, the toilet lid began to move. It didn't just slide up, but folded back in a fluid, precise movement, like a perfectly coordinated mechanical feat.
 
Mary's gaze followed the movement and abruptly stopped.
Inside the toilet, clean and flush with the mold, was a face.
A young face.
 
The features clearly belonged to a boy, perhaps in his mid-teens. His skin appeared completely flawless, almost too perfect, as if it were part of the surface itself. No harsh transitions, no visible edges, everything was so precisely integrated that it seemed as if the material around him had been specially molded for this face. Luxurious. Controlled. Clinically clean.
 
His eyes were open.
And they looked directly at Mary and Claire.
 
For a moment, Mary's face betrayed something that Claire recognized immediately: not defensiveness, but fascinated amazement.
 
Claire smiled contentedly.
 
"Perfect, isn't it?" she asked, almost gently.
 
Mary blinked, her gaze gliding once more over his flawless features.

"He seems so young," she whispered. "I mean... still so unassuming. Like he's just stepped out of a shell."

Claire shook her head, still smiling.
"Exactly," she corrected precisely.
 
Mary frowned.
“How did you get someone so young?”
 
Claire crossed her arms casually.
"From Caleb's class," she said casually.
"His name is... or was Jules."
 
She chuckled briefly and smiled honestly down at the boy.
"A real problem child. Not particularly smart, but amazingly consistent in causing trouble."
 
The boy in the toilet —Jules— said nothing.
 
A subtle twitch passed through his eyes, barely perceptible, as if he were holding something back. His calmness did not seem disciplined, but rather forced. His jaws were slightly tense, his gaze fixed upward, not out of submissiveness, but because he had no other choice.
There was something unspoken in that gaze, aversion, perhaps even open hatred, carefully kept under control.
 
Claire didn't seem to notice. Or she deliberately ignored it.
 
"There were constant conflicts with Caleb," Claire continued. "Fights, provocations, complaints. I was called to the school several times because of it. Really exhausting."
 
Jules' gaze flickered for a moment, his lips pressed together slightly. His eyes no longer followed Claire, but fixed on a point somewhere behind her, as if he wanted to detach himself from her internally.
 
The months, the years, during which Caleb and his friends had repeatedly targeted him. The mocking comments, the systematic exclusion, the laughter when he entered the room. The small humiliations that added up until, at some point, they were no longer small. None of that was mentioned in Claire's words. It didn't fit her version of events.
For her, they were "conflicts." For him, it had been a permanent state of affairs.
 
"Single mother," Claire continued, her voice now smooth and dismissive. "Completely overwhelmed. No support, no plan. And him..."
 
She left the sentence unfinished, looking down at him condescendingly.
 
Claire held her gaze on him a moment too long, her head tilted slightly, as if she were looking at an object whose value she was recalculating. Her eyes held only a cool, arrogant certainty.
 
"No prospects," she finally said, her lips curling almost imperceptibly.
"A hopeless case."
 
She looked him straight in the eye, as if to make sure every word sank in.
"Some people just don't have the potential to grow."
 
Jules' gaze remained fixed. But something in it contracted, like a muscle tensing reflexively.
 
"And yet," Claire continued, now openly mocking, "the state continued to pour money into his education."
 
She snorted softly.
"A complete waste of taxpayers' money, if you ask me."
 
She sat up a little straighter, as if she were coming to the point that was most important to her.
 
"Then one day, when he finally lost it," she said calmly, "and hit Caleb, my patience was at an end."
 
There was no anger in her voice. Just a sober observation.
"It was clear then: this was no longer a teenage problem. It was a risk."
 
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Richard and I know a few people," she added casually. "In the Department of Education. In the relevant positions."
 
Jules' eyes narrowed slightly.
 
"A few ratings here, a few reassessments there," Claire said, shrugging slightly. "And suddenly a social score falls below the minimum threshold."
She smiled thinly.
"It happens faster than you think."
 
For a moment, she just looked at him, directly, without flinching. With a smile carried by that Evil joy that no longer needs confirmation.
 
It was the smile of a person who was completely confident in their power.
She knew that there was nothing random about his situation. And she found pleasure in that very fact.
 
There was no hatred in that look; she felt too superior for that.
Only smug satisfaction.
 
Mary swallowed quietly and stared once more at the face in the bowl.
 
"He... looks like he's been melted right in," she finally managed to say. "How perfectly he fits into the toilet."
 
Claire smiled proudly, almost lovingly, and nodded.
"Of course," she said calmly. "Right after we bought it, we had it shipped overseas."
 
She let the words sink in slowly.
"To Italy. A small company specializing in luxury human toilets. Custom-made, maximum precision, complete integration."
 
Mary blinked and couldn't stop marveling.
 
Claire said as if it were obvious. "It was important to me that the toilet in my bathroom not only served its purpose, but that it was also... aesthetically perfect."
 
She added a satisfied smile.
"And now you can see the result. It's fascinating how clearly some people's true calling reveals itself."
 
Claire paused briefly, savoring the moment and Mary's continued astonished gaze. Then she leaned forward slightly, her voice lowered as if sharing a little secret.
 
"But the best part," she began, a slight smile on her lips, "you don't know yet."
 
She pointed briefly at the bowl.
"The seat is heated."
 
Mary's eyes widened involuntarily.
"Heated?" she repeated in surprise as she looked at the immaculate white rim.
 
Claire nodded calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Of course. Comfort is everything."
She leaned back, a satisfied sparkle in her eyes.
 
"But that's not all," she said.
"The toilet also has a memory function."
 
Mary raised her eyebrows.
"Memory function?"
 
Claire nodded, matter-of-factly but with a hint of pride.
"It automatically recognizes who is sitting down and adjusts to their preferred settings, temperature, position, everything exactly as desired. It can even analyze your diet."
 
She let the information sink in for a moment, as if it were a matter of course, and waited for Mary's reaction.
 
Claire leaned forward slightly, a narrow, coquettish gleam in her eyes.
 
"Believe me, those warm, soft lips right on your butt. A dream."
 
She flashed her personal slave in the bathroom a direct glance, a mocking, triumphant gleam in her eyes. His gaze followed her, fixed, cool, filled with undisguised aversion. Not a sound, not a movement, just that silent, defiant expression that perfectly mirrored her provocation.
 
Claire took a step back and clapped her hands quietly together, as if the matter were settled.
 
"I'll leave you alone then," she said casually.
She pointed to the touch panel on the wall.
"The toilet is otherwise self-explanatory. The display shows you everything."
 
"Thanks, Claire." Mary's gaze slid back to the toilet bowl and met the eyes of the boy inside.
 
For a split second, his rigid control slipped. His throat moved, a dry swallow, instinctive, fearful. Not loud, not pleading, more like a reflex he could no longer quite suppress.
 
When the bathroom door closed behind Claire, Mary looked away.
After all, she had come to use the toilet.
 
 
——————————————-
 
 
The afternoon dragged on, and an almost unreal silence hung in the bathroom.
Only the soft hum of the ventilation filled the room, occasionally interrupted by the creaking of the water pipes in the house. For Alex, every sound was a blow to his nerves. No one had come in for hours.
 
He stared at the bare, white ceiling. His eyes burned; he had been trying too long to somehow organize the thoughts in his head. But again and again, the same feeling came to the fore: a dull, heavy lump of shame, anger, and powerlessness.
 
And then came the growling.
An unpleasant pulling sensation deep in his stomach that grew stronger with every passing minute.
Hunger. A banal but merciless pain that ate away at his core.
 
Alex closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly.
It didn't work.
 
The hunger was no longer just a feeling.
It was a condition.
A space in which Alex had been living for weeks.
 
It wasn't the normal hunger you feel after a long day at school.
It wasn't even the hunger you feel after missing dinner.
It was a bone-deep, emaciated hunger that felt like it was slowly hollowing him out from the inside.
 
At the same time, he was well aware of how sophisticated this sick apparatus he was stuck in had become. He wouldn't starve to death, he wasn't that lucky, he thought cynically.
 
His thoughts drifted back, almost against his will.
Alex saw the classroom in front of him, stuffy, warm, far too crowded. The windows fogged up, the air heavy with the breath of thirty students. Neon light flickered over tired faces.
 
Alex remembered how Miss Jones projected the figures: the amounts of water, energy, and food that would supposedly be saved if people with low social value no longer had to be "fully provided for."
 
In the same matter-of-fact language, she also discussed how those affected were medically cared for in order to stay alive.
It sounded like a routine description from a hospital report: artificial supply of basic nutrients, intravenous solutions, a standardized amount of carbohydrates, proteins, and fats, precisely calculated and automated.
The feces contained practically nothing but fiber to fill the toilet bowl and keep one's own digestion healthy.
 
Alex saw how she linked all this to the remark that no one in this condition would "starve to death."
The state doesn't let anyone die, she said, presenting this as if it were a seal of approval for humane policies.
 
Miss Jones also mentioned the special rules for the SAT, rare exceptions such as multiple births, where "the socially more promising individual" was given priority.
The other twin could only qualify for adult society through outstanding achievements.
 
Just half a sentence, delivered soberly and matter-of-factly, but it was enough.
 
Alex remembered exactly the quiet rustling in the room as heads turned as if on cue. Some glances immediately wandered to him and Mia.
It was clear to everyone who was the "more promising individual" in this duo.
 
Someone in the back row had giggled.
"Well, good luck, Alex."
 
Mia didn't even have to say anything.
She had just smiled. That small, confident smile that had already given Alex the feeling back then that his fate had long been decided.
 
Another twinge in his stomach made Alex flinch, the rumbling accompanying him like an evil heartbeat. Slowly, he returned to the present.
 
Then he heard footsteps, laughter, voices approaching the room. Mia and Chaela.
 
"I just need to quickly use the restroom..." he heard his sister say, and in the next moment, Mia appeared above him. The same confident smile as back then in the classroom, unchanged, merciless.
 
She demonstratively patted her flat stomach in her crop top before beginning in a sweet, mocking voice:
 
"I'm totally stuffed."
 
Then she exhaled deeply, grimaced slightly, and reached for the button of her jeans with two fingers.
 
Click.
 
She opened it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she simply needed a little more room after a sumptuous meal.
 
Then she turned around and pulled down her pants in one fluid motion.
Alex watched as Mia reached into her panties with her index finger at the top of her back and slowly pulled them down to reveal the strap between her buttocks before completely removing the thong. Then she sat down on top of her brother and positioned herself comfortably over his open mouth.
 
"Tomorrow you'll get pizza and tiramisu... oh my God," Mia said with an exuberant sigh as she began to fire a powerful stream of piss onto Alex's defenseless tongue.
 
Her eyes lit up for a moment, almost childlike, but with that undertone of spiteful joy that immediately made Alex's throat tighten.
 
"The tiramisu was so incredibly good," she continued enthusiastically, while Alex had her flawless asshole right in front of his eyes.
 
"So creamy. The mascarpone... and the coffee... I ate almost the whole bowl by myself."
 
His stomach tightened and an icy chill ran through him as he saw her anus gradually relax and the ring of muscle begin to open slightly.
 
Before he could even think consciously, tears streamed painfully from his eyes.
Mia's relaxed anus gave Alex a preview of his upcoming meal. The pungent, acidic smell of urine was now slowly joined by the heavy, earthy odor of her feces.
 
Her anus looked like a winking eye to him as his sister squeezed out the last drops of urine with a few targeted contractions of her pelvic floor.
 
"Well, are you looking forward to Italian cuisine?" she giggled maliciously above him.
 
It was so unfair. So profoundly unfair, he thought, looking at the shiny brown glint in the center of her sphincter.
 
While Mia sat above him, her body was already working efficiently and routinely in the background. The proteins from her lunch were broken down into amino acids, the carbohydrates were split into sugars, minerals were absorbed, fats were finely distributed and used for energy production or storage. Her metabolism was just as greedy as she was: nothing was lost, everything was utilized, every useful molecule was seized.
 
What remained was only a sad remnant of almost exclusively fiber and a few leftover minerals, proteins, and vitamins.
Alex stared at this residue, which she was about to feed him, his thoughts filled with hatred and bitter resignation.
There was practically nothing left in this pile of shit that was usable for his own body.
 
Of course, he thought, even her body takes everything it wants, just as she has done her whole life.
 
"Come to think of it, I had Italian yesterday too. Mom cooked pasta."
 
Alex couldn't see her mocking grin, but he could hear it clearly in her words. He watched her rock her hips back and forth a few times to make herself more comfortable for Alex's next humiliation and to taunt him further.
 
"And now you get the leftovers."
 
As if on cue, he suddenly felt a slight jolt. Alex's face slowly moved further back while his owner remained comfortably seated, patiently waiting for his mouth to be positioned under her anus.
 
Mia had great fun teasing her brother with her delicious meals.
She could imagine how agonizing the mental images must be:
 
how she sat at the set table, day after day, in front of steaming plates full of food that Alex would never be able to enjoy again. Every bite she took with relish was a silent mockery to him.
She imagined how he must hate her for it, and that very thought brought a malicious smile to her face.
 
And best of all, now she really had to take a shit, which also meant it was time for her brother to eat.
 
The motor under Alex came to a stop and placed his mouth precisely under Mia's waiting asshole, which was still slightly open, waiting to finally serve him his food. Without realizing it, his tongue frantically searched for a way out.
 
"How do you say it in Italian?
Buon appetito, brother."
 
With these words, the last bit of tension in Mia's body dissolved.
Just a little pressure was enough to let the fully digested pasta slide from her asshole straight into Alex's throat.
 
With growing fear, his gaze followed the slow descent of the light brown, moistly glistening shit sausage.
Immediately, the air around him became warm and thick, the smell spreading throughout the bowl. Alex's throat rebelled immediately, even before the mass reached his mouth, tears running down his cheeks.
 
Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut and sought solace in a comforting fantasy in which the noodles had not already been eaten. But reality had long since become too intrusive. The stench, the thick, warm air on his face, the humiliation—it was too much to ignore.
 
Just as Alex opened his eyes again and noticed that he could no longer see the beginning of her turd, it touched his tongue.
The taste was disgusting, he would never be able to get used to something so bestial and simultaneously inhuman. Nothing about it resembled food anymore.

Over his overstimulated taste buds, Mia's shit found its way and slid slowly but steadily down his throat.
Mia felt Alex's tongue resist briefly, then she heard quiet gagging sounds, almost completely muffled by the pipe in his throat, which she countered with a satisfied, relaxed sigh.
 
The taste hit him as the snake of thick, brown dough coated his tongue with its slime made Alex's senses rebel.
And yet he thought he could still perceive a fleeting remnant of the noodle flavor somewhere behind it, a tiny, familiar echo that only made the contrast even more unbearable.
Coupled with the smell that filled his lungs with every gasping breath, Alex wished he had never been born.
 
The pile of shit gradually tapered off before detaching itself from Mia's anus with a soft smacking sound. Alex's forced swallowing reflexes pushed his sister's excrement further into his stomach, contaminating every single taste bud on his tongue.
 
Nevertheless, he was relieved to have survived this ordeal as well, the end of the feces disappearing into his esophagus.
But as he waited, armed with toilet paper, to welcome Mia's hand into his toilet bowl to wipe her bottom clean, he noticed her anus slowly turning inside out again.
 
What he saw made him burst into tears of resignation once again. The head of a second pile of shit peeked out cautiously, and as if Mia had seen the look on his face when he realized this, she said:
 
"Don't panic, little brother. You know how much I can eat. I'm not done yet."
 
And so the procedure began again. The second turd was at least as big as the first and also very similar in consistency and taste.
But for Alex, these facts did nothing to alleviate the torment he experienced over and over again.
He imagined his sister enjoying her mother's pasta again and felt a wave of hatred welling up inside him, the full flavor of the noodles processed by her body on his tongue.
 
However, after some initial difficulties, his stomach seemed to be gradually getting used to the new diet.
The emptiness in his stomach, which was gradually being filled with her shit, was a relief for his body at first.
His sister's feces, rich only in indigestible fiber, complemented the artificial nutrition of the human toilet, which was calibrated to the hundredth of a gram.
 
A regular, solid meal was essential for healthy digestion, which is why the feces of a superior person played a central role as the supposedly most efficient resource for maintaining a lower organism with minimal effort and as little waste of resources as possible.
 
With a final, quiet fart, the second turd cleanly separated from Mia's asshole, which quickly reformed into the small, cute, wrinkled star between her round buttocks that one would expect from her overall appearance.
Humiliated, Alex stared up at his sister's back, hoping to see some sign that she had finally finished shitting.
 
He noticed her blonde hair falling in beautiful waves, and suddenly a hand wrapped in toilet paper came into his field of vision. Right in front of his nose, Mia carefully wiped along her butt crack, and Alex noticed her beautifully manicured fingernails.
 
He realized that she must have been in town to get dressed up for the party. He didn't know exactly why this thought still upset him so much, but the fact that she had been out and about carefree while he was stuck in her toilet bowl made him boil inside.
 
Mia sat up a little, but remained crouched. At that moment, Alex heard the rustling of plastic again, the exact same sound as this morning.
Before he could really comprehend what was happening, Mia's hand reappeared and skillfully wrapped a finger around the white string of her tampon, which had been stuck in her vagina since this morning.
 
Mia leaned forward slightly as she carefully removed her now saturated tampon from her vagina, a mischievous grin on her lips. With a smug, gloating tone, she said to her brother:
 
"Time for your dessert, Alex."
 
Alex stared up in horror, his heart pounding as he watched the string grow longer and longer. Alex stared up in disbelief as the dark red cylinder, soaked in thick menstrual blood, appeared between her labia.
 
As if in slow motion, Mia moved slowly and deliberately, as if she wanted to prolong every heartbeat of her brother's fear. Then her tampon suddenly came loose from her vagina and dangled ominously from the string just a few inches from Alex's eyes.
 
While Mia now practiced wiping away the last remnants of her pussy secretions with her other hand and a wet wipe, and immediately pushed the fresh tampon deep back into her vagina, her brother studied the soaked one with fear and disgust.
 
The tampon had swollen up,
soaked in menstrual blood with a metallic smell. When the smell reached him, Alex almost choked on his disgust and immediately began to breathe in gasps, each breath a bitter struggle against the rising discomfort.
 
Where he had previously been slim and light, he had now gained weight, looked significantly more misshapen, and now swung heavily and fully over his face as Mia awkwardly put her thong and pants back on with only one free hand.
The sight constricted his throat, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and he finally broke out in a panic.
 
Honestly satisfied, Mia slowly turned to him, a sweet smile on her lips. She leaned forward slightly, dangling the tampon gleefully in front of his nose, visibly enjoying how every breath he had to take amused her even more.
 
She furrowed her brow slightly in a thoughtful gesture and said in a deliberately normal tone, as if nothing special was about to happen to her enslaved brother:
 
"The first day is always the worst."
 
Alex was mesmerized by the disgusting pendulum. In some places, there was also light, transparent mucus clinging to it, which made the material slippery and reinforced the wet, heavy impression.
 
"Consider it karma for all the times you laughed at my period pains."
 
Her satisfied smile remained unchanged as Mia slowly lowered her tampon over Alex's face. Her gaze was fixed on his wide eyes, which followed her every move. He felt his throat go dry and his breathing become shallow as the tampon approached his mouth.
 
The tampon touched Alex's tongue, still warm and moist from the sticky film that clung to it. Before he could fully react, he heard the soft click of Mia's fingernail on a smooth surface.
She tapped the touch panel next to the toilet at the same time, and the mechanism of the device closed his mouth with a dull jerk.
 
Immediately, a sharp, sour metallic taste shot into his mouth, which he knew was her blood.  
It was mixed with a dull, musty musk smell that hit him like a punch in the nose. Added to that was the slimy surface of the absorbent bundle of fabric. His stomach cramped, panic pulsed in his temples, and the taste spread like a poisonous wave across his tongue. If he had been physically able, he would have vomited at that moment.
 
Mia watched her brother silently for a moment. She saw clearly how Alex's face contorted, how his breathing became shallow and frantic, and how with each breath a little more color drained from his cheeks. His eyes flickered, helpless, panicked, and she could almost hear his pulse pounding as the string of her tampon hung from his mouth like a tea bag from a cup.
 
For a tiny moment, she wondered if she had gone too far this time.
The thought flashed, brief, sharp, unpleasant.
 
But just as quickly, she shook him off again, as if she were swatting away an annoying fly. Her expression slipped back into cold self-satisfaction as she continued to watch him, unable to look away.
 
"Well then, I have to get ready for the party. See you in a few hours."
 
She turned and left him alone again in his personal hell, created by her.
 
 
——————————
 
 
The music flowed warmly through the house, a rhythmic pulse mingling with snippets of conversation and occasional laughter. The living room was already well filled; red cups stood on the windowsills, on the coffee table, on the steps to the first floor, a chaotic pattern that showed the party was really in full swing. The string of lights along the wall cast soft reflections on the wooden floor, which remained in motion with the crunching and scraping of wandering sneakers. The scent of pizza, cola, and some sweet perfume hung in the air, mixed with summer evening and light commotion.
 
The patio door was wide open, and warm air flowed in. Outside, the large terrace lay bathed in the last rays of evening light. The sun had almost disappeared behind the houses, coloring the sky a peachy hue that slowly faded into a cooler blue. Several groups had spread out across the wide wooden floorboards: two boys stood in front of a large black outdoor sound system, its bass vibrating through the terrace floorboards. They scrolled intently through playlists, discussing the next song in hushed tones, while the colorful LEDs on the system pulsed in time with the music.
A little further away, a few girls leaned against the railing, their legs casually crossed, their cups glimmering in the warm backlight.
 
The sky was not yet completely dark, a remnant of golden light hung between the trees, and the scent of fresh grass and summer hung in the air. No wonder that a large part of the party had moved outside: conversation, laughter, and music filled the terrace. It felt as if the entire outdoor area was vibrating with life, carried by the sunset atmosphere and the lightness of a warm evening.
 
Chaela leaned against the terrace railing, cell phone in hand, the display serving as an improvised mirror in front of her. In the warm light of the early evening, she looked as if she had blended perfectly into the mood of the party. With a small, concentrated movement, she smoothed a dark, softly falling strand of hair that had come loose from her loose waves and briefly checked her neckline, more out of routine than vanity.
 
Her dress was simple but striking: a light gray, form-fitting fabric dress that hugged her figure smoothly and revealed just as much as she wanted to show. Not overly short, not too long, it was the perfect balance between "simple" and "expressive." The soft gray harmonized with her warm skin and caught the last rays of sunlight.
 
Her crucifix necklace lay quietly on her décolletage, glistening slightly in the evening light. Her large breasts, almost completely covered by the fabric of the dress, stood in stark contrast to her narrow waist.
 
She wore delicate silver bracelets and several rings that sparkled discreetly with every slight movement. Her subtly made-up lips and the calm, slightly scrutinizing look on her cell phone screen gave her an aura of serenity and slight preparation, as if she were making sure everything was in place before the evening really began.
 
Behind her, the bass from the sound system drifted up from the garden, laughter mingled with music, and the warm air of sunset made her silhouette appear soft and clear.
 
Then Mia came out of the house, her steps springy, the music vibrating softly through the wooden floor. Without hesitation, she headed toward Chaela, as if the evening were only just beginning for her.
 
She had also chosen a tight-fitting dress for the evening, in deep black, simple and smooth, with a cut that clearly emphasized her silhouette without being obtrusive.
 
The dress fit her like a second skin, emphasizing the curves of her hips and the narrow line of her waist before the fabric loosened a few inches at her thighs. Her shoulders were bare, softly colored by the warm evening light, and her long blonde hair fell in fresh, perfectly placed waves down her back.
 
As she took a few steps forward, her gait seemed both relaxed and confident, as if she felt completely at ease in the dress. The fabric moved discreetly and evenly with her every movement, and the black made her skin glow almost brightly.
 
The first people on the terrace turned around shortly after she did, not out of surprise, but because she had a natural presence that was immediately noticeable. The guys at the party all immediately noticed her plump, perfect butt, which was particularly accentuated by her dress.
 
She spotted Chaela immediately at the railing, and a small smile crossed Mia's lips as she sauntered over to her.
 
Mia turned slowly on the terrace, the dress clinging to her every movement, and glanced briefly at Chaela. "So, how do I look?" she asked in a tone that was half playful, half expectant.
 
Chaela looked at her, smiled broadly, and nodded. "Perfect. Absolutely ready for the evening."
 
Mia nodded contentedly, her face briefly becoming more serious.
 
"The party is slowly getting started. Everything is going well so far," Mia smiled contentedly and nodded briefly.
 
But then something suddenly seemed to occur to her, and she turned to Chaela with a serious expression:
 
"Hey, Chels, please keep an eye on things and make sure no one goes upstairs. No one should be having sex in my parents' bedroom. And under no circumstances should anyone go into the bathroom. The toilet upstairs probably won't last much longer, and I don't want it to die before my parents get back."
 
Chaela replied with a grin: "Got it, will do."
 
Chaela leaned slightly to the side, her gaze still fixed on the house. As she looked across Mia into the room, her eyes fell on a tall, muscular guy who was making his way through the crowd.
A brief, almost imperceptible flash of joy crossed her face. "Oh, there's Cole..." she murmured softly, and suddenly she felt a thrill run through her.
 
Her eyes followed him for a moment before she focused on Mia again. A small smile, tinged with nervousness and anticipation, played on her lips.
 
Instinctively, she ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her dress once more, as if to make sure everything was perfect. Then she turned to Mia, who was still standing a few steps away: "Do I look okay?"
 
Mia rolled her eyes with a half-smile, as if she had seen this moment coming.
 
"Chaela, please... you look great. Really. Stop worrying all the time."
 
Chaela nodded, took a deep breath, and a slightly determined expression appeared on her face. "Okay... I'll go to him now."
 
Mia's eyes followed Chaela as she walked over to Cole. She watched as her friend gave him a small, slightly nervous smile and he greeted her with a smile and a casual hug. A warm feeling rose within her; everything was going exactly according to plan.
 
She took a deep breath, let her gaze wander briefly across the terrace, and finally turned toward the patio door. Inside, it was a little darker, the music boomed more muffled, mixed with a babble of voices. Just as she was about to take her first step inside, she suddenly heard a loud howl, not normal laughter, not cheering, more like a chaotic jumble of voices.
 
"Hey, you assholes! Let me down!"
 
Then laughter echoed through the hallway, followed by screeching voices that suddenly rushed out of the living area.
 
Mia frowned in confusion and stepped back into the house, toward the music. And then she saw it: two football players from her school, Trevor Lawson and Derek McAllister, both as broad as refrigerators and just as empty-headed, with broad grins on their faces, stomping out of the living room, heavily laden. Between them hung someone Mia recognized immediately.
 
Evan Crisp.
The epitome of a school loser: puny, thin shoulders, a T-shirt that had probably never been the right size, and glasses that constantly threatened to slip.
Mia knew him well enough, much better than she wanted to admit. Evan was a friend of her brother's, always hanging out at their house, mostly playing video games or working on silly projects that the two of them scattered around the living room. For Mia, he had simply been "Alex's nerdy buddy" for years.
 
And it was this very Evan who was now being carried to the exit by Trevor and Derek like a stubborn sack of potatoes, each of them gripping him firmly under one arm as if they could easily lift him with one hand.
 
"Let me go, you idiots! I swear, if you— Ouch! Tre-trevor, I mean it!" Evan kicked half-heartedly, but only hit air, his heels swinging uselessly in the air.
 
A group of girls standing near the living room screamed excitedly.
 
"Woooh! Throw him in the pool! Come on, guys!" one of them called, giggling.
 
Other guys scattered around the room laughed loudly, some even clapping in time with Evan's completely clumsy attempts to fight back. One was already filming the whole thing with his cell phone.
 
"Come on, guys! Get him outside!"
 
Mia blinked, completely taken aback by the scene, and stopped as the two football players steered their wriggling cargo right past her.
 
Trevor,  in front, with Evan under his arm like a restless surfboard, grinned broadly at her.
 
"Heeey, awesome party, Mia," he called out to her, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
 
Derek, who was running behind and holding Evan's legs, winked at her as he passed her.
"Really good vibe! Thanks for the invite!"
 
Evan, on the other hand, waved his hands wildly, his face bright red.
 
"MIA! Tell them to put me down! This isn't funny!"
 
But Mia couldn't get a word out. The whole thing was so absurd, so completely out of the blue, that she just stared for a moment before suddenly bursting out laughing. Not mean, not angry, more incredulous and irritatedly amused. The combination of Evan's panicked fidgeting and the grinning football boys was just too much.
 
"Oh God..." she muttered, shaking her head and brushing a strand of hair from her face.
 
Mia finally stepped inside the house, the noise of the terrace now behind her. Inside, it was more crowded, stuffier, full of movement. People jostled past each other, laughing, shouting, dancing somewhere between the couch and the chaos of the coffee table. Red cups were scattered everywhere, the music vibrating through the floor and her chest.
 
She was about to glance to her left when suddenly a shadow fell over her, a large one.
 
Mia blinked, lifted her head, and saw Liam pushing his way through the crowd. He towered effortlessly over most of the people in the room, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like a ship through waves.
 
His gaze briefly scanned the surroundings and then he found her.
A small smile flitted across his face, soft and familiar, and Mia immediately felt her heartbeat quicken pleasantly.
 
Without thinking, she walked towards him. As soon as he was close enough, he put his hand on her waist, pulled her towards him, and they kissed, briefly, warmly, as naturally as if they had been waiting for this moment.
 
"Hey, baby," he murmured softly, his breath warm against her ear.
"Hey," she replied, smiling as she leaned against him for a moment.
 
Liam scanned the crowded room and snorted amusedly. "Damn, Mia, I think the whole school is here."
 
She grinned, pushing a strand of hair back. "Maybe... but the most important person to me just arrived."
 
He looked at her, first surprised, then softly, then with that expression that always made her lose her footing for a moment. "Yes?" he asked quietly.
"Mhm."
She tapped him lightly on the chest. "You."
 
He laughed softly, pulling her back toward him briefly, as if he could hold on to the moment.
Mia lowered her voice slightly, a small, conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes, her hand moving discreetly toward his crotch.
 
"I have a surprise for you later."
 
Liam's eyebrows rose slightly.
 
"A surprise, huh? Now I'm curious."
 
"You should be."
 
Mia took his hand.
 
"But first, let's get a drink."
 
"Deal."
 
With a grin, he let her pull him through the crowd.
 
 
———————————————-
 
 
Cole felt like a king.
Ever since he made a name for himself as a running back on the college team, the world seemed to revolve around him. On campus, he was recognized, celebrated, and, above all, courted. The girls practically ran after him, enthralled by his smile, his casual manner, and the fame that clung to him like the smell of freshly cut grass after a home game.
 
Cole had learned to exploit this effect. He knew exactly what words to say, what gestures would work, and how long he had to remain charming to get what he wanted. But as soon as he had it, he lost interest just as quickly. Messages went unanswered, promises were forgotten, names faded from his mind like footprints in the sand.
 
For Cole, it was a game, one he always won. And right now, he was savoring his next victory to the fullest.
 
Her name was Chaela.
 
He had seen her for the first time in the stands two weeks ago, and the sight had stayed with him like a particularly clean touchdown run. Dark hair, confident charisma, a figure that immediately caught the eye, huge tits exactly to his taste, and that slight, indefinable exotic flair. Her mother was from Malaysia, or Singapore? He didn't remember exactly, and he didn't really care. For him, it was just another item on the list of things that made her stand out. That made her interesting, huntable.
 
From that moment on, he had his eye on her. And when the opportunity arose after the game, in which he had practically single-handedly scored a few touchdowns, he went straight up to her. No hesitation, no deliberation. Why should he? He was the hero of the game. And he knew exactly what effect that had on most girls.
 
Chaela was no exception.
 
She had tried to appear calm, but he saw the sparkle in her eyes, the slight blush, the tiny moment when she held his gaze a tick too long. Easily impressed, like almost everyone else. She was a little more reserved, but at her core, it was the same pattern he had known for a long time.
 
He didn't even have to pull out all the stops. A charming grin, a few casual words about the victory, a remark about how he had noticed her before, and she was already in his orbit.
 
He had long since decided how it would all end.
He would get her.
After all, he always got what he wanted.
 
And today, Cole was lying on the bed of one of Chaela's friends during a crowded house party, watching the circle close once again.
 
With his arm casually thrown behind his head and his well-trained body relaxed on the mattress, he savored Chaela's attention to the fullest.
She rode Cole wildly, the slapping of skin on skin every time she buried his penis deep in her tight pussy was only drowned out by her loud moans. Her thick, shapely picture-book tits bounced hypnotically up and down, and Cole couldn't resist kneading them with relish every now and then.
 
His cock slid smoothly in and out of her soaking wet pussy, and a little white cream from her vaginal juices was already collecting on his testicles.
 
Then Chaela leaned forward and braced herself with both hands on Cole's broad chest, squeezing her breasts between her arms. She began to slide her hips back and forth over his now even harder cock.
 
Cole was in heaven.
 
The girl's tits put on an incredible show right before his eyes, her cross necklace dangling above them as if she weren't fucking the life out of him like a devil.
Her pussy, wet and tight around his penis, like the grip of a predator that won't let its prey escape.
 
"Mhm... mhm... ohhh... aah... I'm coming... I'm coming!" Chaela moaned excitedly as she slid over her date's crotch at a steady pace, his penis, swollen to its limit, deep inside her.
 
Cole immediately took command when Chaela announced her climax, wrapping his arms around her hips and thrusting hard into her.
 
"Ohhhh God," was the last intelligible word Chaela uttered before she descended into loud squeals as Cole ravaged her pussy one last time.
Chaela collapsed on top of him and moaned directly into his right ear, which only made Cole thrust harder. She was having the orgasm of her life, Cole's penis was tireless, while her pussy twitched uncontrollably and wrapped itself tighter around him.
 
After her climax lasted almost a minute and she gasped desperately for mercy, exhausted, Cole gradually slowed his pace. Chaela rolled onto her side and breathed deeply, completely exhausted but at the same time more satisfied than ever before.
 
"That was... wow," she whispered, still completely out of breath.
 
Chaela nestled against Cole's chest as they both savored the quiet warmth after sex. Only muffled music and a blurred babble of voices drifted up to them from the party below, like a distant background that made their shared tranquility even more blissful.
 
Cole's cock was still stiff and glistened wetly with Chaela's pussy juices in the pale light of the bedroom. Cole calmly kneaded one of her large breasts and was already thinking about continuing their lovemaking.
 
"Ready for round two?" he asked impatiently, still totally horny.
 
Chaela responded with a mischievous smile and then began kissing him passionately again.
The two of them got back up, and Chaela instinctively got down on all fours, presenting Cole with her beautifully swollen, pink pussy, ready for her second orgasm of the evening.
 
 
—————————————————-
 
 
Meanwhile, the party was in full swing. Since the sun had completely disappeared, night had taken over, and with it, the party had become louder, wilder, and much livelier. Small strings of lights sparkled throughout the garden, swaying in the warm summer breeze, and the muffled thump of the bass lay like a soft echo over the night. Voices mingled in a cheerful din and the air smelled of warm grass and sweet drinks.
 
The sky was now ink black above the house, with only the stars twinkling like scattered pins above it. The heat of the day still lingered in the air, warm and pleasant, one of those nights when no one went home early.
 
Mia and Liam had had several drinks by now. Not so much that they were staggering, but enough that their movements were relaxed, their voices a little louder, and their eyes a little brighter. They laughed at things that weren't really that funny, playfully bumped into each other, and could hardly keep their hands off each other.
 
Mia took his hand, warm but with an impatient pull that brooked no argument. It was as if she were plucking him out of the heart of the party, away from the noise, the lights, and the constant stream of people.
 
"Come with me," she said, a grin on her lips that held as much promise as it did exuberance.
 
Without hesitation, Liam let her lead him away. Mia purposefully guided him across the garden, between scattered groups of people, past half-empty cups, and over the soft grass that gave way softly under their footsteps. The light from the pool shimmered turquoise over her legs as she passed the edge of the pool, the water casting shimmering reflections on her skin and Liam's face.
 
Behind them, the babble of voices slowly faded, each laugh grew quieter, each bass beat a little duller, the further they moved away from the center of the action. And Mia kept walking, leaning slightly forward, as if the night itself were luring her somewhere, and Liam followed her without a single question.
 
Mia finally turned into a narrower area of the garden, away from the light, closer to the fence. There stood the large garden box, dark gray, sturdy, the place where the cushions for the pool loungers were stored when it rained or in winter. It was quieter between the bushes, sheltered, almost as if this little spot belonged only to them.
 
She led Liam right up to the box, then stood so close in front of him that he had to slow down. A playful, conspiratorial smile flitted across her face, barely visible in the soft glow of the pool lighting.
 
Mia leaned forward once more to give her boyfriend a passionate kiss. Then she slowly knelt down and, without taking her seductive gaze off Liam, began to unzip his pants. As she pulled down his jeans and underwear in one swift motion, his already semi-erect cock immediately sprang out. Liam automatically backed away until his legs touched the edge of the box.
 
With a knowing smile and without another word, Mia put her hand around Liam's cock and began to gently jerk him off. She looked up at him again and realized how much he seemed to be enjoying her little pampering program.
And as if that weren't enough, she also began to caress his freshly shaved balls with her mouth. His girlfriend was an artist when it came to blowjobs, and Liam visibly enjoyed the feeling of her warm tongue on his balls.
 
"Ohhh, fuck."
 
Liam settled down with a small, surprised groan, while the distant babble of voices from the party remained behind them like a muffled echo. The gray plastic gave way slightly beneath him, but he leaned back relaxed, as if this darkened corner of the garden now belonged entirely to them.
He braced himself with his hands behind him as his right testicle was sucked into Mia's mouth with a wet slurp.
 
Mia sucked passionately on Liam's balls, his cock now rock hard in her hand, which she jerked rhythmically. But suddenly she heard someone calling in the distance.
 
"Hello?"
 
It was little more than a cry in the wind, lost somewhere between the thumping bass and the rustling of the bushes. Liam, completely in a trance, didn't even seem to hear it.
 
But then again, this time clearer, closer.
 
"Is anyone out there?"
 
This time followed by a dull, muffled knock.
Mia stopped sucking his balls and also slowed down the pace at which she was rubbing Liam's cock. Liam, however, hardly moved, only his eyes opening slightly when his girlfriend interrupted her caressing of his genitals.
 
The knocking came again, and it came from directly beneath him. From inside.
 
Mia stared into the darkness, confused.
 
"...Evan?" she whispered finally, unsure if she had actually just heard the voice of her brother's loser friend.
 
But then came another muffled cry, this time more desperate:
 
"Please! I... I'm stuck here! They locked me in."
 
Before Mia could even respond, her boyfriend lost his patience. His hand slid gently to the back of her head and he gently guided his girlfriend back to his fully erect penis.
 
"Don't stop," he moaned louder as Mia's soft, plump lips wrapped around his cock.
 
Her boyfriend's sudden dominance aroused her, which is why she now eagerly sucked his stiff member. She couldn't suppress a small giggle, due to the absurdity of the situation, and this time Liam also heard the knocking beneath him.
 
Evan. The quiet, somewhat awkward boy that some at school teased. The one that a few bullies liked to annoy when they were bored. He himself had forced this nerd to do his homework for him the entire last school year.
 
Evan had done it, of course, out of fear of what would happen to him. Every sheet. Every assignment. Without complaining. And Liam got the good grades for it, which in the end even helped him get accepted for the SAT.
 
Liam knew that. And yet he was now sitting on the box, his girlfriend on his knees between his legs, without even making a move to free Evan, who was tapping beneath him for help.
 
"Guys, please, I'm getting claustrophobic."
 
Evan had no idea what was happening directly behind the hard plastic wall of the box in which he was locked up. Through the small handle slots on both sides of the box, he tried not to lose contact with the outside world, but all he could see were the dark silhouettes of the trees in the garden.
But he recognized the voices of Mia, his buddy's popular sister, and Liam, her boyfriend, who seemed to be sitting right above him on the box.
 
But once again, they simply ignored him. Evan clenched his hands into fists. He shouldn't have come to this party.
 
When the group message with the invitation appeared, he was convinced that it definitely wasn't meant for him. People like Mia didn't invite people like him. Period.
Mia was that perfect, popular girl who didn't even look at guys like him. She was really mean to people like him and treated them as if they were worth less than the dirt under her shoes.
 
Damn, people even said that she had her own brother installed in her bathroom. He didn't even want to think about how miserable his buddy must be living now, if that was true. So this girl would stop at nothing to put herself above others.
 
So he clicked away from the message and decided to forget about the whole thing.
 
But then his mother had asked him at dinner what he was doing over the weekend. And just as he was about to talk about his usual nerdy plans—gaming, coding, some project she didn't understand—he had seen that look in her eyes. That quiet, disappointed concern that her son was too withdrawn, didn't get out enough, didn't live life enough.
 
And before he could stop himself, he had mentioned the invitation. Mia's party. Big deal. As if he were naturally welcome there.
 
His mother had beamed. And at that moment, it had been decided, whether he wanted it to be or not.
 
He hadn't been at the party for ten minutes when Trevor and Derek, who already made his life at school hell on a regular basis, spotted him and reacted faster than his instinct to flee. At first, they just wanted to throw him into the pool, but then their eyes fell on the large garden box. A broad grin, a quick grab, and before he knew it, he was locked inside.
 
"Ughh, fuuuck."
 
Liam was obviously in a much more pleasant situation than Evan, who once again heard his moans of pleasure above him. Combined with the wet slurping noises and the rhythmic wobbling of the plastic walls around him, he slowly realized what was happening right next to his head.
 
Crammed between the cold plastic surfaces that touched his shoulders without leaving even an inch of room to move, he could neither dodge nor turn away; he was completely at the mercy of the situation.
The shame and burning feeling of humiliation that someone who spat on people like him and yet was spoiled by fate was now sucking his penis with relish weighed heavily on Evan.
 
Mia had meanwhile gone back to rubbing Liam's cock up and down, burying her face in his scrotum to stimulate his balls. Liam moaned in absolute bliss, his girlfriend's warm, wet tongue licking his testicles, her dainty hands wrapped around the shaft of his penis, when the nerd in the garden box interrupted him again:
 
"Please, Mia, help me." By now, there was audible sobbing in Evan's voice. He was now literally begging.
 
He managed to snap Liam out of his trance, and Mia also paused her work on her boyfriend's large testicles for a brief moment.
Before Mia could react, Liam spoke up.
 
"Hey buddy," his tone immediately made it clear that he was going to mock Evan.
 
"I'm going to explain something to you, so listen carefully.
I know pathetic virgins like you don't understand this, but there are men in this world who get to enjoy a blowjob every now and then." He said it with a deceptive calmness as he guided Mia back to his cock with one hand on her head.
 
She obeyed and sucked on the tip, simultaneously circling her tongue around Liam's swollen glans.
Spurred on by her boyfriend's dominance, Mia tried to give him an even more intense experience while he continued to make the nerd suffer for no apparent reason. She listened intently to her boyfriend's words.
 
"Now we have the problem that I don't like to be disturbed when my girl is sucking my cock."
 
Evan, who hadn't yet realized that Liam was just acting at this point to further humiliate him in front of Mia, hopefully made his suggestion:
 
"You just need to get up for a moment and open the box, then I promise I won't disturb you anymore," his words sounded muffled and almost suffocating. Liam and Mia could slowly hear the panic in his voice, probably triggered by the claustrophobia that seemed to be overwhelming him more and more.
 
Mia and Liam exchanged a knowing, silent glance, and a narrow, almost conspiratorial smile flitted across Liam's face. Mia smiled broadly too, licking Liam's shaft while continuing to jerk him off with her right hand. The absurdity of the situation and Evans' humiliation clearly amused them, a silent, cruel amusement that showed how much the two of them were enjoying Evans' predicament.
 
For a brief moment, the only sound to be heard in the immediate vicinity was the soft smacking of Liam's cock being skillfully jerked off by Mia before Liam continued with his show:
 
"I'm afraid that's not possible. You see, buddy..." he said in a falsely exaggerated friendly tone that only served to emphasize the contempt in his words,
"I'm sitting here so comfortably in your prison, enjoying myself. And I don't feel like getting up right now.
You understand, right?"
 
Evan, stewing in his humiliation and almost suffocating in the stifling confinement, could hardly breathe. Faced with the hopeless situation and the impending loss of every option, he lowered his head and muttered quietly, almost painfully, "Yes... yes, I understand."
 
Liam let out a short, affirmative groan as he leaned back and gave Mia an appreciative look. "Ohhh... yes, baby, just like that," he murmured, visibly engrossed in the pleasure of the blowjob. The relaxing touch of her hands made him disappear almost completely into his own world, Evan's murmurs almost drowned out.
 
He threw his head back, then let out another relaxed sigh as Mia worked rhythmically again, moving her mouth up and down over his glans.
 
"So if you want to get out of there today, I suggest you just shut up until those plump lips make me come."
 
He waited a moment, assuming Evan had something else to say. But nothing more came. Apparently, he had resigned himself to his humiliating fate for the night. Liam, satisfied with how things were going, leaned back, relaxed further, and then just muttered, "I thought so."
 
But then Mia stopped the blowjob for a moment and suddenly spoke up. Her voice was soft, almost conspiratorial, as she said,
 
"Actually, that wasn't the surprise..."
 
Liam looked at her curiously, and she slowly got up, took a step closer, and whispered something in his ear. Her words were barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to trigger something. Liam's eyes widened, a sparkle appeared in his gaze, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.
 
"Then we should move this indoors as quickly as possible," he replied as he straightened up.
 
He stood up quickly, almost frantically, as if he suddenly had no time to lose, and pulled up his pants. Then he turned away from the box for good to follow Mia, who held out her hand to him.  
 
Evan watched in horror as Liam hastily got up and walked away with Mia.
 
"Hey, what's going on? Where are you going?" he called desperately, but the two were already a few meters away, without even thinking of freeing him.
 
"Good night, Evan!" Mia called after him with an amused smile as she led her boyfriend toward the house.
 
"Guys, please..." was the last thing he said that evening, his voice filled with fear and frustration as he desperately banged on the walls of the box.
 
 
————————
 
 
The muffled music, the babble of voices, and the boisterous laughter that reached him even in the toilet cubicle weighed heavily on Alex. Again and again, he thought he recognized familiar voices of his former classmates in the loud fragments of conversation echoing through the party crowd.
 
While everyone downstairs was laughing and celebrating carefree, Alex felt smaller and smaller in the cramped toilet bowl. The other people's carefree attitude hurt him almost physically, as if their lightheartedness were a bright light illuminating everything he would never be able to experience again.
 
That was exactly what gnawed at him: that it obviously didn't matter at all whether he was there or not. That to the others, he apparently never meant more than a casual extra in their cheerful backdrop.
The more carefree the laughter spilled through the door, the more he felt this painful sense of being marginalized, and it wasn't just a mental prison. He had been reduced from this world to nothing more than a mere object.
 
No matter how hard Alex tried, he couldn't push the thought out of his mind for a second.
The view from the bowl, framed by the toilet seat above him, relentlessly forced its way into his consciousness. This image, this perspective, seemed to constrict his entire life and left him no room to breathe.
 
Even with his eyes closed, Alex couldn't escape the truth. The tampon Mia had used was still stuck in his mouth. Over the course of several hours , his own saliva had long since displaced most of the blood and pungent vaginal fluid, but the unpleasant aftertaste remained.
There was still a constant metallic, musty aftertaste that would certainly not disappear until the tampon was removed from his mouth.
 
At some point, it was pitch black in the bathroom and Alex could only make out the rough outline of the toilet seat, which, luckily for him, no one had sat on for several hours. Then he suddenly heard voices a little louder than before; someone was in Mia's room. Then female giggling; he couldn't quite place it, but it wasn't his sister.
 
Then the bathroom door opened. A narrow strip of light fell in before someone found the switch. Alex could only hear the rustling of clothes and the soft clicking of a makeup bag. He couldn't see the person, but from the cautious movements and muffled breathing, he realized that someone was standing in front of the mirror.
 
He didn't know that it was Chaela who had just popped in to check her makeup and take off her tight dress. To him, it was just silhouettes, footsteps, a faint whiff of perfume, and the question of who was sharing the room with him in the dark.
 
When the light in the bathroom went out again, the door to the room remained wide open, allowing part of the room to remain visible. The voices were now unmistakably clear. Alex immediately recognized Chaela's voice, bright and confident, as she talked and flirted with a man. Every syllable, every laugh came through clearly to him.
 
Several minutes passed during which Alex could hardly hear anything. He listened intently, picking up every faint sound, but apart from the muffled sounds of the party downstairs, there was silence.
 
Then suddenly he heard something coming from Mia's room again. At first it was quiet gasping, both male and female, then it quickly turned into passionate moaning from Chaela, accompanied by the creaking of the bed beneath her and her partner.
 
She was fucking some guy right next door, and Alex was almost fully involved because of the open bathroom door.
An image formed in his mind of the sounds coming from his sister's bed, just 15 feet away from Alex.
 
He imagined Chaela riding this guy's cock, her large breasts completely exposed and bouncing in front of his face.
Probably another college jock who was just using her for her body.
From the sound of it, the guy was fucking her with a huge cock.
 
Alex suddenly felt something he hadn't felt since his installation in Mia's bathroom: he was aroused. Her moans and the mental images of Chaela having sex right next door caused blood to flow into his own penis for the first time since he had been converted into a toilet.
 
If someone had promised him a year ago that he would be having sex with Chaela, Alex would have signed up immediately. But the reality was much more unpleasant. He wasn't even really hard when he was overcome by an eerie pain. Cold spikes dug into his penis like thorns, while at the same time the internal pressure on the urinary catheter that had been inserted caused additional pain.
 
As quickly as it had grown, it became limp and small again.
This only caused additional frustration for its owner, because the moaning in the next room did not stop for a long time.
As if that weren't enough, at that very moment, the guy whose cock was enjoying itself in Chaela's willing pussy let out a loud, satisfied grunt.
 
Alex was more than just jealous; he had never had sex with a girl in his life. He had often thought of Chaela while sadly masturbating in his room, imagining himself grabbing her breasts while they had passionate sex.
How she circled her hips over his crotch while his admittedly   below-average penis was stuck in her perfect, tight, wet pussy.
How she moaned his name as she had one orgasm after another.
 
Alex had thought that Chaela might be different from the other popular girls. She was one of the few girls who had been genuinely friendly to him without immediately pigeonholing him. Perhaps, behind all the peer pressure and the need to fit in, she valued character more than the superficial game everyone else was playing. At least, that's what he thought for a long time, but the loud moans of pleasure that had been ringing in his ears for a good 20 minutes now led him to suspect that she might value a decent cock more after all.
 
And as the tight walls of Chaela's vagina slid over the shaft of the guy's penis in Mia's bed, Alex's own cock twitched again in pain.
Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes.
 
When he heard Chaela suddenly get even louder and then pound flesh against flesh at a steady high pace for what must have been a minute, he became painfully aware that he could never have satisfied her the way the guy was doing right now.
 
"Ohhhh God," was all Alex could understand from Chaela now; the guy was mercilessly fucking her next door. And even though, or perhaps because he had no choice but to listen to his sister's best friend having sex, Alex felt really inferior. The thought that she probably wouldn't have cared if she had remembered that he had been listening to her having sex from the bathroom only reinforced the feeling that he was now nothing more than a lifeless object.
 
At the same time, he struggled with his arousal, which caused his penis to swell again.
Alex tried to think of something other than Chaela, who was currently being fucked loudly. Normally, it would be impossible to suppress such thoughts while she moaned incessantly, but Alex was now a toilet.
 
He thought somewhat reluctantly about this afternoon, more specifically about the moment when his sister's asshole vomited into his mouth.
He thought about the texture of her turd, which was more like greasy brownies than the pasta it was originally made of.
The taste of her shit should be burned into his brain forever, and the additional humiliation that accompanied each of her trips to the toilet actually distracted him from the action in the bedroom. His penis shrank again before Alex felt the prickles again.
 
Suddenly, it was quiet in the bedroom. Alex heard only the soft rustling of the bedsheets, then the distant sounds of the party penetrated the wall again—laughter, music, voices flying through the room. For a moment, it seemed as if the two of them were completely alone in their own world, their quiet conversations blurred and unreachable. A quiet relief spread through Alex, and the physical pain in his groin subsided.
 
But suddenly, the silence was broken again. The bed creaked, a soft, crunching sound that filled the room, followed by Chaela's amorous giggle, which echoed brightly through the twilight.
The sounds of the party penetrated the room again, but now they seemed more distant, like a fading noise in the distance. Then again female moans, accompanied by occasional deep grunts, they continued fucking right away.
 
This time, even the taste of metal still lingering in his mouth did not help to dispel the arousal.
Alex now imagined Chaela taking him doggy style instead of that guy, squealing with every thrust of his cock deep inside her, her big tits kneaded by his hands as he held her tightly from behind. But instead of the warm walls of her juicy pussy, he only felt the tips of cold metal drilling deep into his pumped-up member.
 
The pain became unbearable, tears ran from Alex's eyes, but the lust would not go away. It had been weeks since he had last masturbated.
He remembered it was the last day of exams. Alex knew this for sure because there was a party that evening, to which he was not invited, of course.
 
Chaela had uploaded a story showing her posing in front of a mirror with Mia and another friend. She was wearing a light pink top that was struggling to cover her bust.
Her neckline was huge and left little to the imagination, and Alex ended up jerking off to this picture. Alone in his dark room, he shot his modest load onto his own stomach and went
to bed early while Chaela and all his classmates celebrated the end of exams.
 
Back in Mia's bedroom, Alex's dream was now Cole's sugar-sweet reality.
Although he no longer had a perfect view of Chaela's tits, doggy style was still his favorite sex position. He loved how women on all fours literally held their pussies out to him, just waiting for him to fuck them. And he was always happy to comply.
 
He was already plowing through Chaela's pussy for minutes, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust, while she screamed with pleasure. His big hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust his thick cock deep into her again and again.
Then Chaela's breathing quickened, and Cole felt her pussy walls contract uncontrollably again, signaling her second orgasm of the evening.
 
"Ohh... ohhh... ohhh... I'm coming! Oh fuck!"
 
At that moment, Chaela was nothing more than a hole for Cole's own pleasure.
And what a hole it was, he thought as he picked up his pace one last time.
Her pussy was tight, wet, nice and warm, pulsing with the fire of her own orgasm.  
With his head thrown back, Cole now moaned uninhibitedly with pleasure.
The two climaxed together, her pussy and his scrotum contracting in unison, as if she wanted to help him empty his swollen balls deep into her womb.
 
After a few final weary thrusts, accompanied by blissful, deep masculine sighs, Cole gradually withdrew from Chaela.
His tired penis, slowly going limp, glistened with their combined juices.
Chaela was now completely exhausted as well, lying motionless on her stomach, her freshly used pussy still somewhat exposed in the air.
 
 
—————————
 
 
 
"...Harper became interested in international programs at an early age," Claire said as she elegantly placed the narrow silver cutlery on the dessert plate.
 
The scent of vanilla, roasted hazelnuts, and a hint of cinnamon hung in the air as the last rays of sunlight streamed through the large windows like liquid gold. On the table were small, perfectly glazed tarts, the fruit in the center of which looked as if it had been polished individually.
 
"She never wanted to just study," Claire continued, without dampening the matter-of-fact tone in her voice.
 
"It had to be something that really offered prospects. Nothing... theoretical. And London was the obvious first choice, of course."
 
Mary nodded slowly, even though she could hardly join in the conversation. While Claire was talking, Mary wondered how much of Harper actually belonged to her and how much was just a careful composition by her parents.
 
"What exactly is she doing now?" asked Paul, raising his glass as if he needed to reassure himself that the world really worked the way Claire was describing it.
 
Richard took over, his voice calm, almost businesslike.
"Strategic Luxury Branding & Global Consumer Behavior. A pretty exclusive program. Very selective. She was accepted on her first try, without a waiting list."
 
Claire smiled briefly, almost pityingly.
"Most people underestimate how competitive this field is. It's not about marketing in the traditional sense. It's not something you learn at any business school in the US. It's about the psychology of prestige, brand management in the high-end segment, about... influence."
 
She glanced briefly at Mary, then back at her own plate, as if she had almost forgotten that other people might also have daughters, just without a strategic career plan.
 
"Harper just has an incredible knack for it. She understands how people tick—how exclusivity works. I always say she got that from me," Claire said, laughing softly as she scraped the last of the cream off her spoon.
 
"And she lives alone in London?" Mary asked, trying to sound natural.
 
"Of course not," Richard interjected. "We have a small condominium in South Kensington. An old building, completely renovated, concierge service, security system, everything you need when you let a young woman live alone in a big city."
 
Paul smiled, half impressed, half stunned.
"If I had been alone in London at twenty, I probably would have gotten lost in a hostel."
 
Claire laughed again, a little louder this time.
"Harper's not the hostel type. She needs structure. Style. Quality. She's very... particular about that."
 
Claire took a final sip of her dessert wine, dabbed her mouth, and then turned to Mary with an almost casual smile.
"And Mia? What's she up to these days?"
 
Mary's eyes lit up.
"She just passed the SAT with flying colors. She did really well, we're incredibly proud."
 
"93 points on average," said Paul, without any surprise in his voice. "But honestly, that was to be expected from her. Mia has always been extremely focused."
 
Claire looked back and forth between Paul and Mary, then smiled sincerely.
"That sounds really great. I'm happy for you. It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it, when the hard work of many years finally pays off?"
 
She took a small sip of her wine.
 
"So now she's going into her last two years before college after the holidays, right?"
 
Mary nodded.
 
Richard put his glass back on the table and leaned forward slightly.
"And how's Alex doing? How did he do?"
 
Mary hesitated for a moment, then slowly ran her finger along the edge of her napkin.
"Well... he had a little more trouble with it than we thought he would."
She smiled briefly, but it was more of a gesture than an expression.
 
Claire, who immediately noticed the change in Mary's voice, pushed her dessert plate aside, snorted softly, and waved her hand dismissively.
 
"Believe me, I know what you mean. Our Caleb is incredibly smart, really. But too lazy to sit down for even ten minutes."
She gave Richard a meaningful look, then turned back to Mary.
"His head is only in sports... and girls. Since he got this new girlfriend, it's gotten even worse. She's a really lovely, sweet girl, but unfortunately that doesn't help his grades."
 
Richard raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled dryly.
 
"Claire threatened him the other day," he said in an almost casual, amused tone, "that he'll be moving to London soon too.
Specifically, to his sister's bathroom, if he doesn't finally start doing something for school."
 
Claire laughed softly and tilted her head.
 
"Oh, I don't think Harper would mind," she said dryly.
 
"But seriously," she continued, now smooth and superior, "Caleb knows very well that we would never allow such a thing."
 
Mary and Paul exchanged a brief, silent glance, a slight hesitation that quickly disappeared.
 
Richard nodded in agreement and picked up his glass again.
 
"Just in case," he said calmly, "I've had a sum set aside in a separate savings account for a long time. You never know how things will turn out."
 
A brief, confident smile.
 
"Our son will definitely not end up in such a... subhuman state," Claire said firmly.
 
Richard sat up slightly, picked up his spoon, and tapped his dessert absentmindedly.
"And what does Alex want to do now?" he asked, genuinely interested.
 
Mary opened her mouth but immediately stopped, her fingers clenching the cutlery a little too tightly. A slight blush rose to her face.
 
Paul noticed the discomfort, briefly placed his hand on Mary's arm, and took over the conversation, his voice calm, almost too matter-of-fact.
"Well... Alex didn't pass the SAT, unfortunately," he said, with a hint of embarrassment. "And we can't... well, we can't afford the resources that others might have."
 
A brief silence fell over the table. Everyone sensed what remained unsaid without it being directly articulated. The truth hung in the room like a shadow, clear but veiled.
 
Claire tilted her head slightly, her voice sharp and questioning:
"Does that mean... he's now...?"
 
She left the sentence hanging in the air, her gaze shifting between Mary and Paul, searching, skeptical, as if she wanted to absorb every tiny twitch of their reaction.
 
Paul nodded briefly, his expression serious, almost silent.
"Yes... it's him," he said simply.
 
Richard cleared his throat slightly, his voice a little embarrassed.
 
"Man, I'm sorry."
 
Claire placed her hand lightly on Mary's arm and squeezed it gently. Her smile was warm, almost comforting, but her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement.
 
"Don't worry about it," she said calmly. "Sometimes life turns out differently than you imagined. Not everyone is cut out to shine in high-profile professions."
 
She stroked Mary's arm once, gently, reassuringly.
"Some people just find their place... differently, but in their own way just as important. And that's perfectly fine."
 
She said this while inwardly struggling with a quiet smile, unable to believe her own words.
 
Richard nodded briefly to Mary and Paul, his voice calm, almost affirming.
 
"That's exactly right," he said. "Everyone has their place, their purpose. It doesn't always have to be a professor, judge, or doctor for a life to be meaningful."
 
Claire leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and sincere.
"Look at your Mia," she began, almost admiringly.
 
"She really has everything she needs for a great future—talent, hard work, focus. She's on the right track. You can be really proud of yourselves for raising such a daughter."
 
"And let's be honest. It's precisely because our system is designed this way that society functions the way it does," she said calmly, almost matter-of-factly.
 
"It ensures that young talents like Mia can reach their full potential without being held back by those who are simply not cut out for a self-determined existence. She and our Harper now have opportunities that others don't have, and that's a gift."
 
She nodded slightly, satisfied, as if she had stated an irrefutable truth.
 
Richard cleared his throat briefly, placed his hands loosely on the table, and gave Mary and Paul a practiced, reassuring smile.
 
"Well," he said matter-of-factly, like someone accustomed to steering conversations efficiently.
 
"I just hope that Alex has now found a place where he can be as comfortable as possible. That's all we can control anyway."
 
His tone was cool and deliberate. A small hint of his entrepreneurial mindset: identify problems, classify them, and make the best of them.
 
Mary exhaled softly, Paul glanced at her briefly, then her shoulders relaxed a little. She nodded cautiously, a faint smile on her lips.
 
"Yes... you're probably right," she murmured, feeling a little relieved.
 
Claire stood up, her hands elegantly clasped together.
"Well, I'll just quickly load the dishwasher," she said, almost casually. "And then I'll show you the guest room."
 
She walked a few steps ahead, already beginning to wax lyrical in her typical tone.
"You'll see, the windows offer a fantastic view of the garden. And the bed—you won't believe how comfortable it is."
 
Then she shook her head slightly, as if to stop herself, and lowered her voice again:
 
"But enough about that, you'll see for yourselves in a moment."
 
 
————————————
 
 
 
Calm had returned to Mia's bedroom. For the past five minutes, only the muffled echoes of the party below had been heard.
Alex welcomed the silence. Every cry of joy from Chaela, every muffled sound of that guy's movements had felt like a slap in the face before.
 
As if it weren't enough that all his classmates were living their lives carefree, as young people should, and partying, while he was deprived of his human rights and degraded to a mere object stuck in a toilet bowl. Now, having to listen to the girl he regularly fantasized about while masturbating being fucked by some guy just a few meters away left Alex with a deep inner pain.
 
He felt insignificant, almost erased. His existence seemed to have shrunk to a single function: to be used by others in a way that robbed him of all dignity. Meanwhile, life went on unperturbed for everyone else.
His classmates who had passed their exams were now enjoying their freedom. They went to the beach, met friends, laughed, partied, fell in love, had sex. Everything that had once been a matter of course for him now seemed to belong to another world.
For Alex, it was just a distant memory, a dream he was no longer entitled to. Broken and reduced to a cramped, undignified space, cut off from normal life, he knew that these simple pleasures would forever be denied him.
 
He clung to the thought that somewhere deep inside him there might still be a remnant of something that could be called hope. A faint flicker, little more than habit, the automatic attempt not to give up completely. He told himself that there could still be a turning point, a moment when someone would pause, see him, perceive him as more than just an object.
 
But every attempt to lift his spirits was crushed by the memory of what he had experienced. Too often he had believed he had reached rock bottom, only to find that there was still further to fall.
 
He knew the pattern by now. A brief period of calm was not followed by relief, but only by the next test of his dignity. The next situation in which he had to make himself small, endure, function. Hope no longer meant a future for him, but only a prolonged wait until the next humiliation.
 
At that moment, the light in the bathroom flashed on.
 
The brightness caught him off guard, cutting into his consciousness like a blow. He squinted his eyes, but even through his eyelids, the glaring white burned. For a split second, there was only this light, which robbed him of any possibility of hiding.
 
Then he heard the footsteps.
 
Quietly, almost casually. The dull, unmistakable sound of bare soles on the cool tiles. Someone moved through the room, without haste, without hesitation, as if everything were exactly as it should be. For Alex, however, every muscle tensed, even though he couldn't move. His gaze remained helplessly fixed on the ceiling, on a fine crack in the plaster that he now knew better than any face.
 
Looking up, Alex forced himself to keep his eyes open until the burning slowly subsided and the glaring brightness became more bearable. The ceiling lay clearly before him again, sober and indifferent, a fixed point he could hold on to while everything else slipped beyond his control.
Whether he looked or not, his role had long been determined. He was there, available, at their mercy.
 
The footsteps came closer, paused briefly. The silence thickened, became heavy, almost tangible. Alex's breathing became shallow. Inside, there was no longer any resistance, only silent preparation for what was to come. Once again.
 
And suddenly she was standing right above him: Chaela.
 
For a brief moment, she said nothing. Her gaze rested calmly on him, examining him, almost casually, as if to make sure that everything was exactly as she had expected. There was no haste in her demeanor, no visible emotion, only the quiet matter-of-factness with which she surveyed him.
 
But what immediately struck him was her nakedness.
 
She stood above him, stark naked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out her clean-shaven vulva. Far above him, her gigantic breasts bravely defied gravity.
 
She stood before him unconcerned, without hesitation, without the slightest attempt to cover herself. Not out of provocation, not out of closeness, but out of complete indifference.
As if he were nothing more than an object in the room, something you don't consider when you move.
 
It was precisely this absence of shame that struck him. It said more than any words could: that his presence meant nothing to her, that his gaze carried no weight. He was not someone to be shown or hidden from. He was simply there, irrelevant enough to be forgotten, even at that moment.
 
And so it became painfully clear to him that his own perception, his shame, his thoughts belonged to him alone. None of that mattered to her.
 
Those few seconds stretched out. For Alex, they felt longer than anything before because they made him realize what he had known all along: she was completely in control of the situation. And he was exactly where they wanted him to be.
 
She gave him a smile.
 
It seemed sincere, almost warm, and for an unsettling moment, Alex had the feeling that it was actually meant for him. Not the situation, not the power over him, but him. This fleeting impression took him by surprise, causing something inside him to falter before he could even process it.
 
Then she spoke to him, quite naturally.
 
"Hey, Alex."
 
Her voice sounded relaxed, a little too warm, the words slightly drawn out, as if they only occurred to her halfway out of her mouth.
Content. Unfiltered.
 
"I just had great sex!"
 
She grinned broadly, swayed slightly on her feet, and blinked as if the room had briefly decided to rearrange itself. She paused for a moment, then couldn't hold back a quiet, amused laugh, a little too honest.
 
"But why am I telling you this?" she teased, shaking her head, a strand of hair falling into her face.
 
Chaela was drunk, he realized. Not completely out of it, but enough that her filters were down. Enough that she was saying things she probably would never have said sober. And that was exactly what made his stomach sink a little.
 
Chaela's gaze wandered over him once more, this time less playfully, more curiously. Then it lingered. She tilted her head slightly, blinked, and only then did she notice it: the thin thread peeking out between his lips.
 
"What's that you have there...?" she murmured.
 
Curious, she leaned down, so close that Alex could feel her warm breath. The sweet smell of alcohol hung in the air. She took the thread between two fingers and pulled it gently, more tentatively than decisively.
 
And there was resistance. Not much, but enough to feel it clearly. Something moved in his mouth, barely noticeable, and the corners of Chaela's mouth slowly lifted into an amused smile.
 
"Oh my God," she giggled softly. "Is that... seriously?"
 
Her gaze wandered from the thread to his mouth, then to his eyes, and almost immediately it clicked. The grin came faster than Alex would have liked.
 
She sat up a little, shook her head, and laughed openly, genuinely amused.
"Damn," she said. "Mia can really be a bitch."
 
A laugh, hearty, uninhibited, not meant to be hurtful, but hurtful nonetheless.
It echoed in the small room, leaving no doubt about how ridiculous the situation looked.
 
Alex's face burned. He couldn't say anything, couldn't explain anything, could only endure her laughter. Trapped, with his sister's blood-soaked tampon in his mouth, at the mercy of Chaela's gaze and amusement. Shame crept up his neck, not only because of what Mia had done, but because Chaela saw it. And enjoyed it.
 
Finally, she exhaled deeply, shook her head again, and grinned crookedly down at him.
"Okay, okay," she said, still laughing.
"Wait."
 
Then she bent down again, this time to focus on the touch panel to operate it.
 
The view that now presented itself to Alex far exceeded his wildest dreams. As Chaela bent over the toilet to find the selection that opened Alex's mouth, he had the best view of her bare tits. Barely a foot away from the toilet seat, her breasts swayed heavily.
 
Chaela's breasts were renowned at her school; every boy would have dreamed of seeing them completely exposed, as Alex was doing at that moment. Even the most popular guys in his class had given up on Chaela, as she only dated college guys.
 
And her tits were perfect.
His gaze lingered on them involuntarily.
They were full and round, with a clear, even shape. Their weight gave them a sensual presence, while their firmness kept their shape clear and proud, even though their mass pulled them down toward Alex.
 
Alex noticed that her breasts were even larger than he had imagined, swaying heavily yet softly with every little movement Chaela made, hypnotizing him like a snake with her equally beautiful nipples. Damn, how he envied this guy who had brought her to two orgasms tonight.
 
He imagined the guy's face buried deep between her tits as she rode him, moaning loudly.
How her wet pussy slid along his cock, bringing him closer and closer to climax. But just as her date in his fantasy came at the same time as Chaela, the thorns around Alex's cock dug deep into his lustful thoughts again.
 
But this time the lust was too great, his penis tried to fight against its painful prison. Alex couldn't look away and continued to stare at his horizon of two moons made flesh. Meanwhile, Chaela was still tapping on the touch panel, searching for the right menu to manually take control of Alex's mouth, which was much more difficult than usual in her slightly drunk state.
 
Above him, Chaela was oblivious to all of this. Her attention was completely captivated by the display, the world around her seemingly faded away as she worked her way through the options, which seemed convoluted in her tipsy state.
 
Alex, on the other hand, was completely focused. As a virgin, he didn't want to miss this sight of her perfect breasts hovering above his face, a slight tremor running through the soft fatty tissue with every slightest movement. He tried to ignore the pain that grew deeper with every second, a steady throbbing that demanded concentration and patience.
 
Chaela suddenly paused. Her finger hovered over the display as if someone had stopped time.
 
"Ah!"
 
Alex didn't react at first, his thoughts still focused on Chaela's breasts and the pain in his crotch. Only when his mouth slowly began to open, Chaela's shadow over him changed, and he felt her gaze on him did he look up. Chaela stared at him with a feigned look of shock, one eyebrow raised.
 
"What... the... hell," she began slowly, "are you seriously staring at my tits?"
 
Alex's heart skipped a beat. A cold shiver shot through his body, as if he had been caught red-handed. He flinched and looked up hastily, much too quickly, much too obviously.
 
Chaela looked at him.
Not angry. Not stern.
Amused.
 
"I'm helping you here, and this is how you thank me?
You little pervert," she said, talking to him as if he were a naughty little boy.
He realized once again how drunk she really was.
 
Alex blinked. Confused. Still electrified. His face was burning. The shock slowly gave way to embarrassing certainty, and at that very moment he realized that she wasn't angry.
She had thoroughly enjoyed herself.
 
With a broad grin, Chaela bent down toward Alex again, this time resting her hands on her knees and provocatively pressing her enormous breasts together.
 
"I'm not mad at you," she began with a slightly teasing amusement.
 
"Having to live in a toilet bowl for the rest of your life, as a virgin no less, and then regularly with such beautiful views... that must be damn hard."
 
Almost casually, she reached down, her fingers finding the thin string of the tampon hanging from the corner of his mouth. With a quick, decisive pull, Chaela pulled the tampon out. Her face contorted slightly, her nose wrinkled. Alex also looked at the soaked fabric cylinder, which was now light pink. At the thought of everything he had sucked out of it over the last few hours, a cold shiver of disgust ran down his spine again.
 
Without further ado, Chaela dropped the used tampon into the small trash can next to the toilet.
 
"Right," she said dryly, straightening up and covering her vagina with her right hand as she gave Alex one last amused look before turning away.
 
"I have a surprise for you, toilet."
 
Chaela quickly lowered her butt onto the toilet seat, directly above Alex, who already had his mouth wide open. The moment she had the catch basin, which was Alex's bowl and his mouth, beneath her, she removed her hand from her most intimate area.
At the sight of her pussy, Alex immediately realized that Chaela had not just held her hand in front of it to protect it from further lustful glances on his part.
 
Rather, she was concerned about not dripping onto the floor. Her pussy was completely ravaged, her labia swollen and red; her date had obviously fucked her hard. Residues of her own juices were visible around her vaginal opening, forming a narrow ring of white foam that stuck to Cole's penis every time he pulled out and deposited itself on her when he thrust back in.
In addition, the confined space under Chaela's butt suddenly smelled of sex.
 
The stench was acrid and heavy, a mixture of salty, musty protein, stale milk, and rusty metal, saturated with a damp, sweaty whiff that smelled like forgotten laundry in the heat. It burned his nose and made his stomach churn, as if someone had collected the essence of mixed bodily fluids in a glass.
 
But what really frightened him was the drop that dangled like thick saliva from her still moist, glistening labia, hanging toward his mouth on a thin thread.
 
"Cole completely flooded my pussy..." She let her words sink in for a moment.
 
"I'm telling you, he came so hard, I felt every shot deep inside me," Chaela enjoyed building up some suspense at Alex's expense.
 
Alex suddenly felt sick when he realized what was coming next.
 
"I shouldn't have been surprised when I saw his huge balls," she said with a calmness that was completely out of place given his situation.
 
He listened to her words and watched the thread of their combined juices as it came closer and closer to his exposed tongue. At the same time, a second drop formed just half a centimeter away from the origin of the first.
 
At the thought of being fed a man's semen again, Alex's stomach turned before the first drop even reached its target.
 
"You're probably wishing you were gay right now," she giggled, reveling in the schadenfreude of her own comment.
 
Alex could hardly believe it. Drunk or not, Chaela humiliated him without any shame and seemed to really enjoy it. She, of all people, who usually seemed so reserved and friendly, sat there and enjoyed upsetting him. He never would have thought she was capable of such a thing.
 
He watched as her pussy came to life, rhythmically contracting and relaxing to slowly draw out her date's cum. Meanwhile, the first transparent drop of her pussy juices landed on his tongue, giving Alex a little taste of what was to come.
 
Chaela's pussy pulsed incessantly in
even waves, giving Alex time to lose himself deeply in his humiliation.
As before, when Chaela had been raging in the next room, he lost himself in fantasies again. But this time, a far more disturbing scene than before forced itself into his mind's eye.
 
His mind's eye painted a frighteningly realistic close-up of a large, powerful cock. Rock hard and veined, it plowed brutally through Chaela's dripping wet pussy. Then it suddenly slowed down and thrust deeply without pulling out far. His gigantic testicles, which had just been dangling apathetically in their scrotum, now contracted rhythmically right before his inner eye to ejaculate deep into Chaela's womb.
 
He didn't know exactly why, but somehow he felt even more humiliated than the first time Mia fed him her boyfriend's cum straight from a used condom. It probably had something to do with the fact that just a few minutes ago, this guy had been having fun with the pussy he could only fantasize about until today. He satisfied Chaela with such confidence that her pussy thanked him by milking him dry until he was exhausted.
 
And now Alex would take care of the leftovers. His cheeks burned bright red with shame. His own manhood had completely shriveled up in the meantime and was literally hiding in its little cage.
Alex's initial excitement of the evening had completely evaporated.
 
Then Chaela's voice cut through his thoughts again. It sounded light, almost singing, dripping with amusement and undisguised schadenfreude, as if she were savoring every moment.
 
"If it's any consolation, I think semen is really disgusting too."
 
For a moment, she thought about her own words until it dawned on her in her drunken state that her only honest attempt to make him feel good had been anything but comforting.
 
"Only, unlike you, I can spit it out," she says with a slightly amused grin.
 
Chaela suddenly felt a gentle pressure on her labia, as if something were pushing out, and she also noticed a much stronger, warm moisture that could only come from inside.
 
"Ohh, I think it's starting," she smiled with her eyes closed and a relaxed expression on her face.
 
And indeed, Alex looked up at her vagina, which was hovering centrally above his mouth, and saw with horror a white, thick cream collecting at her vaginal opening. A musty smell rose, sticky and unpleasant, as the mass sluggishly pushed its way over the lowest point of her pussy, viscous like melted caramel, but with an unhealthy, slimy consistency.
Alex couldn't escape and tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable.
 
When so much semen had already appeared, more than Alex himself had ever produced in an ejaculation, the cream finally slid off in a disgusting, slow movement.
His eyes were now wide with panic, following the slime on its way down.
 
A single drop of the salty, musty cream slowly detached itself from the thick mass and landed heavily on Alex's tongue. Immediately, a shiver of disgust shot through him. First there was the salty, dull smell that spread across his tongue, then the musty, slightly rotten aftertaste that made his breath catch. Almost simultaneously, a metallic taste scratched his tongue like rusty iron, intensifying the unpleasant sensation.
 
The semen was sticky, heavy, and sluggish, like viscous magma. The longer it remained on her tongue, the more intense the disgust became, first a strange contraction of the palate, then an almost irresistible urge to spit it out immediately. Every aftertaste was a mixture of salt, musty mold, and metallic sharpness that coated his tongue like a sticky layer until Alex finally began to gag reflexively, wanting to get rid of it all.
 
Alex looked up and immediately prepared for it. What felt like three times the amount that had just dripped onto his tongue was already hanging heavily and sluggishly from Chaela's slit, swirling and glistening as if it would continue to trickle down at any moment. With each controlled contraction of her pussy, more quantities spilled out, slowly finding their gravitational pull. Bit by bit, the thick, white cream dissolved and coated Alex's helpless tongue.
 
In his panicked disgust, he wondered how it was possible to produce such a large amount of semen with just one orgasm.
What's more, the entire load was extremely thick and opaque. Moreover, the entire load was extremely thick and deep white, while it continued to drip sluggishly onto his tongue like thick yogurt.

Directly above him, Chaela let her thoughts wander, wondering what Alex was thinking at that moment.

How humiliating it must be for him, a failed nobody, to have to swallow the remains of a man who had apparently been on the winning side in life. A touch of pity stirred within her, but it was quickly overshadowed by the bitter comedy of the scene.

Then Chaela released the last of her tension, breathed calmly out, and surrendered to the long-overdue relief.

Alex watched the next thick drop of semen slowly sink into his mouth when suddenly, a little further forward, the next fluid escaped from her labia. What had initially been just a trickling rivulet, slowly flowing down her cleft to the lowest point until it succumbed to gravity, quickly developed into a strong stream of urine.

Her body clearly betrayed how much she had drunk, as Alex thoroughly savored the highly concentrated waterfall.

The aftertaste from the amount of alcohol she had consumed tonight was horrific, and the heat caused a vapor of piss to rise around his face.

He felt utterly used, the humiliation indescribable, at the sight of the pussy now supplying him with two foul-tasting fluids.

Chaela rinsed the semen from her date off his tongue, but the diuretic effect of the alcohol caused her piss to gush deep yellow into the unwilling mouth of the toilet beneath her.

Alex was once again completely spent. The muscles in his throat felt drained, exhausted from futile attempts to gag up everything that had been forced upon him.

Why? Why me? he wondered, tears welling up in his eyes. The thumping bass rose from below, accompanied by the knowledge that all his former classmates were down there laughing, dancing, and having a good time.

Gradually, the flow of her urine subsided, her bladder was now completely empty, while Alex had a waterlogged stomach.
And Chaela reached for the toilet paper as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He watched her hand as she thoroughly wiped herself clean.

When she had finished, she turned to him somewhat unsteadily, still a little tipsy, and bent down slightly to reach for the toilet seat.

As she did so, she presented her bare breasts to him one last time, a smile playing on her lips.

"Remember them well, who knows when you'll get another chance," she giggled in a final attempt to tease Alex.

But at that moment, he didn't care about anything.

"Well then, I'm going to get dressed and head back to the party."

Then she dropped the lid on his prison, shrouding him in darkness once more.

In that moment, Alex felt so small that even his existence seemed like a mistake. Growing up with a twin sister who was effortlessly superior to him in everything had stifled any success he could have achieved. Where she shone, he was left only in shadow. The universe seemed to have made it clear to him from the very beginning who the superfluous part was.

And now, at rock bottom, forced to look up at her bare buttocks every day, it seemed to him as if life had finally assigned the roles. She stood above him, naturally and unchallenged, and he had landed exactly where he had apparently always been expected to be.