The girls, decked in their finest party attire, gathered around Adison, grabbing at his face and arguing over the perfect shade of lipstick. They paid him no mind, oblivious to the human toilet bowl locked behind them. Suddenly, one of the girls had an epiphany. "Hey, let's use the slave in the toilet!" She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with mischief.
Without further ado, they dragged the helpless slave from the bowl and pushed him roughly onto his knees. Adison, his eyes wide with terror, struggled against his restraints as they tied a metal plate to his mouth and forced it open. It felt like a kilo of pressure pushing down on his jaw, but he couldn't bring himself to protest.
As they finished primping and preening in front of the mirror, the girls took turns hovering over the trembling slave. They ignored him, instead engrossed in their own reflections. One by one, they turned their backs to him and released a torrent of feces into the unforgiving toilet bowl beneath him.
The smell was overpowering; a putrid mix of perfume and excrement. Adison wanted nothing more than to turn away or close his eyes, but he couldn't move. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the encroaching mess, feeling it soaking into his clothes and hair.
Finally, the last girl finished and flushed the toilet. The sound was deafening in the small room, echoing off the tiled walls. As the water rose up around him, Adison felt himself being lifted off the floor and onto the cold tile. He struggled against his restraints one last time, but it was no use. The girls left him there, abandoned and covered in filth.
For hours, he lay there, shivering and crying. He didn't know what time it was or where he was. All he knew was that he was covered in feces and he stank. He wanted desperately to be clean, but it seemed an impossible task. As the night dragged on, he began to drift in and out of consciousness, his mind consumed by the exhaustion and the horror of his predicament.
