(young male pred, scat, extreme content, I warned you)
You sit there in the darkness of the outhouse's hole like a chump, waiting for fate to send someone your way. Someone who with bowels bloated enough to brave the prospect of a shoddy public restroom's seat. Your tiny, virginal, fey-like body sits in stark contrast to the dingy pit that surrounds you, as if you're some sort of air freshener, left therein a futile attempt to counter the overwhelmingly vile scent left by the cumulative efforts of dozens of oblivious giants. It is a miracle that the latrine hole is somehow nearly clean - you're not sure how- but public restrooms get a lot of abuse... and all of that abuse will wind up clustering around you.
You are there for a few hours. A short time, all things considered, but enough time to cover the span of a feature length movie, speedrun through a video game, or eat with a friend, chat, and go for a jog. But instead of experiencing anything worthwhile or enjoyable, you are left in the dark with only your cuts and a meager mass of stool to accompany you.
Eventually, though, you hear the excited shriek of the Salandit (who must have been lingering on the perimeter to observe the proceedings) followed by hurried footsteps. "Oh man oh man oh man..." A youthful male voice echoes from above. "Hey I hope no one's in there..." You hear a series of reverberating knocks against the door, followed by the ominous sound of it screeching open. You turn your head straight upwards, towards the opening of the outhouse seat. You see the figure of a youth with tan brown skin and almost -but not quite- feminine looking bangs. He's wearing a black shirt with a white collar, and the orange straps of a bookbag are slung around his arms. His expression is halfway between a smile and a grimace, as if his otherwise positive disposition has been disrupted by...well...you don't have to guess.
"Ah-lo-laaaa...."He mutters to himself, to no one in particular (though you ponder that he may in fact be greeting the toilet) as he shifts his arms around and slips the bookbag off of his shoulders. Damn it.. this is happening all too fast. Crap... you have no time to analyze the boy. You have to reach out to him now. "HEY! HEY! DOWN HERE! DOWN HERE!" You scream, frantically waving your arms around. However, your voice is overpowered by the sound of the boy's hurried motions and the distant roar of the ocean. The acoustics of your surroundings are not exactly optimized for you to be heard, either, with much of your soundwaves bouncing off of the underside of the toilet and dissipating into the gap between the outhouse and the sand.
The boy turns around, his orange floral pattern trunks shifting into view and curving as the boy slowly shifts into a squat. He's moving with a level of speed that the Salandit lacked...and although he is oblivious to your presence, his actions are no less urgent a threat. And going by the speed at which he is moving, the threat is certainly.. urgent. The boy's hands descend for his waistband. He quickly pulls his trunks down just before his bottom lands on the seat.
"Oh m...maaaaa'an...agh..."
As the boy audibly gets ready to lay deadly siege to your prison, your life doesn't flash before your eyes, even if it really should. You simply lack the context, the lived experience, to register what is about to happen as a threat. This is like something out of a cartoon. A joke. Except the punchline of this joke is that you are probably going to die a nauseating, miserable death.
You scream and scream and scream as the giant wiggles his bottom against the outhouse's seat in trepidation, his stomach rumbling and a few squeakers ringing out from his anus. The giant scoots back, allowing his package to descend into the hole. It is longer than you would have imagined. Not wanting to observe this indecent sight, you turnyour head down from the opening. He couldn't hear your voice before, and now with his bottom blocking the opening, any hope of being heard has been lost. You meander towards the edge of the hole in the hopes of annoying the brunt of the blast.
"mama mia... maaaaybe I ate a little too mu..."
Before the boy can complete his sentence, an explosive noise rips out from his bottom, and you immediately feel a hot spatter of near liquid feces smash down onto your back with enough force to snap it, as a mass of muck shotguns its way out from his bottom. You immediately stumble into the edge of the outhouse pit, slip down to your knees, then collapse onto your chest.
"a..aghh....oh man. Did I really have all that built up in me. I wonder..." After a few moments a sheet of ruined toilet paper flutters down from above, landing right atop you. The scent ... the scent is overwhelming. And has just the faintest hint of sweetness too it. Sweetness mixed with a hodgepodge of vile aromas that could only come from a diet both diverse and high in fiber. As you realize that you're actually trying to analyze the scent, you feel a fresh wave of revulsion wash over you. You turn onto yur chest and crawl forward, out from under the tissue. But as you get out from under it, you are met with an even more horrifying scent. You feel your hands sink into a mount of squishy shit and you break out into a hurl. The bulk of his stool has tumbled into the scent of the hole, but the rest of it scattered out so effectively that no one part of the pit is clean.
"Was it the Malasada? Or maybe the nachos...or the meat? The boy muses as he lets loose a comparatively feeble stream of piss, which strikes near the top of the mound and descends down in a waterfall. Feeble though it may be in comparison to the meteor the boy just dropped, h that liquid is gradually beginning to flood around the bottom of the pit. You get atop the filthy tissue, sitting down on a relatively clean patch , shellshocked.
Unfortunately, the boy's bathroom assault is not done yet. "agh...." He grunts before sighing happily. But this time, there is no shotgun squelch. No, you don't notice the turd until it completes its descent. You see it the moment it strikes the lumpy mound of mess in front of you. It looms high above you, like a giant adder waiting to strike...and strike it does, almost as if it were a living being But it is gravity, not instinct, that sends it crashing for you. Before you can try to evade, the turd smashes down onto your, as if it were a tree falling on a unfortunate lumberjack. You are left pinned on your back, your face frozen in a scream, a mouthful of feces making its way into your mouth . You find that you cannot move your arms. Your legs, still free (for the mound in the middle of the pit is holding the turd up if only slightly) begin to thrash about in a desperate attempt to free your body where your arms cannot. You manage to plant your feet against the now-soaked ground, but with the majority of your body pinned under the youth's prodiguous poop, that won't do you any good.
"Gosh... and I still gotta go..." The boy muses. "Uhh sorry if I'm hogging the toilet!" your oblivious destructor cries. This time he does not bother to wipe, perhaps because the last turd was less dramatic than the first, perhaps because he realizes another is soon to follow.
And another does follow. This one shorter, btu still longer than you are tall. It crashes onto the mound, flattening it slightly and causing the stool pinning you down to completely collapse around you. Your legs are now entirely pinned. You manage only to turn your head to the side and stare out into the pit, your face frozen into a scream. If the log pinning you sinks slightly, if any of it falls over your head... you will not be able to breathe.
Soon that dreadful thought becomes a reality as a fourth turd, this one another liquidous shotgunned stool mass, crashes down. The battle for your life has now come to an end. You cannot move. You cannot speak. You cannot beg for mercy. The only thing that could possibly save you would be the boy poking at the pit with stick, or perhaps one of his stools dislodging you from the one you're stuck under.
Neither of these things happen. Lost in agony and fear, you begin to assume that the boy is not in fact oblivious, and that he is a witting and malicious accomplice to your death. "A..ah..almost...done..I think...actually got a few more bombs left..." the voice that by now has come to signify death muses. He bombards the hole until his bowels are completely free, one final squishy liquidous load leaving the bottom of the pit flooded and an impressive complex of crap built above your body in the middle. The boy's bodily functions ran victory laps over your body. When he finally gets up and looks down at his efforts, your fairy-like form is nowhere to be seen. He gags at the sight before turning around and pulling up his shorts.
"Alola!" He says, bidding farewell to the outhouse -and by extension the tiny being at the bottom of it- just as he greeted it, as if nothing had changed. Hau emerges from the stall, a fresh smile on his face, before skipping off, a bright, unassuming grin upon his .
Deprived of oxygen, able only to choke on the biohazard under which you are buried, you feel a growing pain overtake your body. Soon your neural pathways begin to fry. Humiliation, agony, madness, the loss of any possible sensation other than pain dialed up to the maximum degree your suffocating body can register, and at last death follow. The Salandit, seeing no signs of movement and correctly calculating that you could not possibly have escaped, snickers at the sight
YOU DIED.
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