Toilet Paper

You’d think that four hours of waiting would bring down one’s pulse rate. I can tell you from experience, that it doesn’t. At least, not in the context of the interview that was about to happen today.

I had applied for the job several thousand times, only to receive a single email with a single sentence- “Meet me at 7, thursday.” The job was the most coveted job for people like me in the world- serving the divine mistress Priya as her personal shit-eater. It is more correct to say “as one of her shit-eaters”, for she had several men in several places ready to accept mouthfuls of her shit from her ass and die for her. Recently, the four shit-eaters who lived under her bed had died a tragic death when Priya returned from her college in a bad mood and had beaten up the four men with a large wooden stick to release her anger. It was a life they had willingly signed up for- dying at the whims and fancies of the girl.

Now, how did I know such things about the Mistress? Well, it came in the daily newspaper.

“All you guys out there are such ugly, worthless beings. My bum looks a hundred times better than your ugly faces. Hell, every single piece of my shit looks better than any of you. So I’ve devised a new way to make the world a better place- I’m starting a new religion for people like you. From now on, you will worship my ass like it’s your God. Because that is exactly the way it should have always been. The singular goal for all you losers is to die between my beautiful ass-cheeks.

“What could your worthless existence possibly amount to anyway? That’s right, you’re all like pathetic little insects that deserve to be crushed under my superior bums. So instead of wasting everyone’s time, come over to my temple, and give me all of your money and assets. In return, I will give you the death you deserve- smothered between my ass cheeks, suffocating to the smell of my farts and choking on my shit.

“Apply for the job on my website, then take this photo of my bum and put it up in your temples and worship it until I choose you to die for me and try not to masturbate. I may choose to kill you by farting on your face, shitting in your mouth or just kicking your face until you bleed to death. That way, God will finally forgive you for existing and wasting space on this planet, leaving more room on this planet for supreme beings like me.”

The whole town knew of the strict Mistress and the way she brutally murdered hundreds of men in the name of science experiments and consensual slavery. The cops could do nothing about it, because as soon as they saw her beautiful form in person they would inevitably be seduced by her beauty and submit their lives at her feet to do as she pleased. There was even a rumour that she once went into the mayor’s office, farted on his face and acquired herself a legal licence to kill human-beings that she deemed “worthless.”

She even hired a team of programmers to build herself a website, where people could apply to be her slave. (The team, of course, was paid with kisses to her dusty feet and sniffs of her farts.) This is how I applied for the job and came to be where I was, in the screening wing of Priya’s toilet waiting for my interview. There wasn’t much competition around me(just one guy in front of me), primarily because of the new screening process that Priya had devised- before she could interview a candidate, she made us sign an agreement that we would give up our lives, all our assets and money to her. Death and poverty was guaranteed, simply by applying for the job.

I took all the money out of my account, sold my property and cashed in all the other assets to hand over an amount of three million rupees to her, before I was even allowed to enter the toilet. Priya could come into the toilet whenever she wanted, and if I failed to impress her in the interview she had all the rights to decide how I should die for her. If I succeeded, I would probably get to eat her shit and die for her. Even that wasn’t guaranteed, given the number of shit-eaters she had working for her at any given time. If I failed, she had all the rights to kill me any way she wanted. She enjoyed squeezing humans between her thighs and crushing live humans into her commode until they drowned, but there was no telling what could happen.

Priya was already three hours late to our interview, but my anticipation wouldn’t abate. Soon, she entered the toilet wearing an old white t-shirt and a very small skirt, but even in those clothes she looked like a member of royalty. Her long legs shimmered in the dim light as she made her way to the commode and sat down. “Who’s next?” she called out.

“It’s me, my dear Goddess.” The one man before me in the queue screamed with ecstasy, diving over to her feet.

“How much money has he paid me?” Priya asked her assistant, her submissive little sister Vidya.

“Five million, Priya.” Vidya reported, checking her clipboard with the candidates’ information.

“Pathetic.” Priya shook her head. She sat back and pointed to the wall. “Go hit your head against the wall very hard and die for me. I will have a good laugh.”

“But Priya!” he pleaded, mouthing the girl’s big toe. “I gave up all that money so I could smell your fart before I die.”

“One fart?” Priya asked. “Is that all you want?”

“Yes, mistress.” The candidate said, rubbing his cheeks against her shins to warm them slightly.

“Hmm,” Priya began to consider. “Five million rupees, plus the chance to watch you hit your head against my wall and die, in exchange for one fart to your face. Sounds a little unfair to me; my farts are usually much more expensive than that. But anyway, I will take the deal.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” The candidate said, slowly approaching the Goddess.

Priya sat cross-legged and shifted her weight to the right, exposing her upper thighs and buttocks for the candidate to stuff his face into. “Come, smell my fart.” Priya said, grabbing his head and pulling him into her ass. There was a loud blast of wind as Priya laughed and farted on his face, nearly drowning him in her stench. “Hah! That was worth dying for wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress.” the candidate savored every molecule of her fart.

“Now smash your head against the wall and die for me.” Priya said. As if hypnotized by her words, the candidate walked over to the wall and hit himself against the wall, began to bleed. Priya watched with curious glee as he took his own life, smashing himself against the wall a few more times.

“Well, that was fun.” Priya said, brushing off the dead man fallen at her feet. “Next!” she called out.

“Me, Mistress.” I said.

“How much have you paid me?”

“Three million.” I said.

“That’s all? Three million?” Priya dismissed. “My spit cost much more than that.”

“I’m so sorry for being so worthless, Priya.” I bowed down, fell to her feet and tried to lick her big toe.

“Anyway, I’m in a good mood. You are going to interview for the position of ‘disposable human toilet paper’. You won’t get to eat my shit, but you will be the one that licks my bum once I’m finished dumping.” Priya said, pulling out a single tissue from the toilet roll. “Now, tell me why should I hire you over this?” She showed me the toilet paper tissue.

“Priya, I’m a human being. I would open my mouth, cover your ass and lick the shit out of your bum with my tongue. The toilet paper would require more effort on your part…”

“That’s true.” Priya said. “But this paper isn’t ugly. You’re ugly.”

“But I’m…more useful.” I said.

“Well, as long as you promise not to show me your face…” Priya said, stepping up and out of her toilet, “I will let you clean my bum after I take a shit tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” I cried as she walked away.

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