You're not a man. You're not even a person. You're just a toilet for me to s h 1 t and piss into whenever nature calls. Your lips are my toilet seat. Your tongue is my toilet paper. Your mouth is my personal s h 1 t collector. Your stomach is my sewage tank, ready to be filled with my waste at any time, night or day. When I want to flush, your throat will contract, and you'll swallow down every bit of the filth that I've deposited into you. You're a toilet that loves to loves to be fed. You are my little toilet boy, aren't you? I don't even need to brainwash you into the job, but I will. I want a hungry, hungry toilet boy. A well trained pee and s h 1 t bucket. Lie down on the ground. Open your mouth. And repeat after me.