Princess Celestia's Living Toilet (Scat)

Once you slowly open your eyes again, you're feeling incredibly weak and tired.

The taste of reaper scat still left in your mouth, is now so faint, that you were unsure if you were actually still tasting it, or if it's foulness has just been burned into your memory to such a degree that you couldn't help feeling it still linger in your mouth.

You're lying of something soft and not just the cold hard floor as you would have expected. Were you on her bed?

You try to look around, but you're barely able to turn your neck. You expected this to mean she had restrained you, but to your surprise, with a little effort, you manage to turn it anyways and look around the room you're in, and it's not her suite.

You're in what looks to be a hospital room. There is a small wooden table with a glass of water and a vase filled with dead flowers beside you, and beneath the vase, is an opened letter.

You don't feel like reading it. Instead, you close your eyes once more and try to fall asleep once more. But before you drift off you hear the door open, and heavy hoofsteps slowly approaching.

"Good morning, toilet slave." The Princess utters in a lighthearted, carefree manner.

You keep your eyes closed, as she trots over to your bedside. You feel her hoof press lightly down on your chest.

"I know you're awake, so don't pretend sleep, or I'll wrap your hospital blanket around your face and fart into it."

Her threat makes you open your tired, used-up eyes, and look at her as she stood tall and menacing besides you.

She smiled at you. Not even in a sadistic way.

"You were out for quite a while there, Slave." - She tells you calmly and quietly, caressing you gently with her hoof.

Her unusually kind demeanor keeps you from panicking.

"I'm sure my replacement toilet will be ever so pleased to know she will be relieved of her duties. I think I'll feed her something extra foul as a parting gift, though."

"Your majesty?.." - You find the strength to utter, wondering how long you've been sleeping since she had gotten a replacement for you.

"Yes, Potty-mouth?"

"How... How long have I been unconscious?" - You find it very straining, to even speak so few words, and your voice is hoarse and dry.

She looks upwards for a moment, squinting her eyes like she's thinking.

"Uhhh, hmmm. 42 days, I believe. Not counting today, since it's 7 PM."

You're in shock. Her reaper scat had put you in a coma.

Noticing your clear state of horror, the princess smiles at you once more.

"Don't beat yourself up. I've had stronger ponies than you killed with Reaper filth before, despite my best efforts to keep them alive. Though your portion was a tad tame, you still lived through it, and you were out for less than two months. I once had a toilet slave wake up after twenty years, upon being force-fed a quite potent Brown Reaper. Of course I had lost interest in him by then, so I just had some guards drown him in my sister's diarrhea, making sure they gave him a breath of air every now and again so the drowning would take a few days."

She strains her face for a short moment once more, while thinking...

"...No, that's not right, that was what I did to that maid who stole utensils. What did I do with him then... It was something like that... Ah, now I remember, I had him watch as a made my guards drown his entire family in my sister's scat. Then, I trapped him deep beneath the pipeline of my mare-guards bathroom, to continuously be showered in piss and feces for the rest of his life. He might still be alive actually, if he's managed to sustain himself un such a sickening diet for so long."

Her naturally sadistic smile emerges on her lush lips.

"Though I doubt that to be the case, I like to think he's still down there, suffering."

You look at her, more afraid than ever after listening to her cruel tale.

She notices your fear, and her cruel smile turns kind once more.

"No need to worry, pet. I haven't lost interest in you yet, and I am definitely counting on you being tortured to death with my filth before it would ever come to that."

Her words are weirdly both very discouraging and reassuring at the same time.

Having now learned that there truly was no limit to her cruelty, you could only hope she wouldn't have your friends and family suffer before your inevitable demise, by her stinky torment.

Little did you know, that for the past few days, she already had.

"By the way. Your wife sent you a letter. I usually don't let prisoners have mail, but since you were in the hospital, I decided not to burn it, and give it a read for myself, before delivering it to you. I did not regret that, it was very pure and heartfelt. You could really tell that she cares for you, despite knowing that she will most likely never see you again."

She leans a little closer to your face, as an ominous expression starts to shine through her kind smile.

"You know, I get that she must be distressed, but she should know better than insulting me in a letter sent to the place where I live."

With those ambiguous words, she turns her curvy body around, giving you a brief hint of her stinky backside as it's turned in your direction, before she trots out of your room, stopping in the doorway to say something else.

"I'll have the nurses write you out as soon as possible. I can't wait to have you back. My current toilet might be cute when she whines and cries, by she is just terrible at swallowing feces."

She closes the door, and you're left with an eerie feeling in your gut, (for once not caused by her ass.)

...

You push your meek, malnourished body to its limits as you force yourself to sit up and reach out to read the letter that's left on your nightstand.

Reluctantly, you open it up, and with both heartwrenching fear and longing excitement, you begin reading it:

You truly are an idiot if you think I'd actually let you read her letter.

Eating a brown reaper was a punishment, and that punishment was what sent you here. I'm not going to reward you for enduring a punishment. What would be the point of that?

No, I just wanted you to know it existed and that you're never going to know what it said.

Smell you later, Slave... Or rather, you'll smell me later.

Your Goddess, Mistress, Queen, Princess, and Torturer - Celestia