Under the Rule of Yaks

Scootaloo should have kept her big mouth shut. She’d hoped to win over some favour from her master by alerting him to a problem caused by the pony that had taken the shift before her. She wasn’t trying to cause trouble for them, she was just wanting to hold them accountable for their actions.

Then again, if she’d kept her mouth shut and just taken the day off, she could have caused the problem to be even worse for whomever was scheduled to clean out the latrines after her, and since she was the best when the task was shovelling shit, it was unlikely that somepony else could handle the backup of two shifts. That wouldn’t be fair to them.

Plus, if she had taken the opportunity to just go on a break, her relief’s master might be more fair towards his own slave and demand that Scootaloo come back and fix this problem that wasn’t even her fault. There probably wasn’t a winning move, no matter what she did. She was screwed in every scenario.

She made her way to the supply closet and opened the door. Much to her chagrin, there wasn’t much in there. There was a broom, a bottle of floor cleaning chemicals, and a mop bucket. At least there was a box of latex gloves… A box that was empty. What kind of pony would take supplies from a supply closet and not return them? The same kind of pony who would use the last pair of gloves and not put a fresh box in its place.

She did spot a rubber glove behind the floor cleaning solution. She moved the bottle and… It was used already. It was a disposable glove, it was dirty, having been used, as evidenced by how caked it was. The other glove next to it… was not a glove. It was a used condom. Yak-sized, by the look of it. That almost made sense, because yaks liked to fuck ponies. But also, it didn’t, because they didn’t seem to care if the ponies were harmed by it. Stallions couldn’t be impregnated, and mares that gave birth were supplying slaves for future enterprise.

No matter. What was important was that she was given no tools. No plunger, no sponge, no pipe snake, no gloves, not even a scrub brush.

She closed the door and returned to her master. “The tools are missing. I can’t unclog it.”

“Bullshit.”

Scootaloo scoffed. “I know. I can’t pull the bull shit out of there without any tools.”

“Is bullshit that you can’t unclog toilet. You have hooves, yes?”

Scootaloo looked down at her hooves. “I… Yeah, I guess, but–”

“No butts. Butts are what caused mess. Hooves clean it up. Go clean. Go fix.”
Scootaloo shrugged and grabbed her bucket, making her way back to the clogged toilet. It was so backed up at this point that she just used the bucket to scoop off the top layer, and it was full. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to dump it right nearby, and she couldn’t just flush it into the latrine, because the toilet was clogged.

“Outside it is,” she sighed, moving the bucket up onto her shoulders.

Unfortunately, her master had not left yet. “Where you goin’?”

“Outside?” offered Scootaloo. “I need to dump this out.”

“Toilet’s unclogged already?”

“No, but–”

“What I tell you about butts?”

Scootaloo sighed, frustrated. “I need to remove this stuff. I can’t unclog it because I can’t reach whatever’s stuck in there.”

“Have you reached in there yet?”

“No, but–”

“There’s that butt again. Go back and unclog toilet. Then can wipe butt.”

Scootaloo let out a grunt of frustration and went back to the bench. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hoof into the pile of built-up yak shit. Once she made it to the depth of her wrist, it was turning cold. She’d scooped off all of the warm stuff into the bucket, and now it was all just the old stuff that had been there since the clog was introduced. Maybe a day had passed. Perhaps the colt who’d been here before her was innocent and just hadn’t noticed, somehow. Several shift changes must have passed.

Her hoof hit metal, and she could go no further until she found the hole through which it all drained. Upon locating it, she made it as deep as her shoulder, and even then, the contents of the pipe were too soft to either pull out or push through. Even if she could pull it out, she had nowhere to put it.

She retracted her arm, flicking her hoof to remove what she could, but it was too sticky and too thick to remove anything more than the big chunks.

“You can go deeper than that,” came the voice of her master behind her. “Go again.”

“I can’t reach it,” Scootaloo growled. “I can’t go any deeper. Not without the help of a tool, and they’re all gone.”

“Stop being lazy,” he spat back. “I help.”

Scootaloo looked up at him in disbelief. “You’ll help? Really?”

“Don’t believe Master?”

Scootaloo waved her hooves. “I said no such thing! I was just… I didn’t know you’d offer to help.”

“I give you hoof. Go try again. Reach deep.”

Scootaloo turned around and shrugged her eyebrows, not wasting to be seen in her incredulity. Never before had her master offered to help her. In fact, since the invasion, no yak had done so much as hold the door open for her. Even the ponies were becoming more rude. She was not expecting anypony to help her out, least of all the very yak that had just commanded her to clear a toilet with just her hooves.

She once again plunged her hoof deep into the mushy brown slurry that filled the metal toilet bowl. First to her elbow, and then to her shoulder once she found the hole. “See? I can’t reach any further than that.”

“Sure you can.”

Before Scootaloo could turn and ask if he was serious, or ask again for the drain snake that would unclog this toilet, she felt a hoof at the base of her neck. Before she could react, her head and shoulders were completely submerged.

She was so shocked that she gasped. This turned out to be a bad idea, because all that did was cause her mouth, and to a lesser extent, her nose, to be filled with the rancid slop.

She struggled to come back up, at least to clear her mouth and take in some air, but she wasn’t strong enough. She had the will to do so, but her legs were that of the average filly, maybe a little bit less. What she was struggling against was a yak four times her size and six times her weight, maybe more. She wasn’t winning.

She could feel something. There was a solid mass at the end of this, but she couldn’t grasp it. More than that, there was something moving down here. She hadn’t felt it when it was just her arm, but there was something alive inside of this pool of yak shit.

She struggled for what felt like hours, but was probably less than a minute, trying to push herself up out of the muck, before she was lifted out. As soon as she could spit out the clump of shit between her teeth, she gasped again, desperately trying to suck in air.

“You find it?”

“There’s something alive down there!” she gasped.

“Is that clog?”

“No. No, I don’t think so…”

“Then worry don’t. Unclog.”

Scootaloo sucked in a big breath of air as she felt his hoof on her neck again. She was ready this time, and even had time to close her mouth. The pressure was so intense that some of the mush did end up in her mouth, but it wasn’t as much as last time. It was in her mouth, but it wasn’t filling her mouth.

She felt around for the hole and snaked her hoof up it once again. She was more confident this time that she could last, so she tried to focus on finding the clog and removing it.

“Tried to” being the operative phrase. As soon as her hoof touched the hard lump that was blocking the pipe, she felt the thing that was alive crawling along her cheek. Something was inching along her skin. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t on the outside of her cheek, either.

She panicked, trying to push it out with her tongue, increasing the pressure on the inside of her mouth to try to expel whatever it was that had crawled in there.

Two more were crawling on her tongue, and another three were between her lips and gums. One even started crawling up her nose. There were a lot of them, and they were tiny.

As she tried to scrape them off her tongue using her teeth, she felt one rupture. And then another. They were as soft a squishy as the shit they were caked in, and tasted just as bad.

Pulling her hooves back to her face didn’t help, either. Because she was under the shit, every hoofful she scraped out just pushed more in, until she couldn’t take anymore, and she threw up, still under the surface.

Thankfully, she was pulled up, and her vomit, rather than flushing right back up her nose, joined the shit slurry in the toilet as she heaved a few more times.

When she finally stopped spewing the contents of her stomach, mostly liquid, she looked down into the toilet, breathing pretty heavily. The creatures living in the shit were wriggling their way up to the surface, trying to worm their way up to a drier location. Worming their way up was an apt description, Scootaloo thought, because they looked like tiny little white worms.

Her face was brought back down, and her hooves shot out to either side, gripping the sides of the bowl as best she could, only managing to slow her descent into the bath of shit and vomit. Now that she was closer, she could see what it was crawling around down there.

Maggots. Hundreds of them; perhaps even thousands, milled about in the mire. That would make sense for the flies buzzing around in the smelly air.

It is then that she felt something brushing lightly against her ribs. Her wrists, elbows and shoulders started to weaken as her face was pulled tight. She couldn’t resist for long, as she was quite ticklish, and having something brush up against her ribs like this was making her want to wrap her legs around her chest and laugh, as much as logic told her she shouldn’t.

She belted out a loud “HA!!” but then fell silent as her mouth was once again full of shit and maggots. Her abdomen was still flexing as she was recovering, and there wasn’t enough positive pressure in her lungs to push out the feces. It wasn’t coming out until she could make a hole to suck in some air, and even then, she had to be let out of the toilet. And so, she did the only thing her desperate mind could think to do.

She was unable to concentrate on pulling the clog out as long as there were maggots crawling around in her mouth, and she couldn’t push them out. There was only one way they could go. As sickening as the thought was, she swallowed down the clump in her mouth. It was smooth for the most part, but also fairly lumpy. She had to just imagine that it was tapioca pudding that tasted like shit. Otherwise, she wasn’t going to make it through this cleaning without being sent to the hospital.

Once her mouth was clear, she did her best to ignore the crawling and wriggling on the outside of her face, praying to Celestia that nothing would crawl up her nose again as she grabbed ahold of the clump and pulled it out of the pipe, holding it aloft to show her master the cause of all of the trouble. With that, he pulled her out.

Scootaloo took several deep breaths, then threw up in the toilet once again. This time, the mostly liquid contents of her stomach washed right down the drain, taking a few maggots with it. The slurry sloughed down her chest and stomach as well, as she was being held aloft.

“Was that so hard?” chuckled her master. “Stop being lazy. Clean rest of it.”

Scootaloo kneeled down in front of the toilet and started pushing the slurry down the tubes. They had running water, flushable plumbing, and even enough infrastructure to install bidets. Not that the yaks would bother; they had ponies to clean their butts. Why would they waste valuable water when the job could be done easier, faster, more pleasurable and cheaper by just using a pony slave? It was just the better route to take from the perspective of the yaks, and since they made the rules, there was nothing to be done about it.

She did take a moment to push away the sticky gunk on her legs, using her hooves to scrape down to her wrists, removing most of the stuck on crap from her face, neck and torso. She was unable to remove the worst of it from her mane, and she could feel the maggots crawling around on her scalp. Better there than in her mouth, but she still didn’t like it.

“Cleaning self?” asked her master. “Why bother? Just going to be dirty again.”

“I’m just making sure I push it all down the drain as needed, sir,” answered Scootaloo, returning to pushing clumps down the drain. “I’ll have it clean and draining properly in no time.”

“You missed spot.”

“I know,” she answered. “I’ll make sure it’s all properly cleaned before I leave.”

“Just to make sure…”

Scootaloo felt him grab the back of her neck again. He pressed the side of her face against the side of the toilet, rubbing it around, smearing shit all over her face, and worse, grinding up several dozen maggots against her skin. She felt every single one pop against her cheek and add to the gloop on her face.

“Did not come off. I try again.”

He continued to use her face as a brush, but it was doing little more than spread it around. She was unable to stop it from mashing past her lips and up her nose.

“Still not come off.”

“Perhaps it’s because I’m a filthy cumrag,” she sniffled. “Maybe using a piece of shit doesn’t clean up the other shit?”

Her master laughed. “Very good. I leave you to clean.”

True to his word, he turned and walked out, leaving scootaloo to clean the rest of the toilet. She hated degrading herself like that, but she was trying to think utilitarian. If left alone, she could clean the toilet better, without a yak holding her down.

She spent the next five minutes shoving everything down the drain, making sure that the pipe was clear. It took a few minutes of sobbing to build her self-confidence back up to a tolerable level, but she managed, somehow, and even managed to leave the toilet mostly clean for whatever yak was going to use it next.

Which happened to be right away, as she was almost done when a yak bull, not her master, but still outranking her, walked up and pushed her into the toilet.

He turned around and sat on her front hooves, which had gripped the toilet seat for stability as she went down. She was stuck there. Sure, she could kick and scream, and she could potentially reach his balls with one of her kicks, but it wasn’t worth it. He may not do what he was about to do, but she’d end up in a worse situation.

The first lumps hit the back of her head and jolted it down, then the hot slurry started oozing down around her neck and dripping from her chin. She couldn’t help herself any longer, and the tears and sobs came rushing right in. This was her life, and it was all she was good for; being a toilet slave for a bunch of yaks. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a wail, but a part of her that had broken earlier was irreparable, and she could never be the same again.