Eat

Trembling on your knees, you looked up at your sister. The overpowering, musky scent of her arousal filled your senses, and your stomach twisted with a hunger so intense it was painful. The craving for her waste was all-consuming, overriding every rational thought, every shred of your former self.

Emma laughed, a low, throaty sound of pure triumph. She hooked her thumb into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down and stepping out of them. She kicked them aside, then turned around, presenting her firm, pale ass to you. "Open wide," she commanded, looking over her shoulder.

Your jaw moved on its own, your mouth falling open in a ****, silent plea. You felt a pressure against your tongue as she relaxed, and a thick, warm log of her shit began to slide out, directly into your waiting mouth. It was immense, filling you completely before she even pinched it off. The taste was overwhelming—a complex, earthy, bitter flavor that, to your rewired brain, was the most delicious thing you had ever experienced. It was pure sustenance. It was heaven.

Your body reacted instinctively. You closed your mouth and began to chew. The texture was soft and yielding, and you swallowed it down in greedy, urgent gulps. As you did, a wave of profound relief washed over you. The gnawing hunger subsided, replaced by a warm, satisfied feeling that spread through your entire body. It was the most nourishing meal of your life.

She straightened up and turned back to face you, a look of utter disgust and satisfaction on her face. "Look at you," she sneered. "You ate my shit. You actually loved it, didn't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed your hair, pulling your face flush against her dripping wet pussy. "Now wash it down," she ordered. "Drink up."

Her juices flowed freely, and you lapped at her eagerly, your thirst finally being quenched. The taste was sweet and tangy, the perfect complement to your meal. You drank deeply, your tongue working to get every last drop, until she finally pushed you away, spent.

"Good boy," she said, patting your head like a dog. "Now you understand your place. You're not my brother anymore. You're my toilet. And you'll be fed whenever I decide." She left you there on the floor, a pathetic, cross-dressed mess, tasting her shit on your tongue and feeling a terrifying sense of fullness and purpose.