Paul has a question

“Yeah, I’ve got a quick question,” says Paul, “I didn’t go to the toilet at the break and need to go now, is that OK?”

“Of course it is, Paul,” replies Phil, and Paul gets up and strides quickly out of the room.

“While he’s gone, I don’t want to say anything important that he might miss,” says Phil, “so let me ask you, how’s all this going for you? Finding it interesting and useful?”

“Well, it’s a lot to take in,” says Rob.

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to discover all this for yourself with no help,” adds Chris.

“Yes, it was quite the journey. I slightly envy the five of you, going on this journey of discovery for yourselves, but like I said earlier, the novelty doesn’t really wear off. This place is incredible, and it’s an amazing lifestyle once you get used to it.”

Paul comes back onto the room, looking a little flustered.

“Erm, there’s no toilets,” he says.

“Of course there are, they’re just through the door and…” starts Phil in reply.

“No, I found them, it’s just there’s, er…”

“There’s no cubicles,” you finish for him.

“Yeah, there’s only urinals and I need shit, not a piss,” says Paul, becoming increasingly flustered.

“Oh, of course! I completely forgot this was a thing in our old world,” said Phil with a smile. “Come and sit back down, Paul, and I’ll explain. Wow, this is a whole chunk of stuff I missed out.”

“But.. but I need…” stammers Paul. Phil holds up his hands.

“Don’t worry, let me explain,” he says. Paul reluctantly shuffles back to his seat, looking pretty uncomfortable.

“Right, well, the idea of using perfectly good drinking water to flush away excrement is pretty outrageous around here,” starts Phil. “But I suppose what I’m about to say will seem pretty outrageous to you, too. I can’t believe I forgot about this key difference earlier.”

“Please hurry up, Phil,” pleads Paul desperately.

“Well, in short, the done thing here is just to go when and where you need to. Unless we’re wearing something particularly skimpy, usually our underwear is designed to contain any solids and, to some extent, to absorb liquids, until you can employ the services of a cop.”

“A cop? A police officer?” asks Rob in confusion.

“No, no, the slang word ‘cop’ has a different meaning here. A cop is a coprophage. Sometimes we call them phages, but usually they’re referred to as cops.”

“Look, Phil, I really need you to get on with it or I’m going to shit my pants. What the fuck is a coprophage?” demands Paul.

“Wait, I know this,” says Mike. “Copro refers to shit, and phage means eating. You’re talking about someone or something that eats shit? That’s gross.”

“Yes it’s certainly not for everyone, but some people are turned on by that - and in fact it’s pretty much a lifestyle for them. You can use your wrist-screen to summon a cop when you need one and they’ll make their way to you. They’ll provide a, er, cleaning service and clean underwear for you to wear, and take your dirty stuff away. It’s just the way we do things here.”

“So you’re telling me I’ve got to sit here and crap myself?” asks Paul incredulously.

Phil leans forward, a serious look on his face, his eyes fixed on Paul. His tone of voice changes dramatically.

“You’re not fooling me, Paul,” he says, almost menacingly. He looks around at all of you, making eye contact with each one of you. “I told you earlier that there is a selection process for the people who are brought here. They look for particular attributes, and none of you would be here if you didn’t have them. There’s no need to pretend any more. You are all, to one extent or another, coprophiles and eproctophiles. You enjoy shitting yourselves, you enjoy farting, and you’re pretty turned on by other people doing the same. You don’t need to deny it any more. I told you, you need to relax and be open and honest. You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of here.”

The room was silent, except for Paul continuing to squirm.

“Would anybody like to deny what I’ve just said? Or are you going to be good enough to admit it?” asks Phil.

“No, you’re right,” replies Rob with a sigh.

“Yeah,” agrees Chris, and Mike nods. You also signal you share the fetish. Paul chuckles to himself and stops squirming.

“Well buckle in, chaps, because this is happening,” he says, leaning forward and lifting is butt off the chair.

“Go on, Paul, let it out,” says Rob in encouragement.

“Yes, Paul, push it!” adds Mike.

Paul farts, continues to strain, and you all watch as a bulge appears at the bottom of his arse.

“Uh, fuck,” he says, cupping the lump he has made with his hand, then strains again to let some more out. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he says.

“I’ve asked a cop to join us,” says Phil, “but in the meantime do have a seat and we’ll get on.”

“What, sit down in it?” asks Paul.

“You know you want to,” smilea Phil, and Paul duly sits slowly back on the chair. You can't quite tell whether he's savouring the feeling of the shit spreading around underneath him or trying to avoid it. At this point, the smell hits you. It is the unmistakable smell of shit and it steadily grows stronger.