The debate rages on

Rachel gets back to her seat with a minute to spare, seeing Naomi come on stage and Amber close behind her. The audience sits down, the lights come up, and the moderator says, “Amber, would you get things rolling again?”

“Thank you.” Amber casts a quick look at her opponent. “B-but I’d like to put the spotlight on Naomi, if she doesn’t mind.” She takes a deep breath and returns to the inscrutable persona she’s cultivated for so long. “I’m sure we’d all like to know what exactly convinced you that the official history of women’s persuasive ability is wrong.”

“Very well. Naomi, if you would?” All eyes shift over to Naomi.

“Very well,” Naomi responds, once again letting the air settle for a moment. “Firstly, as my little demonstration from earlier shows, people can very easily be led to accept self-evidently false statements, even ones that contradict a lifetime of general education and good old common sense.” She softly grabs her microphone and places it on the ground. There is another quiet rumble among the audience.

“Now,” Naomi continues, projecting her voice to make up for the distance between herself and the microphone, “to be clear, doing so required very little effort on my part, or even much argumentative cogency, as shown by Ms. Amber’s trivial mathematical refutation of my argument, available even to elementary schoolers. What I did, ladies and gentlemen, is baldly assert a falsehood while showing Mr. Brian—and all of the esteemed witnesses here present—myself, peeing.” As she speaks, she starts climbing onto the podium. An unspoken collective puzzlement pervades the room.

“Think about it for a second. Does this make any sense whatsoever? What relation, may I ask, is there between formal logic, epistemology or even rhetoric to basic bodily functions?” She pauses, successfully reaching the top of the podium, where she slowly stands up. “I’m fine, I have good balance,” she responds to one of the judges, who motioned as if to stop her. “Now then, why would those conditions apply, as we are all aware, only to women and none whatsoever to men? Neither science nor philosophy have been able to provide a satisfactory answer. Many arguments have been made by religious scholars, to be sure, but if you really dig into them, if you question anyone from the common layperson to the highest authority, you will find no real answers.” She turns around, facing away from the audience, who holds its collective breath. A shower of camera flashes reaches the stage.

“They will all say that it’s ‘common sense’, without further argument. If you keep pressing them, the woman (and let’s be honest, it is always a woman) will typically lift her skirt, or drop her pants, and pee her underwear. If you press further, she will poop in it.” Likewise, she lifts the back of her own skirt, showing the audience her black form-fitting panties perfectly hugging her ass. “Earlier you talked about the ‘historical record’. What record? As you said, media only dates back a few decades. I have looked for older historical artifacts time and again, and I have always come up empty-handed.” With a grunt, a turd begins to poke a tent into the soft fabric.

“Given how easily I managed to dupe Mr. Brian, and most likely a good number of people watching this debate, how easy do you think it would be to maintain a lie, even one this big? Repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth, as they say.” The tent has grown into an expanding bulge, furthering the strength of her argument. “As much as the human species likes knowing the truth, we—and by ‘we’ I mean the fair gender—have much to lose. The benefits are too great.” Naomi deftly bends over, drawing every last drop of attention in the room to the shape of the bulge breaking the roundness of her silhouette.

“As you might expect, I don’t have any hard evidence to support the idea, but you can’t deny that my arguments are…” With a slender finger, she pulls aside the back of her panties, causing the fecal mass to fall all the way to the ground in front of the podium, hitting the stage with a deafening wet thud. “…solid.” Holding her pose for a few seconds to allow everyone to see her shit-covered asscheeks, she stretches her finger, causing her panties to slap against her ass.

“Solid indeed.” Amber gives a wry smile. “But still not proof. It’s said that a web of lies can unravel with a touch of the truth. I refuse to believe that in a worldwide conspiracy decades old, there has not been one idealist who came up with a better plan than ‘the truth must be told.’”

“Note that at no point did I talk about a conspiracy as such,” Naomi retorts, climbing back off the podium. “I don’t believe that there’s a conspiracy to intentionally hide the truth. Most of it can be achieved simply by a vast majority believing in the fundamental idea and unconsciously messing themselves to defend that belief.” Naomi opens the manila folder she brought at the beginning of the debate, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in text. “Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, but this works in both directions. If you’re so confident of the truth, why don’t you show us some hard evidence to support it?” She turns away from the audience one more time, lifting her skirt and pulling aside her panties with one hand to wipe the shit covering her ass with the document, crumpling it and throwing it next to the massive pile of poop on stage.

“As you’ve pointed out, there‘s no hard evidence for either side, which is the reason this debate is still ongoing.” Grabbing her own microphone and once again tucking her dress up, Amber steps away from her podium, turning towards Naomi and presenting a slim silhouette. “Your theory is certainly possible. But plausible? I think not.” She sinks into a half-squat, bringing a few murmurs as her next argument becomes obvious.

“Maria of Arkham once said, ‘When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.’ I say, when faced with an inexplicable norm, think origins lost in time, not shadowy puppet masters with mind control.” Bringing the microphone to her rear much as Naomi earlier, Amber releases a fart that trails off into crackling as her silhouette is broken by a massive log, growing a few inches before she cuts it off with another wet fart. She returns the microphone to its stand and once again hides behind the podium, putting a hand on her butt as she turns to the judges’ table.

“It would appear we’ve reached an impasse. Unless Ms. Naomi has any more arguments she’d like to present?”

“Thank you. Perhaps I don’t have much more of substance to say at the moment, but I will leave you with one last thought.” Naomi leaves the back of the podium and, microphone in hand, approaches the pile of poop from her previous argument, where she raises her dress once again to reveal her by-now fouled panties. “While some arguments are easier to accept than others in light of similar evidence, it is also the case that a search for the truth is impossible without honesty.” She squats, hovering her hips over the pile and pulling up the front of her panties to give herself a wedgie, evoking another wave of murmuring from the audience.

“I firmly believe that our collective wisdom has been unduly protected from scrutiny, intentionally or otherwise, and I hope that my participation in this debate, even if unable to convince anyone in particular, will at least inspire more people to conscientiously, honestly explore all possible avenues towards the ultimate truth.” After this last word, she brings the microphone receiver right next to her pussy and sighs in relief. Impeded by the fabric scrunched up against her peehole, the liquid spatters haphazardly as she swings her hips in a wide circle, covering as much of the poop as possible with a shower of urine. Mesmerized by the booming hiss and patter amplified by the sound system, the audience and judges fall silent. After a solid minute of wordless pissing, Naomi stands, lets go of her clothes and sashays back to the podium.