Bill’s week had gone from bad to worse.
First, he’d lost his job.
Then, because he hadn’t paid his bills, his water had been shut off and he could no longer flush his shitter.
Then, since he hadn’t noticed that at first, he’d taken a colossal dump in the toilet only to then realise it was effectively dry, meaning his bathroom now reeked because of a gigantic, rancid turd left in the bowl that he couldn’t remove without a pair of gloves and some industrial-strength nose-plugs.
Bill was about ready to call it a day and reach for the nearest length of rope, if only to get away from the awful fucking smell, until he heard something.
It sounded almost like a knock at his door, but quieter than that, more like a tapping.
Bill got up and dragged himself over to the door, mulling over what potential employment options he might be able to find if he could muster up the mental energy to actually look into it.
He opened the door, expecting to see the mail man, or at the very least a girl scout trying to sell some cookies… but he saw neither of those things.
What he saw was a tiny blob of teal fuzz with a bright red tail and mane which was glaring at him furiously.
“Dummeh hooman, dis Smawty wand nao! Gib sketties!” The fluffy pony snorted, puffing out it’s cheeks.
Bill looked down at it, his face an emotionless mask.
“…what?” He finally mustered, completely thrown by the randomness of what had just happened.
“HRMPH!” The Smarty snorted. “SMAWTY TIMMY SAY, DUIMMEH HOOMAN GIB SKETTIES!”
“Timmy?” Bill asked, still processing what was happening. “That’s your name?”
The fluffy looked proud and puffed out it’s chest, tilting it’s head high into the air.
“YUS! Am bestest Smawty ebah! Hab mummah n’ daddeh buh dey nu gib Timmy sketties when Timmy say so! So Timmy gib dem sowwy poopies whiwe dey sweepin’! Hehehe, stoopid dummeh hoomans… den Timmy wun ‘way! Timmy gon’ fin’ hewd an’ hab enfy-mawe an-”
“Alright, okay, shut up.” Bill said, stifling a yawn. If he was getting this right, this thing was a fluffy pony that had run away from home after… taking a shit on it’s owners.
“NU-U-U dummeh hooman, YOO shaddup!” Timmy argued back. Bill glared at it, and wondered if this thing would fit in a noose instead.
Then, he got a better idea.
A much better, much worse idea.
“Okay, c’mere.” He said, picking up Timmy in both hands.
“HEY! DUMMEH HOOMAN! TIMMY NU SAY YOO CAN TOUCH SMAWTY! WET GU! WET GU WET GU WET GU WE-”
Bill carried the tantrum-throwing blob of fur into his bathroom, which immediately made it change it’s tune.
“EW-W-W-W! SMEWWY WOOM TOO SMEWWY! TIMMY NU WIKE! WET GU DUMMEH, TIMMY WAN OWT!”
“Nope. This is your new home.” Bill said, kicking open the toilet with one foot, revealing the dried mass of foul-smelling turds inside it.
“Wha- POOPIES?! YOO STOOPIDEST HOOMAN EBAH! TIMMY NU POOPIES, TIMMY SMAWTY! DUMMEH HOOMAN NU KNU DA-”
Bill let go.
Timmy fell into the toilet, landing with a ‘whump’ against the heap of dried turds.
“Like I said.” Bill replied. “This is your home now. You’re going to live there for the rest of your life. You’re going to eat my turds if you want to stay alive, and you’ll never, ever be allowed to leave.”
“Buh… buh dat nu faiw! Timmy nu wan dat!” Timmy replied, genuine fear in his eyes.
“Too bad.” Bill said. “You don’t always get what you want in life, asshole. Maybe you should’ve stayed with your owners instead of being a spoiled brat. Now you get exactly what you deserve.”
And with that, Bill dropped the toilet lid, letting it land back down with a heavy slam. He briefly heard Timmy crying inside, followed by a brief scrabbling sound.
He’d figured that might happen.
Timmy was trying to climb out by scaling the sides of the toilet bowl… but, apart from the day-old turds, the toilet was actually remarkably clean, and the sides were as smooth and slippery as they typically were in a device designed to be shit and pissed into on a daily basis.
Just for good measure though, Bill picked up a heavy bottle of bleach from under the sink and put it on top of the toilet seat, weighing it down enough to ensure Timmy wouldn’t get out.
He couldn’t anyway, but it was good to be safe.
Bill’s week had gone from bad to great.
He’d gotten a call from his last job’s competitor who had, apparently, heard of his firing and decided that if nobody else wanted him, they’d snap him up while they could. He started work on Monday, and the contract was already signed.
Not only that but Bill’s neighbour had finally paid him back the $500 he’d borrowed when he went to Vegas that one time, meaning Bill had gotten his water back on nice and quick. Although, he’d made sure to disconnect the toilet from the system.
He had his own method for that.
Bill walked into the bathroom that morning, still groggy but with a spring in his step, pleased that things were finally working out.
He opened up the toilet, and smirked at the sight.
Timmy was curled up in the bowl, his once pretty teal fur now smeared with heavy streaks of murky brown. He was a little thinner than before, but to be fair, he’d been pretty fat to start with, and was now sitting far more comfortably in the toilet with his rear fully sunken into the filth at the bottom.
Timmy blinked awake as light flooded into his stinking prison, and saw Bill’s face looking down at him.
“Good morning, Timmy!” Bill said brightly. “Ready for work?”
“Huhu…” Timmy sobbed. “Pwease, mistah… pwease nu mowe… Timmy sowwy… Timmy sowwy fow bad poopies, Timmy sowwy fow shouty, Timmy sowwy fow caww yoo stoopid… pwease wet Timmy gu… miss famiwy su much, huhuhu…”
Bill thought about it for a moment.
Then he remembered why Timmy had run away in the first place.
Then he stopped thinking about it.
“Nah.” Bill replied, before dropping his boxers and perching himself on the seat.
“NU-U-U!” Came the muffled cry from within the toilet, as the light was blotted out and Timmy was left trapped in the darkness, knowing exactly what came next.
First there was a fart, which left Timmy coughing and retching, then the turd itself, which landed with a wet slap directly on Timmy’s face. Bill wiped and dumped the toilet-paper in the bowl too, leaving them within easy reach of Timmy’s stubby hooves.
“There we are, Timmy.” Bill said with a smile. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
He began to lower the toilet seat, then paused.
“Oh, silly me, I almost forgot something.”
Timmy perked up immediately.
“Gu home?! Timmy gu home nao?!”
“What? Fuck no.” Bill replied, reaching over to the sink and grabbing an aerosol can. “The turds are sticking to your fur more and more, you’re starting to smell, so I picked this up yesterday. Should help make the place a bit nicer. Well, for me.”
He uncapped the aerosol and pressed down on the button on the top.
A fine mist of harsh, lemon-scented chemicals erupted from the can and hosed onto Timmy’s face, covering his gazing eyes, his open mouth and his stubby hooves.
“SCREEE! OWIES! BUWNIE OWIES IN SEESY-PWACES! HUHU! NU TASTE PWETTY! HUHUHU! PWEASE NU MOWE! HUWTIES SU BAD! HUHU!”
Timmy reached for his eyes, attempting to rub the pain out of them, but only succeeded in grinding more of the aerosol into them, resulting in another cacophony of shrieking.
Bill smiled and closed the lid of the toilet again.
Bill’s week had gone from great to amazing.