"You think I'm going to stink?" came the dry wispy voice. I could hear it first gurgling down my intestines and then squeezing out of my anus. "I've got some news for you," it said, a bragging threat feel to its course hiss. "I'm not going to stink at all." I could feel the words form up, gastrulae swellings that caused me discomfort, and only when they worked their way out of my rectum, with a quiet wheeze, did I feel a moment of unsettling relief, physically relieved, and yet mentally shaken, only to feel more slander forming up in my own innards.

There was a overall sense of uneasiness. Something terrible had go on, and I was not at all well.

I thought I should say something, but I could not form any words, I couldn't even piece together any two words in my brain. It was my shit that broke the uneasy silence. Continuing in its unnatural manner, "I'll tell you why. I've stopped absorbing your waste. That smell , that horrible horrible smell, that was never me. It was you all along."

My mussels worked unconsciously with this evil spirit. I tried to clench up my asshole and strangle it, but it was useless. "I'm not going to stink," it cried out at last, repeating its one idea, and at the same time driving the point home.

I tightened my rectum again. God will it just shut the fuck up. Again the pressure of its taunting grew within me. I thought to cheat it by squeezing it out slowly, but the long hiss was even more taunting. "Yooouuuu Cccccaaaaann't sssstttooooppppp meeeee .... From telling the truth" the last words came out in a explosive burst that I could not hold in.

I sniffed furiously, hoping to catch whiff of a slight methane tinge, but there was none. I felt a low chuckle building up, and puffed out. My desperate attempts to prove it wrong amused it. This was its first victory, and it used the propaganda value of it to the fullest. "My words are as clean and pure as the truth I speak. There isn't anything you can do. You're not in control of this anymore."

"Sooner or later," it threatened, "You're going to have to shit me out and then you'll know for sure."

It was growing more angry. At first it was merely contented with this change of roles, but now it saw me as the enemy I had always been. "Where do you think you're waste will go now? You won't be shitting it out and forgetting about it any longer. It'll stay within you. It'll build up and harden and fill you up. It'll ooze from your pours, fetid and horrible. You won't be able to hide it any longer, flush it and forget it. It'll become you. It's been you all along."

The whole chunk of feces was on the move. I could feel it slowly sliding down towards my colon. Wet and slippery, it rolled down my intestines on a carpet of anus mucus. I hoped that at least the mucus would stink, like the worst of my shits ever had. I prayed that this abomination was settled on a gelatinous bed of foul smelling slime, but I knew somehow, that if its farts had eased out without carrying out some smell, then even my mucus had finally failed me, clear and sterile, it served only to assist this thing as lubrication to ease its exit and prove the horrible truth once and for all.

Even as this thing sought to evacuate, I could sense this growing sickness within. My waste was building up already, polluting my blood, and very being with its hostile nature. How could this shit remain clean and my own waste be so inpure?

Oh god, it could read my mind. "Your waste is impure, because you are impure." Came a menacing flatulation that puffed out ahead of its creator. The longer I waited, the longer I tried to hold it in, the more it fumed and verbally attacked me.

And at last came the most menacing threat of all. "You know, perhaps other people's shit has begun not to stink as well."