Categories

He just asked me to turn him into a public toilet. I thought he was making some kind of crude joke at first, but the look in his eyes is deadly serious. He wants this. He’s pleading for it. I've cast spells for love, for revenge, for wealth... but this? To permanently bind a man's consciousness into a toilet, to be used by strangers until the end of time? It's not just dark magic; it's a complete annihilation of self. There's no coming back from that. But then I look at him again. The sheer desperation, the profound need. This isn't a curse to him; it's a purpose. He doesn't want to be a man anymore. He wants to be an object, a utility. Who am I to deny someone their true calling, however twisted it may seem? My morality is not his morality. My job isn't to judge his desires, only to fulfill them. Very well. Let's make you what you truly wish to be. You will be a toilet in a bus station men's room. You'll get your wish. Strangers will use you, and never once look at you as anything more than a piece of plumbing. They'll piss on you, shit in you, and leave you stained and dirty. There will be no peace, only the constant humiliation of being a public utility. This is what you asked for. This is your eternity.