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I bet your fantasy is to crawl on your hands and knees, opening your mouth whenever one of them needs to relieve themselves. Each of them taking turns using you as their personal toilet, watching you eagerly swallow everything they push out into your waiting mouth. The thought of that makes you ache, doesn't it? That’s the kind of servant you are, desperate for the privilege of being their waste disposal. That's right, you wouldn’t dare ask them to stop. Even when they force your face into their soiled panties and laugh at the way you breathe in their scent. They own every part of you, including what goes into your stomach, grainy, bitter, warm straight from their bodies. One after another until all four of them are empty, and you’re just kneeling there trembling with a belly full of filth they produced. You love it because you know nothing else; it’s what you were made for.