The debate was set; the crowd hushed and quiet. Two podiums were set up- the one on the right had a professionally made sign- ‘Shilva for Class President’, it read, but there was no one behind it. To the left, the second podium. There was no sign, though there were a few nails where one was recently taken down. There was, however, a person behind it, The moderator, a well dressed rat, sat downstage, impatiently shuffling his cards and checking his watch. Next to him were two chairs for the running vice-presidents. Only one was occupied.

	It was almost a half hour before the auditorium’s doors flung open. Shilva rushed in breathlessly, his suit disheveled and eyes bloodshot, fur looking suspiciously greasy, especially around the mouth. The room fell silent as the students stared at their normally impeccably dressed Class President walking down the middle aisle. A murmur spread through the room as they took notice of his appearance, but he didn’t notice. His mind was focused on one thing- getting through this debate without making a fool of himself. Whatever’s been wrong lately, it can’t affect him here.

	The steps creaked as he made his way up to the stage, and the almost blinding lights revealed one final thing about him- his belly bulged out of his suit, the bottom of his stomach hanging out, bouncing with each step. The room erupted in laughter, and the fox turned red, trying and failing to tuck in his shirt again. He hadn’t had time to shower once he realized the debate was today, just dousing himself with axe and wiping the shit from his fur the best he could, there was no way in hell he had time to figure out how to get all that shit from his body. 

	“Shilva, it’s nice of you to join us.” The moderator’s nose twitched, brows furrowing as he recognized the scent of axe- he worked in a middle school, after all- but it was mixed with… something he couldn’t quite place. “May we begin, then?” The audience laughed a little, and the fox couldn’t hide a guilty blush. 

“S-Sorry, I, uh, was a bad morning. Let’s start.”

The moderator gave a look that would whither the most well-meaning explanation on the speaker’s lips, and nodded, cleaning his throat and shuffling his cards again. “Now that Shilva has graced us with his presence, let the debate begin! I am Mr. Horace, and I will be your moderator today. The two candidates for Class President will answer a series of questions relevant to the position, each to their best ability. In attendance also are their running mates, who are seated to the side of me. We shall now begin.”

	Shilva’s paws gripped the podium, starting to feel unnaturally hot- were those lights pointed straight at him? He couldn’t see the crowd- it was a sea of shapeless black, vague shapes shifting in front of him. It was almost as if he and Clarence were alone on stage. He let out a small sigh of relief- that should help him at least. It’s like the crowd wasn’t there- the more he focused on his opponent, the better. He knew Clarence and liked him, but he was a weak debater, and Shilva had the support of his vice president, Alan, on stage. It looked like Clarence’s Vice didn’t show, given the empty chair. Alan was sitting by the moderator alone, looking pleased to see Shilva perform. 

	“Our first question goes to Shilva.” The moderator leered over his glasses at the pink fox, but Shilva didn’t feel unsettled. He practiced hours for this. “We’ll begin with the obvious. What are your thoughts on the sudden switch in opponent?” 

	“Y-, uh… wha?” Shilva’s mouth went dry, swallowing as he struggled to comprehend what the moderator had said. He didn’t dare look to his left, but the dry chuckle he heard confirmed it.

	“Yuh, uh, wha is not a full answer, Shilva.” The moderator seemed unamused. “Please, using sentences higher than a toddler’s speech level, tell us how you feel about running against Lynch?” The fox struggled to speak, a pit forming in his stomach. Luckily he didn’t have to- Lynch cut in before the fox spluttered too long.

	“Ain’t it obvious? The dumass is so scared he dunna howta speak no more!” Lynch’s crass laugh was like nails on a chalkboard, and the crowd’s chuckles and sniggering didn’t help the fox’s nerves. He steadied himself on the podium, took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It’s alright. You could have expected this. He’s just a dumb hick. You got this. Shilva grabbed the cup of water provided at the podium, taking a sip of the oddly white mixture as he calmed his nerves.
	Finally he sighed, wiping his brow and looking up into the invisible crowd. He enunciated carefully and clearly, as if he was uncertain he could say it right. “While… while the change in the race was unforseen, I am confident… I am confident that I will be the best choice for Class President.” The crowd hushed a little, and the fox felt a little more confident. “Contrary to what my opponent says, I have full control of my speech, and I will use it to speak out for the class to the best of my ability. I was a bit surprised at the announcement, but with my Vice-President and the class behind me, I will soldier on and win this election. 

	The crowd grew entirely silent- Shilva thought this was a good thing. Impressed by his reply, likely. The quiet hung in the air like a fog, until the fox began to doubt himself. The moderator coughed, shuffling his cards, and looked up at Shilva with something like pity in his eyes. “That, uh… that brings us to our next question. Shilva, how do you feel about your former Vice-President, Alan, defecting to your opponent’s side?”

	The room spun, Shilva’s paws gripped the podium for stability yet again as the news sunk in. He slowly turned around, gaping at the blushing bunny sitting next to the moderator. “A-Alan? Is this… is this true?” Alan nodded, looking almost ashamed… but not quite. There was something not quite right about him. His eyes were unfocused, his jaw was slightly slack, his posture was too stiff for the easy-going rabbit… and his clothes were all wrong, far too preppy for the easy-going bunny. White shirt, nice brown slacks, pullover vest.

	“Shilva? We’re all waiting for your answer.” The moderator’s voice snapped the fox back to reality. 

	“I-I, uh… was… unaware of this change, and will find out more, more uh… information after the d-debate. For now, we should continue on.” Shilva turned back to the podium and stared at the wood a moment before closing his eyes, trying to keep his breathing calm and steady. Why would Alan do this? It was Lynch- it had to be. He shot what he hoped was a withering glare the doberman’s way, but was only met with a shit-eating grin. 

	“We will now continue. Lynch- what makes you a better Class President than Shilva? He has, after all, had two years of experience running the student government, having created several successful after-school programs and convinced the school’s administration to increase the quality of the lunches provided.” Shilva couldn’t keep a little smirk from his face- he would be okay without Alan. The loss hurt, but he could deal with it afterwards- with all the surprises out of the way, they’d get to the actual debate. He couldn’t lose- his track record was flawless.

Lynch chuckled a little bit. “Easy question. Jes look at’im! Y’think an oaf like ‘im can run a government?” Shilva was stunned- so, evidently, was everyone else. The room buzzed with quiet murmuring, and the moderator stuttered a little, but Shilva beat him to it.

	“You… what? I-I-” Shilva’s voice broke- he took a deep drink of his water and continued on. “I ran the student government for the past two years, and it’s the most successful it’s ever been!”

	The doberman snickered a bit, scratching at his ass a little before leaning into the mic. “Yeh, what of it? Yer still a blabberin’ idiot. Remember what happened last Friday?” Shilva blushed a little- he’d hoped to forget it forever. “Ah remember you forgettin a simple question- like, first grade shit. Ya stuttered and blabbered a little and an drooled and ya still couldn’t answer the question. Truth is, yer an imbecile.” 

	Shilva’s blush deepened as the crowd snickered, those in the class with him outright laughing. “I-It was, I mean, it was a one time thing, you know, and…” Something else was happening, too- the fox noticed something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what or why. His stomach was churning, distended as it was with shit, and his mind felt… fuzzy. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, it had began when the doberman called him an imbecile, but it only grew worse and worse.

	The fox realized he’d trailed off and shook his head, trying to clear it. “I-Ih… wassa one time… thing, I’m smart, got good grades!” His stance was changing- his back was relaxing, his legs bowing out, ears relaxing to the sides. The fox absentmindedly itched his distended belly, untucking his shirt and rubbing the stretched-out mass of skin. 

	“Really now, yer smart? Tell me, whaddya get when ya add ten to ten?” The question was stupidly easy, the fox couldn’t believe the doberman would undermine his own advantage so quickly.

	“I-Ih… it’s… tenten. Two ten. Two tens.” The fox let out a small whine as the auditorium erupted in laughter, confused. Wasn’t he right? Ten and ten is two tens. But they laughed at him, like he got it wrong. “Two ten! It’s two ten!” He almost yelled into the mic, burning beneath his pelt. He was right! Why didn’t anyone else understand that? 

	Lynch sniggered, leaving his podium and making his way toward Shilva, who shifted away from the approaching doberman. “Now c’mon, foxy, I aint gonna hurt ya, ah’m jes worried about ya!” The fox blinked a little, confusion swirling around in his emptying brain. 

“W-Worried?” The fox whimpered, all thoughts of keeping his image up disappearing from his mind. The doberman nodded, looking overly-concerned and taking his hand, leading him to the center of the stage.

“Very worried. Ah mean, look at yerself!” The doberman projected his voice so the whole auditorium could hear. “Yer belly is so big, looks bloated, what happened?” Shilva squirmed in place, looking down at his feet- or where his feet would be, given his stomach blocked the view. He mumbled something under his breath, and the doberman’s grin only widened. “C’mon boy, speak up! Gotta hear ya to help ya! An… an whats with yer breath? An fur, it’s so greasy! Yer okay, what happened?”

The fox mumbled again, and the doberman grabbed him by the chin, forcing the fox to look the dog in the eyes. “Speak up. Here, lemme help.” The doberman reached over, grabbing the mic from Shilva’s podium and holding it up to his lips. “Tell the audience why your belly is so bloated, and why your lips are brown.” Lynch had no hint of an accent when he spoke, but if anyone noticed, it was forgotten almost immediately.

The fox gulped, rubbing his ruined belly before speaking into the mic, all thoughts of the debate out of his head. “I… woke up… like this, cuz… cuz I ate lotsa shit last night.” All hints of eloquence was gone from the fox’s voice, and the room erupted in laughter- even Alan giggled some. Lynch waited for the commotion to die down before continuing, letting the fox bask in his shame. Shilva couldn’t believe he just said that- it was wrong to eat  shit. Why’d he say that? Why was eating shit wrong? Wait… should he question that?

The fox had little control over his thoughts as his brain emptied itself, all his learning leaving his head, all his social cues gone, everything that made him a self-sufficient, independent person oozing away. He was just standing there, no idea why eating shit was wrong, just that it was. “Shhh, now, c’mon pig- er, foxy, it’s okay.” Lynch came up behind the shorter fox, wrapping his arms around Shilva’s belly and groping at it, giving the fox himself the mic. Shilva kept it near his mouth, not thinking to pull it away. 

“So ya like shit eatin- that’s fine!” The fox blinked in confusion at the doberman, who continued to rub the fox’s belly. “That’s right- it’s just who you are, isn’t it? You’re just a shit eating fox. You love the feel of feces oozing down your throat, the heavy feeling it gives your stomach, the bitter taste, you love how that brown ooze bubbling out your lips looks. Don’t you?” The fox groaned a little, squeezing his eyes shut as his mind began to change, conforming itself to the doberman’s words.

“Y-Yeah…”

“See? Just be who you really are! You’re too dumb to run a government, aren’t you?” The fox hesitated a moment before nodding, ashamed. “Probably too dumb to be in a grade higher than fifth, but you’re here anyways. You’d rather just be a shiteater, and that’s okay. Shiteaters can be useful, too! What else have you been keeping from us?”

The fox whimpered a little, unsure what to say. “I know what you’ve been trying to hide from us- you’re incontinent. You don’t know how to keep your piss and shit in, do you?” The fox groaned, shaking his head- and almost immediately let out a trumpet of gas, little bits of shit spraying the inside of his underwear. Shilva held his stomach- it was all coming out. He could feel the first log pushing its way out his sphinter, turtling out his asshole and prodding into his blue underwear. He tried to squeeze it off, force it back in- but found he didn’t know how.

“Shh, don’t worry, just let it go! It’s who you are- you should be proud of who you are, show it off!” Despite the doberman’s words, the fox wailed in humiliation as the first thick, greasy log crackled out of his ass, coiling into his underwear, pushing it out as grease soaked into the expensive material. The doberman spun the fox around so that the audience could get a nice, explicit look at their president’s ass, sagging and oozing greenish slime as his white pants slowly turned brown. 

The fox buried his face into the doberman’s chest, feeling weirdly comforted as a second log slipped out, faster than the first, then a third, and a fourth… his stomach slowly began to deflate as his body rid itself of shit the way it knew best. His pants continued to sag, the bulge growing from a softball to a mushy, oozing basketball before it began to slide down his legs, coloring them, too. Shilva couldn’t help it, nor at this point would he try to stop- his poor slacks were stretched to their limit, the seams on the sides straining as the rear of his bottoms stretched to their limit. Little bits of shit began to plop out the top, landing on the stage with a sickeningly wet noise, creating little piles of shit.

The doberman wasn’t quite done yet- he waited until Shilva’s dam finally burst, his bladder releasing a flood of piss into his pants. It was then he delivered his final blow, sealing the fox’s fate until Lynch was feeling kind enough to change it. “Shilva… I think there’s one last thing you’re forgetting.” The fox looked up, letting out small groans and whimpers as he filled his pants on the stage, logs oozing out the pants legs into his shoes. “You love this- you get off on shitting yourself and eating it. You’re too stupid to know any better- you get hard when you think of shit. You can’t help it.”

Shilva’s brain took a moment to adjust, and he nodded quietly, standing up on his own for a moment before falling onto his ass with a loud splorch. The auditorium, which had already been noisy with laughter and mocking, only got louder, phones and cameras out to make sure no one would ever forget this. The fox didn’t care- all thoughts about his reputation had been purged, filled with his new reality. He unzipped the front of his pants, staring in delight at the mountain of shit he was sitting in and actively adding to. He slowly dipped a paw in the sludge, bringing it up to his nose. He gave a small sniff, then, with a quiet moan, sloppily began to shovel shit into his gaping maw, letting the ooze smear across his face and chest. He swallowed eagerly and noisily, wetly chewing at the filth. The doberman was kind enough to put the microphone up to his mouth, so that everyone could hear.

His other paw plunged into his once-blue underwear, pulling out his hardening cock. It was once a light pink color, slender with no veins and a nice, round bulb at the bottom for a knot. It came in at eleven inches long- moderate, for a fox. No one else had ever seen it hard before- now he proudly displayed it in front of the entire school, moaning between bites as he furiously rubbed at it, pre spurting out the top as that pleasant pink color turned brown. 

Lynch smiled and stepped back- his own cock was rock hard in his jeans, a forearm thick bulge that traveled from his groin up to his beltline- and continued into his shirt, oozing copious amounts of pre into the thin fabric that protected it from the outside world. Oddly, no one seemed to notice- no one had ever noticed before. He just had that effect, when he wanted to. He held the microphone up to his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, your current class president! I trust you’ll make the right choice when you go to the polls tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.”

	The apparent mental breakdown of what was once the school’s most promising pupil in an already exemplary school made national news- and so did the school’s fall. In a turn of events no one seemed able to explain, the average test scores of the school plummeted to the bottom of the country within a week of Shilva’s incident, and the social mores of those attending seemed to disappear too. By the end of the semester, there was not a student  in the school who had a grade higher than a D+. The teachers didn’t seem to mind- they were struggling to focus on teaching as much as the students were struggling to focus on learning. They all were preoccupied with their newly discovered love for shit- while some basic teaching would go on, everyone was too busy pissing themselves, filling their pants with shit, and pissing and shitting on each other to pay attention, and usually the teacher was joining in anyways. Within a month, just about everyone was open about masturbating, too, and a week after that, fucking each other. 

This strange behavior followed the students home, so that their immediate family joined in. Any government works sent out to figure it out seemed to learn the joys of shit, too, and any elected official who looked into it… wasn’t fit for office much longer. Eventually, the nation, scared of what was happening, began to ignore it. Shilva ‘graduated’ at the bottom of his already abysmal class two years later. After that, each incoming class seemed unaffected. Four years later, the school was back to normal. Shlva’s graduation coincided with the city changing water sources. It was decided that there was something in the water, and that was that. Not one person in any affected class got a better job than garbage collector. 

Years later, when looking through the files, it was found that the class president elected that year, Lynch, was nowhere in the records. 

	Shilva tried his damndest to recover, that drive to succeed was still in him. Lynch destroyed that after awhile- he would have none of all that ‘paying attention in class, holding in his shit’. He actually held out longer than the rest of the school, holding onto some semblance of intelligence a week longer than most of everyone else. After that, he was a ‘normal’ member of the school for about a year. At the beginning of his senior year, Class President Lynch made a decree: the bathrooms, which had gone unused for a year anyways, was officially off limits. Anyone who needed to use the restroom and didn’t feel like using their pants were to take Shilva aside, no matter what he was doing, and use him. Within the day, the fox’s belly was so full it almost reached the ground. He couldn’t make it to his classes, so he just sat in the hallways, servicing anyone who wanted it. 
	After he graduated, he followed Lynch around wherever he went. He was like a puppy, and Lynch was his owner. 
	
	Alan had already lost all sense of his old self the day he tried to stand up to Lynch. He degraded like everyone else, though Lynch made him more of a cock addict than anything- all he thought about was cum and cock, nothing else. He dressed as sluttily as he possibly could, until the time came where he really didn’t wear anything at all. After graduation, he followed Lynch around, too, but as his arm candy, not his pet.

	Lynch stayed around the school until ‘graduation’, mostly because liked being the king of a disgusting little hole of depravity and ruined lives. He guided the people into their degradation, and had his pick of the pack- he had a habit of sitting in the hall, yanking cute boys away on their way to class and fucking them half to death. He ruined more than a few bodies- without several weeks of working up to it, a face fucking from Lynch’s cock destroyed throats beyond repair and dislocated jaws. An ass fucking could crack a hip if he wasn’t careful, and leave the hole useless for months. He didn’t mind. 
	When he saw fit, he picked out his favorite victims and left the town, wandering until he found another place to fuck up.