You sat, leaning into the back of your throne, one leg crossed over the other, hands steepled together before your mouth. Your elevated foot bounced anxiously, toes swaying from side-to-side. You took notice of the fraying of your shoes, the stitching holding the soles on starting to come undone. In fact, all of your clothing was proving to be rather worn and... ripe. There was no change of clothes for you and the inability to bathe wasn't helping. Hell, your toilet was just a hole in the floor, which you swear was harvesting your feces to FEED THESE HORSE-B-