Continued from here:

Of course, not every convergence is beneficial, or so extreme. Others are more like seeping pools of corruption which leave a bit of slime on everything which passes through them. There is, for example, a public toilet in London, which never seems to get cleaned–the seats of the toilets crusty, the urinals reeking and brimming with cold piss. Every man who enters leaves a bit raunchier than they were. Sometimes it’s just a piercing, or a new fondness for dirty underwear. Others emerge from the toilet unsure of how much time has passed, and almost unable to recognize themselves in the cracked and splattered mirror.

Some men, however, grow addicted to the place–to the filth it spews. After their first visits, they find themselves longing to return, over and over again. They are the only ones who clean it–lapping the urine from it’s bowls and chipping away at the filthy floor with their teeth. Before too long, they begin to melt into the walls, giving the place more power–becoming tiles, sinks–even new toilets and urinals for the growing morass which might one day consume London, if it grows unhindered.