This is a story involving scat play between adult males. All characters are eighteen years old or over. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it wherever you are, please leave now. This story is entirely fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.
Hosting this archive doesn't come free: please consider donating to Nifty so we can continue to enjoy it.
Matty's Adventures
Chapter One
Matty was only a few minutes into his first lecture after lunch when he started to need the toilet. At first it was just a light pressure in his bowels, and he ignored it and concentrated on what the lecturer was saying. It was early in his third year at university, he could still get a first-class degree if he did well enough and didn't spend too much of his time playing rugby and drinking, and he was determined to work hard and get the best results he could all year. Besides, this course interested him. For a quarter of an hour or so he listened intently and scribbled notes, but then suddenly he felt as if he was about to fart and he clenched his arsehole up tight to hold it. His concentration broken he looked up a little, and round the room at his fellow students. For a moment his eyes fixed on handsome Greg the football player, tall and slim and fit, sitting a couple of rows in front of him, and briefly he drifted off into fantasy. Then the spasm in his bowels passed, and he relaxed and forced his mind back onto the lecture. Ten minutes before the end his concentration broke again and he realised he really needed a shit. He hadn't been since the previous morning, and he'd eaten loads the day before. Now his bowels were full of the dull, nagging feeling pressure he got before a really big, satisfying dump. He could hold it until the end of the lecture, he thought, but he was going to have to go after that. His face went a little red as he contemplated having to use the lecture theatre toilets, where other guys could hear and smell it, and he could hear and smell them doing their most private business. His dick stiffened a little as another fantasy drifted into his mind, but he pushed it aside quickly and forced himself to concentrate on the last few minutes of the lecture.
At the end he gathered his things up quickly, shoved them into his bag and joined the queue to leave the lecture room. He was trying not to fart again and he felt rather self-conscious as he nudged his way through the crowd and set off toward the toilets, hoping that by a miracle they'd be deserted. It was weird, he thought briefly, how a confident, heavy-drinking rugby lad like him could be so shy about his bodily functions. After all, none of his teammates seemed to be. Maybe it was something to do with the fact he was gay, he mused. But then as he got round the corner onto the busy corridor leading to the toilet he realised Greg was walking ten paces in front of him, and his stomach sank. He was self-conscious enough as it was about what he was going to do, without having to do it with a guy he really fancied having a piss only a few feet away, and he dropped back a bit so Greg wouldn't see him. When he opened the door to the toilets he realised it was worse still, for there was only a guy he didn't recognise standing at the urinal and one of the two cubicle doors was just shutting. Matty hesitated for just a moment, wondering where the next nearest toilets were. But then the pressure in his bowels nudged at him again, and he steeled himself and scuttled into the other cubicle. As he shut the door he could hear Greg lowering his jeans and pants. He took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the door, and then undid his belt and pulled down his pants. For a moment he hesitated again, his face red and his heart thumping, but then he surrendered to the urge inside him and lowered his bare bottom down onto the cool plastic toilet seat. Next to him he heard Greg shuffle his feet and let out a couple of little rasping farts, and then he grunted softly.
'Plop! Plop ... Plomp, ploop ... Plop!'
Matty's face reddened again, and once more he felt that excited stirring in the base of his cock as he listened to Greg having a shit. The sound was gloriously manly, and in his mind's eye he could see Greg sitting on the toilet, with a chunky log sliding out of his bottom. Then he felt his own shit starting to move inside him, sliding slowly down his chute and giving him an exquisite feeling of relief. He only just managed to stifle an audible grunt as his hole opened and to his ears came the crackle of his turd sliding out. It sinuous and smooth, a little lumpy, and it felt wonderful as it slid through his hole with a slimy wet crackle.
'Ploop! Plop! ... Plop.'
The plops were loud and water splashed up on his bottom, but he didn't care now. He was feeling that weird sense of liberation he always got when he conquered his shyness and took a dump in a public toilet, and his dick was getting hard as the turd slid out with a couple of little squeaky farts. A few feet from him Greg grunted and plop-plopped too, and Matty's dick tingled; the sensation he got as he started to grow a semi. As he sat, straining a little, he wrinkled his nose up self-consciously. His thick, coarse reek was filling the cubicle and he looked up guiltily as the door banged, wondering whether the guys outside could smell it. He'd always been smelly: it was one reason he was shy about it all, and now stinking up the cubicle like this was naughty and exciting. His chute still felt full and he strained a little to help his log on its way, bowed his head a little and focused on the sensation and the sound as it curled out of him. Lump after lump broke from it and dropped softly into the pan.
'Ploop ... ploop ... ploop ... plop-ploop.'
He couldn't resist holding his dick aside and looking down between his legs to where his big shit was piled up in the toilet, wrinkling his nose up again at his own stink. Briefly he sat and wondered what to do. He didn't want Greg to see him, and he wondered whether to wait until he'd gone or leave quickly now. He bent forwards and sneaked a look under the partition. Greg was sitting with his pants round his ankles, and Matty could hear him tapping away at his phone. Deciding to get it over and done with, he reached for the toilet paper, and as he folded a few sheets he shuffled forward on the seat and lifted his right cheek a little. His heart sank as he wiped, for he was still doing it when he heard Greg tuck his phone in his pocket and tug at the toilet roll holder. Yet he couldn't resist leaning forwards again as Greg started wiping, and he realised from the sound and the position of his feet that he was doing it standing up. His semi bounced up and down as he reached round with a last wad of paper and rubbed at his own arsehole. Then, right as he was going to pull his pants up, Greg did the same. He didn't meet Greg's eyes as they came out of their cubicles and washed their hands at opposite ends of the row of basins. Greg left without drying his hands, leaving Matty alone in the toilets with a semi in his pants and a temptation he couldn't resist forming in his mind. Quickly he ducked into the cubicle Greg had just used. He'd left big, ragged skidmarks in the bottom of the bowl, betraying the very dark brown of his shit, and the air was full of his smell. Matty's dick stiffened again as he sniffed at it. But then the door opened, and he made a quick show of blowing his nose and left hastily. As he walked to the library to work for an hour before his next lecture his mind was spinning. He was turned on, still a little stiff in his pants. Later, he knew, he'd be lying on his bed, wanking to the memory of what he'd heard and smelled, and imagining hot Greg doing that most secret activity. That excited him, but it scared him a bit too.
Two days later he hastened back to his halls of residence at the end of his last class. He'd been horny all day, and when he'd had to go for a piss between classes earlier he'd seen another guy he'd long fancied coming out of a toilet cubicle; a tall, dark, very handsome lad with thick black hair. Matty had spun his piss out as the lad washed his hands, heart thumping a bit, and then when he was alone he'd gone into the cubicle. The toilet hadn't flushed away all the paper, and on what was still floating in the bowl Matty could see dark brown streaks, and in the bottom of the bowl below little skidmarks. The smell was thick and acrid and it had given Matty an instant hard-on. Then during his last lecture he'd started to need a shit himself. It came on slowly, and he realised guiltily that he was enjoying the mounting pressure in his chute. It felt nice, and in the middle of a lecture like this it felt naughty too. When he got back to his room he lay down on his bed, stroking his hard-on through his pants and fantasising. In his imagination some gorgeous lad was with him, ready to watch him shit. He wanted to shit in front of someone, he thought hazily; perhaps a dominant guy who'd tell him how bad his shit smelled and maybe spank him for it, or just a guy who was really turned on by it and wanked off over his turds when he'd finished. But the pressure inside him was getting very strong, and he squirmed about a little in his pleasure and discomfort. Then he got up and peeled his clothes off. His heart was thumping and his head was rushing, and he could feel his face becoming flushed, like it always did when he was embarrassed, or really turned on as he was then. His cock stuck out in front of him like a gun, foreskin rolled back over its swollen purple end.
He went over to the little en suite bathroom, catching sight of himself in the mirror on the way. He was tall and slim and shapely, with a pert, pale arse, and his big cock stood out from a forest of ginger pubes. In the bathroom he caught sight of himself again. The harsh light showed off his ginger hair, curly on top but cut short down the back and sides, and his pleasant oval face was red and intense. He looked away quickly, suddenly self-conscious, stood for a moment, and the vision of the athletic guy swam back into his mind. He was standing in the doorway, wanking as he watched Matty squirm.
'Ooh...' he whispered. 'Oh I really need to take a shit. I need a fucking poo!'
'Mm!' replied the lad in his head. 'Mm, yeah, do it! Go on ... take a shit now...'
Mind still whirling and dick throbbing he reached out, put down the toilet seat and went to sit. Then he stopped suddenly. On impulse he stood up again with his imaginary companion's eyes burning into his back, stepped over into the shower, and squatted down. Inside him his load began to move, and the pressure in his chute suddenly became painful. He fought it for a second as the little voice of rationality in the back of his mind told him not to do it; to get up and sit back on the toilet. Then his horniness and the desperate urge to shit overwhelmed him and he gave in, and gasped with pleasure as he expelled a long, smooth turd, a bit more solid than he usually did. He looked down between his legs to watch as it extended down from his bottom. His shit was as vivid as his ginger hair; a deep, orangey brown, all glistening and cracked, and then a big log of it thudded onto the floor.
'Uh!' he grunted. 'Oh fuck...'
Shitting like this felt amazing, and as his thick turd slid out he sighed out loud with relief and pleasure. The rank smell filled the little bathroom. Glancing down as another hefty lump dropped from him he saw his dick bobbing and pulsing, with a little bead of pre-cum on its end, and below and behind it the big, curled pile he'd made. He strained, and watched a long, rope-like turd extend down from him, and lumps pull away from it and drop onto his pile. The slimy sound and little gassy hisses seemed very loud in the bathroom and it seemed to go on for ages. As soon as he'd finished, he shuffled round and knelt, looking down on his own shit, pawing at his dick. The size of it, the colour and the shape, all broken ends and thick curls, fascinated him. His shit was nasty; so nasty and yet so exciting, and he was kneeling over it with his unwiped arse sticking out, sniffing at his own stink. His head was rushing and he was near to cumming. As he started to yelp and dribble pre-cum he held his dick down over his turds, so that when he finally screwed up his face and clenched his teeth to stop himself crying out, he shot all over his brown pile.
Afterwards, once he'd wiped his bottom and disposed of everything in the toilet, he opened the window to get rid of the smell and lay down on his bed. Part of him was horrified at what he'd just done, and disturbed at the way that, all of a sudden, the occasional fantasies he'd always had about guys shitting had grown into something that was making him listen to guys on the toilet and wank off over his own shit. He felt guilty about giving into it; and scared about where it might lead him. The other part of him was exhilarated and happy. He'd discovered something that gave him a buzz like nothing else. So what if it was kinky? A lot of people have their perversions and they're nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, it was pretty harmless really. And it felt so good too! In the end it was that side of his mind that won out, and he wanked off again, dreaming of his imaginary friend wiping his arse for him...
A few days later he was working in the library early one afternoon when he felt the first little urge in his bowels. At first it just felt like he needed to fart and he almost let one go, but there was a group of girls working at the desk behind him and he clenched up instead. The urge faded for a while and he got on with researching his essay, but then it came back again, a little bit more insistent this time, and he realised he actually did need a shit. He looked up from his books and looked around him, and his eyes lit for a moment on the twinky young student working a few desks away. He was faintly horny, and the slowly mounting pressure on his back passage was making him even more so. Having a shit would feel so nice; his thick, lumpy turd stretching his ringpiece slimily as it slid out; the feeling of relief; the sound and the splashback and the smell... His concentration broken, he wondered briefly where to go and do the deed. He could go back to his room and have a shit in the privacy of his own bathroom, he thought. He had time for that before his last class of the day. But no, he thought: he wanted to do it somewhere public, and feel that weird feeling of freedom he always got when he overcame his shyness about shitting and did it where someone could hear. The lecture theatre toilets were usually busy, and he had to go over there anyway... He forced himself back to work for a bit longer, and tried to ignore the fullness building up in his chute.
He walked across campus half an hour later, all self-conscious with his bowels full and that tingling in his dick again. A few guys were pissing or washing their hands when he got to the toilets, and both cubicles were free. The naughty, furtive feeling mounted as he scuttled into one and shut the door. Now that he was in the toilet the need to empty his bowels suddenly got desperate, and he pulled his pants down hastily and plonked himself down on the toilet. He'd had to keep holding in gas as he worked, and as soon as he sat down he couldn't stop himself letting out a big loud fart just as someone walked by. He blushed, and for a moment all his inhibitions about doing his business in public toilets came back. He clenched up tight, but it was no good: he was already shitting, and all it did was squash a little shit in his hole before he gave up and let it go. The crackle and hiss and little squeaky farts seemed very loud, and he let out a little grunt of relief as his lumpy brown column extended down from him.
'Plop ... plop ... Plomp, plump, plop, plop!'
Cold water splashed up into his crack, and he wrinkled his nose as the smell rose up from him, all strong and rank and nasty. Someone started the hand dryer then, and that drowned out his little satisfied grunt and the heavy 'plop' as another solid turd dropped into the toilet. He sat there for a space, enjoying the relieved sensation in his bowels, the smell, and the naughtiness of shitting in a public toilet. He was nursing a bit of a semi as another turd slid down the chute and started splashing softly into the water. Outside the toilet door opened and he heard more guys moving about.
'Yeah, okay, see you in there,' said a familiar voice to someone else. 'Yeah ... no, I'm going for a poo. I'll be in in a few minutes.'
Footsteps came across the floor and into the cubicle next to him, and his dick stiffened a little further as he realised who the voice belonged to. It was Olly, a lad from his course whom he'd always fancied a bit. He was tall and very slim, rather good-looking with his sweet, high-cheekboned face and thick dark-brown hair swept across on top. He was quite a serious lad; thoughtful and a bit on the shy side, and so very cute. Matty bent forward and looked under the partition as Olly lowered his skinny black jeans down onto his trainers, took a step backwards and sat down. Footsteps went by and the hand dryer roared again, and Matty cursed silently. Surely Olly must be taking advantage of the noise to cover his plops, especially when his mate was having a piss a few feet away! But then his heart pounded a little as the dryer stopped, just as Olly lifted his heels up off the floor slightly and let out a little, rasping fart.
'Plomp!'
The sound was very loud, as if a dense, heavy lump had fallen from his slender arse. Matty's dick tingled and got harder, and he leaned towards the partition so he could hear all the better.
'Plump ... uh ...plop!'
Matty could just see it in his mind's eye; Olly sitting there with his pants down and his top hitched up above his pale bottom, making little straining faces and those little relieved grunts as he pushed out his turds. Matty could hear him pissing, and then after a short pause he let out another soft grunt.
'Plop! Ploop-ploop ... plop ... plip!'
Olly's heels went down again so that his feet were flat on the floor. Matty looked around him briefly, and then at his watch. They only had a few minutes until the lecture and he didn't want to be late. But equally, the toilets had quietened down and if he waited until Olly had finished he could probably go in and smell it when he was gone. He wondered what to do, but then the toilet roll holder rattled in the next cubicle, and that decided him. He leaned down again and watched Olly lift his heels up again as he shuffled forwards to wipe. Matty could just imagine him doing it; leaning forward and doing it sitting down just like he did, and using quite a lot of paper too, by the sound of it. He'd begun to wipe himself when he heard Olly bend down and pull his pants back up, and as it happened he'd timed it perfectly, so he could flush and come out of the cubicle just as Olly was walking towards the door, facing away from him. There was no-one else around, so he didn't even wait to wash his hands before he dived into Olly's cubicle. Olly's shit didn't smell as strong or as rank as his own, but the air was still thick with it, all warm and sultry, and it made Matty's dick hard. Olly had left skidmarks too; big, very dark brown streaks in the bottom of the bowl. He stood there for a moment or two, sniffing at it and touching himself without even realising what he was doing. But then the door opened, and he had to pretend to be taking some toilet paper to blow his nose. He sat a few rows behind Olly in the lecture, admiring his wiry body and sweet face, and daydreaming about watching him squat down and do his big shit on the floor.
The following day he did that himself, alone in his room while he knew all his friends were at classes and he wouldn't be disturbed. He'd been fantasising about Olly since the day before, and now in his imagination Olly was with him, naked and beautiful and madly horny as he watched Matty squat. He still had his clothes on, as if he'd been caught short and had to shit somewhere outside. By the time he got up off his bed and went to the bathroom he was desperate, but even so he grabbed his phone. He'd just signed up for his first ever scat website, and putting a couple of photos up there appealed to the exhibitionist side he'd started to develop. His shit was nasty and dirty and private, and the thought of other guys seeing it and getting turned on by it made him horny. That was why he set the phone to video mode and propped it against the wall behind him before he pulled his tight sports pants down to his knees and squatted down. He grunted, tailing off into a sigh of relief.
The physical pleasure of taking a shit made him gasp. His turd started off lumpy and solid, and a chunky log thudded onto the floor, but then it got smoother, and the squelchy crackle as it came out mingled with little squeaky farts. Matty 's face reddened with shame as his smell filled the room. He hadn't opened the window and the bathroom door was slightly open so his bedroom would stink, he thought. But then the fantasy returned and Olly knelt close behind him, wanking over his shit and urging him to do another turd, and another. A lot of the time when he did this his fantasies were about being dominated and made to shit, but now the pleasure was mutual. In his imagination Olly spunked all over his pile before he'd even finished, and then watched on as he turned around, wanked off and came all over his shit.
He put the photos up that evening. A few days later he got a message:
"Hi. Just noticed your profile. Love those pictures! Looks like we like the same kind of things. Want to chat?" Eoin
Interested, Matty clicked on his profile, and his heart thumped a little. Eoin lived in the same city as him, or so he said, and he was 21. There were no face pictures, but there were some naked photos, from which Matty could see he was tall and slim and slightly dark, with a really toned body and a lovely bubbly arse. He had a big uncut cock, and in one of his pictures it was firing a big gout of sticky cum all over his smooth tummy and up to the fuzz of hair on his chest. There were photos of his shit too; two of toilets well filled with chunky, curled logs, and one more of a big curled pile on the floor. Best of all, he'd had a few scat sessions with other guys, one of whom had taken a photo as he squatted over him, curling out a big pile onto his stomach. Two or three comments said what a nice, genuine guy he was, and how horny the time they'd spent together had been.
Matty hesitated. He was still uneasy about his fetish, he'd never talked about it with anyone, and chatting with someone who'd actually done it with guys and might want to do it with him scared him a bit. But really, he asked himself, what did he have to lose? The guy didn't know who he was, after all, and surely the chance of putting his fantasies into practice with some gorgeous young guy was worth taking a small risk? He took a deep breath, and started typing a reply.
Enjoyed this? You can find a complete list of my stories on the prolific author page. Name: namab mas
Feedback and ideas are very welcome: namabmas@gmail.com