Vignettes #1-5 by Mudcubstories@mudcub.com
He turns around and I can see his ass. It's really beefy: with tree-trunk-like thighs going down to his knees. His butt cheeks are very hairy... with a thick black pelt that makes swirling patterns all over his backside.
He squats down. I am laying on my stomach, looking up, but my face is only two feet away. Maybe a foot and a half. I can see his hole. Hell, I can see everything, from the top of his crack down to his taint to where his big hairy balls are hanging. I call it "Master's Playground"... I've licked that area so many times. Tracing my tongue to lick the sweat behind his balls, sucking up the cum dribbling down his thigh after he's shot a load.
It's so sexy just seeing Master crouching like that. He's such a sexy man. He's in His fifties, kinda chubby, but more muscular than fat. Definitely a bear. And as I said, really REALLY hairy. And I'm looking at his strong back and powerful legs and I'm thinking of the dirty things I would honored to do for Him.
But now Master is grunting. Bearing down. I see his hole pucker outward like a donut. It's puffy and pink. Damn, his black thick asshair grows right up to his ring. Master takes a breath and I see his asshole suck back in for a second. Then he pushes it out again, almost like it is breathing.
"Bbbbrrrraaaaaat!" Master farts. And it goes directly into my face. I don't smell anything at first, but I imagine I can feel the breeze. Then all at once the smell hits me. It's like onions today... a greasy odor that instantly fills the room. Almost like if the smell had a color. I flinch a bit and close my eyes involuntarily, but I make sure I don't turn my face away.
Where there's smoke, there's fire, and I know there's a huge turd or two ready to come down Master's shute. I wish my tongue was over his hole, my lips forming a perfect seal, so everything goes into my mouth. But not this time... this time Master told me to keep laying down and just watch. My dog dish is sitting directly under Master's ass, and I know He's going to fill it up for me.
I see Master's hole flex, once, twice, and then the first tip of a turd appears. It's light tan, and I can see the cracks in the tip where the shit is harder. Master has amazing control, sometimes He likes to just keep a turd waiting right in His hole, tempting me, so I can see it but have to wait for it to land in my mouth. Or, He'll push out only an inch, and I have to lick it from Him like an ice cream cone.
But this time Master pushes, and a long coil of shit starts pouring out of His ass. It's a long one, after eight inches it reaches the bottom of the dog dish and starts to coil up. Again, Master has incredible control. He knows how to keep pushing without clenching His hole so the shit comes out in one entire long. For really huge ones, He has had me measure it before eating. It's a point of pride for Him.
This shit is a little too soft, and it pulls apart like taffy after twelve inches, the end of it flopping out of the bowl and hanging over the edge. I know I'll have to lick that up later and make sure my bowl is spotless. But Master starts to shit out the second log, and this one is thinner. It's coming out fast, and makes more of a pile on top of the first long. It looks like mashed potatoes.
The stink of it hits me more now. If I thought the farts smelled bad before, this is the real thing. The solid heavy odor of raw shit. I imagine that I can even feel the heat of the fresh turds warming my face. It's directly from His body, like a part of Him. And soon I know it's going to go inside me. And the idea gets my dick really hard.
Master isn't really thinking of me, though. He just wants all that shit out of Him. I think his stomach must be a little upset, judging from the texture of the shit. It starts to sputter out now. Not really diarrhea, but more like soft-serve ice cream mixed with air. He farts out in a stream, filling the bottom of the dog bowl with an even layer of almost-liquid shit. The first huge solid turd looks like an iceberg floating in a brown speckled ocean.
Master grunts one last time, and sighs a bit. His hole pushes out a lot, like it does when He gets fisted. But no more shit comes out. Master stands up, and His knees crack. I know, I know, we're all getting older. And holding a squatting pose like that for five minutes is a lot of hard work.
Master turns around, and smiles. He's looking down at me on my belly, my face ready to start eating His shit out of the bowl.
"Oh one thing," He says. "I almost forgot."
He turns around and faces away from me again.
"Kneel up," he orders.
He bends over a bit and pulls his hairy asscheeks apart with both hands. I see the center of His asshole again, but his time I can see it's dirty. There must have been a little gumball-sized piece of light-brown shit right where he pinched off, and when He stood up, it smeared it all over His hole and over each side of His butt cheeks a litte.
I kneel, my hands down in front of me like a dog begging for a meal. My tongue hanging out, drooling. He tells me, "Go ahead," and I know I have permission to touch His body with my tongue. I lean forward and my snout goes right into His hairy butt crack, my tongue darting toward His hole.
Not too eager now... Master doesn't like hyperactive pups. Instead, I tell myself to slow down, and I use my tongue to do a nice wide swipe all the way from the base of Master's balls... up his taint, and over His hole. I go almost all the way to the top of His butt crack, my saliva making a wet trail as it goes. As my tongue passes over his hole, I taste the spicy shit, like a salty bitter flavor that instantly coats my tastebuds.
I swallow, trying to clean my mouth for a second pass. Sometimes Master likes it when I make more of a mess that when I started, but this is not one of those times. I swallow a piece of shit, and I notice it's a little gritty. I stick my tongue out and make another trip, slooooowly up Master's trail until I reach the top. I know I'm doing a good job because I hear Him exhale in that happy way he does. I know His dick is getting hard, and if I do a really good job maybe He'll blow a load in my mouth later.
But for now I concentrate on cleaning up the best I can. Going up and the down again... Master's asshair abrasive on my tongue. Sometimes, I have to used my teeth to chew off any hard balls of shit stuck around His hole, but today everything is clean. Or soon will be. I taste less and less flavor of shit every time I run my tongue over His hole. My spit turns from brown to clear as I swallow. I sit back a bit and look carefully to make sure I am done. Master has checked before -- wiping Himself with a white cloth -- and I have felt the punishment for not being thorough.
This time everything is good. My saliva has made His asshair wet and plastered to His skin. I sit back and woof once, "Woof," which is a signal that I think my job is done. Master stands up and again He is smiling. Just the look on His face is a huge reward for me. I know that He feels good. I see His dick, His thick six incher starting to get hard, and I have a feeling today is going to be one of those days where I need to "finish what I started".
I wait for any command. Give Master a blowjob? But also I can smell in my snout the stink of that bowl of semi-soft shit waiting for me. I sit back on my haunches, like a dog. My dick is getting hard the way Master's looks. I look up at His face and wait for any word.
"I did that thing you wanted to do," He says.
"Oh?" I say?
What I want to say is, "Whatisitwhatisit?" But I don't want to seem too eager. I'm also very nervous. I mean, W/we have talked a lot about His fantasies and mine, about things W/we would like to explore together, and where O/our limits are.
Will today be the day Master gets out the set of needles? There's this flogger in His closet that has bits of metal interwoven into the leather plaits -- a flogger meant to tear out chunk of flesh and instantly start a back bleeding -- and that thing terrifies me. Will today be the day?
Master walks away and comes back with a pair of leather padded dog paws.
"Stick yer snout into these," he orders.
But I don't need to. I can smell them from here. Plus, I know what W/we have talked about. I told him my huge fetish for fistmitts. I told Him that when I have fistmitts on, I know that I am not really a slave any more. I mean, I am still His slave. But I am less useful than I was a minute ago. I can't wash the dishes or make phone calls. Well, again, that's not correct... a few times Master has put me in fittsmitts and then sat back in His leather chair and laughed as I tried to fix Him a drink and light His cigar while wearing the clumsy things.
But I know that for now, I don't have to do the laundry. I don't have to start the millions of little tasks that I have on my "To Do" list that are needed to keep Master's household running. My mind gets to slow down and I can live in the moment without worrying all the time. I am reduced to a naked boy without useful hands. But I still have a willing mouth and a ready asshole.
Master sees me hesitate. He knows I am thinking about what is happening, what will happen soon. He knows I think too much. Master steps forward and puts one hand on the back of my head, and the other one holding the fistmitt open. He slams my face forward.
My face goes right into the opening. In a blur of motion, I don't see what's in the fistmitt. But my nose plunges in and I feel it. It's shit. Cold, kind of clammy. It sticks to the end of my nose. Master like that when I have a dirty face like that, he calls me a "brownnoser".
I sit back shocked a little. "Hold yer right paw out," He says. And I do.
He pulls the right fistmitt on, and my hand instantly sinks into something wet. It's soft like clay, and as He tugs the mitt on, the shit oozes up over my wrist and into my palm. My hand is forced to curl into a fist by the constricting glove, and I noticed there's a hard turd right in the middle of my hand.
The smell explodes in a puff outside the sides of the glove. Whew! It's a rank smell. Surely that's not Master's shit, is it? Maybe He went to a dog park and it's the turds from a dozen large hairy beasts. Master has made me do that several times -- go to the park after it gets dark and raid the large garbage pails at each corner of the street. It's always good for a few dozen bags of knotted-up plastic that Master makes me cut open and pour into the bathtub to collected for later kinky sex scenes (or punishments!)
Master buckles the large metal fastener that goes around my wrist, and that makes it impossible for me to pull off. The buckle even has a hole in it so the mitts can be locked on four hours. He locked them on me for a few days once... that was an amazing trip. "Next hand," he barks.
The left one goes one faster, and now I and sitting on the floor wearing a pair of stinking gloves -- one on each hand. It feels weird having these huge unwieldy things... I can feel the weight of them as I move my hands around. I can feel the slimy shit as it squelches around my fitts, fitting into every crevice of my knuckles.
I don't know how long Master is going to make me wear these fistmitts this time. But I do know that when He takes them off me, He will make me clean them up with my mouth... licking them clean, and drinking the liquified sludge at the bottom, warmed by the contact for hours (days?) against my skin.
I'm sitting there a little dazed, my dick hard and twitching against my thigh. "Oh yeah," Master says. "I almost forgot. I also got this other thing that I wanted to try out on you..."
"You sell manure?"
"Yup," the farmer said.
You see, I knew they sold manure. Because I Googled "manure for sale" and this stable near my house came up.
"How much you need?" the farmer asked.
"Oh, I dunno," I said. "It's a small rose garden. Nothin' grows on the south side."
The farmer could easily see I was carrying three large plastic bags, with a shovel under my arm.
"Come around back."
Now, I didn't expect the farmer to be cute. He was an older Hispanic man. Jet black hair, a big bushy mustache and three or four days growth of beard. He wasn't that heavy, but he was wearing a big blue coverall over his clothes that made him look bigger that he actually was.
Around the corner from the house was a barn and some other buildings where I had parked my car. There was also a huge manure pile, about as tall as I was, and about ten feet around. There was a field next to the barn, and a huge exercise yard (what do they call it? A horse paddock?) There looked like there was more manure in smaller piles a bit further off in the field, but this was the pile that the farmer led me to.
Everything smelled of horses. Not just manure, but also hay and straw and mud. It kind of made me sneeze and my eyes water. Without saying a word, the farmer too one of my plastic bags from me and walked over to where a shovel was sticking out of the manure.
I had brought along three "Ikea bags", these huge blue plastic things made out of tarp plastic. They are pretty much waterproof. I had also put a plastic liner down in the trunk of my car. And as I said, I went to the hardware store and bought a new shovel. But I made sure to take all the stickers off it, so it looked used (grin).
The farmer got to work. He put one of my bags on the ground and started shoveling the manure in there. I was having more trouble. I got my shovel ready, full of shit, and then my bag fell over. I set the bag on the ground again, and picked up the shovel, but when I put the first load into it, the sides collapsed, and then top hole snapped shut.
The farmer saw what was happening and came over. He picked up the blue bag, and held it open for me, so when I swung the shovel around, it was easy to dump the manure inside.
But here's the funny part: I still sucked at the job. When I turned the shovel, I wasn't quite over the bag, so more than half the shit spilled over the edge and all over the farmer's hand and arm.
The guy didn't say anything, but just waited for another shovelful. I did that, and by that time, there was enough weigh in the bag that it could stand upright. The farmer set the bag down, stood up and brushed the shit off his arm without saying a word. Then he went back to his own bag.
In a few minutes, the farmer had filled up two bags while I was still working on my first. Now, I noticed that there was a wheelbarrow next to the pile, and whoever's job it was to bring manure from the stables to the pile was kind of lazy. It looked like they just tipped the wheelbarrow at the very edge. Anyway, the part of the pile I was standing near had REALLY fresh horse manure. Very green and wet and still smelly.
The farmer's two bags weren't bad. But my bag was extremely wet and heavy. I tried to scoop all the liquid runny stuff I could off the ground. I would like to go back there later this summer and say, "That last stuff was good, but do you have anything fresher and easier to spread?"
Anyway, all of this is a true story. If you've ever been nervous at buying fresh manure from a horse or dairy farm... not be nervous at all. The farmers don't care. Especially if they have an ad on the internet -- selling crap is what they do. All you have to do is act nice.
Also note that (my farmer at least), didn't talk very much. I was prepared to answer a whole bunch of questions about what I was going to use the manure for, and how many "yards" were required. But the guy didn't ask me any of that stuff.
For future reference, you can easily say you want the fresh stuff and that you "don't want it composted". Some places leave it out for a few years (or more!) to let the manure rot and dry out. You don't want that... unless you do. I also didn't want "manure tea" where they pour water through dried manure to make a liquid fertilizer. But hell, maybe I'll buy some of that too, someday, to drink (grin)!
"How much can I pay ya?"
"Five bucks?" the farmer said.
"Here's ten." And yeah, I actually had several bills in my pocket so I could pay exact change if needed. I was ready.
I got back into my car and drove off, but I think I'm going to go back there in a few months.
(continued)
So, the other thing I bought before I went to the manure farm was a large inflatable pool. You can get them cheap nowadays. Mine was an eight foot by five foot pool that I bought for $30 (!) I intended to throw the thing away after that afternoon, and when you read on you'll see why.
The pool was already blown up in my garage. I parked my car in the driveway and brought the bags into the garage through the side door. Then I took my clothes off.
My dick was already hard. Hell, I had a hardon ever since leaving the farmer, and I had been playing with it a little during the drive home. I was thinking of all the things I was going to do with the three giant bags of shit in my trunk.
I had the whole rest of the day off and it wasn't even noon yet. But the temperature was rising in the garage with all the doors and windows shut, and already the smell of the manure was starting to rise.
Ah, the stink of all that shit in an enclosed space. How can I describe it? Sure, I was starting to get hard smelling it at the farm, but that was outside with a stiff breeze blowing. Here inside where it was warm and still, the odor was quite powerful. Once I was naked, I grabbed the first bag from the farmer and dumped it in the pool.
Those Ikea bags hold a lot of shit. They can hold up to 20 gallons, but even only half-full they were heavy. So, I'm guessing it was 10-12 gallons of horse manure. It easily covered the plastic bottom of the pool. I'd say I had four or five inches of manure in there from just one bag.
I stepped in gingerly. Man, I can't tell you how awesome that first step felt. My bare foot sinking into the manure. I stepped on a really soft turd, like a five inch ball of green grass, and it smashed down with my weight on it. Soft shit squelched up between my toes, and I almost slipped sideways as my foot mashed down into the plastic.
This was harder than I thought it would be. One step, two, and then I decided to sit down. The soft shit smashed against the bottom made it took tricky to walk. When do this again, I will wear an old pair of workboots that have traction. Better yet, I'll fill the workboots with runny horseshit first, and then tie them onto my feet so I'll have manure inside and out of my boots.
But for now, I knelt down. My knees slid into the shit, and that felt great. I had told myself I was going to go slow, but I just couldn't wait. I took huge handfuls of manure and spread it all over my crotch. My dick was really hard -- it had been erect since the drive home. But the sudden feeling of that shit almost made me cum. It was warm from sitting in the trunk on such a hot day.
I grabbed more handfuls of shit and dropped it over my head. But this bag of shit was still kind of dried-out. The lumps of crap just bounced off my head and fell off. Nothing stuck. But the smell was wonderful... a really earthy animal smell. Totally unlike human shit. It smelled like grass and hay, of course, but had an underlying stink of rot or musk. I loved it.
I plopped forward from my knees to my belly and plunged my hard cock into the shit below me. I squirmed against the pool for a while. It must have looked like I was doing the breaststroke in a swimming pool. I fucked my dick as hard as I could into the shit below me, but I couldn't quite cum. I turned around a sat back on my ass and enjoyed the way the soft shit squished up into my balls.
Yeah, I was happy as a pig in shit. But I still wanted to do more. So, I got up, and carefully walked to the edge of the pool. I grabbed the garden hose I had handy and I started to fill up the tub. This was tricky. I didn't want to add too much water, or I would float. Just enough to turn those hard turds into a thick slurry that I could massage all over my body and turn myself green.
After about ten minutes, I got the perfect consistency. The dried shit from the bag that the farmer shoveled for me was now a paste. I lopped the two other bags into the pool and got back in to play some more.
Now, I had thoughtfully prepared earlier, and there were a lot of other fun toys next to the pool that I had laid out. I grabbed a handful of "Elbow Grease" (a lube used for fisting) and started to work that up my asshole. I had my favorite dildo, and I rode it hard while I was kneeling again in the stinky shit that filled the inflatable pool.
Here was my goal: I wanted to widen my asshole up enough so I could shove massive amounts of manure up my ass. The dildo I picked out was small at the tip, but then grows in diameter to about six inches at the base. As I said, it's one of my favorites. I bounced up and down on the dildo for a while and sniffed poppers.
I was starting to go out of my mind. Poppers does that to me. I re-capped the poppers and started to jack off with the now-liquid shit. I took massive hands of glop and massaged it into my chest and shoulders. This time the mud stuck, and my body quickly turned completely green-brown covered in an inch thick of horse manure.
I spent the next hour wallowing in horse shit. I held my breath and ducked under, covering my whole head in shit. I rolled over so that not an inch of skin remained uncovered in manure. I got used to the smell after a while.
It took a long time, but finally I worked my asshole wide open enough that I could (kind of) fist myself. Or at least I could stick four fingers up there and relax enough so that my hole stayed open when I pulled my fist out. That's when I knew my ass was ready.
I took some hard softball-sized turds out of the second manure bag that the farmer had filled. I soaked them down with some oil-based lube, and then shoved them up my hole. The poppers helped a lot. I was out of my head enough so that I finally fit five or six pretty big round balls up my hole.
Man, my ass was full. Those semi-dried turds were swelling up after being soaked in oil and shoved up there. I moaned with the full feeling -- the pressure hitting my prostate and making my dick leak a lot into the smelly slurry underneath me. I took a smaller dildo and shoved that up me, pushing the shit further and further up my ass.
The feeling was incredible. I had never felt so stuffed. I moved the last bag of shit next to me. That bag was brimming with really soft shit, the liquid stuff that I had scraped off the floor of the barnyard. It stunk worse that the other two bags which were kind of dried out. And with a lot of excitement (and no little bit of dread), I knew what was going to happen next.
I told myself I was going to eat as much of that shit as I could. I put my head into the bag, leaning over while the small dildo was still in my ass. I jacked my dick furiously while I opened my mouth and sucked as much of that liquid shit into it as I could.
It tasted like... grass. Maybe like that wheatgrass juice they serve in hip restaurants. But it was also really rank. It tasted more like a smell than a flavor. I could almost chew it. I gulped down several cups of that dark brown-green liquid until I had to stop.
I don't think I ever really came. Unlike usual, I didn't have a huge orgasm and then stop (like I usually do). Instead, I spent about four hours just laying around. Sometimes, I would jack off, but when my dick got soft I would just close my eyes and float in the slop for a while. I ate a bunch more, alternating between chewing the dried-up horse turds from the second bag and drinking the liquid floating at the top of the third bag.
Anyway, all good things must eventually come to an end. And by that time, it had gotten dark outside. I got up and stepped out of the tub. Luckily, I have a really good drain in the middle of my garage floor. I took the garden hose and rinsed myself off as good as I could. I bet I still smelled bad, but by that time I didn't notice.
After I was no longer painted green, I put on an old pair of shorts and opened the garage door. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac, and none of my neighbors can really look into my garage from their angle. I pulled the now-heavy inflatable pool out of my garage and down my driveway.
It took some doing, but I was able to tip the tub over on its side, and all that liquid manure flowed out into my lawn. I was sure it would dry the next day and nobody would notice. It took another hour cleaning up my garage, though. But it's funny, when I went inside I took a thorough shower and went to bed. I could still sniff the manure under my pits, and I ended up having two amazing orgasms on after another while in bed before I slept.
The best thing was... the part of my lawn where I dumped all of that shit looked REALLY great for the rest of the summer. My lawn had never been so green!
Sir said he would force me to eat shit. To be precise, he was going to make me eat diarrhea from this bathroom.
It's the men's room at this gas station near where I live. It's actually the second men's room. There is a nicer bathroom inside the convenience store on the other side of the pumps. Most of the tourists use that one, before they shop for travel snacks and soda pop.
But this bathroom is at the far end of the parking lot. It was there since the sixties, and only the truckers use it if they want to fuel up with a credit card and they don't want to walk all the way to the main store where the cashiers are.
Of course, some truckers also use this bathroom because they have another goal in mind. And that's why we are here.
They don't clean this bathroom often. If ever, I imagine. Which is another reason most travelers avoid it. But it has a nice lock on the inside, and once you enter, you can block off the door so nobody else can bother you. For a least a few hours.
I've never actually met Sir. We have just talked on the internet. He said that maybe someday we would meet, but for right now, it's a virtual relationship. He likes to talk to me on the phone while he jacks off. We describe to each other the things we are doing to ourselves, the things we would like to do to each other. About six months ago, those phone chats got more and more intimate, and I confessed to him my darkest fantasies involving shit.
I was so worried that he's reject me, that it would be the end of our phone chats. That he would be disgusted with me and find some excuse to stop calling. I was horny "in the moment", and I didn't mean let slip all the details I shared. I was close to orgasm, and I told him in the filthiest language how I wanted to eat his shit, for him to force me to eat my own. How I wanted to play games with him involving pain and punishment, torture and bondage, getting grosser and more disgusting to see how far I could go to please him.
And to my surprise, Sir said, "Ok".
He said he'd be more than happy to make my dreams come true. And some of my nightmares, too.
Which is how I'm sitting in my car in this gas station at 1:50 am. I am pointedly not looking up from my steering wheel. That was one of the first instructions. I wouldn't try to see who came out of the back bathroom -- that I would sit patiently until EXACTLY 2 am, and then I was to leave my car, enter the men's room, and lock the door. Then, Sir would call me on my cell phone for further instructions.
Do you know how slow time passes when you are horny? 1:55, 1:56. I watched the clock on my car radio flip minute after minute, waiting to execute the plan. When it finally reached 2:00, I got out of my car and walked really fast to the bathroom.
The bathroom is more of a teen foot by ten foot shed. You can tell someone built it themselves, and it was a person not very familiar with construction. There are no windows, and the single ventilation fan hasn't worked for years. But the door is made of metal and really solid, and I yanked it open with a solid tug.
The smell hit me before I even had the door fully open. It was like an unwashed locker room, like a toilet that had never been cleaned, like a sewer. I rushed it and shut the door.
I couldn't see what the bathroom looked like at first. I could just smell it. The bright halogen lights of the parking lot blinded my eyes. The only light in the bathroom was from a hanging bare bulb, and the bulb was really low-wattage. And it looked like shit was coated on it too. In any case, there wasn't a lot to see by.
Which was frightening because I thought I was stepping on something. A wad of toilet paper, maybe? I prayed that's all it was. All of a sudden, my cell phone rang.
"Hello?" I stammered.
"Put yer phone on the sink and turn on the camera." It was Sir on the other end. Then Sir hung up.
I fumbled with my phone, and called Sir back using the conference app. He answered, but I couldn't see anything on his screen. But I knew he could see me. I looked at the sink. Fuck that was awful. It was half-full of liquid. Like dirty water and trash. Somebody had plugged up the drain, maybe with paper towels. No, that can't be right... there wasn't any paper towels anywhere to be seen.
The sides of the sink were even worse. There were streaks of shit all over the sides of the sink, like someone had taken a shit in it instead of in the toilet. There was a space on the edge near the cold water faucet handle, and I propped up my phone next to that.
A text message popped up in my browser. I could see the message floating over the camera app. "turn on flashlite asshole"
Oh. Sir couldn't see anything in this dark bathroom. I couldn't either. So, I picked up the phone and flicked on the camera light.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Sire, before the bathroom stunk. But I could have walked in there and pissed and left. But all of a sudden, I could see EVERYTHING in the bathroom, and that made it a hundred times worse. I could see where the smell was coming from.
Or rather, where ALL the smells were coming from, because there were so many sources.
The toilet was overflowing. I expected that. But there was a MOUND of shit in it. Shit and toilet paper mashed together like some weird sculpture. It was astounding. What kind of guy would shit on the very TOP of the pile? How could they have crawled up on top of the seat (and stood here?) to lay yet another turd upon the growing heap of shit that poked above the hole of the toilet? It was like a perfect cone.
And yeah, someone had shit in the sink. Again, I wondered at the physical skill needed to commit such an act. Did they bring in a step stool to help them? Did they jump up and down really fast? That last idea had some merit, because there was runny shit sprayed all over the sink, going up over the mirror. Someone must have had really good aim. Or a really explosive case of diarrhea.
The mirror was just a piece on industrial metal -- the kind that doesn't reflect very well. Besides the sink and bathroom, there wasn't anything else in the bathroom... not even a trash can. Someone had tiled the walls (badly), with what I think was white squares. It was hard to tell because there was shit all in the grout, and huge smears running down all four of the walls. It looked like someone butchered a steer in here.
And then I saw the floor. Someone (or probably, dozens of someones) had shit all over the floor. There were rolls of toilet paper paying about, most of them soaked half in liquid until the paper was shriveled and brown.
I heard my phone ding. "do you like it?" flashed a message.
I knew Sir could hear me, so I looked into the lens and nodded.
"pick up a turd and eat it"
I looked down. There were fresh turds, dried out turds, all different shapes. Christ some of them were inhumanely huge, like someone had molded several turds together into one. There were a few small links, too, like someone had brought a dog in here to crap. Who would bring a dog in here? I didn't want to pursue that line of thinking.
The shit by the wall looked the worse. Like it had been there a long time, all green and moldering. I quickly thought that the turds in the middle of the floor might be the freshest -- thinking that nobody had stepped on them yet. Right next to my shoe was one that wasn't so big. I thought I could handle it.
I bent over and picked it up. It was pretty hard and dried-out. I put it in my mouth and showed Sir on the camera. Now, I've had shit in my mouth before and it wasn't a big deal. This dusty turd just had a dry crusty texture, like sucking on dirt. I gagged a bit but was doing ok. I noticed my dick was rock-hard though.
The message on the phone said "chew and swallow".
Oh fuck, this makes it worse. I bit down and was surprised that the hard turd actually had a creamy center. Like someone had shit it out a week ago but it was still not dry all the way through. Worse, my teeth made the soft creamy shit in the middle gush out all over my tongue. All of a sudden, I could taste a whole lot of whatever that turd was made out of.
I spit on the turd involuntarily and started puking. I fell to my knees, and I barely noticed that my knees slid into something sticky. Worse, my hands hit the bathroom floor, and I hunched up like a dog, puking out my dinner right underneath the dirty sink.
It took a few minutes for the heaves to stop. I had trouble breathing, and there was an acid taste in my mouth. I looked up at the camera, my eyes red and watering. Traces of puke running down my chin and onto my shirt. I know this is what I looked like because Sir was taping this whole scene on the other side of the connection.
"having fun?" he typed out.
I nodded, though I wasn't really having fun.
"don't make me come in there an force you"
That idea made my dick hard again. My heart kind of ached. I don't know if you can understand. Part of me wanted to finally see this guy I had been chatting with online for so many months. But at the same time, these were the rules. This was as far as Sir was willing to go with me right now. Maybe the in the future, we would do a scene together in person, but not right now.
Sir was subtly reminding me of the deal we had made. He wouldn't be there in front of me to physically force me to do stuff. I had to have the will to torture myself. If at any time I told Sir that I didn't want to do something, he would just hang up and dissolve the relationship. He wasn't going to make me do something that I wasn't going to do myself.
I can understand why Sir felt this way. He wanted a compliant slave. It's a lot of work dealing with a stubborn boy -- there would have to be punishments and "time-outs" and rules about what could and couldn't be done in the relationship. Instead, for me, Sir gave the order, and I did them, no questions asked. That was one reason behind the no-meeting-in-person rule.
But at the same time, I fantasized about what would happen. What could happen. Me here kneeling on the floor, when the door bursts open. I am dazed in the sudden lights of the parking lot, as Sir steps through the door. Ay my height I only see his tight Wrangler jeans and the cowboy boots he always wears. He grabs the back of my head and slams my face into the mound of shit in the toilet. Really MAKES me eat it all. He grabs handfuls of aging shit and crams it into my mouth, holding his other hand over my over so I have to swallow if I want to breathe.
I notice myself get hard under my pants while I am thinking these things. I unzip my fly and take out my dick.
Yeah, I dream that Master puts me into a headlock. Drive a knee into my gut, making me gasp crawling into a ball on the floor. He kicks me with his boots, several times, hitting my ribs and making huge bruises on my legs. And he is yelling at me, calling me faggot, saying he if going to keep kicking me until I start eating shit. And even then, as I slide my face all over the dirty bathroom floor, hoovering up old turds and chewing them, he is going to keep kicking me, aiming particularly for my balls, just because it gives him pleasure to do so.
Ok, in reality, none of this happens. Instead, I am on the bathroom floor, my knees soaking up some odiferous pool of liquid. I have my dick in my hand and it's drooling pre-cum. I am jacking it off furiously, looking straight into the camera with the light directly on me.
With my other hand, I grab the remaining pieces of that turd, the one I tried to eat before. The one with my puke all over it now. I wanted to show Sir I could succeed. I crammed it into my mouth and swallowed. Then I grabbed a bigger turd. One that I rejected previously because it looked too big and really slimy.
I crammed that turd in my mouth, and it filled my cheeks like a chipmunk. I had shit dripping down my chin, and it was hard to close my lips. I chewed with an open mouth and swallowed. This time I fucked up because I was showing off too much, I guess. Or maybe I was just in "shit lust" and my eyes were bigger than my stomach. The first bite was too big, and I coughed it up again, spraying half the bathroom with the soft shit that was in my mouth.
Back to square one. I was frantically looking around the floor for more pieces of shit I could eat on camera when another message rang. "need some drink?"
I didn't know what Sir meant. Sure, but I bet the water taps just spurted out filthy brown rusty water, if anything.
"get cup behind door"
I looked over to the door. There on the floor next to a pile of sopping wet towels was a red solo cup, the kind guys use for beer busts. I crawled over to where it was and got it. It had a crack down the side, but still looked useable.
"drink sink water" was all my phone said.
The water in the sink looked like someone was doing laundry in it. There were piles of paper towels and maybe somebody's underwear floating in there. I scooped up a cupful of the brown liquid and held it up to my nose.
I think that was my problem, I shouldn't have smelled it before I drank it. I know it was probably a cupful of shit and piss and who knows what else. So, before I could think too much about it, I tossed it back and swallowed as fast as I could in one go.
I wish I could say what it tasted like, but I can't. Just like filth. Like dirt. Not that it was muddy, but it was kind of like that. It was like the color brown in liquid form. There were a lot of gritty particles like sand, and it coated my tongue before it went down. It would be false bravery to say it tasted bad, but mostly it just tasted like something human beings weren't supposed to drink, if that makes sense.
"do it again" he said.
Ok, the second cup went faster. I worried for a second he'd make me hold the foul brew in my mouth for a long time, or gargle with it, or wash my face in the sink. It's funny how my own imagination is a hundred times worse that what a Master or Top has ever really done to me. I guess my brain starts to think, "What's the worst thing that would happen?" and my imagination fills in the rest.
Funny thing is, my dick had never been so hard. As I said, I dreamt for a minute that Sir would make me drink EVERYTHING that was in the sink. Eat every piece of toilet paper or whatever was clogging up the drain. Human hair. Big pieces of shit that had been underwater for months. Each thought brought spasms of joy to my dick as I thought about it. Sir making me lick the outside of the sink. The UNDERSIDE. Make me suck on the faucet handles like they were metal cocks until they shone with my spit. Make me lick the bathroom completely clean before I could leave, even if that tool months.
But we didn't have months. Sirs next text was "lick the shit toilet"
I knew he meant shit in the TOILET. That huge mound I had forgotten about. The one stinking up the room worst of all. Sure. Lick it. I could do that.
I repositioned the camera so the light shone directly on me kneeling in front of the throne. I bent over. I put my hand on my knees because I didn't want to touch the sides of the toilet, or the seat. I leaned over and...
Ok, I could see everything. I could see it up really close. It was an least a hundred guys' shit in there. Everything from dark brown to light tan. Some guy's shit was a bright green -- I bet he wasn't feeling too good. And Over all over it, like the sauce on an ice cream sundae, was a huge runny load of diarrhea.
Here's what happened: here is what I found out later. Sir prepared for a week in order to bring me this scene. He ate like a pig, everything that he usually avoids on his diet. Sir has an amazing body and lifts weights five times a week. So, usually carbs are out, sugar and dessert are a no.
But not this week. Sir had been stuffing himself with fast food. Tons of twinkies and prepackaged desserts. Entire pizzas. Lots of meat and beans. And then a whole lot of milk.
Sir is kind of lactose intolerant. That's ok, a lot of us guys get that was as we get older. And what Sir had done is brewed me a up a giant batch of gut gravy. I'm amazed that he was able to hold old long enough to visit this rest room.
That was the reason for this meeting -- this is what I was here for. I was to lick up all the runny shit Sir had left behind for me. While he watched on the webcamera, recording every bit.
"ssee how much iIlove you?" the text read.
See how much I do for you? See how I am willing to make myself sick, make my guts ache and explode just for your enjoyment? How could you refuse this gift, now that you know how much it sucked to give myself a stomachache just for you? That's love.
I knew what I had to do. I reached for the plastic solo cup. But then thought a second time. I rolled up my sleeves and plunged both hands into the edges of the shit. Where the soft runny stuff had rolled down the mountain and gathered in a puddle at the base. I lifted my hands up, dark brown, and licked them like I was scraping chocolate frosting off an egg beater.
Again and again I grabbed handfuls of soft shit. I smeared it on my face. I used a handful to jack off with as lube. But I made sure I wasn't going to cum just yet. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to cum and then be forced to eat this shit. Oh who am I kidding -- that's EXACTLY the kind of the I COULD imagine. I jacked off with one hand thinking about being forced to eat huge amounts of crap, then being jacked off to orgasm, and then made to repeat the cycle. Over and over.
It really stirred up the smell in the room, there was almost a dark cloud of stench blowing around the enclosed space. I was in a frenzy. I was getting shit everywhere. I had no idea how I was going to get in my car and drive home.
There was a final text "nite slave have fun" and then the connection with my phone dropped. Sir was no longer watching. Was he in the parking lot? Was he driving away, leaving me alone, with shit smeared all over my face and clothes, and a growing belly full of shit? Was this scene over?
Nah. He said "have fun". And so I had fun. I stayed in that bathroom for the next few hours. I wish I had brought along some beer or something. Or some plastic tarps for my car seats. But all pleasure must have an element of suffering, and I sure suffered.