Marshall, Male, late-30s

	- Master / Toilet

	- Beige skin, cropped brown hair, 5'10, 160lbs

Carol, Female, late-30s

	- Mistress / Toilet

	- Freckled pale skin, shoulder-length blonde hair, 5'8, 125lbs

Author's note: I had a long-time reader of mine ask that I write a more hardcore scat story. I was very reluctant to do so for several reasons. First, the acts involved are not a turn on to me, so I worried that it would be difficult to describe them in a way the reader might enjoy. Second, the acts are not something I've tried to write previously and I was concerned that I might not capture a 'realistic' description of the acts. Third, I didn't want readers of my other stories, especially the series which did not involve scat but also the relatively-less-hardcore ones such as The Naturals and The Brown Spots, to be turned off by what was written here.

Still, it was a challenge I decided after many months to accept. The reader has been very understanding and suggested a few ways the story might go, allowing me total freedom to dictate the narrative, with the only request being that it be a scat story which featured both male and female scat, as well as eating and smearing. Again, I was lukewarm at best to this idea, but I do wish to challenge myself to write stories outside my comfort zone, and so long as it doesn't involve non-consensual acts or other abusive accounts, I decided I was willing to give it a go, and with some feedback from the requesting reader to help me get the right 'feel' for the events involved, I hope it has turned out well.

What follows is a one-off, single-chapter story which resulted from that request and my decision to write it. It more hardcore than the scat scenes in the The Naturals. I've done my best to give an account which, I hope, is a turn on for the reader who made the request, as well as any readers who enjoy this sort of tale.

Again, this is a scat story featuring eating and smearing. I strongly suggest this sort of thing play out only in your imagination. The health risks are severe, and the dangers of these acts are very real. I'm not your doctor, your psychologist, your therapist, nor your close friend, so I pass that warning on only as an author's reminder that what I write is not reflective of the serious consequences of the reality of such acts as described in this story. No judgements intended, but I felt it necessary to put such a caution ahead of the story for those who might not be able to easily separate fantasy from reality.

You've been warned.

- - -

Marshall:

My mistress bent forward, naked, her slender, nearly flat buttocks stretching and rounding as she did so. She was blonde with a trimmed pussy which held short, light hairs around her slender pink-red vulva, a sparse few near her pink anus. I'd taken my position as she squatted slightly over the toilet, me on my knees, my face inches from her crotch.

“Lick me, Toilet” Carol commanded.

I loved to do as she told me. My tongue slid out and I lapped against her asshole, the bittersweet essence already there. She'd been holding her load all morning, and I could taste some of it on her wrinkled flesh. The odor of her bowels was still light, but I could detect it quite easily. I grew hard as I worshipped my mistress's ass with my tongue and mouth.

“Enough,” Carol said, pushing her hips down just slightly. I pulled back and watched as she began to push.

Mistress's pink anus opened a bit, a small fart sliding through.

“Smell it.”

I inhaled on command, pressing against her wrinkled hole, letting the woman's rich, sharp odors coat my nose and fill my lungs. I breathed steadily in and out, her scent distinctively earthy and raw.

While her puckered hole held open slightly, she told me, “Lick it.”

I did, tasting a slightly stronger flavor from her bowels, darting my tongue around the rim and just inside her slippery anus.

“Enough.”

I pulled back again and waited for her next instruction.

“Hold out your hands,” Carol demanded, and I did so automatically.

She grunted with effort and the tip of a dark-brown turd pushed out of her asshole and started to grow. Carol grunted again a second later, and her anus twitched, breaking off a chunk which fell into my hands. It was warm, reasonably firm, and the strong odors of her bowels flooded the air in the bathroom.

“Put it on your cock,” Carol commanded.

“Yes, Mistress.” I drew the turd down to my groin and spread it quickly onto my length, the sticky, thick poo spreading fairly easily to completely coat my dick. The homogenous shit felt warm and wonderful.

“Hold out your hands,” she told me again.

More shit slid from her body, medium-brown this time and somewhat more pliable, soon forming a warm pile against my palms and fingers. My mistress filled my waiting hands in seconds, snapping off a few sputtering farts as the last of her stool slid out and hung in her ass a moment before she squeezed her anus and the turds dropped onto the pile I was holding.

“Smell it.”

I brought the mess under my nose and inhaled. It was raw and ripe, very strong odors of her bowels turning me on and making my shit-covered penis throb with arousal.

“Taste it, Toilet.”

I did as commanded, pressing my tongue against the shit in my hands. It was not as disgusting as most might think. I fought an involuntary gag a moment as the bittersweet, earthy turds made my lips brown and messy. I gagged again when a wet chunk remained on my tongue after I lapped through the stool, but I held back the reflex from that point, and waited for Mistress to tell me what to do.

She looked back over her shoulder at me, saying, “Swallow.”

I pushed the turd into the back of my mouth and tried to take it down my throat. It caught a moment, my gag reflex trying to stop what I was doing. I had a lot of practice eating Carol's shit, though, and seconds later, the scat was flushed down my throat and into my stomach.

“Clean me.”

I leaned forward and let my tongue slide over her brown, sticky asshole. It tasted much as the shit in my hands did, and though it took a few moments of licking and swallowing, the bittersweet stool around Mistress's pink anus slowly disappeared onto my tongue and into my stomach.

“Put my shit in your mouth.”

It was a tall order. The pile in my hands was as much as she'd ever given me, and I tried to push it all between my lips. I gagged twice, then again, my jaw stretching to take it all in. Most of it soon resting on my tongue, I waited again for my mistress to tell me what to do.

“Chew it.”

This was always the hardest part. My body knew what I did was disgusting and risky. My throat spasmed in revulsion. My mind, however, wanted nothing more than to follow my mistress's commands. I started to chew the sticky turds, controlling my gag reflex enough to turn the firm stool into soft-serve, letting the sensation rush through me. It was so taboo, so nasty, so wonderful, to chew Carol's shit.

“Swallow.”

Several long moments passed, Carol watching me eat the turds which had just minutes before been held inside her bowels. It took more chewing, more gagging, before I finally was able to push the bulk down my throat.

“Rrrahhhch,” I gagged, “rrrahhch.” I chewed what remained and swallowed again, the dense stool almost burning as it went down my throat. “Rrrahhhch.” I trembled with revulsion and arousal.

“Show me.”

My lips opened and I stuck out my tongue. I knew bits of shit were still caught on my teeth and in my mouth. I hoped I had not disappointed my mistress.

“Lick your fingers.”

I did so, my gag reflex no longer an issue. I could almost feel the warm turds still moving down my throat and into my stomach. I used my tongue and lips to clean as much of the shit from my hands as possible.

“Show me,” my mistress demanded.

I opened wide again, chunks of Carol's bittersweet shit held inside my mouth.

“Jack off.”

I leaned back slightly and took my poo-covered dick in my hand. While she watched, I stroked myself rapidly, using the shit as lube.

“Stop.”

I froze, used to my mistress's commands making me delay my gratification.

Urine shot from her urethra and splashed against my chest and ran down over my dick and balls. I knew from experience she expected me to catch some of it, so I moved my face closer and let the warm, bitter pee collect in my mouth.

When she'd finished, she looked back again and said, “You may cum.”

My hand flew over my cock, my lips still open, showing Carol the stinky, sticky mess of pee and shit in my mouth. I started to buck against my movements, and seconds later, warm, bubbling pleasure rushed into me as I ejaculated against the front of the commode.

I tried to catch my breath, which was not easy with a mouth full of my mistress's piss and shit.

She eyed me a moment, then turned around and put down the toilet cover, settling her ass on top. Her hand slid to her pussy and while I struggled to breath, my mouth open to display the contents inside, Carol masturbated freely. I knew it turned her own to see me like that, so despite my discomfort, my need to shift to a new position, and the urge to clear my mouth of its disgusting filling, I remained motionless so that my mistress could enjoy me completely.

Carol came a moment later, writhing and closing her eyes briefly. As she rolled down, the pleasure clear on her face, she started to urinate again, splashing acrid pee over my body briefly before her stream slowed to a trickle.

“Swallow,” she told me, with less conviction than before her orgasm.

I did so in earnest, flushing the mix of shit and urine down my throat and gagging lightly as the warm mess filled my stomach.

And in a flash, our play was over. Carol's body signaled the change when she smiled and leaned forward, bringing her lips to mine, using her tongue to lap away the smears of shit still there. “Mmm...” she purred as she tasted her feces, then she said, “you are the best toilet.”

“I only wish to serve,” I replied, speaking honestly.

“And tomorrow, I get to do the same for you.”

“I look forward to that,” I told her, feeling only slightly nauseous, a sensation I was very used to over the months with Carol. I actually rather enjoyed it. “Right now, though... with all your shit and piss in my stomach... does that make you happy?”

“Very much,” Carol replied with a smile, “and I can't wait to be your toilet tomorrow.”

- - -

Carol:

“It's not all going in your mouth tonight, Toilet,” my master told me directly. “Some is going in your pussy.”

I nodded and replied, “I welcome this, Master.”

“As you are trained to do,” he said with a smile. “First, you will shit for me.”

I was on my back on the bed, towels over an absorbent pad. I knew my bowels were full, and I loved to empty them when my master desired it.

“Open your legs and shit into your hand,” Master told me.

I pulled my knees up, my feet on the bed, and spread my thighs wide. I could feel the pressure in my bowels become urgent as I moved a hand down between my legs and formed a cup with my palm and fingers under my asshole.

I relaxed and pushed out, warm, sticky shit soon filling my hand. I smelled the rank odors immediately as my master watched me defecate. The shit overflowed my fingers. I caught as much as I could, my anus burning lightly.

“Enough,” Marshall told me. “Hold the rest.”

I closed my butthole with effort, barely holding back the last of the stool. I waited for instructions.

“Put half in your mouth.”

I brought my shit-filled hand in front of my face. The strong odors filled my nose. I was used to the smell of my own feces and it had always brought me pleasure to sniff it. The eating part, that had come more recently in my life, thanks to the training from my master. He'd taught me how to enjoy chewing and swallowing the disgusting things which came out of my ass.

My pussy was dripping as I used my clean hand to separate the mass of stool in the other into halves, then opened my mouth. The warm, sticky shit tasted horrid at first, more bitter than usual. I gagged, fighting to regain control.

“Put half in your mouth,” my master repeated when I paused. He didn't like it when I didn't do as commanded quickly enough.

I sucked in my breath, concentrated, then pressed the half-fist-sized chunk of my own shit between my lips. My throat contracted. “Gluhhhk,” I gagged, “gluhhhhhk-ahhk” I fought the urge to throw up and kept the warm stool inside, though just barely.

The sweet taste began to grow, and I relaxed further. I always found the sweetness surprising, though usually I didn't experience the strong bitter up front and isolated. I moaned to my master that I had myself under control.

“Chew it.”

I did as commanded, my teeth slicing easily through the soft feces. The bitter and sweet aspects mixed and so my enjoyment of the act grew. Marshall watched me closely as I chewed and awaited the command to swallow.

It didn't come. Instead, my master told me, “Stop chewing, Toilet.”

I did so, and Master stepped over my body, turning around, and then squatted over my mouth.

I watched his hairy asshole open and, very quickly, a dark-brown turd slid out and broke free, making a light splash against the chewed-up shit resting on my tongue. It caused me to flinch and jerk, and Master smacked my thigh hard three times. He said nothing, but I knew why he'd punished me.

He raised up, still not giving the command to swallow, his scat added to the bulk in my mouth made it hard to breath, the stink becoming thick. I held still and tried not to vomit or gag.

Marshall squatted again over me, this time above my breasts. I had, many times, had Master's shit on my round, heavy tits, and I looked forward to the sensation to come.

Shit slid out of his anus and made a long rope over one of my tits. He cut off his scat, commanding, “Cover your tits.”

I rubbed the warm shit onto my breasts, some of my own turds mixing with my master's to make my globes brown and sticky. He watched me until he was satisfied that my jugs were sufficiently filthy, then he turned and squatted again, this time facing me, hovering just over my spread thighs.

“Hold your pussy open,” Master commanded.

I used my shit-covered fingers to draw back my labia and held still, my drooling cunt awaiting my master's gift. He grunted and I felt warmth spread over my vulva, his stool turning softer. I tried to catch it all.

Marshall shook a time or two, then rose up. He eyed my body, and I awaited his next instruction.

Instead of telling me what to do, he slid between my legs and rested on my body completely. I felt his weight as it pressed down, making my already-difficult breathing that much harder. I'd had practice, though, and the mix of his shit and mine in my mouth held steady, the urge to puke and gag having passed some minutes earlier.

I felt Master's cock pulsing against my thigh, and then his hand moved between us, pushing it against my shitty pussy. He thrust in, and I felt myself open to his penetration. It turned me on to feel his shit pushing inside my vagina. When he started to fuck me hard, his body still pressing down on mine, my clit hardened and throbbed. The shit on and in my pussy squished and felt amazing, so warm, sticky, also slick. It coated my genitals and it added to the stimulating sensations on my clit.

I came first, which I knew Master liked. He never gave me permission to cum, unlike the way I treated him when he was my toilet. Marshall rather enjoyed the fact that I climaxed when he fucked me with shit inside my cunt. I barely kept from gulping down the stool in my mouth, barely able to breath through my nose.

Master's body thrashed hard against mine, his cock pushing scat deep into my vagina with each thrust. The shit on my breasts was smearing onto my master's chest, and despite him not commanding it, I wrapped my arms around his body and pulled him tight to me, my filthy hands smearing his shit and mine onto his back.

Master shuddered when I did so, and from the way he grunted and how his penis swelled inside me, I knew he was close to cumming. His head raised and hovered over mine as he stared at the mess in my mouth. “Swallow,” he commanded.

I did. Like a long-awaited release, I gulped down the thick shit in my mouth, pushing his turds and my own down my throat and into my waiting stomach. I gagged lightly once, “Guhhhnack,” and then he kissed me, his tongue thrust rapidly inside. I gagged again into his mouth, tnen again, “Grrrnnawck,” and Master moaned in response.

Marshall's semen barely registered as it splashed inside me, but I knew it was there. I was fully receptive to him, my legs spread wide, my vagina open, my arms holding him tight, my mouth his to moan into. He filled me with his cum in hard jerks against me, signaling his approval of how I'd performed.

He broke our kiss and I tried to catch my breath, the dank, slightly-repulsive smell of shit heavy in the air, and the bittersweet taste of it still lingering in my mouth. “Good Toilet.” He commended me, and I felt pleasure at his acknowledgement.

Marshall moved off me slowly and looked down, “You are one filthy Toilet,” he commented, “and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“I am pleased, Master,” I said, smiling and licking the shit from my lips. “I am yours to use as you wish.”

Almost on cue, he started to urinate on me, his hot pee splashing onto my shit-covered flesh and all over the towels. I rubbed it into the scat already coating me, and caught more in my mouth. I let go my own bladder and pissed freely between my very messy parted thighs. Master groaned his approval.

“Next time,” Marshall told me, “you will put my shit in your ass.”

I purred, “Nothing would make me happier.”

He rolled back onto the bed, and the role play was complete. We kissed and relaxed, filthy with shit and piss, and my time as Master's toilet was complete for the moment. All that was left was the cleaning up of the bed and our bodies, a task which was almost as much fun as being a Toilet.