FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Benson slowly ambled down the sidewalk, mentally exhausted from his day at work. Luckily, there was a train station only a couple blocks from his apartment, meaning he didn't have to deal with driving to or from the office. As he headed back home, he spared a smile or a wave with the little energy he had left for a few of his neighbors. A little way down the street from his place, one of the couples he'd met a few times was laying out in their front yard, enjoying the sun. The hyena was on his back, legs in the air, while his coyote partner was on his belly, face shoved directly into the hyena's ass. It was anyone's guess whether it was a simple rimjob, or whether the coyote was getting his dinner a bit early. Benson gave a small nod to the hyena, who seemed to enjoy watching the passersby, knowing he had at least a small audience for their naughty deeds. He couldn't say much himself - the bear wasn't wearing a thing either, preferring to go out in the nude, like most furs these days.

Closer to his apartment, Benson spared a wave upward. The lynx who lived above him was sitting out on the balcony, casually jerking off. Based on the small splats on the ground, it wouldn't be his first load, and he had no qualms about spraying his cum onto the sidewalk below. As Benson looked up, however, he inadvertently stepped into a pile of cold excrement on the ground, feeling it squish between his toes. He sighed and scraped some of it off quickly before heading inside, not bothering to make sure it was fully clean.

Relief washed over him as he headed back inside, happy to be back home. He walked over to his desk and collapsed down at it, having left a few shitty footprints in his wake. The bear yawned, leaning back in his computer chair and scratching at his light brown belly fur. His claws raked through the tangled mess, occasionally ripping a few of the stray hairs apart as his fingers broke up the various substances covering them. While he wasn't massive, the big bear did have a bit of a belly on him, lightly pressing against the edge of the desk.

After a long day, there was nothing he was looking forward to more than simply relaxing at his computer with no responsibilities. The ursine slowly blinked as he mindlessly scanned through his feed. Most of it was dominated by food-related posts, and he made sure to save a couple recipes that sounded particularly interesting. The rest was mostly pics and videos from friends doing nasty things, including one that caught his eye where his rabbit friend had posed next to the shit-covered cock that fucked him on the subway that morning. He let out a small chuckle when he saw the comments where others wanted to know who was that hung, but the lapine truly had no idea who the other guy was.

It wasn't until he saw a video that combined his interests that he sat a little more upright in his chair. As he shifted, he leaned slightly to the side and sighed with relief as a small burst of flatulence echoed out, splattering the seat with a few specks of shit. Benson paid it no mind though, knowing it would blend in well with the other stains both on the chair and throughout his apartment.

What caught his eye was a video titled 'The Perfect Shit - Trophy Presentation.' Unable to resist, he hit the play button and watched as a large, muscled lion accepted the trophy - naturally in the shape of a nicely coiled pile of feces - from an orange vulpine, both as naked as the day they were born. A small festival crowd applauded as the lion hoisted the trophy into the air, giving a cocky grin to the audience.

"Congratulations to Nur, our first back-to-back winner here in the Perfect Shit competition! With an average score of 9.5 across color, consistency, taste, presentation, and quantity, this marks a new high for our little contest! So, tell me, how do you do it? What do you do to make your shit so - if I may say so - delicious?" The vulpine asked, holding the microphone up toward the lion's muzzle.

"You may," the lion, never losing his smile, "but that secret stays with me. If you're really interested though, perhaps you can come by tonight, and I can give you another taste of the good stuff. Maybe you'll figure it out."

"It's a date," the fox replied with a smirk of his own. "How could anyone resist an offer like that?" he asked rhetorically with a small laugh. "Anyway, there you have it folks! Congrats again to Nur for his prize-winning shit, and now if you'll excuse us, I need to go give the winner his proper prize," he trailed off, and the video cut out as the fox started reaching for the lion's cock.

Benson finally lowered his gaze just a bit, reading the text alongside the video. 'Remember, this year's competition is only two months away! Sign up now, and see if you can take on Nur, our winner from the last two years!'

"Pfft. I can beat that," the bear muttered to himself. "Everyone I know raves about how deliciously disgusting my shit is," he said, lowering his paw and wiping it along the back of his leg, scraping up a few of the wetter bits and sucking it off his finger. "Yeah, even that's amazing. I bet I could take him on," he continued, before pausing for a moment. "Ugh, right, they care about presentation too...Probably can't just dump a mess on their table and have them get off to the taste and call it a day."

Benson grumbled, disappointed, realizing it might not be something he could pursue. He went back to his scrolling journey, moving past another couple nasty pictures before landing on one of a chef presenting his meal. Suddenly, inspiration struck him - Benson knew this guy, since he'd been to the stallion's restaurant at least weekly for the last year or so. They'd become pretty good friends over that time and had fooled around on quite a few occasions.

The bear glanced over at the clock and realized it wasn't too late yet. He grabbed his phone off the desk and phoned up the stallion, waiting for a couple rings before a voice picked up at the other end.

"Hello?" The gruff voice answered, though sounded like he was a bit out of breath.

"Hey, Rourke? It's Benson," the bear said. "Bad time?"

"Balls deep in some guy I met outside work, but I can talk," Rourke replied.

"Nice. You take him back to your place?" Benson asked.

"What? No, we're just on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Line's starting to form for who goes next too," the stallion answered.

"Ha, should've guessed," Benson said with a small chuckle. "Anyway, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, the restaurant."

"What, you want a job or something?" the horse asked, panting softly. "Don't think we're hiring."

"No, no, not so much. I came across this thing online talking about the 'Perfect Shit' competition - you heard of it?" Benson asked.

"Yeah, just in passing though. It's not a huge thing, but local guys like to see who can take the best dump, and some toilet mouths judge it, right?" Rourke asked.

"Basically, yeah. I kinda want to take a shot at it, and figured since you're a chef, you might be able to give me a few pointers?" Benson proposed.

"I dunno dude, it's been a while since I've done any shit dishes. I usually cook for the feeders, not the eaters," Rourke answered.

"Come on, man, it'll be fun. Who knows, might give you some new ideas for the restaurant too," Benson pleaded.

"Ugh, alright. I'll be over tomorrow, and we can talk it through. I'll bring a friend as well," the horse answered. "Gotta go though, about to bust in this faggot's ass."

"Let him have it," Benson said, egging the horse on. "See you tomorrow, buddy," he replied, hanging up and leaving the stallion to his fuck.

"This is going to be fun..." the bear muttered to himself, licking his lips as he took hold of his cock, picturing all the nasty stuff they'd get up to the next day. With his spare paw, he pulled up one of his favorite sites, focusing on getting off quickly. He returned to one of the videos he frequently used, watching a couple elephants pass an otter back and forth, taking turns shitting straight down his throat, not giving him the slightest break. Benson sped up each time a new log crackled out, really appreciating the sound work in the video, listening closely to every little gag and choking noise the otter made in struggling to swallow his meal.

It only took a couple minutes, but with his fervent pawing, Benson milked a fresh load out of his grimy length. It sprayed over the keyboard and desk, leaving white streaks and stains on everything it touched. He slumped back as his post-orgasm bliss washed over him, leaving him breathing heavily in his chair, a smile across his lips.

Benson rested there for a little while, but soon rolled his eyes when he caught sight of the clock. More time had passed than he realized, and he knew he had to head to bed before he ended up completely screwing over his sleep schedule. With a sigh, he arose, leaving his jizz behind on the desk to dry as he made his way toward an equally soiled bed, crawling under the sheets and getting comfortable, drifting off with dreams of taking the perfect shit.

---

The next morning, the big brown bear arose bright and early, more excited for the day than he'd been in a while. Thankfully he didn't have work, so he and Rourke could spend all afternoon planning his intestinal cuisine. They'd texted back and forth a bit, eventually settling on meeting around one. That time soon came and went though, leaving Benson wringing his paws in nervous excitement as he sat in the living room.

"Come on...where is he?" the bear muttered, staring over toward the door and repeatedly checking his phone. It was now 1:20, but still no word from the horse. Benson was more excited than he thought he'd be to start his training, and really hoped Rourke wasn't about to bail on him. He grumbled softly, debating whether to just call the stallion or not, when finally a pounding sounded out through his apartment. The bear sprang up, practically running across the room to answer the door, ripping it open to reveal the horse outside, next to a diapered otter accompanying him.

"Hey, hey, come on in!" The ursine said, ushering them into his home. "I'm Benson," the bear replied, speaking to the otter and offering his paw.

"Julian," the mustelid replied, reaching out his own and giving a firm shake.

"What kept you guys so long? Was worried you'd gotten lost or something," Benson asked.

"Stopped to piss along the way," Rourke answered. "Was a fox in the stockades downtown. I pissed, he kept sucking, and...you know how it goes."

Benson just laughed. "Are you ever not fucking someone?"

The horse just stared blankly for a second. "Dude, I'm a horse in a world where sex is public and encouraged. Of course I'm never not fucking someone," Rourke replied. "Who doesn't want horse cock?"

"Fair, fair," Benson answered. "Well, I'm just glad you guys made it. This is going to be great."

"I hope so. You seemed pretty excited when we texted earlier," Rourke answered. "Oh, I never did explain - Julian's here to help taste test, by the way. I know you eat yourself too, but he's a food critic that's been in the restaurant a few times, and usually samples the shit-filled stuff. He's got a pretty good mouth on him, and not just for eating."

"Aww, you're so sweet," Julian said with a smirk, reaching over and groping the nude equine's shaft. "More talk like that and you'll get to try it again soon."

Benson just shook his head. It was going to be difficult to keep these two on track it seemed. "Sounds like the perfect guy to help out," he answered, trying to steer things back the way he thought they'd go. "Did Rourke fill you in on what we're doing?"

"Oh, he filled me in alright," Julian replied.

Ugh. Benson rolled his eyes. He did appreciate the wordplay, but really wanted to focus on his shit. He'd have to try to choose his words more carefully. "Good," he started, choosing to interpret it seriously. "Well, in that case, we should talk strategy. The competition rewards color, consistency, taste, presentation, and quantity," he rattled off, going back to the list a couple times earlier to memorize it. "I think quantity I've got down," he continued, rubbing over his gut, "but the rest we'll have to work on. Color, consistency, and taste all probably come down to diet, which I'm hoping you guys can help me with. Presentation...I have no idea."

"Well, again, been a while since I dealt with that side of things, but I think I've got what I ate before days I had to serve at the restaurant here somewhere," Rourke answered. "Presentation isn't as bad as you think though. It's mostly just about getting a good coil on it, and making a nice, neat pile. There's a small aspect of speed too - you don't want it all to just flop out of your ass and go everywhere - so control kinda matters. That's probably the easiest portion to get down. We can even work on that today, until we get a few good competition-ready meals cycled through you."

"Perfect! How do we start?" Benson asked.

"Bend over," Rourke said simply.

Benson sighed. "Look, I know you fuck constantly, but I don't want to get railed right now."

"No, no, not for that, or at least, not yet. Though I'm not saying no if you change your mind. I just want to see your asshole," Rourke answered.

"Uh...okay, I guess, but I swear if I feel your cock back there..." Benson said warily, turning around and leaning against the couch in the room, placing his paws on it and facing away from the others.

"Oh relax," Rourke answered. "Control over your shit comes down to how you use your hole. First, I just want to see how tight you are - I'm gonna finger you," he said in warning, kneeling down behind the bear. Julian followed him down, both of them facing the fat, shit-covered ass of the ursine before them.

Rourke raised one of his fingers and shoved it against Julian's lips, and the otter needed no further instructions. He bobbed up and down over the horse's digit, sucking every last bit of grime off it and still going. Benson waited hesitantly for a couple minutes, listening to the slurping going on behind him, before finally turning his head back. "Uh...guys?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Rourke answered, pulling his wet finger back and leaving Julian's maw empty once more. The otter let out a small whine as he did, even though he knew it wasn't going to last forever.

Benson jumped a second later, not quite expecting Rourke to get to work so quickly. The horse wormed his finger inside the bear's tailhole, wiggling it around and pulling on the sphincter, finding it tighter than he expected. With a sigh, he pulled it back out, letting his arm fall back to his side.

"Seems a bit too tight to me. Julian, check me on it if you want," the stallion remarked.

The otter needed no further push. He practically dove in, but rather than using his finger, shoved his face between the burly bear's ass cheeks and shoved his tongue straight inside. He swirled it around, collecting the streaks and chunks of waste he came in contact with, gulping them down without a moment's notice.

Benson moaned softly as the wet appendage rooted around inside his ass, his cock quickly stiffening and pressing against his gut. While he was focused on his training, he couldn't deny the arousal he felt. Unable to resist, he reached back and shoved the otter's head against his hole, grinding it around and smearing his face back and forth.

After a couple minutes, the bear finally let go of the diapered otter. Julian fell backwards once the pressure on his head was released, panting softly. His cheeks were covered in shit, though it was anyone's guess how much of that was Benson's versus what was already there. Even as out of breath as he was, Julian still tried his best to keep licking at it. The front of Julian's diaper was obviously tented as well, sharing the ursine's enjoyment.

Benson sighed as he stood back up, turning again to face his guests, with all three of their cocks proudly pointing at each other. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Definitely tight," Julian replied. "You were right, Rourke."

"So...why's that a problem, again?" Benson asked.

"If you're too tight, you lack control. You basically have to push out as hard as you can just to make it flow, so you really only have one speed. If you're looser but still can hold it in, you have some variability there - push softly to make it flow slower, or really hard if you want it to all come out quickly. You want that flexibility if you care about presentation, otherwise it's going to be really hard to get a nice, neat pile on the table," Rourke explained.

"Okay...I guess that makes sense," Benson started, but paused a moment before he continued. "...I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this already, but how do we loosen me up?"

Rourke just grinned, reaching down and taking hold of his cock, giving it a couple quick pumps. "You're right, you do know the answer already."

"You know I'm not much of a bottom..." Benson answered, though he had already started turning around, re-assuming the position he was in before. It wasn't how he expected the day to go, but he saw the logic in it, and really wanted to do whatever he had to for this competition.

"What're you talking about? We've fucked a few times, and you always had a great ass," Rourke replied, stepping up and laying his cock against Benson's ass. "You got any lube ready?"

"Yeah, a bit, should be enough," Benson replied.

As the bear grunted a bit and started pushing, a new sensation startled him. Julian had shuffled along the ground and sat down underneath the bent-over ursine, quickly engulfing the pink length between his lips. The otter bobbed up and down, and while the cock wasn't clean before, it was now. The mustelid had a hell of a muzzle on him, and every last remnant of shit, piss, and cum staining the shaft was instantly transplanted into the otter's stomach.

While Benson got used to the blowjob, Rourke was treating himself to something far more foul. The ursine had managed to start shitting along the stallion's length, and the second the crackling noises started, Rourke got to work. He slid his cock back and forth, letting the force of Benson voiding his bowels take care of spreading the shit. It didn't take long before the underside was fully covered in slick, sticky feces, and still more was coming.

Rourke collected some of the fallen waste, catching it as it fell from his length and slathering it back along the top. He gave himself a few pumps, making sure he had a good coating everywhere along his massive dick, particularly around the head. Once he was satisfied, he angled his shaft down and got to work. Benson hadn't finished shitting, yet the flared head of the horse cock proved more than effective at blocking it. At over three inches in diameter, the horse had to work to get inside the bear's hole. It was a struggle, but luckily with the bear being on the larger side, even a tighter hole was just big enough to accept the giant shaft demanding entrance.

Benson moaned as Rourke managed to start snaking his way inside, feeling his cock jumping inside Julian's maw as his prostate was pressed. It'd been a few months since anyone was in his tailhole, usually preferring to top his partners. Despite the recent inexperience though, Benson found himself enjoying it far more than he remembered, particularly with the stench of his own fresh waste still in the air. The warm muzzle gulping down his cock certainly wasn't hurting matters either.

Julian, meanwhile, wasn't going to let the other two be the only filthy ones. As Rourke fucked away, chunks of shit splatted down onto the ground just beneath the bear's hole, easily within reach of the otter. He grabbed two pawfuls of the mess, for two completely different purposes. With one, as he pulled off Benson's length, he absolutely covered it in the bear's own shit. By the time Julian went back down, it was more shit than cock he was swallowing, but swallow he did. Every nasty smashed-up nugget found its way down his throat, even if he had to scrape them off his teeth with his tongue first. The second pawful of waste went straight into his diaper. After he dropped it off, he quickly grabbed another and placed it alongside the first, right in the front. The otter pulled his paw back out, wiggling his hips around a bit as the shit spread across his cock and waist, sitting in a healthy mixture of his, Benson's, and some of Rourke's that the horse had graciously donated earlier that day.

By now, Benson was in heaven. His ass and cock were covered in shit, and he was being serviced by two handsome men. He just had to stay bent over and take it. Each time Rourke slammed into his ass, his cock shoved itself further down Julian's throat. Small flecks of shit splattered over the floor and sofa nearby, and no one paid them any mind. The trio was lost to their lust. The only noises in the room were heavy breathing, the slapping of crotch against ass, the wet slurps from Julian's maw, and the faint squishes whenever he shifted around in his diaper.

Unsurprisingly, with all the stimulation, Benson was the first to go. He shut his eyes, trying to last as long as he could, but it was no use. Julian was far too skilled with his muzzle, and as a result, was soon rewarded with his drink. The bear grunted as he was swept up in his orgasm, feeling his cock jump inside the otter's throat. Blast after blast of hot seed washed down into Julian's stomach, coating the pile of feces resting inside. He made sure to get it all, too - even after he thought Benson's shaft had stopped squirting that delicious cum deep into his maw, he continued suckling on it for a few moments, making sure he milked it as dry as he could.

Rourke smirked as he noted the telltale signs of the bear's orgasm, picking up the pace a bit. It was hard to keep going after getting off sometimes, and if they were going to take this training seriously, he didn't want to make it too difficult on the bear. He powered into the ursine's tailhole, spreading it wide each time his giant shaft hilted itself inside the shit-covered orifice.

Benson had to take another couple minutes of pounding, but it was all worth it. His cock kept jumping with the increased force against his prostate, not allowing it to soften in the slightest. Just when he thought he'd tell Julian to start working on round two, he realized the horse was about to finish. With a couple powerful thrusts against his ass, Benson soon felt his bowels absolutely stuffed, fuller than he'd remembered them being in a long while. Not only was Rourke's cock simply massive on its own, but the load he sprayed out was practically an ocean flooding his hole.

Blast after blast of potent stallion seed painted his insides white, left with nowhere to go, unable to escape past the mammoth cock blocking its way. Benson strained, pushing out to try to relieve the pressure, but no relief came. Rourke held all the power here, and thankfully, he realized Benson's discomfort. As his load died down, the stallion slowly stepped backwards, letting his wet, brown length slide out of the bear's hole and angle toward the ground under its own weight.

The second Rourke's flared head popped out of Benson's ass, the rush of fluids was free. A slurry of cum and shit poured forth, splattering over the ground, their legs, and anything else within reach. It only lasted a few seconds, but it left a sizeable puddle on the floor. Now heavily loosened up, Benson kept pushing, and a few small logs of waste that'd never managed to make it out plopped down in the pool, sending another few droplets of cum to the sides.

The bear groaned as he finally stood upright once more, only to turn and immediately sit on the couch, sighing as the comfortable fabric cushioned his battered hole. His messy ass added a fresh load of stains onto the surface, smearing it around as he shifted to get comfortable. Even out of breath, he couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as he watched Julian already going for the small pile he'd left on the ground.

"Well...how is it?" He asked between breaths, resting a paw across his gut.

"Delicious," Julian muttered, barely getting the word out before stuffing his maw full again. It didn't take long before he'd swallowed the solid bits that were left, and he immediately started trying to gulp down the rest of it. The otter's tongue attacked the floor, slurping up horse cum and bear shit like there was no tomorrow. As the smaller male continued his dessert, Rourke slowly made his way over and sat next to Benson, breathing heavily himself.

"Anything else?" The horse asked teasingly. "It's not all about the taste, remember."

"It's not like I can judge much else," Julian shot back, still licking at the floor, only speaking when he had to. "You fucked it into mush, and it's more cum than shit leftover down here. Color's fine, as far as I can tell anyway. Beyond that, I think I need a fresh sample."

"Fair enough," Rourke replied. "Well, taste is good, that's a start. In that case, we should try to fine tune your diet instead of making drastic changes to make sure it stays good. Can always just feed you more of it for the quantity portion, and fiber supplements or something for consistency if it's not firm enough," he instructed.

As he spoke, Julian had made his way over toward the couch, kneeling before Rourke and slurping his shaft clean. The stallion spared a quick glance down and patted the otter's head as a reward, but soon got back to talking. "As far as color, I suppose we can start with some kind of dye or something if we need it, but it feels like it's a pretty solid brown already."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Benson replied. "Thanks again for helping out with this, by the way."

"Happy to. Especially since that ass of yours is going to need more loosening," Rourke replied, wrapping his arm around the bear and pulling him closer.

"Just not too much, I still need to be able to hold it in, remember," Benson remarked. "And besides, you're going to have to keep dragging this one off your dick if you ever want to fuck me," he continued, nudging Julian with his foot.

"He'll behave, he always does. Besides, he's going to get a lot of shit to eat if he's good. Right Julian?" Rourke asked.

The otter did his best to nod around the cock in his throat, having transitioned from cleaning the horse to now just giving him a full-on blowjob. Benson just leaned back against the couch, sighing happily as he let the two with seemingly infinite sex drives go at it, just imagining all the fun they were going to have over the next couple months.

---

A few weeks had gone by, and over time, Benson's shit had improved. Rourke had given him plenty of diet options to keep him fed, and the bear was training himself to eat more and more of it each time, giving him heftier loads. Julian would stop by each day after work, knowing he would get a full meal each time. He'd take pictures of the load, then help Benson weigh it before reviewing every other quantity of the waste. The taste was still exquisite, and the bear pushed out more than all but the largest of guys, but the rest still needed some work.

Every Saturday, the group reconvened for another strategy session. They'd review the pictures over the last week and try to figure out whether the diet changes were making things better or worse. Not every change was positive, but on the whole, they were moving in the right direction.

As usual, their sessions started with Benson presenting his first sample of the day. The big brown bear squatted over a plate, breathing slowly as he focused on his bowels. He gradually pushed out, letting his hole open up near the edge. A firm, juicy log descended, making contact with the plate and falling to its side. Benson swirled his ass around as it landed, doing his best to make sure the shape of the pile was just right. It started fairly easily, and the coil was forming beautifully, but just like the last few times, the logs softened by the end. It became harder to shit exactly where he wanted to, and while the bottom was perfect, the top of the pile was fairly misshapen and started falling over on itself.

Benson stood back up and turned around, sighing as he looked over the plate. "It's still not as hard as I want it to be," he lamented.

"It's fine," Julian remarked. "The bottom of it's nearly perfect," he noted, resisting his urge to dive in and start snacking. "Great color, great consistency, huge amount of it, and I'm sure the taste will be delicious. It certainly smells awesome. Presentation needs a bit of work - even if it was solid, you were kinda off-center at the end - but we still have like a month until the competition."

"It seems like a lot, but we're only changing my diet like once a week. It'll be hard to get it ready on time," Benson lamented.

"We can make quicker changes, probably twice a week. It's not as far off as you'd think though - just a small change to make the rest of your shit really solid, and you've got another sixty or so dumps left in you to practice the presentation, "Rourke added.

"I suppose," Benson answered, lifting up the plate and taking it away from the salivating otter, placing it on top of the scale on the kitchen counter. "Four point three pounds...not quite a record, but getting up there. I used to only shit about two, we've more than doubled it in a month. Feels so fucking nice to take a dump like that, just feel so empty afterward."

"I can always help with that," Rourke commented.

"Yeah, alright, go ahead. Probably already lubed up anyway," Benson replied, bending over the kitchen counter.

With the weeks of prep, getting inside became less of a challenge. Rourke stepped up behind the bear, angled his cock down, and smeared the head back and forth through the mushy waste left over from the fresh dump sitting on the counter. Benson had loosened up nicely, and the stallion quickly got to work refilling the freshly emptied bowels.

Julian fidgeted slightly, bouncing back and forth, eyes alternating between the fucking males and the pile of shit sitting a few inches from his muzzle. "Can...can I eat it yet?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off the pile, always waiting for Benson to give the word before chowing down.

"Just take a pic and show me first, then feel free," the bear answered, nodding toward his phone.

The otter quickly ran over and snatched it up, pointing the camera toward the pile of waste on the counter and taking a quick photo before sliding it over toward the bear. Benson picked it up, zooming in a bit before nodding and starting to flick through the previous photos.

"That works. Go ahead," he permitted.

Julian practically dove into the mess. He leaned over the counter and placed his face next to the plate, wrapping his paws behind it and shoving the entire pile toward his head. Shit went into his nose, mouth, ears, and completely covered his fur, but he didn't care. He embedded himself in the mound of his favorite meal, wildly twisting his head back and forth to snatch at anything within reach.

Each bite of feces was simply magical. The bear's waste was sticky, but not too sticky. Every time he bit down, he could feel some of it congealed around his teeth, only to be flicked away with his tongue and gulped down. Not only was the flavor nauseatingly perfect, but the logs were insanely juicy as well. His jaws closing around the waste squeezed out more of the flavor onto his taste buds, causing his cock to press even harder against the mess inside his padding.

While the otter ate, Benson offered his phone to the stallion, holding it over his shoulder. "What do you think?" he asked, showing the horse the day's picture. "Compared to the others, anyway."

Rourke remained silent for a moment. It was difficult to focus too much on the photos while still fucking the bear's decreasingly tight ass, but he managed it. "Looks a bit darker than yesterday, I think? So that's good. Consistency might be a small bit worse - it just seems more uniform a few days ago, today seems like it's cracked in some areas but not in others, and softer at the end. Presentation's about the same - like Julian said, gotta work on centralizing the last little bit," Rourke commented, setting the phone back on the counter.

"Consistency seems great to me," Julian commented from within the mound. "Even the more solid stuff, it's firm, but not too firm. Gotta chew through it, but my jaws don't hurt after a few logs like some of the real hard pieces I've had before," he remarked, before the noisy chomps of an otter devouring a massive pile of bear shit echoed through the kitchen again.

"Well, there you have it. Straight from the toilet's mouth," Rourke commented, now panting a bit heavily as he sped up the thrusts, pounding his cock home into the now-experienced bear hole.

"Yeah. Bit more fiber I guess to firm up the last bit, and we can go back to the last diet if the consistency was better. I'll practice presentation even when you're not around too. I think we can do it," the bear remarked.

"That's the spirit!" Rourke praised, giving a firm slap to Benson's ass. "We'll show that lion who takes the best shits around these parts!"

"Fuck yeah," Julian added, though it was extremely muffled through his mawful of waste. Even after eating for so long, he hadn't removed too much of the pile, and more of it was still on him than in him.

Confident in their approach, the trio fell silent. Julian's maw remained filled for the next half an hour while he forced himself to scarf down every last nugget of waste imaginable. His stomach was noticeably distended by the time he'd finished, and he had to pause in the middle to relieve himself in his diaper to make more room. Bulges covered Julian's body - not only from his meal, but his ass stuck out from the pile of waste resting in his padding, and his cock tented out the front. He finally collapsed down onto the tiled floor from all the nasty stimulation, and as he did, some of the shit he'd just pushed out managed to squeeze through his leg holes.

Meanwhile, Rourke and Benson continued their usual Saturday fuck. Benson had really noticed the increased control over his tailhole and regretted not having bottomed more often before this. Taking a dump was even more pleasurable when he didn't have to strain so hard. Just lightly relaxing his sphincter was enough to get the cascade of feces started. Having Julian around didn't hurt either, as more often than not, he'd get to use the otter's dirty muzzle after Rourke finished up. Usually though, it took the mustelid longer to eat the bear's massive dumps than it did for the horse to get off in Benson's ass.

With the noisy chomps of the otter to keep them aroused, it didn't take long for Rourke to blow. No matter how many times Benson experienced it, this was the one thing he couldn't get used to, the sheer pressure inside his bowels each time the horse filled it with his seed. By now, the stallion knew to pull out a bit quicker than he normally would, choosing instead to paint the ursine's ass white with the second half of his load.

"Still just as good a fuck as always, even with a looser ass," Rourke breathed.

"Heh, you're not half bad yourself," Benson replied. "Learning all this fine control over my tailhole doesn't just help with taking a dump you know."

"Oh, I know, I felt it. You know how to use it better than some pure bottoms I know," Rourke commented.

Benson couldn't help but smile, feeling more pride than he expected at a statement like that. "I do my best."

"I'll say," Rourke continued. "You'll have no problems impressing those judges."

"I hope so. It's been great working with you both, and it's a team effort to pull this off," Benson complimented.

"Hey, it's been just as fun for us, right Julian?" Rourke asked, though both he and Benson could only chuckle when the otter refused to do more than give a quick thumbs up. As the bear watched the feast occurring, a small thought occurred in his mind.

"How long has it been since you changed that diaper anyway?" He asked, seeing the padding heavily stained even on the outside at this point. Julian simply added a couple fingers in response, holding up 4 now, counting the days.

"Should've guessed," Benson said, shaking his head before turning to Rourke. "Well, while he finishes his meal, you want to work on fine-tuning mine?"

"Let's do it. Gotta get that final meal plan set well in advance of judgment day," Rourke replied. "Now, what else have you got in the kitchen to work with..."

---

The day had finally come. Two months of preparation had all led to this. Benson woke up that morning more nervous than he had ever remembered being in his life. While Rourke and Julian had been amazing in helping him prepare, today was all about him. He was the one that had to perform, and if he didn't, all three of their efforts would be for naught.

Rourke had graciously offered to drive them over to the small festival. With his nerves, Benson wasn't sure if he'd even be able to do it. He sat in the back of the car fidgeting most of the time, staring out the window, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. Even when Julian leaned across and tried calming him down the only way he knew how - sucking the bear's cock - it was hard to concentrate on it. Benson enjoyed the experience, sure, and gave the otter a nice warm drink, but it did little to truly calm him down.

After the nearly hour-long drive, Rourke finally parked the car and stepped out. As soon as he did, he was nearly overpowered by the stench of fresh feces around him. There was always a background smell of shit everywhere in society these days, but this was eyewatering. There was no doubt they were in the right place.

When they first walked in, a large signpost sat atop a table next to a stack of pamphlets, directing them where to go. A few signs pointed left, directing them toward the restaurant and pleasure tents. A larger one hung above those for the stage, where all the big shows were held, including the whole reason they were here. To the right were the merchandise tents and the carnival games, some of which they could see in action. At the end of the aisle, the trio could see a dunk tank set up, with a wolf nervously sitting above a tank of combined piss and shit, wondering whether anyone would hit the target. Knowing their objective, Benson led the group to the left, heading toward the stage. Before they passed though, Rourke grabbed one of the pamphlets and started to peruse it.

"Seventeenth annual county shitfest," he read out. "A celebration of all things feces. Learn how to take a better dump, ways to spice up your shitty meals, or just revel in the mess with other furs like you!" He narrated. "Seems like the perfect place for us. There's even some of the major stalls detailed here, and the whole back page is about your competition, Benson."

"Great. Bigger audience," the bear said sarcastically.

"It's not like you were gonna take the dump in private," Rourke countered.

"I suppose," the bear said, keeping his replies short, still focused on his task at hand.

As they looked around on their way to the stage, Benson wondered why he'd never heard of this before. Food tents were set up with various species styling their shit in different ways, sometimes combined with more typical food, and other times it was just pure excrement on a plate. There was always some gimmick - a very specific diet the feeder had eaten, or the shape or texture of the waste, or even just the other foods that came with it - but the one constant was shit. Off to the sides, those who were interested in something simpler had options - a row of subs leashed to the wall were ready to accept their meals from anyone who wished to donate, as well as some spare leashes for anyone willing to take up a spot.

Not everything was food related either. A few stalls were focused on the physical pleasures, usually either sex or massages - or both - involving feces. A couple shit pits were kept heated for furs who were tired of walking around, wanting to sit and rest their footpaws in something mucky. One stall even had different perfumes created to simulate the smell of different species' waste. For a group of shit-lovers, this was paradise.

While Benson was focused solely on his goal, his companions' minds were free to roam. Julian was the first to get distracted. "Ooh! A padding trade! You mind if we stop real quick?" He asked.

"You guys go ahead," Benson started, "I've still got to check in and whatnot. You know where to go?"

"Kinda hard not to. There are signs everywhere," Rourke joked. "We'll see you there, don't worry," Rourke replied, heading off with Julian toward the tent.

As Benson headed off, Rourke and Julian stepped up to the station, seeing a few other furs waiting around. A few changing tables of various sizes were set up, all heavily stained, and a couple had furs sitting on them and waiting for a trade partner. The difficulty was mostly due to differently sized bodies - Julian wouldn't be able to trade with an elephant or a rhino, for example. He could probably swim in their diapers, but not wear them.

He got rather lucky though, and a raccoon about his size was waiting on one of the closer tables for someone to show up. Ever confident and social, Julian strode up to him, shaking his hips a bit. "Hey! Wanna trade?" He asked, not even bothering to learn the other fur's name.

"Depends. How long have you been wearing it?" The raccoon asked.

"Uh..." Julian started, not entirely sure to be honest. "I think somewhere around three days? I'm not really sure. It's one of the heavy-duty ones though, so it'll hold a lot! How about you?"

The raccoon smiled. "Five days here. But sure, we can trade. Have others used yours too?"

"Oh yeah," Julian said, smiling back. "This guy's added more than a few loads to it. Either down there or in here," the otter replied, pointing toward his muzzle with one paw and grabbing Rourke's nearby ass with the other.

"Nice. Always love a good horse dump," the raccoon answered.

"You gonna help us then?" Julian asked, turning to look up at Rourke.

"Oh, alright," the stallion shrugged, striding over toward the table where the raccoon sat. The smaller male laid back, raising his legs up in the air and giggling softly when Rourke reached for the padding. He could easily tell that the raccoon hadn't been changed in a very long time. The diaper itself was disgusting both inside and out, and one of the sides was barely holding on. Luckily, the station came with a couple rolls of duct tape to help reseal any padding that was well beyond the point it should be used. The horse made quick work of it though, having taken Julian's off a few times over the years, and left the padding sit on the table.

"Alright, next up," he said, patting the table and scooting the diaper out of the way so he could do the swap.

"One sec," the otter said, first walking over to the opened diaper and immediately shoving his face in it. He uncharacteristically snarled as he tore through the waste, loving the mixture of flavors. He could tell quite a few different species had left their loads in there, and that hardly any of it was fresh. The few newer logs he did find were obviously the raccoon's, and Julian made sure every single one of those was in his stomach before he got done. Nearly a full minute had passed before he pulled his face back, practically dripping with shit, though Rourke was sure that underneath there somewhere, Julian was smiling. The otter hadn't completely polished off the pile of waste in the raccoon's padding, but there wasn't a lot left by the time he was done.

"Ready," he finally said, clambering up onto the table and laying on his back.

Rourke performed the same duty, undoing the otter's tapes and sliding the diaper away, then quickly placing the raccoon's underneath and sealing it back up with a small piece of duct tape. The stallion then picked Julian up and placed him back on the ground, then turned toward the raccoon.

"Not hungry?" He asked, half expecting the other male to scarf down some of Julian's waste.

"Nah, I ate a ton before I got here," the raccoon said simply, raising his arms in the air.

Rourke shrugged and took that as the sign to lift him up, grabbing the raccoon and placing him on the table similar to Julian. He slid the otter's diaper underneath, finding it rather difficult to close with as much waste as Julian liked to keep inside his at any one time. The strong stallion managed it though, patting the raccoon's ass as he set him back on the ground.

"All set!" Rourke said, looking over the diaper-swapped males.

"Thanks!" The two said in unison, with the raccoon now wandering off to see the rest of the festival, while Rourke and Julian went to go meet up with Benson.

While all this was going on, Benson wandered toward the large stage, following some of the helpful signs hung up around the place. It didn't help his nerves that the Perfect Shit competition seemed to be the marquee event - everyone in the place would be watching, and though he only had the small video to go on from the previous year, it already seemed to be more crowded compared to what he remembered. Off to the right, he saw a small lineup of furs near the stage. With a small nod to himself to reinforce his confidence, he strode forward and joined the end of the queue, waiting to check in.

Benson wrung his paws constantly while he was in line. In reality, the line moved relatively quickly, but it seemed to take ages for the bear. His heart beat faster each time he stepped forward, seeming more real than it ever had before. He gulped a few times in line, but finally, he was present at the table.

"Name?" The sitting tiger asked, peering up at the bear while holding onto a clipboard and pen.

"B-Benson," the bear stammered.

"Benson...Benson..." the tiger repeated, tracing his pen down the sheet until finally finding the name at the very bottom. "Ah, there we are. Left your registration until very late I see."

"Yeah...I, uh, wasn't sure I was going to enter until about a week ago. Wanted to make sure I could do well..." he weakly explained.

"Well, you got it in on time, that's what matters. You're all checked in. Competition starts in about thirty minutes, please try to make sure you're near the stage about ten minutes before then. Our lead judge will call for all contestants, you'll line up, and when called to the stage, shit on the provided plate. Any questions?"

"No...I don't think so," Benson said slowly.

"Great! Good luck, Benson," the tiger said cheerfully, though quickly turned toward the next guy in line.

"Thanks," the bear mumbled, taking a step away from the table and intending to go back toward his friends, but soon found his way blocked by a tall, muscular lion.

"Don't think I've seen you in this competition before. I'm Nur," the lion said confidently, holding out his paw.

"Uh...Benson," the bear answered.

"First time here?" the lion asked.

"Yeah...I saw the trophy presentation last year online, and wanted to try it out myself," Benson explained.

"Ah, then you already know who I am," Nur responded.

"I do," Benson confirmed.

"Then you also know that I own this competition," the lion started. "Won it both times I've entered, and no one's ever gotten within half a point of me. 9.4 first year, 9.5 second year averages. Best anyone else has gotten in that time was an 8.7. Hope you're doing this more for fun than competition, for your sake."

Benson was rather put off by the lion's demeanor. He seemed cocky in the video online, but he had no idea the taller male would be such an ass even when the cameras weren't rolling. "No...I think I've got a good shot at it," Benson said, barely hiding the frustration in his voice, but trying to stay positive.

"That's cute. You sounded so nervous in line too. Probably your first time shitting in front of an audience and having so many furs staring at you is only going to make it worse. Better settle those nerves, or whatever you've got prepared is just going to come out as a mushy splat. Not that it'd be much worse than whatever else you're ready with," Nur said, borderline bullying the bear he'd never even met before. "I gotta run though. Got a couple interviews to do, furs want to know what I'm going to do with my third trophy after this. Good luck," the lion said sarcastically before turning and walking away, not giving the bear time to respond.

Benson paused for a second, still not sure he could believe what just happened. It was so odd to have someone who was just a complete and utter asshole talk that way these days, yet apparently even with as open and friendly as society was now, these types still existed. Finding it hard to process the conversation, he started walking again, seeing that his friends had arrived and were waiting in the audience.

"All signed in?" The otter asked as the bear rejoined them. Benson couldn't help but notice the fresh coating of shit still covering Julian's face.

"Yeah...I met Nur as well," he said, shaking his head a bit, confused.

"The lion champion dude? What's he like?" Rourke asked.

"Uh...kind of an ass," Benson started. "Basically came up to me and told me I had no shot at this, just arrogant as fuck."

"Wow. Hell of a way to make an acquaintance," Rourke said, rolling his eyes. "Just ignore him though. We've trained for this; you know your shit's beautiful. We even got almost all the softer stuff out."

"Almost," Benson repeated. "Most of the time it's really good, but there's still some odd times it's soft at the end. I just really hope this isn't one of those times."

"You'll do great. Just know that no matter what, it's been a blast training with you," Julian added. "Your shit's some of the finest I've ever eaten."

"Thanks," Benson said, almost sheepishly. "I know it's silly to care so much about this too."

"Nah, it's not silly," Rourke rebutted. "Everyone has hobbies. We're all here because we all love shit, you just happen to like making yours a bit fancier than most. And besides, like Julian said, it pays off - not only does it taste great, according to him, but it's some of the smoothest lube I've ever used. It's already worth the time you put in."

"I suppose. Thanks again, you guys, I appreciate it," Benson started, spreading his arms wide and wrapping the two in a big hug, reaching up a bit for the horse but down lower to wrap a paw around the otter.

"Happy to help," the other two said in unison, returning the group hug, with Rourke patting the bear's back a few times.

"Contestants! Please report to the stage for our Perfect Shit competition," a vulpine announced into a microphone, his voice echoing throughout the festival's speaker system to make sure all entrants were alerted.

"I guess this is it," Benson said, dropping the hug.

"You got this, buddy," Rourke assured.

"Yeah, go get 'em," Julian added. "We'll be here watching."

Benson nodded softly in response, turning away from the others and slowly walking toward the stage, doing his best to focus on the task at hand. While he mostly brushed off Nur's attitude as just cockiness, he couldn't help but realize how big the crowd had gotten. By the looks of things, they were all excited for the big event too - some clearly very excited, based on how eagerly a number of them were going at it while waiting. It reignited some of his nerves, realizing everyone was going to be watching him take a dump.

As the bear arrived near the participants' line, a good twenty or twenty-five other furs were there. The same tiger from before was quickly going through the list and organizing everyone, which seemed to just be based on registration order. Unfortunately for Benson, that meant he ended up last in line. He was already fidgeting slightly after having eaten so much the day before in preparation for this, and waiting for everyone else to go first was going to really put him to the test. He'd have to do his best not to explode when it was his turn.

As the line was taking its final shape, a static noise permeated the air, assaulting the crowd's ears. The vulpine judging the competition tapped the microphone, making sure it was on, before taking it off the stand. "Welcome, everyone, to the seventeenth annual Perfect Shit competition! Are you all as excited as I am?" The fox shouted, pushing his hips forward a bit to show off his knotted cock to the crowd, greatly anticipating to the disgusting meals he was about to partake in.

"Then let's get this started! As always, we have a carnivore," the fox started, gesturing toward his right and pointing to the wolf seated there, "an herbivore," he continued, turning back to his left to point to the deer on his other side, "and an omnivore," he finished, taking a small bow, "to judge the competition. Just to make sure everyone's shit appeals to a broad range of palettes. We'll judge on color, consistency, quantity, presentation, and last but not least, taste. Scores will be out of ten for each category, averaged across judges to get a final score for each, and all five scores will then be averaged to get a final tally. Individual category champions will get a ribbon, but the overall winner will take home our much-coveted trophy! Without any further ado, as I'm sure all of our contestants are desperate to void their bowels, let's go! First contestant, please come up to the stage and present your perfect shit!"

The vulpine finished speaking, quickly moving back behind the table and sitting down between his fellow judges, with an empty plate in front of him and a scale next to it. Each of the judges had a small microphone set up on the table in front of them, so that they could commentate on what they were seeing to their fellow furs.

Benson mentally kicked himself as he realized that the judges had different palettes. His diet was largely fish, and of course the otter eating his shit was going to think it was the best thing in the world. None of the species on stage were large fish eaters that he knew of, so already he was behind the eight ball. Nothing he could do about it now though, he supposed. He'd made his bed, and now had to lie in it.

The first shitter soon made his way up to the table. It was a bit of an odd setup - a small flight of stairs led up to the table height, so that each of the feeders could shit roughly at eye level with the judges. It was reinforced to support the weight of whoever climbed atop it, which thankfully would help in cases like Benson. He wasn't massive, but being a bear with a gut on him, he weighed quite a bit more than a lot of the other guys in line.

The bear noticed the first horse walking up to the table rather oddly, crooked a bit as he made his way up the stairs, turning around and squatting over the plate. The small tail lifted rather quickly and soft, mushy logs started raining out, splatting down mostly on target, though some managed to land directly on the table's surface. Interspersed flatulence certainly didn't help matters, as some of the flecks of shit sprayed in random directions. As the equine finished, he stood atop the table and yelled 'WOOOOOO!' at the top of his lungs before stumbling back down, and Benson finally realized - he was drunk. Normally, the contestants were supposed to give some kind of speech about what they'd eaten to produce their feces, but the horse did no such thing. Well, it was good to know not everyone lined up took the competition quite as seriously as Benson did.

"Ugh," the fox spoke into his microphone. "Well, let it never be said I don't eat greasy food," he said, making a small joke for the audience, who in turn gave him a polite chuckle. Each of the judges made quick notes on presentation and color, and the vulpine sat the shit - what landed on the plate, anyway - on top of the scale. "Two point one pounds," he continued into the mic. This was the only objective piece of the competition - judges couldn't score differently based on weight. A contestant's score was simply double the weight of shit they provided - five or more pounds gave a perfect ten.

After scoring the first couple categories, it was time for the paws on portion. Out of politeness, the vulpine handed the plate toward the other two and allowed them to go first. Each of the three took a pawful directly from the plate, not really able to grab a concrete log from the mess. They squeezed it in their fingers, getting a feel for just how solid the waste was, before either lapping at the feces or biting into it. While none of them truly minded the taste, it was clear none of them were terribly impressed.

"Basic drunk shit," the deer said nonchalantly into the mic. "Sloppy, unrefined."

"Bland taste as well," the wolf added, finishing the load on his paw simply because it was there, rather than any particular desire to eat it.

"Likely a greasy diet as well. Burgers, fries, though I did detect some pasta in there as well. Odds are, it was just basic spaghetti and meatballs. I think this will be pretty fast," the fox added, jotting a couple scores down. The trio collaborated quickly, sharing their numbers with each other and coming up with the averages. "Scores are as follows," he started, after about thirty seconds. "Weight: 4.2. Color: 6.7. Presentation: 1.2. Consistency: 2.0. Taste: 3.4. Overall average: 3.5."

Benson breathed a small sigh of relief at seeing how poor that score had been. He knew he was capable of putting out something into the nine range, at least in his mind, but how high would be up to the judges that particular day. His stomach still wanted him to relieve the small pressure in his bowels, but there were still quite a few furs to go until that.

Before the next contestant took the stage, the judges turned around and reached below the table. Benson hadn't realized what it was there for until now, but it made perfect sense as he watched the trio each fill a glass from a keg that, based on the heavily yellowed color of the liquid that came out, was pure piss. It was anyone's guess whose it was or where they got it from, but the judges took a big swig from it, swished it around inside their muzzles, then gulped it down. This at least ensured that the previous contestant's waste wouldn't affect the next one's score with a funky aftertaste or something.

Things proceeded much more as expected from there. Each fur would go up to the table, be given a fresh plate, provide their best-looking meal, and step back down. Around fifteen others had gone so far, and after all was said and done, most of the scores were in the six to eight range. The highest average was an eight point nine, with a couple category-specific scores in the nines, but nothing outstanding so far.

That is, until it was finally Nur's turn. The lion smiled broadly to the audience as he made his way up onto the stage, waving his arms into the air and amping up the crowd, who clearly recognized him from his previous victories. Confidently, he strode up the stairs and turned toward the crowd again, squatting down and showing off his tailhole to the judges, with his sizeable cock pointed out toward the audience.

"You ready for this, handsome?" He asked.

"You know it, hot stuff," the fox replied.

'Of course', Benson thought to himself. He'd seen it on the video of last year's celebration, it just hadn't clicked until he saw their flirting firsthand. The judge had gone off with Nur after the competition last time, and it was likely still going on to this day. Nur was practically bribing his way into first by fucking the head judge and using him as a toilet even outside the competition to keep him on his side. The bear grumbled to himself, knowing his job was that much harder now, if not impossible.

Nur let out a sigh of relief as he was finally allowed to void his bowels. Everything about it was exquisite. The first firm, solid log made contact with the edge of the plate, swirling around for far longer than it would have if the shit was able to break off on its own. When it finally did end, the next chunk picked up right where the first left off, continuing the pile upwards. A total of seven large turds ended up making a virtual cone on the plate, stacked in the most aesthetically pleasing way, even complete with a small, firm, pointed tip, similar to soft serve ice cream in a cone.

"I've had a very careful diet of - ungh - varied meats and vegetables. Eggs, pork sausage, and some grilled hash browns in the morning. Large salad for lunch - carrots, chicken, lettuce, walnuts, usually a couple other varied ingredients to mix things up, but no dressing. Red meat for dinner - usually steak - and a strong source of fiber to make sure my shit's extra solid."

"Amazing as always, Nur," the vulpine cooed, licking his lips already.

"Virtually flawless - only a small bit of shit left on your ass after all that," the deer added, resisting the urge to reach over and grab his share before the weigh-in.

"I'll make this quick for us, then," the fox added, lifting the plate and setting it on the scale. "Four point four pounds. A hefty load!"

After the weight and color were noted down, the judges got busy. There was no sense of decorum at this point - their moans of pleasure were easily heard through the microphones, chomping down with their maws open as they sampled the deliciously depraved waste that the lion had so graciously provided. The fox even went back for seconds, disregarding their usual etiquette to make sure they weren't too full by the end of the event. The shit squished pleasantly between their teeth, and even after gulping it down, the foul aftertaste was to die for, and left their breath smelling particularly rancid.

While the judges ate, Nur reached down and picked up the deer's glass. The judge gave him an odd look while he chewed, but the lion simply winked and held the glass in front of his crotch, sighing and letting his bladder free, refilling it to the point of overflowing. He never stopped pissing, trailing his liquid waste across the table and doing the same for the other two judges, before finally letting the last of his load spray out over the fox's head.

"Well, I'm done, how about you guys?" the vulpine asked, now dripping a bit as he smacked his lips, scribbling down his notes much faster than his fellow judges. He got a couple strange looks from the others, but nothing was explicitly said about it, and the numbers were averaged out and announced to the audience. "I think we have a new frontrunner! Scores are as follows: Weight: 8.8. Color: 9.7. Presentation: 9.9. Taste: 9.7. Consistency: 9.4. Overall average: 9.5."

The crowd erupted in cheers. If the lion hadn't lied earlier, that was a tie for his personal best - the score he won the competition with last year. Benson shook his head as he realized how futile this was. Six whole tenths average ahead of literally anyone else, and the fox was definitely on the lion's side. In a way, he supposed it took some of the pressure off him - winning was unlikely at this point, so he just had to go out and do his best and take some pride in knowing that he'd done better than many of the others.

As the last few furs made their way onto the stage, none of them held a candle next to Nur. Most didn't even break an eight average, let alone a nine. Finally though, after nearly an hour of waiting, it was Benson's turn. The big bear made his way up, giving a small wave to the cheering crowd, though most of them seemed subdued knowing Nur had this in the bag.

Benson climbed the stairs, feeling his heart beating faster in his chest, looking out over the crowd. He shut his eyes for a moment, picturing all the training he'd done back at home, and as he focused on his breathing, a calm washed over him. He opened his eyes once more and made sure he was on target, then finally let go. His tailhole gradually expanded, slowly making way for the waste so eager to get out.

The bear shifted his hips slowly to the right, then back, then to the left, then forward again. Small circles each and every time, pausing for the slightest moment whenever a log broke off to let the next one take his place. By the time he was done, his legs were shaking a bit, both from the nerves and from having stood around in line so long waiting, then putting them through the duress of holding up his weight while shitting. He almost didn't want to look, but eventually stood back up and turned around to view his handiwork.

"Magnificent. And here I thought Nur was going to run away with this - we might have a competition on our hands, folks," the deer said into his mic.

"Indeed - Sir, this might be the finest shit I've smelled today," the wolf added.

"It's alright," the fox interjected, cutting them off before any more compliments could be levied. "Let's get this weighed and determine a winner." The vulpine moved quickly, picking up the plate and moving it onto the scale. He paused for a moment, his ears dropping slightly as he read out the number. "F-Five point one pounds. Our first perfect ten," he said into the mic.

The crowd cheered madly, eager to see just how the rest of this played out. It wasn't often someone took such a massive dump, even without focusing on taste or appearance. Benson was beside himself - it was nearly half a pound bigger than his previous record. He truly had no idea where he was storing all that, but he was extremely happy with the result.

All the nerves Benson had been feeling came rushing back. Victory seemed impossible a few short moments ago, but now, it seemed feasible again. He looked over at the judges, watching them sample his waste, spirits buoyed slightly at receiving the same kind of moans that Nur had gotten while the judges feasted.

"Diet?" The fox suddenly asked through his mouthful, spitting a few bits of shit over his mic.

"Oh, right," Benson started. "Uh...largely fish. Mostly salmon. Some fiber supplements to help keep it solid, and some side vegetables - mashed potatoes, green beans, things like that."

"Some mackerel and tuna in there as well," the fox added. "And you use a healthy amount of lemon juice."

"How did you...?" Benson asked, incredulous.

"I've been a shit eater my whole life. I probably know your diet better than you do," the fox said simply.

Corrupt or not, Benson had to admit, what the vulpine could do was impressive. Shit just tasted like shit to him - earthy, bitter, and the confusing mix of disgusting yet arousing at the same time. Yet the fox had earned his place here, able to taste even the slightest of differences in the waste and how it impacted the flavors across his tongue. This time, though, it wasn't the fox going back for seconds. Both the deer and the wolf helped themselves to more, grabbing a second pawful and stuffing it in their maws.

"I'm glad this is the last one," the wolf noted. "Don't have to wash my mouth out after this one's done, can just enjoy this taste all day long."

"I know, right?" The deer added, his voice extremely muffled through the waste across his tongue. "It's hard to tell which is better, this or Nur's, honestly. It's just so remarkably smooth all the way through. Extremely dense, but somehow not difficult to chew. Every time I bite down it's like I get a new squirt of flavor to enjoy."

"I know what you mean," the wolf replied. "My fangs just sink right through it, but it's still got some stiffness in there at the same time. I wish I was allowed to just finish that plate myself."

"Go ahead, I don't want it back or anything," Benson joked, halfheartedly laughing after his attempt at humor.

"Oh, didn't you know? We auction off the leftover plates of our contestants after we're done - for charity. That's part of why we do it in front of the audience - so everyone knows the best ones to go after. I daresay yours will fetch a hefty price," the deer informed Benson.

"Oh, that's cool," Benson said. "I certainly hope others like it."

"Well, I know I did," the wolf answered. "Shall we score it?"

"I suppose," the vulpine replied.

Some quick scribbling later, and the trio shared their markings with each other. "Scores are as follows," the fox started. "Weight: 10.0. Consistency: 9.6. Presentation: 9.4. Color: 9.4. Taste: 9.6. Overall score..." he paused, though Benson could tell it wasn't for dramatic effect. The fox was caught in a situation of realizing Nur was going to be pissed at him, but also having to perform and be excited for the crowd. "9.6! We have a new champion!" He cried, though the bear could still sense the nerves behind the proclamation. If anything, it just made his score that much sweeter.

"WHAT?" A voice shouted from off to the side, and Benson could only smirk as he saw Nur standing with the rest of the finished contestants, absolutely fuming as he listened to the results.

The audience went nuts, completely drowning out anything else the lion had to say. None of them expected anyone to hold a candle to Nur, much less someone who was taking part for the first time. Benson turned toward the audience and bowed as deeply as he could, before a fun idea came to mind. He stood upright again and spun back toward the judges, bending over once more, showing the crowd the tailhole that the prize-winning shit had come from. The cheers only amplified, with various calls of guys desperate to get a taste for themselves.

The vulpine sighed as he got up from his chair, walking over and grabbing the trophy before taking center stage alongside Benson. "Congratulations!" he shouted into the mic, sparing a nervous glance over toward Nur, but refocusing himself on the audience for now. "You've won the coveted award of the Perfect Shit! Anything you'd like to say?"

"I guess just that it feels so good to know the work I've put into this has paid off. Special thanks to Rourke and Julian - my chef and toilet, respectively - who've helped me train to get to this point. I've been working on my shit for about two months now, and it's been an amazing journey. If any of you are interested in this kind of thing, give it a shot! The sky's the limit, and you can all do it, no matter what obstacles stand in your way," the bear finished, looking pointedly down at the fox as he finished his statement.

"Yes, well," the fox stammered, "I think we'd all love to see more participants next year! That goes for all of you - sign ups will open two months before next year's competition, so you've got time to work on it. Once again, congratulations Benson on the Perfect Shit!" The fox finished to another round of applause, handing the trophy over to the bear and walking rather quickly away.

Benson was beaming as he slowly made his way off the stage. Julian and Rourke had rushed to the front to greet him, though all three of them had to fend off quite a few audience members who were desperate to get to know the best shitter in the county. When they finally had a brief moment of peace, they could properly speak with each other.

"Congrats, dude! That was fucking amazing. I told you your shit was delicious!" Julian cried.

"You did, I can't deny it," Benson answered. "And as your reward, before someone decides to try to take it for themselves, you can have the leftovers," the bear continued, facing away from the otter and bending slightly over. Julian needed no further invitation, kneeling down and shoving his face between the familiar cheeks, inserting his tongue straight into Benson's ass and slurping down every last bit of waste he could find.

"Seriously, congrats dude. You deserve it, with all the effort you put in," Rourke beamed.

"Couldn't have done it without you guys," the bear moaned, relishing the celebratory rimming he was receiving.

"Before I forget to ask - what was that look about, anyway?" Rourke asked. "You looked at that fox a weird way when you got your trophy."

"Oh, that was when I made up some statement about obstacles in the way. I should have realized it when I saw last year's video, but Nur and that fox have been fucking and feeding at least since then. Basically bribing the judge with his shit to get good scores."

"Seriously? Ugh. Furs stoop so low sometimes. It's not like it's some national thing that'll make you a celebrity - though I do imagine there's quite a few guys out there who'd absolutely love to sample your ass right about now," Rourke commented.

"Oh, I'm sure there are. And I don't mind, at this point, about him being corrupt. Just makes it that much sweeter to win that way. Who knows what my scores would've been with three honest judges - maybe even a perfect ten," Benson pondered.

"It's a perfect ten in my book," Julian said from between the bear's ass cheeks.

"Thanks, Julian," Benson chuckled. "What do you say we get out of here? I'm tired of standing for so long. Would love to go home and crash for a bit."

"Hey, you're the champ, today's your day. Whatever you want," Rourke answered.

Julian regrettably stood up upon hearing that they were about to leave. Even though he'd cleaned the bear's ass pretty thoroughly by this point, he still loved having his tongue in there, just in case more of his favorite food made an appearance.

The trio casually chatted a bit more about the trophy, with Benson passing it to each of them as they made their way back toward the car, letting them take a look at it. They'd done a great job with it, adding precise details to make it look like a genuine pile of shit, if a bit shinier. It wasn't until they were about to leave the festival area that Benson stopped, hearing a shout to his left.

"Hang on," he said, freezing in place and listening closely, edging toward the source of the noise. "I want to hear this," he whispered.

Rourke and Julian shared a glance, a bit confused, but their questions were soon answered as they got closer. They stole a quick peek around the corner, spotting Nur towering over the judge, eyes filled with anger as he stared down at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I shit in your mouth all fucking year, and you can't even give me a few tens as thanks?!" The lion shouted.

"I did! I gave you all tens!" The fox pleaded. "It was the others - they gave the bear tens, and it bumped him up high! I didn't know they were going to rank him that well!"

"Then you should have ranked him lower! It isn't hard, there's only 3 of you. Just rank everyone low enough so that they can't beat me no matter what the others score! Or is your brain just pure shit at this point, you worthless toilet?!"

"I can't! I have to judge at least somewhat fairly, or they'll kick me off the panel and you won't have anyone helping at all! Please, I tried! Let me stay your toilet," the fox begged.

"No, I'll find someone who actually appreciates it. Clearly you don't, since you couldn't even do me this one little favor after all the fucking and feeding I've done for you," the lion finished, stomping off in the other direction and leaving the fox there, dejected that he'd lost his favorite meal source.

The trio had to stifle their laughter as they heard the fox being left like that, knowing that he more than deserved it for trying to rig the competition in Nur's favor. With their post-competition entertainment over, they resumed their journey back to Rourke's car, smiles on all their faces. Just before they reached the parking lot though, Benson stopped for a moment, feeling a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh. Can I help you?" He asked, turning and seeing the same vulpine there, sheepishly looking up at the bear.

"Uh...Maybe," the fox started. "I, uh, just wanted to say congrats again. And, y'know, if you need a toilet to help you practice...I'm available."

Benson just chuckled. He could say a lot of things right now, but after coming out of the day victorious, he chose to simply take the high road. "No thanks. I've got my toilet right here," he said simply, patting Julian on the back and turning around again, marching off toward the car, abruptly leaving the vulpine in stunned silence.

As the bear finally got to sit down, he sighed with relief. The discomfort in his legs came rushing to him when he finally stopped putting pressure on them. He ignored it for now though, just leaning against the back seat and smiling, trophy securely in his lap. Julian and Rourke joined him, and with a quick press of a button, the car started up and they were on their way.

"So - when do we start training for next year?" Julian asked, causing some chortles in the car.

"That eager, are you?" Benson asked. "We just got done!"

"Well yeah, but I've eaten your shit every day for like two months now. Today I'm fucking starving!" The otter pointed out.

"Relax, little buddy," Rourke answered. "You got to eat out of that raccoon's diaper earlier, and I've got some in the tank for you as well; we'd never let you go that hungry. Let's just get back to Benson's place, and I'll make sure you're nice and fed."

"Well, hurry. I want food like yesterday," Julian answered.

Benson could only smile as he listened to them talk. He looked down at the trophy, acknowledging the physical representation of not just two months of work for it, but also two months of building up friendships with these two and cherishing the time they'd spent together. Truth be told, even if he didn't plan on competing next year, he imagined they'd be doing the same things at this point anyway - fucking, shitting, and hanging out.

As the bear fantasized about how they'd all spend their time going forward, Julian clearly noticed the effects it was having on him. Before Benson even realized he was hard, the otter had engulfed his shaft with his muzzle, insistent on draining the ursine's balls as an appetizer. Benson simply rested a paw on the back of Julian's head, letting him do this thing. He had no idea his life would turn out this way, but he certainly wasn't complaining. While it may not have been what he expected, the bear knew there was nowhere he'd rather be, and no one he'd rather be with, than hanging out with the two who'd helped him take the Perfect Shit.