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Sloptober 2023 Finale

Day 29: Feeding/Stuffing

Today, Brenton won a football game. The quarterback and brother at Phi Upsilon Rho fraternity was having a much better season this year: it seemed that his disgusting experiences with the frat’s pet raccoon and unofficial team mascot, Trashy, had motivated him to put 110% into the game. Trashy was victorious too. After cheerleading for the first half of the game, she won an eating contest against the other team’s mascot, but that still didn’t satisfy her. So after getting a cooler of Gatorade dumped on his head and giving a short interview, Brenton staggered into the locker room to hear a bunch of guys boisterously shouting: “Chug, chug, chug, chug!”

“What the fuck?” Brenton said. Half the football team, and three frat brothers who weren’t even on the team, were crouched in a semicircle around the raccoon while a linebacker force fed her Cheez Wiz from a can. Well, maybe force fed wasn’t the right word. Trashy was gripping the can in her little paws and holding it to her mouth like a baby bottle.

“Hey, Brenton! Great job out there man!”

“Check this out! Trashy’s on her third can!”

Sure enough, two other cans of spray cheese lay on the locker room floor, along with lots of other food detritus. Trashy was a complete mess, her fur matted and stained with junk food, and her gut was bulging out so far that her cheerleading skirt was close to bursting.

“What the fuck, guys? I told you to stop overfeeding Trashy on game nights! It always makes her puke or shit herself, usually in my room!”

A running back shrugged. “Sucks to be you, bro.”

“See if I ever pass to you again. How much has she had?”

“Four chili dogs, half a large pizza, three cans of Cheez Wiz, two cans of pumpkin, six cups of gatorade, a huge plate of nachos, five sticks of cotton candy, half a dozen tacos, three big bowls of baked beans, and a tub of sauerkraut. Oh, yeah, and uhh...”

Brenton noticed that most of his teammates had changed out of their uniforms, and weren’t wearing towels or anything else.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been -”

“She likes it, and the guys from the frat said it was okay!”

“What the fuck, guys? Have you been pimping out our mascot to the football team?”

“Of course not dude, what do you take us for? Do you think we’d charge money to the home team?” a frat brother patted a naked wide receiver on the shoulder.

“You fucking idiot Greg!” Brenton dropped his helmet and tore his shoulder pads off angrily. “Now Trashy’s going to expect everyone who comes in here to ‘feed’ her! And she’ll be a brat all night unless someone eats her out!”

“Oh shit, really?” said the linebacker.

“Yes!”

“Fuck dude, she’s really gross down there,” said the running back. “I don’t want no raccoon hair stuck in my teeth. Brenton, as quarterback and team captain, I think it’s only fair that you take one for the team.”

The vote was unanimous other than Brenton..

“I fucking hate you guys.”

Trashy belched, puked up a bit of foul sludge down her front, and tried to shovel it back toward her mouth. Then she got up and started to waddle towards Brenton. Her gut was so bloated it was dragging on the locker room floor.

One minute later, Brenton was on the floor too, completely naked and trying to drag an uncooperative, hungry, horny raccoon toward the showers. Trashy slovenly like the quarterback’s sweaty jockstrap, then licked where it had been, dragging her tongue over his balls. She hauled herself onto his lap like a breaching walrus. The center snapped him a pack of hot dog rolls and a bottle of ketchup. Brenton sighed and began to stuff the raccoon’s face with them, pushing bun after bun on her and squirting ketchup all over her face, then mustard, ranch, and relish, until the raccoon was a filthy mess of assorted condiments. Trashy burped contentedly, mustard dripping off her whiskers. She licked Brenton’s face, pulling down his lip with her fingers so she could get her tongue all the way inside his mouth.

“Trashy, stop. That’s gross.” Brenton tried to sit up, making the slovenly raccoon slide down onto his crotch. She was drooling. Ugh. Trashy groaned, and there was a truly horrific sound from her gut. PPBBBWWWOOOORRRRSHSPPBLLECCKK! The quarterback gagged at the stench. The locker room smelled like a zoo animal cage that hadn’t been cleaned in months. Brenton’s cock was bathed in foul procyonid swamp ass. It was humid and slimy between her legs, and Brenton knew that he’d missed his chance to go down on the mascot before things got worse. There was no way that was just a fart. “Get. Off.” He tried to push her off, but his arms were too tired after playing a full game, and the bloated cheerleader was heavy. She slithered around to face the other way and scooted up his chest. Brenton pulled her tail up to check her rear and immediately wished he hadn’t. “Trashy, let me wash my dick first. You had an accident. Don’t lick yet... fuck...”

With an abhorrent, sloppy crackling sound, a colossal shit serpent slithered out from between the raccoon’s legs, folding and coiling on Brenton’s chest. Trashy gagged with his cock halfway down her throat, but then continued to lick and slurp.

“Okay, whatever. If you’re still hungry, I’ve got something for you.” Brenton slid the dirty raccoon around to face him. He sat up, plopping the animal down on his lap, and picked up some of the massive log she’d just unloaded on him. When Trashy was in a mood like this, she wouldn’t quit until she was satisfied. He brought the stinking shit to her mouth. She sniffed, licked, and opened wide to be stuffed with her own waste while her stomach continued to gurgle.

“There. Are you happy now?”

Trashy shook her head and grabbed at more of her feces. Brenton sighed and scooped up more of the steaming mess to feed to her. The pudgy, bloated slob of the raccoon somehow got it all down her throat, other than what ended up smeared all over her face, but the raccoon had reached her limit. She gagged, drooling brown liquid.

“Fuck. You’ve had enough Trashy, now hit the showers.”

The locker room had cleared out when the raccoon started shitting herself thanks to the horrific odor. Brenton dragged the animal by her feet over the slippery tile and got her into a shower just in time. Trashy rolled onto her side and erupted with a chunky geyser of foul smelling puke. The disgusting animal started trying to lap it back up off the floor, but just ended up covered in it, until she was distracted by Brenton’s erection. She nuzzled between his legs, deepthroated his entire shaft, and vomited all over his cock too. Then the filthy raccoon crawled onto him, pushing the quarterback onto his back.

“Trashy... fuck, don’t...”

HRRGLGLLGLRCGGGHHHH! The raccoon’s cheeks bulged out. Ketchup and mustard squirted out her nose, then a horrific tsunami of shitty vomit spewed over Brenton’s face. The nasty creature started trying to clean up her own mess with her tongue, then sat back and started grinding her soiled bottom against his cock. More mushy poop was leaking out of her butt, further lubricating it. Brenton gagged and wept, but his lower parts were oblivious to the disgusting nature of the mess. He hoped he’d just squirt into the mess between Trashy’s legs, but she decided to finish him off with her tongue, and that meant she’d want him to do the same for her.

“Can I shower you off first?” Begged Brenton, but the insatiable raccoon wasn’t willing to stop for anything. She pinned the football player down, sacking him right there on the shower floor, and sat on his face, smothering him in the clammy brown mess beneath her stained cheerleading skirt.

Brenton resigned himself to his fate. He swallowed bile and started licking. He didn’t know which hole his tongue was touching, probably both, but it was just as gross either way. Trashy’s loins quivered and clenched. A torrent of sour, salty piss flooded into his mouth, but at this point that was the least appalling taste Brenton was getting, so he willingly gargled the contents of the raccoon’s overflowing bladder.

Trashy leaned forward, crawling and slithering in her own waste to lick Brenton’s cock again. Her hind legs were spread wide, urine still flowing uncontrollably out of her. With a sewery rumble, the consequences of the raccoon’s gluttonous antics struck violently. SPPBLRLBLLTTTT! Ghastly orange-brown soft-serv piled up between her legs in great, steaming, mushy coils, then slid off Brenton’s chest as they were pushed aside by the next wave, a shapeless mass of wet, putrid sludge.

Satisfied with a mouthful of cum, she sat on her victim’s face again, and with a shudder unloaded her bowels at full force. Clutching her stomach in pain and discomfort, Trashy erupted with a violent, gassy explosion of hot, greasy, runny poop. Brenton gurgled helplessly beneath the procyonid’s posterior as soft chunks filled his mouth amidst a sickening river of foul liquids. The smell was so bad Trashy projectile vomited all over herself and Brenton. Her stomach cramps made her shit herself even harder. Pinned beneath her messy, slippery bulk and being waterboarded with over a gallon of putrid raccoon diarrhea, the quarterback had no choice but to take one for the team and swallow.

“You are the shittiest mascot ever,” Brenton complained much later as his attempt to finally get himself and Trashy cleaned up was ruined by her having another accident on him, and trying to fingerpaint with it. “No. Stop it. I just washed my face. Stupid raccoon!”

Trashy glared, gagged herself with her paw, and horked up another quart of noxious puke all over herself and Brenton. The quarterback groaned in despair. “Trashy, please, I have class tomorrow. Just let me clean you up and you can have more fun back at the frathouse!”

She held him to his promise, of course, and Brenton had to call out sick because of the inevitable digestive problems resulting from being force fed waste from a trash eating animal. He had his revenge on the rest of the frat though: no one else could use one of the bathrooms all day, since he was confined to it, as was the amorous, incontinent raccoon.

Day 30: Free Use

Four weeks ago, Mitsy the brown tabby cat hated her german shepherd housemate Bruno, but after the two pets made a spiteful bet that turned messy, they’d come to an understanding, and the neat freak feline’s life had never been the same. Mitsy still thought dogs were gross, unsanitary animals, but she’d accepted that she was too uptight about a little mess, and discovered why Bruno enjoyed being dirty.

Today, Mitsy slept contentedly in a heavily stained cat bed that was discolored with dog hair and reeked of dog. Like most cats she was a light sleeper, and her catnap was disturbed by the sound of the dog’s collar jingling and his nails clicking on the floor. She yawned and opened her eyes just in time to see the German Shepherd staring down at her with a mischievous smirk.

“What do you want?” she said testily. “I’m not getting up. The deal was you can sleep in my bed, that doesn’t mean you can kick me out of it.”

“Oh, I’m not kicking you out,” he said. He licked the cat’s face long and hard with his wet, sloppy dog tongue, breathing his foul canine breath in her face. “Actually I was going to do you a favor and warm it up for you.”

Mitsy rolled her eyes and sighed as the larger animal straddled her bed and lifted his leg. His fuzzy sheath loomed over her. “Fine, just get it over with.”

Liquid started to dribble from the dog’s member, then leapt forth as a powerful stream that spattered the bed and Mitsy’s flank. The cat scowled as his warm pee soaked into her fur.

All her possessions, her bed, her toys, her food bowl, her water fountain, and her litterbox, were free to be used and defiled by her gross canine roommate. However he wanted, whenever he wanted. Her body likewise. Mitsy had no shred of her haughty feline dignity left. She’d been marked so many times she’d given up on trying to get his musky scent out of her fur. If any cat she knew could see her, or smell her now, she’d die of embarrassment. She stank of dog.

Bruno’s wavering stream of pee showered her flank. Mitsy’s heart raced and her stomach dropped. Disgust and shame at allowing herself to be degraded like this mixed with the transgressive thrill of doing something so naughty and uncatlike. She waited, placidly, as the pissy pooch relieved herself on her. God he’d been peeing for a long time, and he was still going strong. He moved a little, causing the jet of urine to spray against her head.

“Ugh, did you really have to get my face?” she complained. “Stupid dog.” But she stayed put under the flood of warm dog pee. Mitsy stretched, then yawned, getting a mouthful of sour, salty liquid right to the back of her throat. “Urkglk! Fuglgk!” She stretched her neck out, taking his stream at point blank range, blindly nuzzling her way closer and closer to the source.

“Are you purring?”

“No! Shut up!” Mitsy yowled.

His stream poured over her. When it finally waned, Bruno looked down at her expectantly. Mitsy groaned, and started to lick and nuzzle his dripping cock.

“You’re purring. I knew it.”

Mitsy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was turned on by her pretending not to enjoy it too, why did he have to rub it in her face? Of course, that was far from the only thing Bruno got off on rubbing her face in. The sopping pussy mused on this until ropes of hot, sticky liquid splurted all over her face.

“Hey! Warn me next time! You could’ve gotten it in my eye!”

Mitsy was a mess. Her face and whiskers were all sticky, and she was literally dripping dog urine. Bruno helpfully licked the worst of it off her, and the wet cat staggered to her water fountain. It was clogged with dog hair, barely working, and the water was probably 50% dog backwash, but she lapped greedily at the cloudy water. Bruno, she could hear drinking from the toilet again. Dogs! She padded back into the den, and rubbed up against her cat tower that Bruno had been using like a lamppost all month long.

She returned to her soggy bed, and curled up to lick her genitals, but Bruno immediately started to complain that it was unfair she wasn’t licking his genitals too. Mitsy had to slurp at his cock and fuzzy scrotum, and even his disgusting pucker.

She woke up from her next round of napping with the dog lying draped over her, nearly smothering her in his greasy fur. Mitsy’s bladder was in agony. She’d been drinking as much as she could all day, and the amount of Bruno’s pee she’d swallowed made it even worse. The liquid was going right through her. Not to mention... the cat’s stomach gave a warning gurgle. She’d had to go for a while, but the feeling now became a hot, burning pressure against her tailhole. Her eyes widened. “Uh oh! Get off me you fat lummox, get up now!”

“Why? It’s so comfy...”

“Litterbox litterbox litterbox!” Mitsy batted at his back with her paws.

The two pets’ activities as of late had been giving them both horrible stomach issues, so Bruno should have known what was coming, but despite this, he kept her pinned down. “Say the magic word.”

“Litterbox please!” whined the struggling cat.

“My name isn’t litterbox. Can you say my name?”

“Let me up before I shit myself you stupid dog!” Mittsy hissed. She wriggled her way out from under him and sprinted across the house, tail pressed down to her rear. She just barely made it. Bruno had destroyed the litterbox again that morning, soaking both the litter and the floor around it in piss, not to mentione it hadn’t been cleaned in a few days, but it was too late to be choosy. The tabby squatted and gratefully unleashed a flood of pee onto the damp litter. Then SQRKKLLRRPLRRTTTT!

For an animal as instinctively stealth as a cat, having such a loud bowel movement was unbearably humiliating, and it got even worse when Mittsy saw Bruno standing in the doorway, panting expectantly, his tail wagging.

“Haven’t dogs ever heard of privacy?”

“Blow me.”

“Fuck you too.”

“It’s not an insult, it’s an order. I was going to make you before you got up, but I guess some kitty couldn’t hold it in... weren’t you bragging about being better house trained than dogs last month?”

“Dude, really? Now?” Mittsy groaned as another cramp wracked her intestines. Wet, muddy slop squirted from underneath the tail. It smelled horrific in here.

“You said I could use you any time I wanted.”

“Fine,” the cat growled. “I guess I’m going to be in here for a while anyway.”

Mittsy’s bursting bladder had saturated the already wet cat litter and pooled around her paws. At least it was empty now, but her stomach just kept going. She awkwardly nuzzled and licked Bruno’s red rocket while trying to stay in her squat. A sudden spray of diarrhea splattered the back wall of the box. Eww, it was dripping down her legs! She hacked up a little bile.

The tabby’s face was soon freshly striped with cum. Bruno lifted his leg again. “By the way, I need to use your box,” he said.

“Wait your turn!” she hissed. Her gut shuddered, and disgorged a foul, slimy ribbon of waste.

“You’re being selfish and territorial again. There’s plenty of room.” Without asking again, he just cocked his leg and started peeing... all over Mittsy.

“Your aim still sucks. I can’t believe you can hit a fire hydrant.”

“Who said I was aiming for the litter?”

“I hate you so much.” Mittsy couldn’t get up: she was chained to the defiled litterbox by her own digestive system. The feline panted and swore as her churning gut emptied itself.

“Damnit,” she huffed, stepping gingerly out of the box into a puddle of dog urine without even bothering to cover it. “I am never eating you know what again. My butt’s dirty, isn’t it?”

“Let me see.” Bruno turned the cat around with a paw. “Eww. Yeah, you’re a mess back there. Better not sit on any furniture!” he barked.

“This is your fault.” Mittsy looked at the filthy litterbox. Fuck, she’d destroyed it! There was a puddle of liquid catshit covering half the sand, and spattered drops all over the walls.

“If you say the magic words I’ll help you wipe it, shitty kitty.”

“Fucking dogs,” she growled. “Fine, whatever, Dogs rule, cats drool, yada yada yada.” SLORP. His tongue pressed against her fouled backside so hard her hindquarters were almost lifted off the floor. He was licking it, snuffling at it... eating it. That disgusting dog.

“There, all clean,” Bruno said proudly, then immediately licked her face as she walked away. Mittsy immediately retched from the fetid state of his breath. Her stomach cramped, and to her mortification, a gassy, tailhole burning outburst escaped her. She looked back and saw a huge mess on the floor next to her box. It was half puddle, half pile.

“Oh, shit!”

“Not house trained at all! How disgusting!”

Mittsy teared up. She’d had another accident in the house. A poop accident. She wasn’t going to live this down for a while... until the next one struck. “I don’t suppose you could... dispose of the evidence?”

“Nope. You made the mess, now rub your nose in it!”

Mittsy’s face burned with embarrassment. Fucking dog. She was going to get him back for this! The cat tearfully sniffed at her putrid accident. She gingerly rubbed her nose against the surface, then felt the sudden thrust of a dog dick against her rump, forcing her muzzle down into it with a splat.

“Urggh! Pick a hole, you barbarian! I don’t care which one, but don’t try to split the difference!”

The flared tip of his member thrust against her dripping sex. Mittsy raised her butt to the sky and pressed back against him, but his next thrust shoved her face down into her shit again. Swallowing what remained of her pride, she rubbed her cheeks and forehead in it like she was rolling in catnip, staining her fur with abominable smelling fecal matter. He pressed his shaft against her again and again, until with a slimy sucking sound her resistance gave way. She was trapped there, head down in her filth, being humped by a dog seven times her size.

After he’d finished using her, Bruno made the poor cat roll in her disgusting litterbox before allowing her to follow him upstairs and share his dog bed. Mittsy was filthy. Her coat was matted with excrement and gritty cat litter. But she writhed and ground against him. She wanted to be used. Bruno curled around her, his warm shaft against her dirty feline body.

Her third nap was also interrupted by an urgent need to use the litterbox. Mittsy sat bolt upright, her gut churning and knotting. She dug her claws into the bed. Could she even make it to the litterbox? Why even try? She thought, it was too filthy to use anyway. Look what happened to her the last time she tried. She’d just hold it in...

She didn’t last five minutes. Mud squirted and leaked out of her, fouling the plush bed under her. Bruno smelled her fresh accident immediately, and cruelly belittled her while she leaked liquid shit all over his bedding.

“I should go to,” the shepherd said with a yawn. “I’d shit in your litterbox since I know you hate that, but it’s too gross even for me.” He got up and squatted, right over the bed... and her. Mittsy’s heart thumped in her chest.

“Bruno... eww...” the tabby complained, even as her paw strayed to her loins. It was all warm and sticky down there. She dragged her toe beans up her belly, staining her fur dark brown. Bruno’s flexing, repulsive pucker loomed over her, all wrinkly and flecked with dried shit. No self-respecting cat would ever want any animal to dump on her, much less a dog. But she wanted it. She wanted that hot, sticky weight against her, and the revolting smell sullying her fur. “Not on me...” She couldn’t say no. She was free for his use, as a bitch and as a toilet.

“It’s your fault I’m shitting in the house,” he said. “You’re the one who lets me eat out of your litterbox.”

“You made me let you. And you eat your own shit in the yard anyway, and other animals’ shit on walks.”

Bruno retorted by squeezing out a nauseating, rotten egg dog fart on her. Then, with a nasty crackling sound, his sphincter stretched open and a massive log of yellowish brown scat slithered ponderously from his pucker. Mittsy put out her paw and brushed it against the crowning turd, feeling the heat of his body. She lay there on her side, tail twitching in anticipation. The steaming log came down on her flank, folding under its own weight, piling up, and coiling. Then a torrent of piss started to gush from Bruno’s sheath.

“Oops. Fuck.” He tried to pinch of his dump, but had a huge chunk of shit clinging to his butt fur get smushed as he stood up and shuffled over the cat. His hot waterfall poured down on her. The piece of poop fell onto the bed with a split. His stream started to wane, but he pushed harder and it flooded forth over the fouled feline, drenching her fur. A snaking ribbon of waste piled up on the bed. Mittsy oh so carelessly rolled over into it. She was so wet... so thirsty. She sat up and wrapped her mouth around his doggie dong, grimacing and gagging as his foul pee flooded her maw. She swallowed it down regardless. She needed to pee so badly, and... spllpllrqrklt. Fuck, it was just bubbling out all over her tail.

Bruno’s bladder had run dry. Mittsy felt the urge to defecate again. “I’m going to groom myself,” she announced. “Don’t you dare shit on me again.” She brought her dirty paw to her face, sniffed then licked. The taste brought up vomit in her throat, but made her loins quiver with perverse joy. The cat curled up, licking her own kitty cunt just as felines did. Curling up like this was putting even more pressure on her bladder and bowels. She let it all go. A geyser of sickening acid-y ammonia-y cat piss sprayed up into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head at the rancid flavor of her own urine. “Ugglglckclk...” she gurgled, lapping at her foul stream. “Just like my fountain...” She swallowed down as much of the noxious liqui as she could. Worse still was the substance leaking out of her ass. It bubbled, oozed, and squirted all over her tail. Raw, unsanitary diarrhea. But how was a cat supposed to keep her butt clean other than her tongue? It tasted so bad, but it felt so, so good.

Above her there came a grunt. A hot, soft coil of dog waste plopped down on her head and shoulders. He’d taken the bait, just like she thought.

“Gross. Stupid dog.” She looked up from between her legs, her muzzle dripping a repulsive mixture of her own bodily functions. Sticky scat draped itself over her head and ear like a rope. She rolled on her back, catching the vile semisolid crap in her paws. It was squishing all over her back. Fuck... she crawled to the massive log he’d dumped earlier. She sniffed it, nuzzled it, and started licking, scraping up the firm stool with her barbed tongue. She was drooling, and gagging, but she wanted it. Mittsy took a big bite. More shit came down on her back. She rolled over, pawing at her canine companion’s butt.

SPPBLRLBRURRRRRPTCH!

“What the fuck, Bruno!”

“Looks like that was about five milkbones too many this morning!” Bruno laughed, his tail wagging. He’d just had what could only be described as a mudslide on her chest, weighing her fur down with hot, cloying sludge. More steaming, mushy lumps and coils followed, not just on her chest, but in her face, and in her mouth. What kind of cat was she? Shamelessly eating shit like a dog.

She swallowed. “You’re sure you eating out of my litterbox yesterday didn’t have anything to do it?”

Bruno shrugged. “Who cares. By the way, this is my bed this time, so don’t blame me for being there while I mark it.”

“You pissed in my bed. Ugh... dogs.”

Bruno let fly with an abhorrently festerous, gloopy explosion of molten crap, defiling poor Mittsy’s coat with a ghastly and abbatoiric eruption. A churning river of pestilent soft serv flowed out of his anus, coating her face and chest and filling her maw with the filthy, chunky sludge. Mittsy mashed it around with her tongue, swallowed, and opened her mouth for more. PLRBLKLLRRRTTT.

He left the poor cat with her head and torso half buried in shit, then turned around to survey the destruction he’d wrought. The german shepherd laughed. “What happened to Miss never eating poop again?”

“Urghh... I hate you...” Mittsy gurgled, wiping muck out of her eyes. She licked her freshly soiled paws. She was probably going to have the shits again tomorrow. But she was still free to use for all her housemate’s sexual and bathroom needs. The filthy feline kept leaking a noxious swamp all over her on tail, and the dirty dog hovered his quaking asshole over her face before nearly drowning her in another gout of diarrhea.

“You’re purring again,” Bruno observed, while Mittsy lay helplessly gargling liquid dogshit and kneading his butt with her poopy paws.

“Shut up! It’s just my stomach!”

“I’ve heard that excuse before.”

Day 31: Halloween Special

Today is Halloween, or rather, Foul-o-ween, the end of Sloptober. It’s been a long, fun, and very filthy month. To mark the end of this momentous month of mudbutted mayhem, it’s time to revisit one set of characters from each of the first four weeks, and see how they’ve chosen to celebrate this holiday!

Week 1:

Alex the ranch hand didn’t go trick or treating: there was too much work to be done at the ranch, and thanks to the seniority system he was stuck with the horses while the other workers went to Halloween parties. By that doesn’t mean he and the two mares, Sandy and Cinnamon, couldn’t have some have some fun of their own. Their improvised Halloween party started with relatively tame games, like the horses competing to see who could launch a pumpkin the highest with a see saw by stomping on the other end, but things quickly took a turn for the dirty when Alex finished mucking out the stable and loading the dirty straw onto a cart to be taken to the dung heap, and Sandy and Cinnamon had the idea of giving him a hay ride. They got a little out of control, and trotted straight into the dung heap at full tilt, plunging chest deep into it. The sudden stop sent Alex flying forward. Luckily his fall was cushioned by Sandy, less luckily for the stablehand his face went directly between her pillowy buttocks, and the Palomino chose that exact moment to let out a burst of fetid equine exhaust that lasted more than fifteen seconds.

They staggered back from the dung heap reeking of stale manure. Alex’s clothes and the horses’ coats were splotched brown. But there was no point trying to hose them down yet, because it was time for Sandy and Cinnamon’s favorite Halloween game... Bobbing for Roadapples.

The mares had already gotten a head start on filling the big metal tub a couple hours ago. It was more than half full already with cloudy yellow liquid that reeked of ammonia and general barnyard fumes. Sandy backed up to the basin, spread her legs, and cheekily lifted her tail aside. Alex watched with the usual mixture of awe and arousal as a golden waterfall plunged from the palomino’s private parts, breaking up the nasty scum that was starting to form on the surface and churning it into a rising cauldron of foaming fluid. Alex had learned to never underestimate the horses’ bladders, but it was clear that she’ been holding it in for a while. There was just so much, endlessly gushing down. Thanks to an errant breeze it was blowing back all over her legs, but she didn’t even care. Sandy wasn’t the most athletic of mares, but even if she couldn’t run like a racehorse she could sure piss like one! The swirling lake of urine was getting close to the top of the tub, and she still wasn’t stopping!

“Holy crap!” Alex exclaimed. “How much did you drink?”

“I dunno, I wasn’t keepin’ track!” Sandy said cheerfully. “It sure was a lot, though!”

“Leave some room for me! I’m bursting!” complained Cinnamon, who was clippety-clopping in place in an uneasy potty dance.

“If you wanted there to be room you shouldn’t’ve let me call dibs!” Sandy laughed, flicking her tail through the stream and getting it all wet. The gushing torrent of horse pee kept going strong, and soon the tub completely overflowed, making a huge puddle on the dirt. The palomino pranced away from her handiwork with a smug, proud smirk, but she still hadn’t gotten it all out of her system. She peed on the ground for another thirty seconds before it finally slowed to drips.

Cinnamon snorted in annoyance. “Now I can’t even use it without stepping in your puddle. You’d better find me somewhere else to pee in a hurry, or I’ll let it out on both of you.”

Alex found her a bucket, but Cinnamon turned out to have held it in for two long as well, and the liquid rose at an alarming pace. Alex ran to get a wheelbarrow, but even that proved inadequate for the bay’s bursting bladder. Sandy trotted over with two more bucket handles between her teeth just in time, but Alex got drenched in the process of setting them behind Cinnamon, and she overflowed them anyway.

Then the real fun began. Sandy stood before the washtub again, hiking her tail up. She pushed out several brassy bursts of filly flatulence, then her donut bulged out even more, and she started pooping. Big lumps of slimy, fibrous horse dung splashed into the tub of pee, from golf ball sized to tennis ball sized. When over a dozen turds were floating in the foul yellow lake, slowly leaching their more brownish hues into the liquid, Alex knelt before the tub and gulped.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he said, and leaned forward. He’d never been any good at apple bobbing, but the great part about this game was that fresh horseapples were softer and squishier, but the bits of poorly digested hay and grass in them held them together, so it was easier than apple bobbing provided you didn’t mind the taste, or getting those same fecal fibers caught in your teeth. It was easier when the competition didn’t sabotage him anyway. A heavy horsehoe pushed down on his head, shoving him deep into the reeking liquid. When he came up for air, Sandy was whinneying in laughter at her own prank.

“If you’re going to cheat, so will I.” Alex seized one of the larger lumps of horseshit and threw it at her. It splatted against her shoulder. She let him fish out another piece, then took her turn, gratuitously shoving her whole snout under and blowing bubbles before picking out a piece of her own crap and eating it. Cinnamon too had no difficulty with the filthy game, and after just a couple rounds most of the lumps were gone. Cinnamon took her turn using the basin as a toilet. Heavy colonic cannonballs splashed down in the lake of piss.

Alex soon didn’t care about missing out on Halloween candy, because he’d stuffed himself with at least a pound of foul, piss-soaked manure. He had to drop out of the game, but the two mares kept happily dropping their droppings into the tub and fishing them out. But their loads were getting sloppier. The liquid turned from yellow to brown, and Sandy’s next round of stool was so loose they couldn’t scoop it out of the tub without the turds falling apart.

“That’s pathetic and disgusting,” Cinnamon said haughtily, tossing her head as she took her place before the tub. But to her apparent surprise, after the first few lumps of already pretty mushy dung, what came out of her ass was nothing more than a river of lumpy yellowish-brown sludge.

“I guess that’s the end of that game,” said Alex, but Sandy, never one to be pickily, eagerly started gulping down the noxious mixture of urine and feces, even when Cinnamon pushed out another thick, gloppy mudslide that splatted down right on her forehead. Sandy tried to add a load of her own to the basin, but it just squirted out so forcefully most of it didn’t even land in it. She looked dejected, but Alex had been working on another game.

“Sandy, look! This’ll cheer you up!”

“Toffee apples?” Sandy eyed the skewered fruits. “You forgot the toffee!”

“Toffee’s bad for horses anyway. Turn around.”

He lovingly caressed the mares’ sphincters, then inserted an apple into first Cinnamon, then sandy with a wet Schlorp! When the horses pushed them back out, they were caked with a layer of hot, sticky dung. Cinammon volunteered the sample the putrid treats first. Alex took a bite out of his.

“Hey, where’s mine?” whined Sandy.

“You only have two assholes! Just wait your turn!”

As night fell, Alex lead the two mares back to the stables. It looked like he was sleeping in their stall again tonight, because all three of them were covered in shit. Sandy had diarrhea leaking out of her and running down her legs as she walked, and Cinnamon was spared such an indigestive indignity only because there was currently another apple stuffed up her ass. But Alex had one more traditional Halloween activity he knew the mares would love. He’d bought a big pack of toilet paper.

“Hey, are you gonna TP the barn?” Sandy asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cinnamon said with a roll of her eyes. “The foreman would have him on nonstop stall mucking duty until Christmas.”

“That wouldn’t be much of a punishment,” said Alex, “But no, I’m not using this on the barn.

When he was done with his TPing, the mares looked like mummies that had been rolled through an open sewer. They were plastered in layer after layer of toilet paper, caked on with fresh manure. It was wrapped around their legs, draped over their bodies, and braided in their hair and tails. He’d also stuffed most of a roll up each of their anuses to try and stem the incessant diarrhea. They each had an extra tail hanging out, but Cinnamon’s was stuck to her rump.

The barn was filled with some very spooky sound effects that night: the rumbles, grounds, and low bass bellows of two mares’ upset tummies constantly blasting out smog, as well as vile splattering and squelching noises. The toilet paper plugs hadn’t lasted long before they dissolved and spilled out as vile, slimy goop. All night long they spray painted the walls, the floor, and each other with spluttering gouts of liquid shit and washed it off with torrents of warm pee. It was better than hot apple cider, Alex though as he slurped it right from Cinnamon’s filthy folds. The rest of the ranch staff hadn’t gotten back from their Halloween party yet. They didn’t know what they were missing.

Week 2:

Julie the Leopardess and Tyler the Mongoose went to a Halloween party together and got totally trashed. So trashed in fact, that Julie didn’t notice that the host had gone on a well meaning but ignorant health craze and given out the infamous Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears as party favors without checking the reviews. Tyler didn’t notice either until he pulled his own pack out of the bag of treats and read the label. They were already in the back seat of a friend’s car being driven home when he saw them. “Ugh,” he groaned, and started to put it back, when Julie noticed.

“Hey! If you don’t want those, can I trade them for a Milky Way?” Julie asked, leaning over so far her whiskers brushed his face.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Tyler. He told her of the legendary, explosive power of the candies.

“Oh, shit,” Julie said with a slur and a hiccup. “But they’re so tasty! I’ve already had two packs...”

They hadn’t gotten far before the leopard’s gut began to rumble in urgent, warning tones. Tyler started to panic, as did the designated driver. They reached Tyler’s apartment in record time, with many violated traffic laws.

“Get your drunk ass out of my car before it explodes all over my seats!” the driver ordered, and the couple staggered out of the car.

“Whishwayyys... hic! Bathroom!” Julie groaned. “I need to make a quick pit stop!”

“I think you’d better crash at Tyler’s place for the night,” said the driver. “I ate some of those things by mistake once. Just four of them had me on and off the toilet for hours, and you’ve had all that beer too. I’m not gambling my interior on your making it to your place.”

“Floor it, dude! I don’t wanna smell that!” urged the guy riding shotgun, and the driver peeled out without argument before Tyler or Julie could answer.

“Wait... whereyougoin?” Julie stumbled after the car. Her stomach lurched, causing her to clutch at her midsection in distress.

“Whaddadick!” Tyler flipped the rapidly escaping vehicle the bird. “Shit. I guess you’re sleeping here tonight. Bed, or couch?”

Julie pulled him into a hug and gave his face a long, slobbery lick. Her breath reeked of booze. “Bed.” She rummaged in his goodie bag and fished out the bag of gummy bears. “I’ve already had them, so what’s the harm in having more? Unless you were just waiting til you got home...”

The duo staggered through the building, and Tyler tried the wrong door three times before he got into his apartment. He tried to lead Julie toward the bathroom, but the leopardess flopped down on his bed.

“Julie... come on... before you shit yourself on my bed!”

“You gave me a choice!” she pouted. Tyler tried to pull her up, but the feline was too heavy, and she pulled him down on top of her instead. “I chose the bed!”

“To sleep in, not to shit in!”

“You heard him... it’s gonna be alllll night...” she purred, stretching and yawning. “Do you think I’ll wake up in time? Esides, you wet the bed when you drink!”

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Tyler yelled, blushing right through his fur.

“You told me, earlier...” Julie stroked his chest, then his belly. Her fingers wandered further down, teasing at the waistband of his Spiderfox costume with her claws. With a sudden burst of strength she rolled him over, pinning him down. “Lessshave some fun withvit... like a couple weeks ago!”

Tyler’s heart pounded as he remembered that wonderful, filthy night. He hoped he hadn’t drunk too much to remember this one. He kissed the leopardess on the nose. How could he possibly refuse? “Okay. Let’s take off our costumes first...”

“Hnnng... too late!” Julie growled. She rolled off him, doubling over in gastrointestinal distress. There was a hideous wet splattering sound.

Tyler got his own costume off unsullied, but Julie’s got pretty messy in the process of trying to get it off her. Her panties were completely overflowing with hot, greasy sludge. The leopardess pawed curiously at her filthy underwear, getting shit all over her fingers. She sniffed them, grimaced, and wiped them on Tyler.

“Hey! You got it on me!” he giggled. “It’s supposed to go on you!” He scooped up some of the mess that had flowed out of her panties and splatted it on her belly. Julie stuck out her tongue at him and flooded her panties with another noisy wave of mud.

Tyler got up to go to the bathroom, but something must have gone wrong in his drunken brain, because the next thing he knew he was standing beside his bed, emptying his bladder all over his guest. Not that she minded judging by the way she was putting her face under his powerful stream and letting the golden liquid pool in her mouth and flow out the sides between each swallow. He crawled back into bed, and was soon playing little spoon for the soggy, incontinent feline.

He woke up a few more times in a drunken haze. Once he was lying on his back, with a gentle fountain of his own pee drenching his chest. Another time he was woken up by Julie grinding her shitty butt against him, and another time by her giggling to herself as she fingerpainted his face. He licked her fingers without thinking. Yuck. That definitely wasn’t melted chocolate.

Julie just diarrhead herself all night. He’d tried to warn her about those gummy bears. Her stomach kept pumping out wave after wave of soupy filth into her panties.

The pair woke up in a sorry state: hung over and covered in waste. Julie’s panties were totally ruined, and so were the sheets. Tyler noticed the state of his hands just in time to avoid rubbing his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he gasped as he saw the effects of Julie’s gastrointestinal devastation. His fur was caked and matted with wet, slimy sludge, and they were practically lying in a lake of sewage on the sheets. As for Julie, it was hard to tell the leopardess even had spots.

“Hmm?” Julie stirred. She took in the horrific mess. “What happened last night?” Tyler explained the drinks and the sugar free gummy bears.

“Wow.” The leopardess grinned as she felt her own shitty fur. “I guess I really made a fool of myself last night. Sorry about your sheets.”

“It’s okay. You were right, I wet the bed anyway.”

“Dirty boy.” Julie pulled him back down to the filthy sheets with a sensual growl. “I’ll help with the laundry later. For now... do you have any more of those gummy bears?”

“I don’t know,” he said, but Julie suddenly grimaced in discomfort and clutched her stomach.

“Ooehh... never mind, I don’t think the ones from last night are done with me yet!” She knelt on the bed, but before she could get up, the dirty leopardess exploded into her panties. Tyler gasped in shock as they bulged out with the rapid, muddy expulsion and overflowed. Rivers of liquid shit flowed down her legs. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I was trying to make it to the bathroom. I didn’t get any on you, did I?” She looked back at Tyler, and saw that his half mast morning wood had become a throbbing erection.

“Not this time. You did all night, though.” Tyler reached out and felt the warm, soggy bulge under her tail, then her dripping thigh. Her muscles tensed, and more rancid stew bubbled out of the leg holes. God, she was so messy, and so sexy.

“It looks like you’d prefer if I did...” Julie tugged down her filthy panties and crawled onto the mongoose, pushing him to the filthy bed. Tyler could only moan in response. She took her shit-filled panties and wrapped them around his cock, sliding them up and down in the gooey mess. She moved backwards until her butt was hovering right over his face. Little bits of slimy poop dripped down on his cheeks. He watched in horror as her grimy pucker bulged and flexed. Her stomach rumbled again.

“Only if you help lick me clean afterward,” he gasped. Julie purred in response and squirted out some noxious, watery mess. Putrid mud dribbled from her butt like lava while her hole bubbled and sputtered. Another cramp forced her sphincter wide, and a sloppy serpent of nearly liquid shit exploded out all over his face. He opened his mouth to gag at the stench, but some more dripped into it. Julie purred even louder in relief. Tyler dared to nuzzle her fouled, sticky crotch, and got a noxious stream of hot, horrendous tasting diarrhea that coated his face and filled his maw to the brim.

“Ahh...” Julie growled. She leaned forward. He could feel her hot breath against his cock even through the layer of slimy shit now covering it. “I think I’ll get a head start right now.”

Week 3:

Against your better judgement you didn’t break up with Veronica a couple weeks ago, despite her showing several relationship red flags, like tying you to the bed and letting her poorly trained dog, Scout, pee and poop in your mouth and face. You were never a dog person, but after a while being forced into obscene acts with both pet and owner, you came to appreciate their filthy ways. Now here you are, spending your Halloween date night holding the cute beagle husky mutt’s leash as you walk her from house to house in what you have to admit is a pretty cute skeleton costume to match yours and Veronica’s. You laugh at all Scout’s antics, like barking at skeleton decorations and scarfing the entire bowl of dog biscuits despite the sign clearly saying “Please take ONE.” She does this at several houses. That’s in addition to the treats Veronica is repeatedly feeding her pet.

You would be concerned about the amount that dog is eating. Before the night even began she scarfed a massive bowl of kibble, and then Veronica emptied two big cans of pumpkin into her bowl for a halloween treat, and fed her a dozen squares of ultra processed american cheese. Woe be unto the lawn or sidewalk she chooses to unleash that upon, because you’re sure she’s brewing up a truly horrific dump. But by Scout’s standards, she’s well behaved. Unfortunately for you, that’s because she’s saving it until you get home. She knows it, and you know it.

The second half of the trick or treating odyssey, you’re keeping your butt cheeks clenched too. You ask Veronica if she put something in the home cooked meal you made, but she just smiles knowingly. By the time you’re close to your house, you’re sure it’s either laxatives or food poisoning. Whether you make it to the bathroom is going to be close.

You burst through the door just in time, but the damn dog gets her leash wound around your legs. You narrowly avoid tripping and falling, but can only stand there knowing you’re going to shit yourself any second. Scout looks up at you innocently, then squats and starts pissing all over your shoes. You clench as hard as you can, but your gut cramps just as you bend over to try and untangle the leash, and SCHLUPP! You feel a hot, sticky mass fill your underpants.

“Good dog!” Veronica says. “You get an extra treat for making it all the way home and pottying on Daddy!”

Poor Scout must really have to go, because she peed like a faucet, completely drenching your shoes and leggings in her mark and leaving a massive puddle in the foyer. You get yourself free and Veronica unhooks her dog’s leash. Together you rub the pooch’s nose in her puddle, which is hardly a punishment for her. She happily licks the pissy floor and rolls around in it for a belly rub, getting her costume all wet.

“Well, anon,” Veronica says sultrily, stroking your shoulder, “How about we get out of these skeleton costumes and do a little “boning”?

“I need to get myself cleaned up first,” you say foolishly. “Dinner was delicious, but I don’t think it agreed with me.”

“Oh, don’t bother. It won’t help you.” Veronica bends over and shows off the massive bulge in the seat of her painted black leggings.

You don’t argue with what she wants. The woman has you too well trained for that already. You follow her to the bedroom and strip off your soiled costumes. Your accident is confined to your black briefs, but Veronica’s has spilled out of her panties. You throw the costumes on the floor, and you carefully remove your poopy underwear, then help her out of hers. It’s disgusting. Horrible smelling brown mush has spread all over your asses, and smeared itself between Veronica’s legs. She lies down on her back and spreads her legs. “If you’re not hard and inside me in ten seconds you’re using your tongue,” she threatens. The intimidating demand turns you on, though, and you mount her.

But your act of messy missionary is soon disrupted. You’re forbidden from shutting Scout out of the bedroom, and the mutt always gets frisky and feels the need to join in. Tonight is no different. It hasn’t been a minute before she trots into the room, and you feel a cold canine nose right against your exit, followed by her tongue licking and slurping like your briefs were full of peanut butter and not the heinous aftermath of Shrimp Taco Surprise. What a gross dog. But being rimmed by her only turns you on further, and you soon finish.

“Really?” Veronica looks at the clock in disappointment. “That wasn’t even five minutes!”

“Your dog kept interrupting you blubber.” Your gut cramps, and you know you have to get to a toilet, fast. “Fuck... bathroom. I’ll finish you off soon, I promise.”

You stagger to the bathroom, legs clamped together. There’s no time to wipe your dirty butt before you plop down on the toilet with a squelch. Scout’s attempt to clean you up wasn’t exactly thorough. You groan in gastrointestinal stress and unleash the full horror of painful shit that’s been bubbling up inside you for the past three hours. It starts out as waves of oozing mush, then horrible bursts of gas that no bathroom fan in the world could drown out or remove the smell of. To make matters worse, you hear dog paws scratching at the door. The knob turns, and Scout bursts into the room, wagging her tail excitedly. Her muzzle is smeared with foul brown patches. She makes a beeline for your cock, which is in a similarly dirty state, and before you can do anything about it the husky mix is slurping away.

SPRRUTTTPRRTTPRUUUUUUURDRDRDT! You noisily defile the toilet, painting the bowl with a vile, asshole burning spray of explosive diarrhea, but this disgusting deed still fails to dissuade the dog. Every time you try to push her away she comes right back, and you’re glued to that porcelain throne. Your pleas for Veronica to help go unheeded, so you give up and let the perverted pup service you.

As usual, the dog pulls back mid orgasm and gets her muzzle and forehead splashed with sticky ropes of cum. She licks her lips, then envelopes your sausage in her mouth again and looks at you expectantly. You haven’t pissed in a while either, and your bladder is really uncomfortably full. Scout’s keeping you at half mast, and there’s no hope of bending your wiener down into the bowl. Your only options are to spray the entire bathroom, or give the damn bitch what you know she wants. You give in to her demands, pushing and slowly releasing your bladder into the thirsty mutt’s maw.

Scout drinks messily, gulping your urine down with a glik, glick, glick! Sound but also spilling a lot, and pulling back to breath, causing her and the bathroom floor to get showered in piss. Meanwhile your rectum is still detonating into the toilet.

You realize too late that there’s only two squares of toilet paper left on the roll. When you stand up, feeling much emptier, you have to let the dog use her tongue as a substitute. Her breath’s definitely going to be horrible for days after this. She does a horrible job of actually cleaning up, just gets her own face even messier, then to make matters worse she chooses that exact moment to start drinking out of the toilet. And you haven’t flushed! It’s a nauseating display, the dirty dog putting her paws on the seat and shoving her head down into the lake of human waste below, sloppily lapping up the revolting contents. Her tail is wagging furiously.

“Don’t flush,” says Veronica. “Those houses were way too stingy with the treats this year, the poor thing’s starving!”

You sigh in defeat and watch the dog lap up your shit, but your bowels suddenly cramp again and you realize you weren’t done. Uh oh. You try to shove the mutt aside, but she refuses to be interrupted.

“Move, you stupid dog! I’ll shit on you if you don’t!” you warn, but her tail wags even harder. You straddle the stupid animal and squat, hovering over the toilet bowl, and unleash hell. It’s a painful, asshole burning stream of noisy explosive crap. Your irritated bowels forcibly spray muddy jets of diarrhea that pour down on the poor dog’s head. PPPBLLGLLUGLLLGGLLLLGLLLRUUTTT! You stand up, dripping with sweat, and dripping shit on Scout’s back as well as the floor. Rarely have you felt so empty. The mutt is filthy, her whole head dripping with slimy fecal matter. You make eye contact with Veronica, knowing she just watched you take an explosive shit all over your girlfriend’s dog.

“Are you done in there yet?” the woman asks impatiently. “I’m about to explode!”

“Just a second, honey! Scout, come on, you’ve had enough! Leave it! Bad dog!” You flush, and dragon the filthy canine back into the bedroom by the collar. “The bathroom’s all yours, honey!”

“Bathroom? Who said I wanted to use the bathroom?”

You groan, and meekly return to the shitty bed. Scout jumps up next to you and starts licking your face. Yes, her breath smells like a backed up sewer. But you don’t even try to resist her efforts to french kiss you, since you know much worse is in store.

Veronica squats over you and makes you lick her pussy while she callously undams an ocean of piss, blasting your face with a golden geyser. She pushes a little too hard and starts dripping creamy muck on your throat and chest, then suddenly explodes and splatters a muddy stripe down your body all the way to your dick, which is only spared because Scout was busy sucking it. But the mutt abandons her post and starts trying to lap up the filth and wharrglblgl it from the spout as her owner uncaringly showers the pet in projectile poo. Your evil girlfriend then turns around and demands you clean her ass up. You’re forced to do the same as the dog did for you, licking her sickening, fecally caked cheeks and asshole and suppressing the urge to vomit. She starts dumping putrid lumps and ropes of wet, creamy scat, covering your face in shit and filling your mouth to the brim.

You grunt like a pig, rooting around with her nose and choking down several mouthfuls of the hot, gooey fudge. You have to rim her and eat her out after this loathsome and degrading act, until your tongue goes numb to the rancid, slightly spicy taste. But you’re in the zone tonight, and despite the numbness of your tongue you successfully get her off and earn yourself a reprieve from further force feeding.

Scout isn’t so lucky. You take a break and get the dog out of her soiled skeleton costume, then take turns giving her bloated tummy rubs and pats, fingering her, and even licking her nasty canine cooch. But Veronica has to shit again. Since the bathroom is still a disaster, she makes her pet roll over and puts a large funnel in her mouth.

Then, oh the humanity, oh the caninity. She unleashes hell on her pet, inundating her in a torrent of piss and seething, stinking gouts of violent diarrhea, blasting spluttery mud bursts right into the funnel and spraying diarrhea all over Scout’s front. Scout takes it like a champ, though, even though she’s now wallowing in excrement and has swallowed a ton of it. You keeping the pup distracted by fingering her and eating her out has to help.

But you’ve both oh so foolishly neglected to let the pent up pup outside to defile the backyard, and your filthy cuddling session after Veronica has thoroughly emptied her bowels is interrupted by a tempestuous rumble from the mutt’s bloated tummy.

“Your turn,” says Veronica. Even though it’s been your turn the last three times, you don’t argue, just lay back and let Scout squat over you.

Even her drenching of your shoes earlier only took the edge off the beasky’s bursting bladder, and after a little licking the canine gratefully opens the floodgates. She’s peeing like a faucet, drenching your face in a neverending stream of golden, sickly sweet nectar. She’s not even finished when with a muddy crackle her asshole bulges out and extrudes a repugnant snake of sticky dogshit that slithers down your forehead onto the mattress. Several more turds roll down you. Scout’s still peeing, but she groans and shuffles forward, then dumps a massive baggie busting pile of crap on your face. God but she’s gross. You know it’ll taste horrible but you open your mouth anyway. A massive, rotten log slides between your teeth.

“Good dog!” says Veronica. “Sit! Good girl!” Her pet is still defecating, so she sits down on your face with a squelch, and mushy feces oozes everywhere, totally coating your face and her rump and even getting up your nose. You swallow and flutter your tongue against her muddy holes. Scout gets up again and excretes more ribbons of noxious soft-serv filth, then floods your mouth with another pint of salty pee to wash it down with.

“I think you gave her too many treats,” you say as Scout groans in discomfort. A spluttering, sulfurous fart bubbles from her hole, speckling you with more creamy waste.

“Nonsense. Good dog, keep pottying on daddy! He deserves it from trying to starve you, doesn’t she?” Veronica simpers. Scout barks in agreement and blorps up more mush. Veronica rewards her pet for this atrocity by taking a dump in her own hand and giving it to the dog to lick up. Scout devotedly wolfs down her owner’s foul, slimy excrement, but she’s clearly in gastrointestinal distress. Her anus bubbles and oozes, leaking even runnier mess onto you. The third handful of shit she’s fed is the last straw. She gags and horks up a torrent of filth onto your crotch, and her rear end explodes in a colossal mudslide of abhorrent potty sludge. You pat her rump, knowing that the poor pup really had to go. It’s filling your mouth and covering your head, inundating you in filth. She tries to slurp up her own poopy puke, but her tongue finds its way down to your erect penis.

“Good dog,” you agree, holding Scout’s hips as you lick and nuzzle underneath her wagging tail. Her owner showers her in a loud stream of liquid shit, but she happily keeps licking away. What a sweet pup, you think even as a river of doggie diarrhea flows incessantly from her butthole, washing over your face and flooding your mouth with hot slurry. You don’t mind that she’s having an accident, it’s actually kind of cute. You’ve been completely converted to a dog person.

Week 4:

Rosalie the Chinchilla woke up on Halloween morning the same way she’d woken up for the last week: sore, bruised, and filthy. The extreme no holds barred kidnapping experience she’d signed up for was almost over. Tomorrow, she’d be free. But it was far too late for her. The naïve, sheltered rich girl who’d paid to be abducted was gone, broken under days of violating, degrading treatment. She’d been forced to wet and soil herself, pissed on, pissed in, beaten, fucked in every hole, smeared with her own waste and that of other furs, and even forced to eat it. Her cruel captors delighted in subjecting her to vile, disgusting acts that she’d never even imagined any fur could be sick enough to do. But in the process she’d learned, much to her dismay and horror, that she enjoyed it. Now she knew that she was nothing but a disgusting little shit whore, just like her captors called her, and going home would never erase the foul taint of what she’d become.

The black panther woke her up by throwing a bucket of liquid in her face. It wasn’t water, oh, no, that wasn’t nearly cruel enough: it was what some of the service’s other captives had been using as a toilet. Rosalie didn’t even have that luxury: she was bound hand and foot and had to piss and shit herself where she lay. Reeking sludge splattered all over her. She coughed and choked, but forgot herself and writhed on the shitty floor, licking her lips. The panther hauled her to her feet and marched her out of the cell. He then sat back in a chair and watched as his minions gave the prisoner a bath. She still wasn’t clean: they were more interested in groping her naked body than washing her. Her fur was matted and caked with her own excrement, but they at least scrubbed her face and washed her mouth out. Rosalie knew it was her only reprieve. This was the cleanest she’d be all day. She was permitted a heavy breakfast of real food, which she ate ravenously. There was so much oatmeal and prunes, she knew it would go right through her. She’d miraculously made it through the night without pooping herself for once (but peed herself twice). Now her bowels were bursting. She pleaded for a toilet, even offering to use a bucket, but they strapped her down to a breeding stool and took turns having their way with her.

Her assailants were the usual pale-furred wolf, the buck, and a hairy wild boar. They fucked her tender rodent pussy into oblivion, then made her clean their nasty dicks off with her tongue and jacked off on her face. The panther was even crueler: he rammed his barbed member into her abused tailhole, causing her to shit herself all over his cock, and he still finished inside her and made her give him a foul tasting blowjob afterward. Rosalie drooled profusely through the gag in her mouth the whole time.

The filthy chinchilla then had to kneel on concrete until her knees ached while her captors humiliated her by showering her in their strong, musky piss. Then she was bound on her back, shit on by the wolf and boar, and smeared with the revolting substance. After that, she had to service some of the other clients (or captives): a middle-aged, saggy antelope woman, a tabby tomcat who was forced to watch his greyhound wife getting railed by the kidnappers (and the greyhound too after the males were done with her), and a jackal woman who’d been brought to the dungeon just a couple days ago and was still getting used to her new place in life. To Rosalie’s shame the jackal still had a spark of resistance in her eyes, while Rosalie’s hadn’t even lasted a day. All of them had severe diarrhea thanks to the unsanitary conditions they were kept in. She had to lick their tailholes as clean as she could get them, and several times she was surprised by a spurt of nasty filth from the incontinent furs. It was so vile that she puked and had to lick it up off the dirty floor. But she wanted more, and knew she deserved more.

The kidnappers dragged her away by her ears and tail, forcing her into a small cell. The black panther crossed his arms and looked over her filthy body with a smirk.

“Surprise, bitch!” he said. “Looks like your daddy decided to pay off your ransom after all, so we only get one more day with you. I can’t imagine why he even wants you back after seeing you like this.”

Rosalie’s heart hammered. She teared up, despite knowing this was all part of the simulated storyline. He wouldn’t really send her family pictures of her like this. He’d never find out that his precious little girl was a disgusting toilet whore who had paid to be forced to crawl around and wallow in filth.

“So I thought I’d have a little more fun with you. When he sees what we’ve turned you into, he’ll probably send you right back to us, for good! Unless of course he wants to decorate his office with a nice fountain.”

Rosalie mewled in despair as she stared at the piece of bondage furniture in the center of the room and realized how she was supposed to fit in it. She made a break for the door, and kicked and struggled the whole way while the wolf and buck forced her into it. She was bound upside down, with her hands cuffed, her legs forcibly spread and strapped in stirrups on other side of her head, and her rear end sticking straight up in the air. They tied her tail down so she couldn’t even curl it between her legs, and shoved a ring gag into her drooling mouth.

“Cgluh!” she protested. “Nnnnuhhhh!” She should have peed and pooped while she had the chance. She’d held it in, and now she was bursting and in a position where relieving herself would have the worst possible results. Oh, fuck, why had she held in so much? It was going to go all over her now!

The panther laughed cruelly as he watched the chinchilla squirm and struggle. The other kidnappers were taking photos and jeering. To make matters worse, the other abductees were led to her cell and shown her as a warning of what would happen to them if she misbehaved.

Rosalie’s muscles cramped and strained. Fuck, she couldn’t make it! Her bladder was so full it hurt, and her stomach was no better. Prunes and oatmeal... what a filthy mess that would make! She’d given up actually trying to hold her bladder and bowels, but the extra motivation gave her the strength to fight off the call of nature for a while. But not forever. Her stomach rumbled and gurgled. Her aching loins spasmed and clenched. Her tailhole burned. With one last spasm she felt something liquidy ooze out. Then some gas escaped her in a humiliatingly wet, bubbly shart. A little brown liquid trickled over her pussy.

Then the chinchilla’s toes curled in distress as she started peeing herself. Golden liquid dribbled and squirted, running down her tummy to her matted breasts. She involuntarily relaxed, and the trickling became a fountain. Here it came. She closed her eyes just in time for the stream of pee to rain down on her face. Right in her mouth too, yuck! She shuddered when the bitter, salty flavor hit her tongue. She heard a laugh and a camera shutter clicking. This was so humiliating! But nice and warm, soaking her, ahh... from head to toe. Wow, there was so much! She was just barely letting go because she knew she was about to shit herself too, but it just kept pouring down. Her mouth was almost half full. She just let it sit there, blowing a few bubbles in the lake of urine now lapping at her molars.

Her bladder was still full when she relaxed a little too much. PFFFFFFT. Gas hissed out of her hole, then SPQLURK! SssssssPRiiiitttttschplup! Sppppprrpppppprrppttt. A crackling rope of mushy shit oozed out of her butthole, coiling and piling up on her rump. It oozed out over her pussy until it hit her pee stream, then gooey lumps dripped down onto her stomach. Rosalie moaned in distress.

“That’s what you get, you dumb bitch,” said the panther.

“Look at it go,” jeered the wolf. “Isn’t it gross, taking a dump all over itself?”

“Mmm!” Rosalie gurgled. She swallow the mouthful of piss. Yes, she was gross, so fucking gross! She gave in to the overpowering urge to defecate and gave a gentle push. A thick, sticky log slithered out of her and down over her folds. It was so gooey it fell apart under its own weight and splatted down into a shapeless mess on her tits. It stank so badly too! PPBBLLAARRRP! She sputtered. Semisolid droplets speckled her rump for. Another jet of urine soaked her forehead. Her stomach hurt. She just wanted to get it over with now. Another ribbon of shit piled up on her butt until a squirt of piss moistened it so much that half of it slumped off and plunged onto the pile. Splat! Her whiskers and chin were soiled with little bits of fecal matter. But the prunes, oatmeal, and the shit she’d been forced to eat all week were far from down with her.

“Peeeeefthse nuuuu! Eeellhhhpttthh!” Rosalie mumbled through the gag. She resisted the pressure as it built back up inside her. Shit, oh shit, it was going to come out! She gave in and pushed. A hot, glistening, slimy mass of dark brown sludge erupted from her insides and flowed down her entire front in a thick, gooey mudslide. It smelled so horrible! At least it wasn’t getting on her face, she thought. With this gag in she couldn’t keep it from going in her mouth.

She must have jinxed herself, because within minutes of thinking that her stomach had a violent cramp. Rosalie pushed without thinking of the consequences. She just wanted the pressure to stop. SSBLOOARK! A gout of foul diarrhea exploded out of her butt, spurting more than a foot in the air. Luckily for her it mostly landed on her leg, but liquid shit splashed everywhere. Shit! Her mouth, not in her mouth! It was horrible! She couldn’t do anything about the repulsive taste other than try to pee in her mouth some more to wash it down, but when she pushed another fountain of shit squirted out of her butt. She was almost disappointed that only a little splashed into her mouth.

“You should be used to the taste by now, slut.” The panther taunted her. “Stop whining and let it happen.”

Rosalie stopped whimpering. He was right. This was what she deserved. This was where she belonged. She arched her back, pulling her butt a little further from the wall. She still felt like she was about to explode. PLLLPTT! A sloppy lump of shit splatted down on her cheek. Her eyes watered with the horrific stench. Ohhhhh, fuuuuck, yessssss... She scrunched her toes up and pushed. More mushy, creamy scat rolled and slid down off her pussy and splattered down on her face. “Urrgghhk!” Not in her mouth, shit, why did she think this was a good idea? It was too late now. She worked the foul substance back and forth with her tongue. This was even worse than that jackal’s shit. She shouldn’t eat any more. She was going home tomorrow. She might go home sick with diarrhea and totally incontinent. Mmm... and it tasted so bad. Another dollop dripped into her mouth. She gagged. No, no, she couldn’t swallow. Gulp. She did anyway.

They didn’t even let her up. They just kept filming, taking pictures, and jacking off on her helpless body in between her uncontrollably pissing and shitting on herself. The wolf scooped up handfuls of waste and fed them to her, as well as smearing it all over her. Bound, helpless, and incontinent. She never once thought to turn her head sideways so her waste wouldn’t fall into her mouth. She was a shitty little chinchilla chocolate fountain. Even when she was rewarded with one free hand, instead of trying to cover her face, she just masturbated and smeared the putrid muck into her fur. The panther offered her a bottle of water, but instead of accepting the reward of having her mouth washed out, she pointed to her filthy anus with her free paw. He put a funnel in her mouth, so she still got her drink, but only while showering herself in raw sewage.

“Good girl!” the panther laughed, filming her humiliating desecration. “Looks like you know your place now.” Rosalie could only gurgle in reply. When she was finally cut down, she even rejected the offer of a shower and getting to sleep on a mattress in her now clean cell: instead, she was thrown, unwashed, into a filthy cage with the poor jackal woman, as a substitute for the bucket.

“You. Use her as a toilet all night, and you’ll get out of eating shit tomorrow,” the panther ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the jackal nodded meekly.

“And you,” he pointed to Rosalie. “Help break that bitch in tonight, and you get a 30% discount off your next kidnapping.”

Rosalie’s last night in the facility was her favorite night of all. She didn’t get much sleep, thanks to her and her cellmate’s incessant diarrhea, but she’d sure earned that discount, and she knew she was going to be using it. On the ride home, she flipped fondly through the package of hundreds of photos of herself doing the most vile, degrading, filthy acts. The ride in the van was just as long, but she didn’t ask to stop at a gas station to go potty even once. It was a good thing they’d sent her home in diapers, or she’d be leaking all over the van. She’d really need a change when she got home, though. No, maybe she could just wear it all day.