Andy's Birthday Extravaganza

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• this story is a work of fiction and must not under any circumstances be construed as an incitement to, endorsement of, condonation of, or acceptance of illegal conduct;

• this story is a work of fiction and, as such, any resemblance to real persons or events, no matter how remote, is pure coincidence;

• all characters of this fictional story are portrayed by actors of legal age, i.e. 18 years or older, regardless of the stated age of the characters;

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Additional disclaimers and warnings are in order for this particular story:

• this story contains graphic depictions of coprophagia (eating faeces) and urolagnia (drinking urine) for the purposes of sexual gratification of one or more of the characters involved, if this is not something that interests you, proceeding past this point should happen at your own peril.

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Andy's Birthday Extravaganza

Andy's dad had just finished combing the boy's hair as the doorbell rang. "There's always someone arriving on time..." he mutters to himself -- he believed it was common courtesy to show up a little late to parties. The now-nine-year-old boy looked at himself in his bedroom mirror: his light brown hair was neatly combed, his little white polo shirt was ironed and nicely perfumed from the washing liquid, and his navy blue little boy chinos were likewise looking very presentable. The boy smiled at himself, admiring his own image for several moments before hearing the exchanging of greetings at the door.

"Andy's in his bedroom getting ready," said his other dad to the first guest, "but sit, sit, have something to drink!"

It was an exciting day for a boy his age, and little Andy was jittery with anticipation as he walked out of his bedroom to peak at the first arrival, his dad's loving hand on his back gently guiding him. It was a man he had never seen before, probably one of his daddies' friends. "Andy, this is Grownup McAdult," he could have said. The little boy had little interest in remembering people's names, especially strangers, but he extended his little hand politely and accepted the well wishes from the man.

He noticed -- of course he did! -- a colourful package sitting on the table designated for presents. It was adorned with a neat bow and had a little birthday card -- but what nine-year-old cares about birthday cards? All he was interested in was the contents of the little box. Every bone in his body wanted to walk up to it and shake it, examine it, sniff it, whatever. But his daddies had been adamant about his waiting to open the presents -- it was unbecoming of a boy 'his age' to show such lack of restraint.

As guests started pouring in, the pile of presents only grew taller. Boxes of different sizes and shapes, in all manner of multicoloured wrapping paper, some bound with bows and some without, some with cards and some with just some writing on the wrapping.

Of course, by now Andy was kneeling dutifully in the middle of the living room, waiting patiently until one of the guests there to honour him had to use the toilet. His mouth was open and his brown eyes simply followed the comings and goings of the party guests. Boys his age or a little older played 'it' or tossed balloons to one another, giggling. Men talked about whatever it was that men talked about, cars or sport or insurance, drink in hand, occasionally grabbing an hors d'oeuvre from one of the waiters there from the caterer. And right in the centre of it, as the focal point, knelt Andy, the toilet of the hour.

It wasn't long, of course, until he got his first user. It was a boy perhaps twice his age, 11 or 12. He walked up to him, smiled down at his waiting face, and greeted him with a casual "hey, Andy." He then lowered the front of his shorts just enough to fish out his little cock, on the cusp of puberty but still very much in tweenhood. "Ah..!" he sighed out in relief as he released a powerful stream of yellow boy pee straight into Andy's tongue. The spruce little boy welcomed it, feeling it run down his tongue and pool up in his mouth, foaming a little as the level rose almost all the way up. The boy then politely stemmed the flow by pinching his soft prick and waiting for Andy to swallow, which he did avidly.

"You can finish peeing in my mouth now," he said politely, and his guest complied, by filling his mouth a second time. Despite his best efforts, after his first use already there were rivulets of pee running down his chin. His smart white polo would soak up most of it, and due to its colour it would be very easy to see the urine as it made the wet fabric cling to the boy's skin. The boy wiped the tip of his cock on Andy's nose, squeezing out the last droplets of pee right into the little one's nostrils, which he delightedly snorted in, making his eyes water as his nasal cavity burned with the acrid aroma of piss.

It was naturally more frequent that Andy would have to drink his guests' pee, but what he was really waiting for was the first load of nice, warm poo, straight out of a bum hole. Luckily, the first number two came only four or five number ones in, as one of his daddies' friends lowered his trousers and sat his hairy arse on the boy's face without so much as acknowledging him. The man checked his phone idly as his anus relaxed and contracted to the warmth of Andy's eager little tongue as it danced around it, trying to coax out his first turd of the party.

With a throaty grunt the man started expelling his first log of shit, an absolute monster that bullied its way down Andy's throat whether the boy was ready or not (he was). The drier and firmer turds had more structure to them, and generally lodged themselves deep into the boy's throat, making it hard to swallow. Andy needed to work his tongue around the loaf of shit in his mouth to wet it to a paste, which he could then store in his little cheeks like a turd-burgling little chipmunk. Once he'd saturated his morsel with sufficient saliva, he could chew and swallow like a good little toilet. This process could take a little longer than most toilet users were accustomed to, as this man wasn't -- which is why he simply released the next turd into Andy's mouth without waiting for the boy to prepare the first one fully. Luckily, this one was smaller and somewhat softer, so it went into the boy's mouth without much trouble, filling it up to the brim with shit.

"You good there, lil toilet?" the man asked, lifting up his bum just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of the boy's face over his shoulder. Andy nodded enthusiastically, trying his best to smile -- his mouth was so full that he couldn't close his lips, so it was more of a grin, except that instead of his teeth one could only see shit. "Lookin' real cute, there, lil toilet... one more for ya," said the man, before sitting back down on the boy's face, caring nary a jot about whether or not Andy's nine-year-old mouth would manage to accommodate his next serving (it would -- sort of).

He strained and expelled another soft turd out of his hole, pushing the shit so far down Andy's throat that the boy gagged and coughed, his face turning pink. Fortunately for the little toilet, his user reached back and held his head in place, keeping his face buried deep between his hairy arse cheeks. This was good as shit sprayed out of Andy's nose, but none of it landed anywhere but in the man's crack. The hirsute man stood up and waited for Andy to gobble up his mouthful. It took the boy a minute or two until he managed to macerate all of it and down it. By now, little light brown streaks of shitty saliva ran down the corners of Andy's mouth and stained his erstwhile perfectly white Lacoste polo. Luckily, only liquid was wasted, and all the solids were deposited safely in the little shitter.

Andy chewed and chewed and chewed, and swallowed all of it diligently, before showing the man his tongue, which he made pink by coating it copiously with his own saliva and drinking the rich brown liquid that resulted. There was, of course, still plenty of shit between the boy's teeth, but that didn't matter too much for the next step: cleanup. It was also the birthday toilet's duty to lap up whatever shit was left between his users' cheeks, be they young or old. Using his little fingers to pry the hairy arse open, he started giving it wet licks, running his full tongue up and down the man's crack, lapping up whatever dollops of shit he could find. "Yum!" he hummed to himself as he sucked on the wiry arse hairs, making sure to remove any and all shit from them, slurping and sucking loudly with a satisfied smile.

The boy hungrily kissed, licked, sucked, and otherwise nuzzled the spit-slick crack until it was clear he was doing it more out of his own desire to lick hairy arses than to clean the man. Once he saw there was another using waiting to use his mouth, though, he patted the man's behind, smacked his lips, and announced: "all set." The man hiked up his trousers and nodded at Andy. "Thanks for using the toilet!" the boy said politely, as the next user took his seat on the boy's face.

Andy continued to swallow whatever waste the men and boys attending the shindig were nice enough to drop in his mouth. He chewed on hard turds and chugged down diarrhoea; he was pissed in (by those with good aim) and on (by those with poorer aim); he pushed his tongue into virginal, smooth anuses as well as sweaty, hairy ones. He was having the time of his life!

There were strands of his previously tidy hair sticking to his forehead, matted with piss. There was a thick brown layer of shit on and around his lips, and dried streaks of shit made his neck look like that of a zebra's, as they ran all the way down and were then absorbed by his shirt. The collar and chest of his shirt were completely light brown, but the bottom of his white polo was only lightly speckled with liquid shit, a testament to his vocation as a public toilet.

When the lights were dimmed, Andy knew they'd soon be singing Happy Birthday in his honour. He got butterflies in his stomach, quickly rising to his feet and scampering over to the table where the cakes would be. One of his daddies carried in his arms a beautiful layer cake, with frosting and fondant and sprinkles... and his other daddy carried in a tray upon which rested a pile of shit, which someone tried to sculpt into a more or less rectangular cake shape, the size of a shoe box, with nine lit up candles stuck right in the middle. One cake for the human guests, and one cake for the toilet of the hour!

They sang, and plenty of pictures were taken of Andy's face illuminated by the warm light of the candle flames, staring greedily at this cake that he'd have all for himself. He licked his lips -- not only in anticipation, but also as a way to savour the shit that coated his lips. "Make a wish!" someone said, and quickly there were comments about how obvious his wish was.

"I can't say what it is, or it won't come true!" Andy retorted, furrowing his brow and pondering for a moment before blowing out the candles... He had wished to be used as a toilet every day forever -- it wouldn't have taken a psychic to guess.

As the adults sliced up the cake for the human guests and laid the pieces neatly on little plastic plates, Andy sucked the shit off the bottom of each of the nine candles, and then fell face first into his cake. He crammed handfuls of the delicious shit into his mouth, which was already level with the surface of the shit heap as he leant forward. His face was now completely coated in fresh, moist faeces. Like a kid trying to shove to much popcorn into his mouth at the cinema, Andy was essentially smearing shit all over his nose and chin every time he brought one of his hands to his mouth, but it seemed like that was part of the appeal for him. He was in a decadent trance, at times simply lowering his face onto the tray and using his hands to push shit onto his face, as he wallowed and giggled blissfully into his treat.

"How do you like your cake, Toilet?" one of his daddies asked, rubbing his back lovingly.

Andy looked up at him, face so completely covered in poo that he had to blink a few times and wait for a dollop of shit to be displaced off his eyelids in order to see his dad. His cheeks were puffy with his cake, and he already had another handful ready to be shovelled in. "It'sh sho gooood!" he replied, barely able to form sounds, and the adults laughed at his adorable little face filled to the brim with his special birthday cake. He filled his own little nostrils with shit, until he needed to breathe through his mouth -- but it was more than worth it in order to have the constant scent of poop filling his air ways.

Andy would have finished the cake, if his dad had not told him it was time to open the presents. Usually, it would be very inappropriate to open all the presents in the company of his guests, but they had a feeling there wouldn't be much in terms of surprise. The boy ran to the middle of the living room, sat down, and marvelled at the pile of gifts that the men in attendance placed on the floor in front of him.

It was at least a couple dozen boxes, and Andy wasted no time tearing the wrapping paper to shreds with his shitty little fingers. He didn't bother trying to read who they were from -- he was much more interested in the contents. And time and time again, Andy's eyes lit up as he opened the box to find... waste! Some were straightforward mason jars filled to the brim with unmistakeable human shit, usually conserved in piss. He asked his dads to help him by pouring the contents straight into his mouth. "Are you sure you don't want to save it for later?" they asked, with a knowing smirk. Andy would shake his head no, tilt his head back, and wait with a wide open mouth for his parents to lovingly pour the shit down his throat. More than once all the guests had to wait a good minute or two as he sat there with his upturned face, waste bubbling in his mouth as he gargled and savoured it before swallowing. "Uh-oh, looks like the toilet's clogged!" someone would joke, only for Andy to immediately start flushing, swallowing it all down and showing his guests his empty mouth.

Some people were a little more creative with their presents. For example, someone put together a nifty little basket of delicacies. Little turd nuggets wrapped individually like bonbons, small bottles of cum labelled as hailing from different animals, and little jars of chunky diarrhoea. Their presentation was impressive, and Andy was a very discerning toilet, taking his time to appreciate the subtleties of each offering, smacking his lips like a connoisseur, swirling the cum in his mouth and kissing his fingers after a particularly delectable morsel of shit. Refined as his palate was, the final destination of all the waste on offer was exactly the same -- Andy's tummy.

At some point towards the end of his pile of presents, Andy was sitting with his stomach bloated with waste, a mountain of wrapping paper building up next to him, as he got to another box. As he had done with every gift so far, he examined it closely and shook it a little, trying to guess its contents by their sound and heft. The giver of the gift, a man in his early thirties with a hipster beard and a flannel shirt, smirked and said: "it's a Lego set, Andy... we thought you would be getting so much poop that we wanted to change it up a little."

The boy immediately pouted and glared at the man angrily. "A... Lego set..?" he mumbles back, clearly distraught. What was the man thinking? Andy was a toilet, not a human boy. Only human boys play with Legos. Toilets eat waste.

He was about to call the man stupid, toss the gift, still unwrapped, to the side, and move on to the next one, when one of his dads leant in close to him and whispered in his ear: "don't sulk, thank him for the present, pretend you like it, and move on to the next one, okay?"

Andy sighed and, still pouting and without making eye contact with the man, snarled out: "thank you for the present." The little toilet then proceeded to unenthusiastically rip the wrapping and, sure enough, inside there was a Lego set. Some of the boys in attendance gasped, ohs and ahs flying around the room as they perked their heads to see a little closer the cool-looking samurai fortress. "Wow," he drawled out in a monotone, "a samurai castle, very cool." It was unconvincing, but he had to do his dad's bidding.

The nine-year-old was ready to cast the box aside and move on to the next present, a little deflated, when one of the boys asked him to open and show them the Lego bricks inside. "It looks really cool, just let me see it..!" the boy said, as the boy's father tried, to no avail, to get the boy to behave by poking him with his elbow. Andy sighed again and tore the cardboard box open. If he hadn't been so cross he might have noticed that the box did not produce the distinctive sound of plastic Lego bricks -- which is why he was so surprised to pour the contents on the floor and it was individually packed little turd cakes!

"Oh my god! Yes! Whew!" Andy flew off the floor and hugged the man, getting shit all over his nice flannel shirt.

"I had you going there for a second, didn't I?" said the man, ruffling the boy's piss-matted hair.

"I thought it was... I mean... it's more poop!" Andy blurted out, unable to contain his excitement and unwilling to hide his relief. The boys were naturally disappointed, but they understood this was Andy's day and there's no better surprise for a toilet than to unwrap little turd nuggets and pop them in his mouth. He stuffed all of them in his mouth at once and smiled.

He unwrapped the other presents. He ate and drank everything else given to him until he felt like he couldn't possibly eat any more. Rubbing his swollen stomach through once white polo shirt, the little toilet tried to take a deep breath only to realise his nostrils were still filled with shit, so he opened his mouth and sucked in some air that way. His guests would soon start leaving, and his special day would be coming to an end. The party would start petering out, and his guests' bladders and bowels would be empty...

Or so he thought..!

Right as Andy was convinced this day could not get any better, his father asked him to lie on his back on the floor. Andy did his best to open his mouth, of course, as a good toilet must do, but as far as he was concerned this was going to be a regular feeding.

His other dad got on his knees close to Andy and lowered his head all the way to the floor to whisper in his ear: "we put something special in the cake... get ready, sweetheart!" Andy's heart was aflutter! The birthday boy was agog to find out how much he'd be getting as he opened his mouth as wide as he could and let out a long "aaahhh."

Just as he readied himself, men and boys started grabbing their stomachs. A distinctive low grumble of dozens of bowel movements brewing in their guts filled the room, almost all at once, and Andy's two dads were the first to squat over the boy's head and release a torrent of creamy shit into his mouth and onto his face. It wasn't so runny that it'd just run down his face, but it wasn't solid to the point where they'd form individual turds... it was the perfect consistency to form a veritable shit pile.

One after another, boys and men squatted over his face and loudly let creamy shit gush all over the boy's face. Unable to keep up with the relentless flow of shit, Andy gave up on swallowing, and simply allowed the velvety faecal matter to coat his face and neck. It piled up like snow, and soon his face could not be seen. His guests would have to squat higher and higher in order to add to the shit heap, and before anyone knew it, there was a literal mound of shit on the floor. Unable to use his tongue as toilet paper, they resorted to using his arms to wipe their bottoms -- it probably wasn't as good, but the boy deserved some alone time under a mountain of shit.

Andy's body emerged from underneath this mound, but his head was completely engulfed in this massive pile. An almost imperceptible crater pulsed where Andy sucked in air through his mouth, inhaling as hard as possible. To help him breathe, one of his daddies stuck a long tube, like one used for scuba diving, into that crater, and suddenly Andy was able to breathe easily, without having to leave the comfort of the pile of shit.

"You look so cute now, princess," one of his daddies said.

"The prettiest little toilet I've ever seen!" said the other one.

Andy couldn't hear his guests leaving (what with the mass of shit completely enveloping his head), but one by one they said their goodbyes and went home.

In the middle of the living room, Andy still lay, breathing through the tube, quietly enjoying his predicament. His daddies knelt next to him and spoke loudly so the boy could hear even through the poop surrounding him: "happy birthday, Andy!" They then switched off the lights and went to bed, leaving little Andy there to fall asleep under a mountain of shit, like he deserved.

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If you got this far in the story, thank you so much for reading! I thrive on finding like-minded people who appreciate the extremely niche kinks explored in my stories. If you want to get in touch, I'll be more than happy to receive your messages. For correspondence, please use: adverbium.hebraeum@protonmail.com.