Mark

This is a story involving a young man's solo scat fantasies, progressing on to light and heavy scat and other sexual activities between young adult males. All characters are over the age of eighteen. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it, please leave now. This story is entirely fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.

Mark

Chapter 9

There you go,' grinned Ben. All done. Phew, even by your standards that was a stinker!'

Mark bent to pull up his trousers as Ben dropped the last of the paper into the toilet behind him and flushed it. Both of them were nursing semis, and more than anything they wanted to wank together. They couldn't, though: Mark had to go back to university for a late-afternoon tutorial. He'd struggled manfully to hold his load in and at one point he thought he'd be able to, but then the urge overwhelmed him and they'd gone to the toilet together. Even by his standards his shit had been big, and a little loose, and extremely smelly, and Ben had wanked himself gently through his trousers as he'd watched him do it. They'd have to wait until later to have a wank together over it, Mark thought ruefully as he walked to the university. Meanwhile, his bum felt nice, as it always did when Ben had wiped it for him, and at least Ben had evidently got over his guilt feelings and rediscovered his interest in watching him shit. That was something.

By now it was well into May, and the university was moving rapidly towards the exam period. Sports team fixtures largely dried up and the drinking sessions became less frequent and calmer as students' thoughts turned towards their exams. Meanwhile, the library filled up daily with people hurriedly revising, or catching up on things they'd missed earlier in the year. Mark started to worry about how little work he'd done in the last few months. He knew he wouldn't get very high marks, but he was determined to get himself a lower second, at least. Apart from anything else, if he failed or came away with a third he'd never hear the last of it from his parents. For a few weeks he almost completely gave up beer, and embarked on a regime of early-morning runs to wake himself up, followed by twelve-hour working days. He didn't even see much of Ben, except at weekends. He didn't enjoy it, but he gritted his teeth and got on with it, until one morning he found a reason to look forward to going to the library, at least.

Normally he worked in a corner that a lot of his mates frequented, and spent as much time chatting as working. Now he sought seclusion, and he found it at a desk by a window on the second floor, on the opposite side of the building from usual tucked away amid some cases of old books and journals few people ever looked at. It was ideal. He dumped his bag, got what he needed from the shelves, and set to work for the day. Twenty minutes later he looked up from his book and glanced out of the window, and his eyes widened. The next building along was only twenty feet away or so, a concrete pile with big long windows. Right opposite him, one floor down, was one of frosted glass. The light was on behind it, and he could quite clearly see the blurred figure of a dark-haired guy sitting on the toilet. As he watched, the guy stood up and started to wipe his arse. He did it bending over, reaching between his legs to wipe from underneath. Mark had heard of guys who did it in that position and he was curious. He got a hard-on watching the guy perform that most undignified of acts, but then someone walked past and he pretended to pore over his journal. He looked again a few seconds later and his eyes widened for a second time. The washbasin must have been right by the next window, for there stood the guy, washing his hands. He was very cute. Mark wondered what the cubicle smelled like now. He was even tempted to go and try to find out, but there probably wasn't much point, he concluded: he'd never been in that building and it'd take him a while to find the toilet, and by the time he got there the smell would have faded. And anyway, he still had twenty pages to get though. He forced himself back to work, only noticing out of the corner of his eye the guy opening the door and turning out the toilet light.

He couldn't resist popping in when he'd finished for the day, though. That part of the building housed the drama department, he noticed as he pushed the door open. A tall, fresh-faced blonde lad in skinny jeans and a tight top minced past him as he reached the first floor. Mark watched him go, imagining how he'd look sitting with his skinny jeans around his ankles, and then turned down the corridor to his left. He found the toilet without difficulty. It was deserted, but someone had used the cubicle by the window recently, judging from the faint thickening in the air, which someone had opened the top pane of the window to clear. Even with it opened, though, one had to stand on tiptoe and crane your neck round to see his vantage point in the library. He nodded in satisfaction at the prospect of watching some pretty drama students on the toilet; such as the blonde pretty-boy, maybe! Then he remembered that he'd agreed to cook dinner for Adam and Chris that evening – and for Chris's new girlfriend, Katie, come to think of it – and he really ought to go home and get on with it. He scurried back via the supermarket.

He got to the library early the next day, and by the time he stopped work for a mid-morning coffee he'd already watched two guys using the drama school toilet, although when the second of them turned out to be a portly red-faced lecturer he'd wished he hadn't. It didn't stop him watching when he saw the light go on later, though, and he realised then that you could see who was going into the cubicle before they did so. This time it was a skinny lad with dreadlocks; not Mark's type, but he looked quite cute wiping his bottom. Two days later he hit the jackpot. Glancing down as soon as he saw the light come on, he gaped as he saw the blonde lad stride across the room and into the cubicle, locking the door behind him. He dumped his bag and peeled down his skinny jeans, then turned around and sat down on the toilet. Mark watched intently stiffening as he imagined what was happening just out of his sight. Almost without thinking about it he began packing his things into his bag. The lad bowed his head for a space, shuffled on the seat, and then looked up sharply. Perhaps he'd farted or made a loud plop, or something. He carried on sitting there, playing with his phone. A few minutes later he reached for the bog roll. Mark began to get properly hard now. The lad looked dead cute wiping his bum. He stood up straight and stuck his peachy bottom out so he could rub vigorously at his hole, and he seemed to use a lot of paper. As soon as he'd pulled his trousers up Mark got up from his desk and left, walking quickly out of the library and towards the next building. Just as he reached it the door opened and the blonde lad came out. He really was stunningly pretty, Mark thought, looking him furtively up and down; and so terribly clean-cut and gay; the kind of lad who's too cute and wholesome to shit. The thought of him doing just that was awesomely sexy, and Mark's heart raced a bit at the prospect of smelling it. He clattered upstairs quickly, and found the toilet mercifully empty. The thick smell hit him as soon as he got to the cubicle, but better still the lad mustn't have looked back into the toilet after he'd flushed it. His shit must have been huge, judging from the skidmarks even up the sides of the pan – and the fat, curled golden-brown turd still floating in the water. Mark almost gave in to temptation and had a wank there, and then but just in time he remembered how he'd found the place, and that if he could see lads in here he could also be seen. He took a photo and one last deep sniff to fix the smell and the sight in his mind, and left quickly.

He kept thinking back to that moment for the next few days. Ben was away in London with work so he was alone at nights, and his thoughts kept drifting to the drama school toilet, and the blonde gay-boy wiping his bum amid the smell of his shit. Again and again in his imagination the lad shat for him, or better still on him. Just the thought of taking that exquisite boy's shit right in the face had him hard and wanking through his pants. The thought of having his face shat on obsessed him. He lay awake and restless one night fantasising about Ben doing it as he lay underneath and begged to be his toilet. But Ben wouldn't do it, he thought gloomily. He'd made his limits very clear that day after he'd shat in Mark's hands, and Mark hadn't wanted to risk raising the subject again. Ben was clearly touchy about it, and he didn't want to upset him. After all, scat was only a part of their relationship, and he wasn't going to risk wrecking everything else just for the sake of going a bit further down that road than before. He loved Ben – he'd concluded that a while ago, though neither of them had said it– and he therefore accepted that he just had to live with Ben not being quite as deep into scat as he was. And anyway, at least Ben was into it at all: most guys would run screaming from the very idea!

But that started him off worrying again. He had little in the way of plans for after university, and he'd assumed until recently that he'd move back to the family home and start looking for a job. But that was two hundred miles away, and therefore two hundred miles from Ben and from his friends here, or at least those who would still be about after the summer. He wanted to stay. But to do that he'd have to get a job quickly, which might not be easy with unemployment in the area as high as it was. He remembered bleakly how Simon had waited nearly three months after he'd been made redundant before landing another job. There'd be a lot of competition for what was out there, and no matter how hard he worked now he wasn't going to graduate with the kind of degree mark that would make employers sit up and take notice of him. So that might not work out, which led him back to having to go home to his parents and away from Ben...

Oh fuck it, he thought irritably, resolving for the third time to talk it all over with Ben when he got back from London. Until then there was nothing he could do and he might as well just fantasise about gay blonde drama students shitting on his face! In his fevered imagination he was lying under Simon's rimseat, his face covered in hot stinky turds as the lad used him as his toilet. Or he was watching Simon lying there, greedily eating student-shit fresh from that pert arse. Mmm, now that was a horny thought...

`Oh! Oh! Oh!'

His reverie was broken suddenly by a rising crescendo of moaning, and the creaking and banging of Chris's bed. Adam had warned him that Chris and Katie, who was now sleeping at the house two or three nights a week, had been a bit loud a couple of times when he'd been at Ben's. He hadn't been kidding.

`Oh Chris ... oh my God!'

`Oh shut up,' Mark muttered irritably.

He got up, grabbed his mp3 player and stuck some music on to drown out the sound of multiple orgasms coming from across the landing. Much later, grumpy and depressed, he finally drifted off to sleep.

He didn't mean to spend Ben's first evening back talking about the future, but Ben spotted straight away that he wasn't happy, and talking to him about it just seemed to come naturally. At times like that he understood why he thought of Ben as his best friend as well as his lover. Ben listened sympathetically as he poured his troubled heart out over a pint in the pub. He looked thoughtful for a second, and then straight into Mark's eyes.

`Move in with me.'

Mark gaped.

`Well, why not? You've just said you don't want to go but don't see how you can afford to stay, and here's your answer. You'll find some sort of job soon enough, and I don't earn so badly now, so it doesn't matter if you end up on the dole for a bit. We'll cope. And ... well, I don't want to see you go. It's too far away, and I ... I might never see you again.'

You would. But yeah. That's why I don't wanna go. You're too important to me for...' On impulse he reached out and took Ben's hand. I love you.'

I wondered who was gonna say that first.' Ben grinned wryly, twisting his fingers in Mark's. Cos if you hadn't, I was going to. I love you too, and ... well, I couldn't face the thought of you not being here any more. It'd be lovely to wake up with you every morning.'

Mark grinned helplessly, feeling that a massive weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Seeing it, Ben leaned across the table and gave him a long kiss. Mark went and bought him another drink, and they settled down to making plans for the future, and for a short holiday together once Mark had finished his exams. Eventually they realised it was starting to get late, and neither of them wanted a hangover the next day. They drained their pints, and Mark began getting ready to walk back to his house. As he put his jacket on a thought came to him.

Oh ... can I come and sleep at your place tomorrow night?' he asked.

`Course you can. Any reason...?'

`Chris's new girlfriend's staying over again.'

`So? What's up with her?'

`She's a screamer, at half past two in the fucking morning. And I heard her tell Chris that she likes it a bit rough and she wants him to do her up the arse good and hard. I don't want to be there to hear it.'

Ben's mouth dropped open, and then he doubled over laughing.

Mark started to need a shit whilst he was in the library again the following afternoon. He became conscious of the urge as he sat with a semi, watching another camp drama-student lad wipe his bum standing up. He toyed with the idea of going and unloading in the toilet he'd watched others use, or going to stink out the busy ones in the student union. But he wasn't desperate, and he decided to try and hold on until he got to Ben's later on. He was still walking on air at the prospect of moving in with Ben, and feeling more fond of him than ever after last night ... and this morning. He grinned inwardly, remembering how good the sex had been. And, as Ben had pointed out, it was more than two weeks since they'd had a shit together. His mind was made up for him when Ben texted to say that he'd be home about six, he was horny, and he hadn't been for a shit that day.

By the time he left the library later he was desperate, and he waddled quickly down Ben's street with his bum clenched tight and another semi pressing against his jeans. His shit felt like a brick inside him. There was going to be loads of it, he thought, imagining the thick logs curling from his bum. He had to clench up again as another spasm passed through his bowels. Ben was in, mercifully. Had he not been Mark would have had no choice but to go to the toilet – or shit himself, maybe.

`Ooh, you're desperate, aren't you?!' Ben grinned, looking him up and down lustfully.

Yeah,' said Mark in pained tones, shuffling from foot to foot. I need a shit big time.'

Keep holding it,' breathed Ben, rubbing his cock. Hold it for me until you can't hold it any more. I wanna see you lose control and do it in your pants.'

Mark nodded.

`Go on, strip. Let me see you in your pants. Er ... shall I film you shitting yourself?'

So he did. Mark squirmed and winced in his discomfort, and Ben watched and told him how he wanted to watch him give in and dirty his pants, and he stripped naked and farted in Mark's face again and again.

I need a shit too,' he hissed. When you're done you're gonna watch me shit too.'

Oh yeah ... fuck your farts smell good!' Mark looked up into Ben's face, stroking his boner through his boxer briefs. Oh Ben, I need to poo so bad now. I've got to let it out!'

Ben motioned him over to the sofa, where he knelt with his elbows resting on the back and his bottom sticking out prominently. He was breathing hard, whimpering in desperation and excitement, wincing as yet another spasm passed.

Now,' said Ben softly, his eyes fixed on his boyfriend's trembling bottom. Do your big smelly shit for me.'

Mark heard the bleep as the camera went on and realised he didn't have to hold it any more: he was free to ease himself. He relaxed and his shit began to move immediately, drawing a sigh of relief from him as it slid down the chute. Then it was coming out; it was between his cheeks, a thick log that pushed the back of his pants out into a tent, then bent and spread delightfully across his right buttock. He gave a long moan as the flow came to an end, leaving him trembling and breathing hard.

`Oh that stinks!' breathed Ben.

Mark still felt full. He gave a push and began to poo again, slowly at first but then he lost control of it. A mass of softer, gassier shit forced itself from him and pushed his pants out into a huge, lumpy bulge. He moaned again, more loudly still, as the gooey hotness spread across his bottom and began to tickle the back of his balls. He knelt for half a minute, or so regaining his composure as Ben watched on in awe, and then he gave one last big push. He couldn't suppress his whimpering as the last of his shit piled up on his bum. Ben turned off the camera and pulled him upright.

`Mmm, you've done loads! Does it feel nice?'

Mark nodded vigorously. He wiggled his bum a bit and sighed aloud. His shit was all over his bottom and between his legs, hot and teasing against the back of his balls and the sensitive area behind. He bent his legs a bit and wriggled again.

`Mmm, yeah, it's a real balls-tickler!'

`Good. Now, bend over ... go on, touch your toes ... and again. Yeah, that's right, feel it squish! Now, stay there.'

Ben turned the camera back on, came over and cupped Mark's bulge in his hand. Then he began to push it lightly about, drawing more moans from Mark as the stinky hot mess spread further across his bottom. He snapped upright.

`I wanna sit in it! Make me sit in it!'

In the bathroom Ben trained the camera on his bottom as he stood over the toilet and then slowly, oh so slowly, lowered himself down onto his pile. He teased himself for a second or two, bobbing up and down and sliding gently to and fro to push the mess about still more. Then he sat in it. He yelped aloud as it squashed across his bottom and surged hotly up around his balls, and as always he lost control for a moment and sat there wriggling and wanking and moaning. He came down off the high a little to find Ben staring intently at him, reaching out to run a finger down his tummy and stroke his dick through his pants.

`I need a shit,' Ben breathed.

He got up and farted in Mark's face once more. It drove Mark wild.

Shit on me,' he moaned. Please Ben, I want your shit. I'll lie in the bath, and you can sit over me and drop your turds.'

Oh my God,' breathed Ben. Yeah, alright. I'll do it. Where d'you want it?'

Mark had all but lost control, he was so turned on. His stomach plummeted and his heart felt as if it could burst from his chest as Ben finally agreed to shit on him. Lust overwhelmed him and he went for broke.

In my face Ben,' he moaned. I want it in my face!'

No!' cried Ben, almost angrily. Don't make me do that. I will ... if you insist I will, and I'll do it because I love you, but I'll feel so bad about it. It's too much. Maybe sometime I'll work up to doing it, but don't make me do it now. Please.'

Mark came back to earth with a bump. He'd overstepped the mark and it nearly spoiled the moment. Then Ben screwed up his face and squirmed uncomfortably. Faintly, over the stench of his own, he smelled one of Ben's silent, pungent farts.

Oh I need a shit now,' he groaned, wanking hard. Look, I will do it on you, just not on your face.'

`Do it on my chest then. Please!'

`Okay, get in the bath.'

Mark got up from the toilet, leaving a big brown smear to show where he'd been sitting. Slowly he climbed into the bath and sat down again in his mess. His bottom was covered in it and it felt so good. And it stank too. Ben watched him intently and stood over him, sniffing eagerly at it and wanking. Then suddenly he turned around and squatted, his hairy hole a foot or so over Mark's chest, twitching as it held back his turds. He clutched the sides of the bath to steady himself.

`Sure? Sure you want me to do this to you?'

`There's nothing I want more. Come on Ben, give it to me, shit on me now...'

Ben let go at once, grunting and sighing as his log slid from him. Mark stared as it hung over him, thick and dark, shaped like a baseball bat. He could feel its warmth and sense its weight, and the smell filled his nostrils; Ben's smell. It slid a little further out and began to break, and then suddenly it dropped onto Mark's chest.

`Oh! Oh!'

`Okay?'

`More! Give me more!'

Mark was writhing about in his mess, wanking in the piss that dribbled and spurted from Ben's hard-on as he pushed. The turd on his chest felt and smelled amazing. Then more of it began to come from Ben; softer and darker and smellier than before. It came from him faster too. The next log nearly touched down on Mark's skin before it broke off and dropped, leaving its broken end to curl round and drop, and again and again. Ben grunted in satisfaction and looked down between his legs and his wanking, moaning boyfriend with the big pile of shit on his chest. Then he relaxed and let the last smooth brown snake curl from him.

`Ooh, fuck that's better,' he breathed.

He stood up slowly and turned round to Mark. He was pale and shaking, and he braced his knees against the side of the bath as he began to wank. They did it together, crying out louder and louder amid the stink and the awesome dirtiness of what they'd both just done, until Mark screamed and spunked all over himself, and then a few seconds later Ben came all over his face.

Enjoyed this? More of Mark's adventures coming soon.

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