Fourteen again by badboi666
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This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If scat sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about it by 14-year-old and a 13-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things:
1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate
=============================================================================== Scat games with Steve-2
26 August 1957
A little reminder of how we got here will not go amiss. In Chapter 41 of "Fourteen Again" (filed in the Adult/Youth section) we learn that Greg seduced the Bob and Steve years ago and led them into wicked ways. Ways which all three of them came to enjoy (and enjoyed coming). A few years ago Greg was involved in a car crash, as a result of which his genitalia were crushed, and surgically removed. All of them. We later learned that Greg has installed spy cameras in the boys' suite (two bedrooms and a large bathroom - their parents are wealthy, as well as being largely absent: hence Greg) and watches them in his dark lair. The boys are aware that they are being filmed, but their guests generally aren't. I, as we all know, am different, and I play for the cameras with great pleasure.
Readers will remember that I gave Greg money to buy a sling. It has now arrived and Steve and I are spending the day together to put it to good use.
After breakfast Bob left to meet Dan to take him to Jack's house for the day. Steve and I waited until he'd gone, then we went in search of Greg. "OK, Greg, time to open up," I said.
He was almost as excited to show us what he'd bought as we were to see it. It was like Christmas Day when you're 8. We went into the big bathroom between Bob's bedroom and Steve's. On the floor was the sling, waiting to be assembled. I unwrapped it and saw that it was basically a steel frame, held together with bolts, and the leather bit that you hung in hung from the top struts on chains (very exciting!). There were wrist loops and stirrups - Greg had got a really good one. Greg had provided the tools necessary to assemble it, and 20 minutes later it was erected. It wasn't the only one. "Thanks a million, Greg," I said, "you've done brilliantly." "Wait until you see what I got with the money left over." "I'm surprised there was any left over from buying a sling this good," I said. "Oh yes," said Greg, "there was almost £6 change. I bought these, which I think you'll probably need," and he placed a parcel into my hands. Steve watched with interest as I unwrapped a very large bottle of lube and three latex gauntlets of different sizes. There was also a tube of latex preservative. "What on earth are those?" said Steve. "Will you tell him, or shall I?" I asked Greg. Greg grinned, "so you know about this, Peter?" "Oh yes," I said, "I'm an expert don't forget." Greg turned to Steve and explained that elbow-length latex gauntlets were for use while fisting. "I got three different right-hand sizes." "Why?" asked Steve. Greg paused and, looking at me, said, "one for Peter, one for you and Bob, and one for me." At last a part of the Greg jig-saw puzzle fell into place. I knew from Bob and Steve that Greg had introduced them to sex years ago, but I wasn't aware that since his accident this was how he got his kicks. "Let me ask you, Greg, and don't be offended, do you get your kicks now from arse play - giving and getting?" Greg blushed - the first time I'd seen him do this. "Yes," he said, "it's all I've got left." For the first time I felt a wave of sympathy for this broken man, and I felt a bit ashamed of how I'd thought about him up to now. Yes, he was creepy, but it was understandable given his condition. I summoned up the courage to be honest. "Look," I said, "Steve and Bob have told me pretty much everything about you, and it must be terrible for you. I know about the cameras, and it doesn't bother me: in fact knowing that we're on film makes the sex all the more exciting. You know what Steve and I are getting up to today - film it by all means. Once we're done and cleaned up I would be happy if you joined us to play with the sling." Steve's jaw had dropped, but since I knew that he and Greg got it on anyway there was no point in pretending that a threesome was not on the cards. Besides, we owed Greg a treat for his shopping expedition. Greg turned to Steve. "Are you OK with that?" Steve nodded, still I think a bit embarrassed. "That's settled then," I said brightly. It's now nearly 11 o'clock. How about lunch at 1? And before then Steve and I will see to yesterday's food. See you at 1, Greg."
"Blimey, you take risks," said Steve when Greg had gone. "Yes, but I get results," I replied, "come on, clothes off." We stripped and threw our clothes into Steve's room, well away from where we would be frolicking. Time to get down to the serious business of the morning. "Do you have an old towel we can lie on and throw away after we've finished?" I asked. Steve nodded and went into his room. He brought a large bath-towel back. "Will this do?" he asked. "Yes, but it won't wash - you'll have to throw it out." "Let me worry about that," he said.
"How near are you to needing a shit?" I asked him. "Not immediate, but it won't be long. I haven't had a shit since the day before yesterday, just after breakfast - that's over 48 hours. What about you?" "I've been needing a shit ever since we got up: I'm amazed I've been able to last this long. If I relaxed my arse it would start any second." Steve grinned. "Looks like you're going first then. Last time we did it in our pants and swopped. What'll we do this time?" I'd been thinking about exactly this for some time. The sling would be fine for fisting and general arse play, but if we got shit all over it it would be hard to clean. A bit wouldn't matter, but the quantity we were likely to be playing with would not be clever. "Let's leave the sling till later," I said, "when we've had our smearing fun. What do you think?" "You're the expert, Peter, I'm just the one enjoying where you're taking me."
If I really was the expert then I would have to take charge, at least for the first stage. "OK," I said, "I need to shit right now." We spread the towel out and got into the enormous bath. I knelt down with my shoulders on the towel, my legs apart and my arse in the air. "Get down behind me and tell me what you see," I said. He got down and described the sight before him. "I can't see anything unusual. Your arse is how it always is - oh, hang on, it's a bit swollen - oh, it's opening, I can see a bit of shit - oh! Christ!" "Catch it in your hands and smear it into my cheeks; there's plenty more." I pushed, not too hard, but enough to let the first six inches or so out before I pinched it off. I felt it fall into Steve's cupped hands, then I felt the warmth of it as he coated my arse cheeks. The smell was overpowering. "Wow!" he said, "that's awesome. Do some more: I want some on me." I pushed out another few inches. Because I'd eaten with this in mind the shit was soft and mushy - ideal for smearing - and Steve applied this second helping to himself, covering his belly and thighs. "More!" he said, "more. I want more!" I pushed a bit more - I reckoned I'd shat about half of what I had - and told him that this was for me. "Reach round and get it on my cock." He did, and my cock, already rock hard, was coated in hot stinking shit. Both his hands were covered in shit, so he didn't need any lube. "Stick your hand up my arse and get hold of some more. Pull it out and smear it where you like - you, me, I don't mind." I felt his hand enter me, cautiously at first. "Go on, go for it, stick it in, Steve, it won't hurt." In he came and I could feel his fingers in the soft shit which was filling my rectum. "Oh, God," that's so hot," he moaned, pulling his hand out with a generous load. He wiped this on his arse cheeks and used both hands to coat his cock and balls. "Are you finished, Peter?" "No, there's more. Have another handful." In he came again, only this time when his hand was in I pushed as hard as I could. His hand flew out along with another six inches of sticky shit. By a happy chance this flew directly onto his belly, just above his cock. "Bull's eye!" he cried, "and scooped up a handful to reach round and grab my cock. "Turn round," he said, "kneel in front of me." I moved so that we were kneeling facing each other, only a few inches apart. "Coat me," he said, "but no higher than my nipples." "OK, but you do me too." Each of us gathered handfuls of my shit and smeared it on the other's chest and suddenly I felt a hot gush of piss as Steve let fly, directing it between my nipples. "Oh, Steve, that's so hot," I moaned. The feeling of his piss as it ran down my belly, the yellow mixing with the brown and leaving an almost pink trail was intense. "If I turn round can you stick your cock into my arse and piss up me?" I asked. "I'll give it a try," he said, "at least it's nice and hard, so getting it in won't be a problem."
Carefully he lined up and he slowly entered me. There was so much shit still inside me that his cock went all the way in effortlessly. When he was fully in he clasped me round the waist. "We're like a pair of frogs fucking," he said happily. I didn't want to point out that frogs weren't actually fucking when they were thus conjoined - why spoil the moment. After a few seconds I felt his belly push into me as he tried to start pissing, and a couple of seconds after that I felt his piss gushing into me. "Keep on going," I said, "empty your bladder up there." He pissed on and on, it seemed for ever, although probably no more than 45 seconds. It was a big piss though. "When you whip it out I'll clench my muscle and keep it in as long as I can. Where do you want me to let it go?" I asked. "I'll lie down; you squat over my cock and belly and do it there." I knew that what he was going to get would be more than just recycled piss, and he'd probably worked this out as well. "Ready?" I asked. "Yeah, go for it."
It was lucky that the bath was large, and with fairly high sides. The splash which greeted the arrival of the piss-shit soup that my arse unleashed onto Steve was something to see. I hoped Greg had captured it for posterity: maybe he'd let us see it later. No sooner was it out than Steve pulled me onto him and we embraced, wildly thrashing about in a delightful repellent wonderful stinking mess. A minute later, when we were completely covered and were lying still with me on top, I started to piss. "Oh yesss!" he said as my hot piss trickled off his belly and down his sides, "that's so fucking hot. Keep on pissing." When my bladder was empty I relaxed onto him. "What about you?" I said. "Look and see," he replied with a grin.
I got off him and made him put his legs over my shoulders. I felt his arse-lips and I could tell that they were swollen. He had a pile of shit to deliver. "I'm going exploring," I said, and put my right hand into his arse. I was rewarded with a hot soft welcome mat of shit. I scrabbled around with my fingers attempting to get some action on his prostate, but there was no way it was going to work. I pulled out a good dollop which I used to anoint my balls - not that they needed it, being already pretty much covered with my own shit. "I'll lie down and you squat over me," I said. "Try and see if you can get it all out in a long line down my middle. Start between my nipples and scoot towards my cock." We'd done this last time and I'd found it highly erotic.
When I was on my back and he was squatting over me our faces - clean as intended - were only a few inches apart. I leant up and kissed his lips. "Good, eh!" He kissed me back. "Yeah. Don't tell Bob what he's missing." As he prepared to push I could see the tip of his shit as it emerged gradually from him. When he pushed gently it landed midway between my nipples and as he slowly inched his way away from me more and more shit fell from him, landing as I had hoped it would like a great brown treasure trail, past my navel, getting closer to my cock ... this was an enormous turd ... past my cock, now completely hidden under a brown duvet ... onto my balls. Only when it was an inch past my balls did it taper off and finally finish. It must have been over 18 inches. "Is there any more? Surely not." "Suck it and see," he said, so, not actually wanting to suck it - I'm not that depraved - I turned him round and inspected him with my fingers. "Slimy, nice and ditry,2 I said, "but no more lumps that I can detect. Come and lie beside me - no, head to toe. We're both right-handed, so we can each wank the other comfortably." This we did, although the wanking was interspersed with a generous fondling of balls, arse and bodies. All too soon the spunk demanded escape from our shit-encrusted bodies, and each of us aimed his cum onto the other's belly. We were only a few seconds apart. The moans and cries were plentiful, as were the 'fucks' and the 'Jesuses'.
"We need to shower," I said, "come on." Wiping our feet as best we could on a cleanish corner of the towel - not easy to find - we moved carefully to the shower where we washed ourselves. "Don't wash your arse," I said, "I want to feel any shit that's still up there when we get in the sling." "God, you're kinky," said Steve. "Yup, and aren't you glad you found me?" Steve laughed. "If you're going at the end of the month I don't know where I'll find someone else to play dirty with me. Why are you going, anyway?" It was a question I had dreaded having to answer, and Steve was the last person whom I expected to ask it. "I just am, Steve. I need to be somewhere else next month." "You make it sound very mysterious," he said, "almost as if you had some great unmentionable secret." "Well, I do, of course," I said, "I am magic, and when the stroke of midnight tolls at the end of 31 August I will turn into a pumpkin again." "Oh, fuck off, don't tell me if you don't want to." And the subject wasn't raised again.
As we were now clean, at least on the outside (although we did smell a bit funny) we got out of the shower and Steve carefully gathered up the stinking towel. I was all for throwing it away (but where?), but Steve had other plans. "Let me deal with this," he said, "I'll rinse it out in the shower and it can be washed." "You'll never get the shit out, " I said, "trust me, I've tried, and it never gets clean." "Who says it needs to be clean, dummy, if it's going to be used again. If it goes into Greg's washing machine a couple of times that'll do, won't it?" How could I argue. Steve got back into the shower with his burden and rinsed off the accumulated shit as best he could. When I thought about it I twigged that Greg would be well aware of what had happened, and would be expecting to put the offending article through the washing machine.
That had been a very satisfying morning. I loved playing shit games, and Steve was so obviously turned on as well that it added to my pleasure. There was no-one else with whom I could share this dark perversion - certainly not Ace or King - and this last opportunity had been very horny-making. And there was more to come after lunch.
We joined Greg in the kitchen just before 1 o'clock. "Nice morning, boys?" "Yes, Greg. I bet you enjoyed it nearly as much as we did," I said, "any chance we could have a quick peek at ourselves later on?" Greg gave me a very caustic look. "You are not supposed to let me know that you know," he said. "Maybe not, but you know I do, so why are we fooling each other? Besides we're going to play later, and that means no secrets. OK?" Greg grinned. "Bob and Steve are right about you, Peter. They say there's something mysterious about you - something that's not right. I wonder what it could be." "Well, Greg, you've sussed me out. The truth is that I'm 100 years old, but I've found the magic elixir that keeps me young." "Oh, and what is that, pray, young sir?" teased Greg. "It's widely available: it's the spunk of 14-year-olds. Surely you knew that."
And that was the end of that conversation. It's odd how the very-nearly-truth is never believed. Lunch was soon finished and it was time to christen the sling. "Come on Greg," I said, "you're part of this, "it's gauntlet time." Steve studied it. "How do you get in?" he asked. It was easier for me to show him than to tell him. I got hold of the chains and hoisted myself up. "Your hands go in here, and your feet up in these," I said, pointing out the various attachments. "As you see, if your feet are up there your knees have to be bent, and your arse is completely open and exposed. That's the point." I got down and grinned at Greg. "I think you ought to have first crack at him, don't you? After all, you bought it." Greg's reply was swift and somewhat unexpected. "No, Peter, you paid for it and ... you'll make better use of it than I will." I didn't want to press him; I knew that the gauntlets, or one of them, would be for him to use, but perhaps he wanted to watch me in action first.
"OK," I said, "time for us boys to get into it." Steve and I stripped off again; Greg kept his clothes on. I wondered if Bob and Steve had seen him naked after the accident. Steve made a mess of getting in the first time, so I showed him again. His second attempt was better. "Now scoot forward: you're supposed to be lying in it, not sitting in it. Get your feet in there." He squirmed about a bit and soon he was installed. "Gosh, I feel really vulnerable," he said. "That's what's meant to happen," I said, "but you only use a sling with people you trust."
We were ready. I chose the medium-sized gauntlet, which fitted my right hand perfectly, and lubed it generously, spreading more all over Steve's arse. "I can get at you so much more easily in this thing," I said, "and you're completely relaxed. Just stay relaxed and let it all happen." Steve smiled widely, "yeah, this is going to be special." I told Greg (although I don't know why: he had filmed the morning's fun) that neither of us had douched. Steve picked this up. "What's douching?" he asked. I explained that, inexplicable though it was to me, not every guy who loved arse play was happy for shit to appear during action. "Douching is washing your arse out first. You use a -" "I was waiting for this," interrupted Greg. "I bought a douche device, and it's my present to you both. We won't need it today, but when Bob plays he'll insist on it." He produced a wrapped object. I asked him to open it as I was lubed up. When he did he showed it to Steve. "We'll practise with it after this," I promised. This time Bob wasn't here, and clearly Greg didn't mind what might - would - emerge in due course.
The preliminaries over, I got down to business. Steve hadn't had latex up him before, and he squirmed happily as my hand slipped easily in. "Push," and my fist was in. Knuckle-rolling time immediately let to Steve-squirming time, accompanied by Steve-moaning. "Oh fuck, Peter, this is so much better that doing it on the bed." My investment in the boys' long-term happiness was going to be justified. "Oh, oh, you're pressing on my bladder." "Let it go, then, you're in the bathroom," said Greg, joining in for the first time. I pressed on his bladder again and Steve's half-erect cock spurted an arc of piss up over his chest and face. As my arm was still well up inside Steve I couldn't reach to do anything, but Greg was off the mark instantly and started to lick the piss off Steve. "Mmmm, tasty." One learns so much about people in situations like this, I thought.
"You like that?" I whispered to Greg. "Yes." "The other too?" "Yes." This was getting better. "Put a gauntlet on then," I whispered. Greg chose the largest and put it on. I stopped him putting any lube on. "We won't need that yet." I pushed in as far as I could, turned my arm through 180 degrees and slowly withdrew, grabbing as much of the contents of Steve's lower gut as I could. When my hand left his arse I had a generous quantity of shit sticking to my gauntlet. Greg's eyes lit up. I smeared my gauntlet onto Steve's arse, rubbing it into his balls and over his cock and belly. Coated in shit for the second time today, and this time completely helpless. I caught Greg's eyes and nodded my head towards Steve. Greg took the hint, and applied his gauntlet to the mess. "Oh, fuck, Greg, that's so hot," moaned Mr Shitty. While Greg was doing this I squirted some more lube up Steve's gaping hole. Greg took this hint as well and Steve received the first of no doubt many fistings from an adult. More moaning, more piss. Greg knew what he was doing all right. Steve's moaning was soon continuous, as was the piss leaking from his cock. I moved round and stood behind Steve's head. I took off my gauntlet and used both hands to rub piss (and shit) into his skin. Moaning became electric as Greg pushed even deeper and Steve's cock gave an almighty lurch. "Aaaaaah!," he cried as spunk fountained out of him. Ace and King had cum in a stream, I remembered, but this was the first time I'd seen a teenager do it. Steve's cock poured a rope of white joy for three or four seconds without stopping. Most of it landed on his chest and his face, but the first fierce gush went in his hair. He flopped in the sling, completely out of it. I wondered how he would describe the sling, and the benefits conferred by its use, to Bob.
"Why don't you get in, Peter?" asked Greg, "after all, it's your idea." Having seen what Greg did to Steve there was no holding me back. I helped Steve to get out - no easy task given how slippery he was - and stopped him getting into the shower. "Oh no," I said, "we get dirty together and we get clean together. The idea of your pissy, shitty and cummy body dealing with me in the sling is far too hot to give up." I got in and put my feet in the shackles. "OK, go for it."
It's difficult to do justice to the skill Greg had with his gauntleted hand. He found plenty of shit up me, as I had done with Steve, and he and Steve soon spread it on those bits of me which presented themselves - the obvious ones. Greg got to my bladder pretty fast, with the same result as Steve had produced. Steve was behind my head at this point, and caught some of my piss full blast in the chest. I managed to hold off cumming for quite a bit - 10 minutes or so, I reckon - and when I did it was like Steve's. "Fuck!" was his comment, "did I cum like that?" "You did, Steve, and you always will if you're being fisted," said the experienced Greg. "Wait till we get Bob in this," said his brother. As Steve had been, I was exhausted. It was a few minutes before my heart-beat returned to something like normal. "Come on, let's shower," I said. Greg said that he would clean everything up while we were washing. "Are you sure?" "Oh, yes, I'm sure all right." Curiouser and curiouser.
Steve and I spent nearly half an hour under a hot spray, washing each other thoroughly three times. Before we started though, I showed Steve how the douche worked. By the time each of us had injected the other's arse three times, and seen what was squirted out a minute or two later the third gush was clear water. ("That was fun,2 said Steve.) We did a little playing between the first wash and the second, and were punctilious in checking that our boy parts were perfectly clean between the second and the third. This checking naturally involved under our foreskins, and it's well known that the best cleansing material for the inside of a boy's foreskin is to be found in another boy's mouth. We took very great care with this part of the procedure, so much so that each of us had a wholly unplanned orgasm. Well, almost unplanned: we hadn't thought about it five minutes before it happened. After half an hour you would have been hard put to detect the smell of shit.
When at last we got out and dried ourselves the sling was dismantled and all the evidence of our playing had gone. Good old Greg! Before we dressed in Steve's bedroom I gave him a hug and a kiss. "I think you liked that," I said, ruffling his hair, "be sure to involve Bob, but douche yourself beforehand." "What about Bob?" I grinned. "If you fist him when he's up in the sling and there's a load of shit he'll be so turned on by the fisting and the cum that the shit won't matter. Then you point out how he didn't notice. You never know, he might learn to like the idea. If not he'll douche quite happily. It's worth a try."
I had to go. Before I did I had to phone Ace to tell him I'd be at the station a bit before 7. "I'll meet you," he said, "had a good time?" I indicated that fun had indeed occurred, but that details would be vouchsafed at another time if requested. "No, I don't need to know. Just so long as you had fun." "Oh yes, we certainly did." "Well come home safely then, Jack." I still didn't understand how Ace could be so open about letting me get up to mischief so promiscuously. There wouldn't be much more of that, except ... maybe ...
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That's the end of the scat story - I hope you enjoyed it. Fourteen Again continues in Adult/Youth, and will run to the end of August 1957. I have plans for the last few days as implied by the ellipses above. Why not come across to Adult/Youth to find out?
But before you do, make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html