"You've got to be kidding me," Reyu groaned, staring at the broken blender on the kitchen counter. "What a time for this to happen." His red fur stood on end as he rubbed his forehead with a paw, a habit he had when he was stressed or confused.

The anthropomorphic red panda, slightly chubby and with a perpetual look of curiosity, had always lived a life of quiet contentment in his modestly-sized apartment. The walls were adorned with posters of exotic lands and creatures, hinting at a spirit of adventure that rarely left his armchair. Today, however, something had shifted within him, a deep craving that had grown too strong to ignore. His stomach rumbled, not from hunger, but from an insatiable urge that had been festering in his mind for weeks.

It had all begun innocently enough with a random scroll through his feed on the internet. Online communities sharing videos of various anthro species defecating had piqued his interest. From the majestic elephant's massive pile to the meticulous way wolves marked their territories, each had a unique beauty. The candidness of the act, the raw biological necessity, fascinated him. The more he watched, the more his imagination began to wander, pondering his own scatological experiences.

One night, as he scoured the depths of the web, his paws slipped and he stumbled upon communities that didn't just discuss defecation, but consumption. He found himself in a rabbit hole of scatophagia, a term he had never encountered before. The sight of anthros indulging in their own feces was at first repulsive, but as he read on, he found an eerie sense of fascination creeping into his mind. There were forums dedicated to the art of cooking and preparing one's own excrement, sharing recipes and experiences with an enthusiasm usually reserved for fine dining.

Reyu had always considered himself open-minded, but this was a new level of taboo that he couldn't ignore. The thought of tasting his own waste was both terrifying and alluring. The more he thought about it, the more his curiosity grew, gnawing at him like a persistent itch that begged to be scratched. He found himself researching the health implications, the psychological reasons behind the desire, and even the cultural practices that embraced it. The line between fascination and obsession grew thinner with each passing day until it was almost invisible.

The urge grew stronger, a constant whisper in his ear that grew louder with every meal. It was as if his body was craving something that no normal food could satisfy. He'd catch himself staring at the toilet bowl longer than usual, his mind racing with thoughts of what it would be like to indulge in such a forbidden act. His cheeks would flush with a mix of arousal and embarrassment, and he'd quickly flush the evidence away, promising himself he'd never act on the urge.

But today, he set everything up for the act. He had been eating just fruits and non-fatty foods for the last week, meticulously preparing his body for what was to come. His diet was bland, but he found comfort in the simplicity of it, his meals a ritualistic purge that brought him one step closer to fulfilling his dark desires. The kitchen was spotless, a stark contrast to the usual clutter that filled the rest of the apartment. On the counter, a pristine glass bowl and a set of silverware gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Reyu felt a gurgling in his tummy, a signal that it was ready. He was ready. The anticipation had built to a crescendo, his heart racing as he made his way to the bathroom. His eyes locked onto the toilet with a mix of trepidation and excitement. The time for mental preparation was over; the physical act was now at hand. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, his paws trembling slightly as he unbuckled his pants.

Instead of sitting on the cold porcelain throne, he chose a more primal approach. He removed his pants and shirt, leaving naked. With a determined look, he squatted down on the tiled floor, his round bottom hovered over the tiles. He felt vulnerable yet strangely liberated, his tail swaying with each shallow breath he took. The sight of his bare bottom, juxtaposed with the cleanliness of the bathroom, was surreal, a stark reminder of the line he was about to cross.

His heart thudded in his chest like a drum, echoing in his ears. He placed a trembling hand underneath his tailhole, feeling the warmth and the slight moisture. He could smell his own scent, faint but undeniably there. The anticipation was palpable, a cocktail of fear and excitement that made his muscles quiver. He took a deep breath and pushed, his face contorting in a grimace of concentration.

With a soft sound, the first part of his scat emerged, a firm dark brown log that was surprisingly large. It was as if his body had been preparing for this moment. His eyes widened as he felt it fall into his paw, the reality of his actions setting in. The scent grew stronger, a musky aroma that filled the bathroom. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but the thrill was too intense to stop.

Reyu brought his paw closer to his face, his nose twitching as the smell grew more pronounced. He took a tentative sniff, his stomach lurching at first before he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. The scent was overwhelmingly pungent, a mix of sweet and sour that made his eyes water. But as he took a second sniff, something strange happened. His stomach did a little flip, a flutter of arousal that he hadn't expected. It was still disgusting, yes, but there was something... appealing about it too.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. "This is it," he thought to himself, his heart racing. There was no going back now. With a tremble in his arm, he brought the log closer to his mouth, his tongue darting out to give it a tentative lick. The texture was smoother than he had imagined. The taste was terrible, but definitely made better by the fruits he had been eating all week. It was earthy, a bit bitter, with a faint sweetness that lingered on his tongue. He pulled away, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fascination.

The urge grew stronger, his body seemingly taking over his rational mind. He took a deep breath and popped the entire log into his mouth, biting down slightly. The sensation was alien, a mix of squishiness and firmness that no fruit could ever replicate. He chewed slowly, his eyes watering from the potent flavor. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: disgust, fear, arousal, and a strange sense of achievement. Each bite brought him closer to his taboo goal, the act feeling both wrong and incredibly right.

The taste grew more intense with every chew, filling his mouth and coating his tongue. He could feel the fibers of the feces breaking down, the juices mixing with his saliva. The scent grew stronger, invading his nostrils, a potent aroma that made his head spin. He fought the urge to retch, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the task at hand. It was a battle between his instinctual revulsion and the burning curiosity that had brought him to this moment.

The scat grew softer, the texture changing from firm to mush as he chewed. It was then that he felt his body betray him. His throat constricted, and he realized with horror that he couldn't swallow. Panic set in as the mouthful grew larger. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the toilet in desperation, the gleaming porcelain a beacon of salvation in his time of need.

With a grimace, he spat the disgusting mixture into the bowl, watching as it plopped and splattered. His eyes watered, and his stomach churned, but he couldn't help the feeling of relief that washed over him. He had come so close to swallowing, so close to crossing that final taboo frontier. But his body had other ideas. The taste lingered in his mouth, a potent reminder of what he had just done.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Reyu wiped his mouth with the back of his paw and looked at the mess before him. He whispered to himself, "No, I want this. I have to try." Determined not to let his nausea win, he reached for the glass of water he had set aside and took a sip, rinsing his mouth thoroughly before spitting the water into the sink.

Steeling himself, he returned to the squatting position, his paws firmly planted on the cool tiles. His tail hovered over his back, a silent sentinel to his secret indulgence. He took a deep breath, the scent of his own waste strong.  This was it, the moment of truth. He closed his eyes, bracing for the sensation of his body's rejection.

With a gentle push, the second offering came out, much to his surprise. It was soft, almost like the consistency of a thick grainy yogurt, and it plopped into his waiting paw with a wet thud. He felt the warmth and weight of it, the stickiness coating his fur. He stared at the pile under him, a part of him repulsed, another part eagerly curious. This was his body's creation, a culinary masterpiece of his deepest, darkest desires.

Taking a moment to gather his nerve, he brought the scat-filled paw to his face, the smell now almost sweet with a hint of the fruits from his diet. He could feel his heart racing, his chest heaving with the effort of not gagging. With his eyes squeezed shut, he shoved the mess into his muzzle. The initial taste was overwhelming, a cacophony of flavors that didn't belong anywhere near his taste buds. He chewed, trying to ignore the sensation of his own excrement on his tongue, the smell now an intense part of his reality.

His mind screamed at him to spit it out, to clean up the mess and forget this ever happened. But something deep within him, the part that had driven him to this moment, whispered, "Do it, do it, do it." He could feel the pressure building in his throat as he worked the feces into a paste. His paws began to shake, his body begging for him to stop, but he was too far gone now. The urge had become a compulsion, a need that had to be satiated.

With a grimace, he pressed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and with a gulp, he swallowed. It slid down his throat, a warm, thick blob that felt like a living entity. He coughed, his eyes watering as the taste hit him like a punch to the gut. It was a battle, his body fighting the intrusion with every fiber of its being, but he had won the mental battle. The first taste of his own scat had entered his stomach, and he felt a twisted sense of victory.

He took a moment to breathe, his chest heaving as he tried to process what he had just done. His throat felt raw, but the urge didn't subside. He looked at the half-eaten pile before him, his mouth salivating despite his body's protests. The sight of his own excrement, still warm and steaming slightly, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

With trembling paws, he reached for another chunk, his resolve unshaken. He brought it to his mouth, feeling the weight of it against his tongue. His stomach roiled, threatening to expel the small bit he had already consumed. But he was determined to push through the revulsion. He chewed methodically, his teeth grinding the feces until it was a manageable paste. The texture was a strange blend of gritty and smooth that seemed to cling to his teeth and the roof of his mouth.

Reyu could feel the heat of his cheeks as a blush crept up his neck, his face scrunched in an expression of both disgust and perverse satisfaction. The taste was a powerful mix of bitter and sweet, a dance of flavors that his brain struggled to categorize. It was as if he had discovered a new, forbidden fruit.

As his mouth was empty, he decided to stop there and not push himself any further. He knew the limits of his first foray into scatophagia, not wanting to end his experiment in regret or sickness. With a trembling paw, he reached back to wipe his tailhole clean, the sensation of his fur against the sensitive skin sending a shiver down his spine.

Standing up, his legs wobbly from the intensity of the experience, he made his way to the sink. The water was cold as he washed his paws, the soapy bubbles a stark contrast to the warm, earthy scent that lingered on his red and black fur. The sight of the dirty water swirling down the drain made his stomach churn again, but he forced himself to continue. His reflection in the mirror was a mix of triumph and horror, the red in his cheeks not entirely from his blush, but partly from the exertion of his act.

He picked up his toothpaste, the minty scent a welcome reprieve from the lingering odor of his experiment. Squeezing a generous amount onto his toothbrush, he began to scrub his teeth vigorously, the bristles scraping against his tongue. Each stroke felt like a battle, the minty freshness fighting the taste of his scat. He gargled with mouthwash, swishing the blue liquid around his mouth, hoping to erase any trace of the act he had just committed.

Finally, with his mouth feeling cleaner than it had in what felt like hours, he turned to the candle and lit it. The scent of vanilla filled the air as he lit it, a feeble attempt to mask the pervasive smell of his own excrement.

Walking back into the living room, his bare belly bouncing slightly with each step, he couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation. It was as if he had shed a layer of his old self with every mouthful of his own waste. The apartment, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a playground for his darkest desires. The candle in hand, he made his way to his computer, the glow of the screen casting eerie shadows across his fur.

He sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight, and opened his web browser. The familiar layout of the scatophagia forum filled the screen, a place where he had lurked for weeks, absorbing the stories and knowledge of others who had taken the same path he had just embarked on. With a trembling paw, he clicked the button to create a new thread, his heart racing as the cursor blinked in the title box.

Finally, he typed out one simple sentence that held the weight of his newfound experience. "I did it," he wrote, feeling a strange sense of pride and fear at the same time. The words seemed to glow on the screen, a declaration of his descent into the abyss of his own desires.

The response was immediate. Messages began to flood in, each one more congratulatory than the last. "Welcome to the club, buddy!" said one poster. "It gets better, I promise," assured another. The words of encouragement and shared experiences filled the comments section, and Reyu found himself smiling, his cheeks still flushed from his recent act. It was as if he had been accepted into a secret society, and couldn't be happier.