"Fucking scrubs." That's all I could think about after my last one had broken. I went through so many of the damn things in my line of work that it was pretty bunk to even consider buying a pack and having them not wear out within a week's time. A little distraught on having to work on a Saturday, I knew this job was too delicious to pass up - a certain nameless elephant (who wishes to have his name protected for property's sake) has a septic tank in his backyard overshadowed by a large hump in which it'd been improperly buried. It was now leaking liquid feces into the soil, making it smell absolutely terrible to everything around the site of the offense, and the city had issued him a warrant for his arrest if he didn't get it cleaned up soon. That's where I come in. In my line of work, I'm typically considered a septic tank engineer, but I wouldn't even take that romantic of a title at gunpoint! I consider my work an express way of expressing my fetish for poop - that is to say, I don't clean septic tanks just for the money. I do it for the raw, unadulterated passion for those five senses that are tickled so contritely that it just drives me wilder for the next job ahead of me. Being as big as I was, it got tough sometimes in jobs past; getting stuck in the sewer line going down was one of the most common occurrences. A little more than what I bargained for in some, a little less in others (namely the naga family down the street). Regardless, it paid well - not only did I get to enjoy myself in the coven of scat deep within the earth alone, but I got paid to wank to the filth other people put out too! It seems almost trivial that I'd describe such a scene nowadays, but hell; I know you faggots would get off to it regardless if it were real or not. <3 Anyway, I don my typical attire for the job before heading out - a slightly dingy and worn red dress shirt, a pair of khaki pants (suited for my feral butt), and a black tie which typically comes off by the time I get to the entrance to said tanks. And I mean all of it. Dirty pink thong included… that's gotten me into a spot of trouble every now and then, but nothing horribly bad. The city wants me to discontinue my line of work for health reasons, but as good of a job as I do, the intense sexual pleasure I get from rubbin' the contents of a septic tank all over myself, and the money for getting to do so, I don't believe it's a profitable venture to cease and desist. Besides, I'm the only guy in this place that actually enjoys getting smelly for two days straight, then washing it all up for the next go-around. People here don't believe in indoor plumbing - they all have some form of an outhouse, drawin' piss from each other, and then distilling it through some mechanism in the air itself. Frankly, I don't get it. I don't question it, either, but it works. It's a nice, sunny day outside as well, a couple wispy clouds dotting the bluish-purple horizon, it being around three in the afternoon. Downtown's skyline is easily visible from my bedroom window, my place only being located about three miles away, on a hill overlooking a nearby lake that spans northward for as far as the eye can see. Which is pretty short, considering I'm nearsighted. Glasses just get in the way of my work, but when I do have them, they're a pair of red-rimmed square designer glasses I've had for forever and a day. They do their job, and let me do mine - at least a bit of it anyway. The air smelled of gas - bowel gas, to be precise. Even though the air distilled water when called upon, it didn't do much to mask the abhorrent stench coming from either a freshly cracked tank or one such violator of nature that decided to take a dump on the side (or inside) a city tree. Most of the city's inhabitants saw feces as just something they do; just another rite of living that occasionally happens. I'm not one such citizen… in fact, I've literally extended my home into the septic tank in my backyard - for those times when I've got company over. The good kind of company, mind you; I've had bad company vomit on the bathroom tiled floor inside there and report it, but for the most part I keep it to myself and a scant few people who share the same ideals as I do. Or rather, fetishes. Either way, septic tank bondage room. Lovely. The sun dragged through the sky, spanning another thirty minutes while I continued to prepare myself for yet another delicious payment period. He was expecting me to come within the hour, but I always tended to show up late to jobs - my little sanity-keeper didn't help much with that. Video games were a bane of my childhood, and they still exist now, consuming quite a bit of time when I'm not working on someone's poop room. Mainly the oooooold stuff, like Contra, Zanac, and occasionally Banjo-Kazooie (goddamnit I love that game.) as well. Fortunately, I'd gotten into the habit of turning the house off essentially (besides the refrigerator and other essential appliances) so as to keep myself on track by the time I'd walked through the door onto the wooden porch out front. The garage built underneath it led into the side of the hill my home was built upon - my beautiful baby, a green and blue Shelby GT350, shopped to match my fleshy hide. For those times when a gigantic feral dinosaur /wasn't/ obvious enough, and when I didn't feel like walking. I grabbed my keys off the side of the wall next to the door and hopped down into the driveway, rolling backwards inside the garage and flicking the large door open. I loved this car, but I bought it too small for my large height - it was built more for anthros rather than ferals like myself, but I'd managed to get a bit of customization done so it wasn't /always/ a dick to get inside of. Eventually I worked myself inside of the thing, popped the sunroof open, and peered over the top of the car, turning it on and revving that massive engine up like usual. The wheels screeched against the pavement and eventually caught a grip, speeding out of the driveway at a good twenty-five mph before spinning onto the road a few feet ahead and hitting fifty as soon as possible. Being on the coast road had its perks; being only traversed by locals, and most of them worked from home anyway. It was maybe a fifteen minute drive before the place was in sight, the ground itself belching out dark green gas from underneath the soil as the gas pressure rose and fell from my viewpoint. I pulled into the guy's driveway, hopped out and rang his doorbell, eventually being greeted by a large-eared anthropomorphic elephant. He was a good eight tall, at least two-hundred and thirty pounds, a little chubby, and holding a glass of Kool-Aid half-full. He wore a flowery, summer T-shirt, and a pair of denim shorts that dragged just above his knees. He didn't carry an aura of gay around him like some of the others, yet I could tell he did enjoy the company, giving me a good go-over with his eyes before inviting me inside. "So, Mr. Benson; I hear you've got a bit of a gassy problem in your yard, am I right?" I restated after he closed the door and offered me a glass to drink for myself. "Oh yes. It's gotten bad, and we keep forgetting to obey that pesky city ordinance about monthly cleaning… it kinda sucks that they want us to put out two grand a month when we only pay what, a hundred thousand to live on this land anyway?" He replied, a coy smile on his face while he spoke. "Yeah, I can imagine that being a problem. So just the normal-go-over this time, sir?" "Mmhm. No fancy crap, I just need the city minimum cleanliness factor." I took out a small pad with notes on it, asking him to show me exactly how large it was. The backyard opened itself up, a large outhouse-looking thing sitting on top of what looked like a pimple on the face of the earth - between the cracks in the ground and the wilted grass above, I was sure this thing was gonna blow sooner or later. Elephants were some of the most notorious for making massive messes in short time spans, but I didn't expect to almost step in a swamp on first foot-press into the ground! "Jeez… you said three months worth?" I inquired, quite inclined to suppress my raging hard-on with every dirty thought that ran through my aching skull. "About that much…the missus and our children have been on a heavy fiber diet after that weird flu season we just went through." As he finished that statement, his stomach grumbled quite audibly, and he squatted slightly, as if to push something out of himself… he stood up again, fanning his ears in front of me, as if to fan away a fart or whatnot. "Do you mind if I… 'yknow…" "Oh no, not at all. If yuh gotta go, yuh gotta go - just let me get inside of there first before you do. The fresh stuff might cause a chemical reaction and this whole yard could collapse in on itself! And there'd be a worse fine than just having your farts floating through the air 24/7…" I turned towards the outhouse and threw open the door to the rather sophisticated toilet inside - one of those weird squat-toilets you'd find in Japan or some Japanese restaurant somewhere. The floor was essentially the ceiling of the tank, easily unbolted by hand being around the toilet frame itself. I squatted down and started unscrewing the nuts from around the sides of the porcelain trough, then proceeded to reach inside -- my paw instantly contacted poop. I dragged my arm back out and growled to myself, suppressing the thoughts once again while Mr. Benson simply looked upon it, snickering a slight smile over his face. "I probably should've told you that the thing was literally brimming with shit… sorry." "Yeah, that would've been good to know…" I shook the warm crap off of my arm and proceeded to squeeze myself back out of the stall. "Have at it, Mr. Benson." I stepped away out of privacy, although such a pleasure isn't guaranteed with a horny dinosaur around. In one breath, I heard from the side a series of *plopping* sounds, most likely huge dollops of elephant dung landing in the thicket below. Damnit, I wanted to beat off right then and there to the sound of him shitting so horribly on top of an already full tank, and I almost broke protocol - I didn't though, reaching back my paw from inside my pants, a little globule of pregunk already stuck to my digit. He returned, a look of relief on his face once we met back outside of the toilet again, a bit aroused by now, but still maintaining my composure. "Much better… sorry for makin' your job a little bit worse, Vector. I know I wouldn't wanna dive into the bottom of a nuclear reactor to clean it out…" The elephant snickered to himself while he said that - I've been used to that spheal since I took the job in the first place. "Yeah, yeah. So why don't you and your family take off for a little bit - this is dangerous work; like I described on the phone, this thing could blow at any moment from being stuffed as much as it is… I wouldn't want you guys getting hurt. It'll probably take about three days to clean out." "That's plenty okay, Vector. I really do appreciate your business and punctuality." He extended his paw, and I was half-tempted to use the one caked in poop to shake back, but that'd have been 'ignorant', so I just shook his hand normally. He turned and rallied the rest of his family up, apparently having planned for a short vacation while I was tidying up their backyard. They pulled off in a station wagon from the 80's - that car had a million-plus miles on it, and it still ran like a charm. My attention diverted back to the outhouse as I saw them turn down towards the highway past downtown. I instantly let out a loud moan of delight once that stench finally got its chance to assault my little sexual nodes inside my feral brain. One step inside of the outhouse was all it took for the warm fudge inside of the non-portable-porta-potty to get my boner raging hard. It was almost like Christmas, even though that was a month or so away. I closed the door to the outhouse, slowly starting to strip myself down so as not to sully my clothing - save for that bright pink set of underwear I'd nabbed from a certain lazy lady walking in front of me one day, bags full of clothes just waiting to be pocketed. I left that on as something had to cover my butthole - I couldn't be tempted to poop on the job! Well, I could, but that'd be more work, and I said three days worth should do it. The unbolted porcelain cover easily flipped up and fit into the back of the squarish room, the room itself being at least a hundred square feet. I could fit in it easily, but getting inside the tank below would be a challenge - this might be one of those toilets that just needed to be replaced completely, but I couldn't do that without removing the feces from underneath it first. I bent down, ball-socketed legs spinning so my feet faced the door, and I put my paws right at the edge of the scatty tub. At least forty or fifty pounds of fresh dung still steamed against my nose from Mr. Benson's endeavors beforehand, so that was the first to go. I grabbed up a large ball of the stuff and waggled my tail slowly as the hefty chunk disappeared into my mouth, savoring it like a large, brown grape full of juice. The taste was unbearably gross - but that's what I love in my poop, bitter and full of nasty stenches that make me want to vomit. By now, the gag reflex only came when I wanted it to, but once that chunk had gotten a good chewing and swallowing, it wasn't that big of a deal to come back up. Besides, I knew Stockpile. That made life soooo much easier when it came to over-eating things… My paws became shovels into the fresh dung layered on top of even more filth underneath, each ball of digested plant matter (not my favorite type of poop) only fueling that sexual desire once I got the layered crust of piss in my mouth as well. Septic tanks tended to settle into large layers of dung and urine, much like sand, water and oil jars do. If sand, water and oil got me off like poop does, I'd be in that industry more so than this one! Sadly, it doesn't - which is why my body slowly rose up once the first hundred pounds had made my belly a slightly visible bit fatter for the time being. As I ate, I stockpiled, feeling the shit compress and get smaller inside of me. Fifty pounds of poop became an inch or so's worth of dinosaur dung over the course of about a minute inside of my bowels, and the x-rays taken a bit ago showed there was forty-two feet of the huge one running through my butt and tail. Do the math. Slowly but surely I dug my face into the less-fresh scat, the stuff most people would get high off of by purely smelling it. Being such a common occurrence had fried those synapses in my brain, but the stench drove another impulse in my snatch that made my clearish gunk draw free from its length. I smeared some across my nose's underside, directly feeding my pleasured evening as time slowly dragged on. It hadn't been an hour yet, but as delicious as this tank was, I couldn't waste any time clearing it out. Once a good foot-and-a-half of elephant byproduct had disappeared inside of my gut, it was time to get dirty. Head first wasn't an option, as my butt wouldn't follow without breaking the porcelain - so it was butt first this time. With a bit of work and my legs being conveniently able to turn a full three-hundred and sixty degrees, I balanced myself on the tip of my tail against the side of the outhouse, then pushed up with some force, my tail sinking instantly into quicksand-like filth, butt and legs snapping back normally afterward. I sat at the top layer of a room five times the size of the outhouse above, and the only thing I could do was lick my chops at the smorgashbord lain out before me. As if my dick were crying out in pain, another problem presented itself - in the side of this septic tank were little rectangular openings that occasionally shot water out of them. This forced the filth that was dropped inside to drain towards the back of the room; however, with the massive tons of scat that'd been piling up over the past three months, it's trivial to think that they wouldn't be blocked up, both intake and drainage as well. That, and the room itself was fairly dark - night vision slowly began to kick in as I watched the poop steam visible gases into the air, deadly gases for someone to smell directly! At least, if someone weren't with my certain skillset… My main priority was to patch the leaks inside of the tank - feces degradation was one of the more common problems with tanks nowadays, since they were built out of concrete. Poop tends to contain hydrogen sulfide, which only typically causes the stench to occur, but also sometimes facilitating the process of a crack forming inside of a septic tank. The bacteria in the filth also contributed to this certain tank's demise, most likely trying to scrape every inch of the thing trying to devour all the nutrients inside of the mire. I couldn't ignore the job at hand anymore - or my hard-on, either. A large coily turd presented itself to me as I leaned up against the back of the wall. I grabbed hold of it and slowly began to feed the hardened head of it against my face, moaning softly at the foul flavor of it traveling down my gullet. This forced my legs to kick about, enjoying the taste all too much for my own good. I scraped a ditch into the older, much less appetizing filth, but that still had to go too. One such turd looked particularly dark brown, and was almost as hard as a rock! Those were the types I'd bend over for… and as such, I grabbed onto it and slowly guided it against my bloated tailhole, forcing my own feces back into my intestinal tract as the large buttplug formed inside of my ass, effectively making it impossible to shit out what I'd already devoured or smeared all over my body. Why did I love this fetish so much? I didn't ask questions often, but as good as things were, it was almost /too/ good to be true. I took another set of logs and slowly chewed them as the night slowly presented itself, going at a faster rate and sinking lower and lower into the pit of shit. I kept at it for the entire night, cumming multiple times by around four in the morning. I couldn't stop, I was always hungry, and the sexual pleasure I got from being hungry never sated itself, even when I had to take a break with that turd keeping my ass spread open wide, staining the inside of my already stained undergarments. By daybreak, I'd fallen asleep, though; the pleasure getting taken over by naptime fueled by that sulfide in the air. Immune to naught else but a forced sleep by overworking… that was what my job entailed. I slept for a good six hours before eventually waking up, that turd having sunk deep into my bowels, compressed beyond belief by the time my hungry gut started grumbling again. The tank was half-empty - I'd done some work last night! Literally covered in scat and piss by now, I bent down like a gigantic wheelbarrow, digging my nose into the dirty filth and opening my maw, scooping it up and down my throat yet again. I had gotten bloated with dung, the taste unbearably strong towards the bottom, and yet I still had to clean the walls off as well. The cracks had begun to reseal themselves under the weight of gravity and the concrete being heated to the point where it could fuse back with itself - fortunately this tank could be salvaged purely by devouring the contents that were causing the problem anyway! It took another day to get another ton of the filth down my gullet, leaving a couple piles for myself to make love to in the corners of the room. The pipes were working again as well, shooting water across the floor and pushing the dirt away from the floor. I'd tongue-scrubbed the ceiling and walls during that, making sure those taste buds grabbed every flake they could, making the inside of this tank shine! At least, it would shine if the light from outside reflected upon it. It was day three of the job, and I'd counted twelve orgasms in that timespan - definitely a new record for me in terms of how many times I'd gotten off in jobs past. A huge series of bricks against the back corner enticed me thusly after reflecting on it - I grabbed one and shoved it without pause into my purple snatch, stuffing my dick-pouch with that smelly substance to the point where I'd gained an extra twenty five pounds purely stuffing my crotch-pocket with filth. I ate the rest, my gut churning up the horrid gunk inside of my body, compressing it and compacting it until three tons of elephant ex-food became thirty-six feet of compressed dinosaur dung. Not as big of a job as I was hoping, but still; when do YOU get to devour three tons of dung? I shimmied out of the tank after using the pressure system to get some of the chunky crap off my body, the streaks still visible, but a bit of dirt was to be expected. My breath stank of feces, also to be expected as well. Mr. Benson and his family pulled back up into the driveway and greeted me a few seconds after I slipped my shirt over top of myself, having re-dressed as quickly as I possibly could. "Ah, you guys. I've completely cleaned out the tank, and your yard is safe - you'll probably have to plant some more grass seed." I jokingly added while the female elephant took out a check for two grand… her male counterpart slipping an extra five hundred to boot! "No worries Vector; we're glad to pay such a charming, efficient young man for his time and effort… especially for doing something we'd never do!" Mrs. Benson chuckled and grabbed me into a hug - an 8 foot-tall elephant is nothing to poke a stick at! I simply chuckled to myself, hugging back, even though I knew the stench put her off as well as the rest of them. I nodded, made sure they had my card, and turned down the now-flat backyard towards the front. A job well done, I thought to myself as I hopped back into my car and drove home for a well-deserved shower. Before you ask, "Why shower if you're a Rock type?" One: I love getting dirty, but I still have a society to live under, and being smelly 24/7 isn't generally appreciated. And two: resistances don't apply in the real world. That's just a block of programming code. I parked my car and headed upstairs into my black-tiled bathroom, stripped down, turned on some steamin' hot water, and hopped in for a relaxing night to myself.