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I would most definately not recommend doing this outside the realms of fantasy.", "writing": "[b]The filthy Festival - Part 2 - The PortaPotty[/b]\n\nBilly the foxcub was clutching his bloated belly with one hand while trying to put his shorts on with the other. His jumping around on one leg would have been funny if it hadn't been for the frantic expression on his face. He really really had to go now that his stomach had been filled with what felt like a gallon of his daddy's strong morning urine. The residual aftertaste in his mouth, and the musky and seafoam tasting burps reminded him of his sordid actions just minutes ago when his muzzle had been attached to the older fur's sheath, drinking down that torrent of acrid piss.\n\nThe remnants of his boner was giving him problems with the shorts, and he had to let go of his distorted tummy to tuck it properly in, his ass making a symphony of farts as the heavy weight in his bowels sped up his digestive system, his butthole almost bursting from the need for relief.\n\nHe didn't bother with a t-shirt due to the heat, and practically ran out the tent into the much cooler and drier morning air of the FurmaGeddon festival grounds.\n\nHe took a moment to look at the myriad colours and shapes of the thousands of tents that dotted the rolling plains leading up to the entrance to the stagge area. Tents as small as sleeping bags and great tipies soaring 10 feet into the air were mixed and matched, the dull earth colours of \"proper\" \"outdoors\" and incredibly expensive tents contrasting with the bright neon palette of the big-store bought flimsy 30 dollar tents. Crisscrossing it all were dusty dirtroads on which hundreds of furs were going about their morning business.\n\nMost of the morning \"action\" of the festival revolved around the big area to the side where hot communal showers stood side-by-side with endless rows of festival toilets (or porta-potties as his Dad called them), with long rows of water fountains for brushing teeth and filling up plastic bottles with much needed fresh water.\n\nThe young fox cub kept as brisk a pace as he dared, his rebellious stomach lurching for every step, groaning and gurgling from the morning drink.\n\nThere was no lines for the toilets and he quickly scampered up the steps to the plastic structure, struggling a bit to open the toilet-door that was kept shut by springs in the hinges. He entered in a rush, quickly locked the plastic door, and turned around to stare at the seat and what lay beneath. Despite the earliness of the morning, fully half of the available space underneath the seat was already already filled up with urine, toiletpaper and brown streaks of feces. A mound of brown toiletpaper rising from a sea of piss that floated around it. The smell was intoxicatingly bad, pure toilet musk that electrified the nose of the perverted, young cub. He took off his sandals and then his shorts, always preferring to poop in total nakedness. The seat, at least, was free of filth, and Billy turned around and sat down on the big seat, his legs to short to reach the floor now so he used his hands to keep him secure.\nNow his stomach groaned in earnest and with loud poots and strong-smelling farts he began to dispose of his waste, a long snake of a turd curling out of him, almost gently plopping down on the mass of soggy toiletpaper that was situated close under his rump. He sighed with relief as the thick mass left his body, the pressure in his bloated belly diminishing significantly.\n\nNow that he felt good again, the young pup quickly turned aroused. The strong scent of his daddy's crotchmusk was still strong on his face and competed with the even stronger scents of morning urine and fresh shit wafting up from the bowels of the portapotty. He scooted back against the wall behind him, lifting his feet up to the sides of the rim of the toilet which was basically flat plactic often used as a table for putting your drinks while doing your \"business\", leaving his asscheeks widened and exposed to the warm air. Oddly enough, he didn't have to piss right now, so he rubbed his sheath and coaxed out his small erection, still damp and glistening with cum from his morning playtime.\n\nHis other hand reached under, close to his pucker, and he gently rubbed two fingers against the remaining poop. He moved the now brown-coloured digits close to his mouth and positively nommed the filth off his fingers. Licking and slurping untill they were squaky-clean before once again dragging them across his dirty tailhole. The taste of his own scat sent shivers down his spine, and his dicklet was once again at full mast and squirting precum all over his fingers. He cleaned his hole this way three more times, suckling off the brown matter of his own production, cute piss-tasting burps marking his stomach's displeasure as such fare this early in the morning. \nBut it wasn't enough, his dick was harder than even earlier with his dad, yet the poop was far too easily cleaned off, leaving him hungry for more, the belly-full of foxpiss not nearly enough to satiate him.\n\nHe agilely jumped down the seat and turned around to look into the pit of filth that was contained beneath him, his own large set of turds had rolled together almost with precision, leaving the final piece resting vertically from the mound, just waiting for a hungry cub to start gobbling it up.\n\nWith almost no hesitation, Billy half-jumped headfirst in the hole, his hands against the rim and his legs splayed out to either side, trying to find traction so he could lower himself face-first into his morning prize, but the fesitval toilet was deeper than it seemed and the mound of poop was clearly outside the reach of his snapping muzzle. His mouth was watering from the strong scents down in the filthy pit and a frustrated growl could be heard from his throat.\nHis arms were burning with the excertion and he decided to heave himself up again, but he was too weak! They trembled now, holding his bodyweight as his sweaty footpaws slipped on the plastic walls of the portapotty and with a yelp! he fell facefirst into the manure.\n\nFor a few moments, panic clutched his chest as he sank into the soggy mound of urine-swollen toilet paper and clumps and mounds of various furs' feces. He couldn't breathe and the yielding mass was sucking him further and further down. He accidently inhaled and was almost choked by wet and strongly tasting toiletpaper and began to flail around with his arms and legs, dislodging him from the center and rolling over to the side where stale urine covered his entire small body as he rested his head on the mound of filth while breathing in much needed air. Now that he had disturbed the mess the smell inside was overwhelming, Billy's nostrils almost clogged with the thick stink around him.\n\nHe got to his feet and sank in a little, feeling mushy toiletpaper between his paws, his lower legs completely covered in urine and his face just a little higher than the center of the small hill of filth besides him.\nLooking up he murmered: \"Wow, these toilets are biiig,\" his voice booming inside the confined space and almost created an echo.\n\nNow that the worst shock was over, he got his bearings and quickly found out that his unexpected drop hadn't forced his erection away. As he was standing there, kneehigh in urine, a treasure trove of filth in front of him, his horniness took over. Rolled over down the mound, almost at the urine, was one of the biggest turds he had ever seen. It must have come from a horse, he guessed, as the lumpy piece was filled with bits of green and yellow. It was right there in front of him, and he reached out with both hands, shuddering with delightful revulsion from the texture and instantly decided to smear himself with it. \n\nThe stool had sucked in some moisture, and was somewhat cool on his flesh as he rubbed the disintgrating pieces of filth all over his cock, his knot and his balls, the occasional scrape of undigested straw only adding to his stimulation. \nThe filthy foxcub moaned out loudly and instantly tasted himself on his breath, reminded him of his self-serve. He gingerly tried to walk up the mound of soggy tp and shit and practically fell into its yielding mass, his entire body rubbing against the myriad colours of brown, yellow and white, a hard turd pressing against his lips, a soft one fully encasing his dick as his arms reached out to stop him from being fully enveloped. With a chomp he took the hard turd into his mouth, definately feline in origin as its slender size and incredibly potent taste made his mouth tingle. He ate it like a good boy while slowly climbing, just like his daddy had taught him, his teeth working over every half-digested lump and reducing the shit into a sloppy mess easily swallowed. He gagged cutely as it travelled down his throat, the strong taste upsetting his stomach.\n\nBilly burped and the taste of feline shit and canine piss bubbled into his mouth, the flavours combining into a sublime aftertaste, the cub now fully ready to devour his own droppings which were finally within reach.\nThe tail end of his turd was still standing proudly, Billy giggled thinking it reminded him of the flag of a mountain climber besting a high peak.\n\nStill, the mound was threatening to suck him down and he could feel himself being lowered gently into the soft mess beneath him, his rockhard cubdick grinding against a patch of soggy paper. He opened his mouth and let gravity do the rest, as his arms and knees sank deeper his face was lowered towards the still-steaming pile of boyscat, giving him time to take in the nasty smell. Several notes of pungency could be registered now that his face was mere inches from the mess: kebab-sauce, apple and the deepest of them all, the strong scent of redigested poop, the gift his father had given him yesterday come back to haunt him.\n\nBilly opened his mouth and wriggled his arms and legs, quickly sinking down, and his morning mess enveloped his face, the tail-end being pushed into his muzzle followed by more delicious cubshit. He chomped and he slurped and chewed his way through his own shit, his naughty mind going into overload as he started to hump the filthy mound he was sinking into. The more he humped, the more of his was pressed into his mouth, his nose, his eyes and his face were covered in brown waste. His boyhood humped through a layer of toiletpaper and sank deep into a pile of softyfirm poop, that had somehow retained its warmth, enveloping his dick like a skilled muzzle.\n\nThe stimulation and the wickedness of his perverted actions soon brought him close to climax and as he came for the second time that day, spurting his cubcum deeply inside the yielding turd in the mound as he began to gulp down the mess he was sinking into.\nHis moans were loud as he was swallowing all the filth down like a champion, and he found extra pleasure in swallowing each time his cocklet spasmed. Eventually it was his tired swallowings that caused spasms instead, as he rode out the afterglow of that filthy orgasm with several large swallows that re-inflated his stomach to the point where he felt as bloated as he had before relieving himself. At the last swallow he gave out a moan of relief and managed to roll over down the mound, ending down in the piss sitting on his butt, leaning against it. \n\nHis fur was so brown he could hardly see any coloration, his eyes stung a little as he used the filthy piss water to wash out the scat that clung to his eyelids, and his nostrils were so filled up that he had to snort hard three times just to be able to breathe through them again. He almost regretted that, as the intense smell that poured into his nose caused him to gag a little, bits of poop and a slosh of fox-urine coming into his mouth.\n\nHe gagged again, his bloated stomach roiling, and with great force he expelled both his morning meal and his morning drink, cubscat and manpiss projectiling out his mouth to hit the wall on the portapotty in front of him, spattering back even more filth to cover his fur. He retched again and now it ran more gently down his face, great blobs of brown goo that ended up sloshing in the urine he was sitting in, giving a distinct odour of feline.\nBilly lazily mastrubated his receding cocklet in the nasty liquid, the small knot deflating slowly. The afterglow made him woozy and he leaned back, the bottom of the soggy mound supporting his weight, the extremely kinky play and two orgasms so close to one another, and the heat all made it difficult to keep his stinging eyes open. \n\nWith that he drifted off..", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "The filthy Festival - Part 2 - The PortaPotty

Billy the foxcub was clutching his bloated belly with one hand while trying to put his shorts on with the other. His jumping around on one leg would have been funny if it hadn't been for the frantic expression on his face. He really really had to go now that his stomach had been filled with what felt like a gallon of his daddy's strong morning urine. The residual aftertaste in his mouth, and the musky and seafoam tasting burps reminded him of his sordid actions just minutes ago when his muzzle had been attached to the older fur's sheath, drinking down that torrent of acrid piss.

The remnants of his boner was giving him problems with the shorts, and he had to let go of his distorted tummy to tuck it properly in, his ass making a symphony of farts as the heavy weight in his bowels sped up his digestive system, his butthole almost bursting from the need for relief.

He didn't bother with a t-shirt due to the heat, and practically ran out the tent into the much cooler and drier morning air of the FurmaGeddon festival grounds.

He took a moment to look at the myriad colours and shapes of the thousands of tents that dotted the rolling plains leading up to the entrance to the stagge area. Tents as small as sleeping bags and great tipies soaring 10 feet into the air were mixed and matched, the dull earth colours of "proper" "outdoors" and incredibly expensive tents contrasting with the bright neon palette of the big-store bought flimsy 30 dollar tents. Crisscrossing it all were dusty dirtroads on which hundreds of furs were going about their morning business.

Most of the morning "action" of the festival revolved around the big area to the side where hot communal showers stood side-by-side with endless rows of festival toilets (or porta-potties as his Dad called them), with long rows of water fountains for brushing teeth and filling up plastic bottles with much needed fresh water.

The young fox cub kept as brisk a pace as he dared, his rebellious stomach lurching for every step, groaning and gurgling from the morning drink.

There was no lines for the toilets and he quickly scampered up the steps to the plastic structure, struggling a bit to open the toilet-door that was kept shut by springs in the hinges. He entered in a rush, quickly locked the plastic door, and turned around to stare at the seat and what lay beneath. Despite the earliness of the morning, fully half of the available space underneath the seat was already already filled up with urine, toiletpaper and brown streaks of feces. A mound of brown toiletpaper rising from a sea of piss that floated around it. The smell was intoxicatingly bad, pure toilet musk that electrified the nose of the perverted, young cub. He took off his sandals and then his shorts, always preferring to poop in total nakedness. The seat, at least, was free of filth, and Billy turned around and sat down on the big seat, his legs to short to reach the floor now so he used his hands to keep him secure.
Now his stomach groaned in earnest and with loud poots and strong-smelling farts he began to dispose of his waste, a long snake of a turd curling out of him, almost gently plopping down on the mass of soggy toiletpaper that was situated close under his rump. He sighed with relief as the thick mass left his body, the pressure in his bloated belly diminishing significantly.

Now that he felt good again, the young pup quickly turned aroused. The strong scent of his daddy's crotchmusk was still strong on his face and competed with the even stronger scents of morning urine and fresh shit wafting up from the bowels of the portapotty. He scooted back against the wall behind him, lifting his feet up to the sides of the rim of the toilet which was basically flat plactic often used as a table for putting your drinks while doing your "business", leaving his asscheeks widened and exposed to the warm air. Oddly enough, he didn't have to piss right now, so he rubbed his sheath and coaxed out his small erection, still damp and glistening with cum from his morning playtime.

His other hand reached under, close to his pucker, and he gently rubbed two fingers against the remaining poop. He moved the now brown-coloured digits close to his mouth and positively nommed the filth off his fingers. Licking and slurping untill they were squaky-clean before once again dragging them across his dirty tailhole. The taste of his own scat sent shivers down his spine, and his dicklet was once again at full mast and squirting precum all over his fingers. He cleaned his hole this way three more times, suckling off the brown matter of his own production, cute piss-tasting burps marking his stomach's displeasure as such fare this early in the morning.
But it wasn't enough, his dick was harder than even earlier with his dad, yet the poop was far too easily cleaned off, leaving him hungry for more, the belly-full of foxpiss not nearly enough to satiate him.

He agilely jumped down the seat and turned around to look into the pit of filth that was contained beneath him, his own large set of turds had rolled together almost with precision, leaving the final piece resting vertically from the mound, just waiting for a hungry cub to start gobbling it up.

With almost no hesitation, Billy half-jumped headfirst in the hole, his hands against the rim and his legs splayed out to either side, trying to find traction so he could lower himself face-first into his morning prize, but the fesitval toilet was deeper than it seemed and the mound of poop was clearly outside the reach of his snapping muzzle. His mouth was watering from the strong scents down in the filthy pit and a frustrated growl could be heard from his throat.
His arms were burning with the excertion and he decided to heave himself up again, but he was too weak! They trembled now, holding his bodyweight as his sweaty footpaws slipped on the plastic walls of the portapotty and with a yelp! he fell facefirst into the manure.

For a few moments, panic clutched his chest as he sank into the soggy mound of urine-swollen toilet paper and clumps and mounds of various furs' feces. He couldn't breathe and the yielding mass was sucking him further and further down. He accidently inhaled and was almost choked by wet and strongly tasting toiletpaper and began to flail around with his arms and legs, dislodging him from the center and rolling over to the side where stale urine covered his entire small body as he rested his head on the mound of filth while breathing in much needed air. Now that he had disturbed the mess the smell inside was overwhelming, Billy's nostrils almost clogged with the thick stink around him.

He got to his feet and sank in a little, feeling mushy toiletpaper between his paws, his lower legs completely covered in urine and his face just a little higher than the center of the small hill of filth besides him.
Looking up he murmered: "Wow, these toilets are biiig," his voice booming inside the confined space and almost created an echo.

Now that the worst shock was over, he got his bearings and quickly found out that his unexpected drop hadn't forced his erection away. As he was standing there, kneehigh in urine, a treasure trove of filth in front of him, his horniness took over. Rolled over down the mound, almost at the urine, was one of the biggest turds he had ever seen. It must have come from a horse, he guessed, as the lumpy piece was filled with bits of green and yellow. It was right there in front of him, and he reached out with both hands, shuddering with delightful revulsion from the texture and instantly decided to smear himself with it.

The stool had sucked in some moisture, and was somewhat cool on his flesh as he rubbed the disintgrating pieces of filth all over his cock, his knot and his balls, the occasional scrape of undigested straw only adding to his stimulation.
The filthy foxcub moaned out loudly and instantly tasted himself on his breath, reminded him of his self-serve. He gingerly tried to walk up the mound of soggy tp and shit and practically fell into its yielding mass, his entire body rubbing against the myriad colours of brown, yellow and white, a hard turd pressing against his lips, a soft one fully encasing his dick as his arms reached out to stop him from being fully enveloped. With a chomp he took the hard turd into his mouth, definately feline in origin as its slender size and incredibly potent taste made his mouth tingle. He ate it like a good boy while slowly climbing, just like his daddy had taught him, his teeth working over every half-digested lump and reducing the shit into a sloppy mess easily swallowed. He gagged cutely as it travelled down his throat, the strong taste upsetting his stomach.

Billy burped and the taste of feline shit and canine piss bubbled into his mouth, the flavours combining into a sublime aftertaste, the cub now fully ready to devour his own droppings which were finally within reach.
The tail end of his turd was still standing proudly, Billy giggled thinking it reminded him of the flag of a mountain climber besting a high peak.

Still, the mound was threatening to suck him down and he could feel himself being lowered gently into the soft mess beneath him, his rockhard cubdick grinding against a patch of soggy paper. He opened his mouth and let gravity do the rest, as his arms and knees sank deeper his face was lowered towards the still-steaming pile of boyscat, giving him time to take in the nasty smell. Several notes of pungency could be registered now that his face was mere inches from the mess: kebab-sauce, apple and the deepest of them all, the strong scent of redigested poop, the gift his father had given him yesterday come back to haunt him.

Billy opened his mouth and wriggled his arms and legs, quickly sinking down, and his morning mess enveloped his face, the tail-end being pushed into his muzzle followed by more delicious cubshit. He chomped and he slurped and chewed his way through his own shit, his naughty mind going into overload as he started to hump the filthy mound he was sinking into. The more he humped, the more of his was pressed into his mouth, his nose, his eyes and his face were covered in brown waste. His boyhood humped through a layer of toiletpaper and sank deep into a pile of softyfirm poop, that had somehow retained its warmth, enveloping his dick like a skilled muzzle.

The stimulation and the wickedness of his perverted actions soon brought him close to climax and as he came for the second time that day, spurting his cubcum deeply inside the yielding turd in the mound as he began to gulp down the mess he was sinking into.
His moans were loud as he was swallowing all the filth down like a champion, and he found extra pleasure in swallowing each time his cocklet spasmed. Eventually it was his tired swallowings that caused spasms instead, as he rode out the afterglow of that filthy orgasm with several large swallows that re-inflated his stomach to the point where he felt as bloated as he had before relieving himself. At the last swallow he gave out a moan of relief and managed to roll over down the mound, ending down in the piss sitting on his butt, leaning against it.

His fur was so brown he could hardly see any coloration, his eyes stung a little as he used the filthy piss water to wash out the scat that clung to his eyelids, and his nostrils were so filled up that he had to snort hard three times just to be able to breathe through them again. He almost regretted that, as the intense smell that poured into his nose caused him to gag a little, bits of poop and a slosh of fox-urine coming into his mouth.

He gagged again, his bloated stomach roiling, and with great force he expelled both his morning meal and his morning drink, cubscat and manpiss projectiling out his mouth to hit the wall on the portapotty in front of him, spattering back even more filth to cover his fur. He retched again and now it ran more gently down his face, great blobs of brown goo that ended up sloshing in the urine he was sitting in, giving a distinct odour of feline.
Billy lazily mastrubated his receding cocklet in the nasty liquid, the small knot deflating slowly. The afterglow made him woozy and he leaned back, the bottom of the soggy mound supporting his weight, the extremely kinky play and two orgasms so close to one another, and the heat all made it difficult to keep his stinging eyes open.

With that he drifted off..", "pools_count": 1, "title": "The Filthy Festival - part 2 - The Porta Potty", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "1", "views": "1107" }