Conditioning Of A Scat Slave Pt 01

With time to dwell on a dead-end career, a recently failed relationship, and a love-life with no direction, Claudia inadvertently stumbles into scat perversions. While getting carried away in her newfound fetish, she reaches out to the scat world to help fulfill her dark fantasies only to find her limits challenged beyond all imagination.

Chapter 1 -- The Consequences of Claudia's Curious Clicks

Claudia didn't know what else to do, other than stare at the slow-moving dot indicating her current location, as if willing it on would help her arrive at her destination sooner. A futile exercise. The dot never bloody moved, or at least it felt that way. Sometimes it would freeze, even though the bus was clearly making miles - which was agonizing. Then the dot would suddenly leap to life; jumping forward to catch up.

Must be the horrible GPS coverage out here, she thought. It was all an attempt to distract herself from the kaleidoscope of butterflies rumbling in her stomach. No soul other than her own knew where she was on her way to; if something were to happen, nobody would know where to look. And yet, this somehow added to the adventure. As many people knew of Claudia's whereabouts as they did her dark fetish. Not only did Claudia not confide in anyone, but her appearance and demeanor refused to betray anything other than vanilla.

Innocent girl at the office, never joining the social rituals after work. She kept a youthful face, in a girl next door way. Walnut-colored eyes with small, but bodied lips. A homely life had returned the favor by gifting Claudia impeccable, crystal skin which contrasted adorably with her night-colored, bobbed hair. It all suggested less than her 27 years. The cute, but conservative 'girl' whom many said could be more attractive with some added effort and a dash of daring. Whenever she did attempt to dress more adventurously, she lacked the savvy to do it effectively; a problem she fixed by rarely trying.

The greatest contrast of all, however, was that the soft-spoken Claudia had a newfound penchant for perversions of the scat persuasion. Her shame and embarrassment qualified the topic as forbidden discourse, even to her younger sister - her closest confidant. She'd always told Amanda everything, including her most intimate and personal tribulations and, even though they'd drifted slightly in recent years, the taboo of this particular topic made it an appropriate place to draw a line. Who could ever understand or comprehend arousal from such an abhorrent activity? Claudia wondered exactly that when she first wandered into it. Once oblivious to its existence, the subsequent rabbit hole and array of overwhelming evidence opened Claudia's eyes to the prevalence of this subculture around the world and, crucially, in her homeland.

No one suspected anything obscure of Claudia's private life; she was a homebody who completely vanished from her small social circle as soon as she'd entered a long-term relationship. Even after Thomas left her (for the boisterous girl from work with bad skin, she suspected), the distinct absence of any dating activity thereafter aroused little to no suspicions. Her family naturally presumed she'd reverted to type; the shy, timid girl she was prior to her last relationship. To an extent, it was true. Ever the introvert, Claudia hated confrontation and social gatherings gave her anxiety; this frequently had a history of manifesting obstacles in both her private and professional lives. She never made the career progress her work ethic and nous deserved due to her unrelenting inability to speak up and defend herself. Instead, her colleagues were often the beneficiaries of her confidence deficit. Claudia identified her personal issues easily enough; she could envisage solutions to her problems, but became impotent in her execution, specifically when that execution involved a degree of social interaction or confrontation. Being marginalized to the peripheries of just about every facet of her life left Claudia increasingly despondent. As she stared out the bus window, she thought that perhaps this was why she gravitated to this fetish with such fervor, or was it always deep inside her, dormant? The passing English countryside continued rolling by; endless meadows and occasional cattle presented an opportunity to reflect on her peculiar journey. Albeit terrified, this was the most alive she'd felt since childhood; since life became... serious.

School, university, her career, settling down; Claudia was perfectly on course, the only issue was the course wasn't her own. It'd felt like she'd sleep walked this far without realizing none of it satisfied her, despite everyone's best efforts to convince her otherwise. Rather poignantly, today was exactly a year to the day that Thomas had broken up with her and moved out. This would be the catalyst.

After the credits had rolled on her relationship, Claudia was left with a lonely apartment and the excess baggage of Thomas's unwanted belongings, which felt more like trophies of her relationship's failure. Among the dross was a discarded laptop. Annoyingly, she remembered Thomas's intolerance for old tech, constantly throwing small fortunes away to upgrade his devices for the latest gadgets. Far less trivial and in need of a laptop, Claudia decided to power it up in an attempt to salvage it. Password control was easily navigated by entering Thomas's favorite footballer and his shirt number; the most difficult part was making sure she spelled the name right. "Predictable moron," she scoffed, while also being disappointed in herself for knowing in the first place. Claudia had invested in being part of Thomas's passions, despite him never caring enough to take an interest in hers, or maybe she just didn't have any.

A bombardment of software updates later and the laptop was up and running. Slow, but running nonetheless. This'll do, she thought. Some mindless scrolling offered a welcome distraction from the spring cleaning until eventually, something more tempting sprung to mind. Like any good ex-girlfriend, Claudia's eyes and mouse drifted towards the browser history.

"Wonder if I can find your liaisons with that bimbo," she mused, making her way down the long list. Her findings were ultimately a bit more predictable.

"Youporn huh? Not surprised. Little pervert," She giggled.

"Tech savvy? Didn't even go incognito. Even I know that."

Claudia perused a little further until a site promising Hardcore BDSM piqued her curiosity.

"Whoa! Didn't see that coming, despite them watching 50 Shades of Gray together one time," she gasped, a little embarrassed that she never suspected it. Maybe she didn't know Thomas as well as she thought. Slightly amused, Claudia found it hard to resist taking a cheeky peek. Videos containing whipping and hot wax raised her eyebrows, while her curiosity continued nudging Claudia down the categories list.

"Scat? What the hell is scat?"

It took only a couple of curious clicks before footage of 2 girls defecating on each other unreeled in front of her.

"Oh God!" Claudia had never fathomed such a thing. Her reflex emotions were of horror and disgust, yet like spectators transfixed by a catastrophe, she couldn't break her gaze. Only an eventual, confusing, sense of arousal forced her to shamefully slam the laptop closed.

"What the hell did I just watch?"

Wide eyed, Claudia took a deep breath and decided that was her cue to get back to cleaning her apartment. "I really need to start dating again," she conceded as she went back to gathering Thomas's junk into boxes, ready to close that chapter of her life, unaware of the new one that was just beginning.

The following day at work was unproductive. The footage kept replaying in her head, pervading her mind, and the more it did the less Claudia understood about how it made her feel. It made her recall the time she was 7; on the way home from shopping all day with her mother, something she'd eaten earlier had upset her stomach. Claudia inevitably pooped her pants when she was unable to get to a public restroom in time. Angry that it was somehow her fault, her mother scolded her badly. She remembered the stress and anxiety, not to mention the torturous discomfort of holding it in. When her young body finally gave up and released, there was almost a wave of relief. The pain, the fight, it was over, even though she'd lost. In that sense, the warm spread that blanketed her buttocks was almost a respite.

A rushed commute home and a reheated dinner later, Claudia found herself in a standoff with the laptop. Why would I want to watch that again? What's wrong with me? It's just curiosity, she convinced herself; watching it doesn't make me complicit. Just one video, she warned herself. Max two. But by 5 she stopped counting. She justified it by telling herself that her life was too boring, and that she was harmlessly feeding her inquisitiveness, an inquisitiveness that swelled the more she perused, until a subconscious hand found its way into her pants to meet her moisture. A shocked Claudia couldn't reconcile how reaction, but allowed herself to continue nonetheless.

These sessions became more frequent over the next few weeks as Claudia concluded that, while grotesque, she wasn't hurting anyone and (as far as she knew?) it wasn't illegal. Between the confusing panic, she knew one thing for sure; it brought her pleasure. Videos with a female subject made her imagine what it must have felt while being shit on; what would compel such submissive worthlessness in someone? The idea of abdicating all control, serving as a human toilet for someone else's pleasure, complete and utter humiliation. Strangely, she imagined it to be liberating. She imagined, or rather she yearned, to know what it would feel like, for her. Such ponderance paved the way to rupturing orgasms dictated by her digits. Thomas had never made her feel that way; he had not made her feel much, other than the sense that he was doing her a favor being with her.

After a lot of alone time spent 'researching', it was only a matter of time before Claudia began experimenting with her own poop. At first, she carefully placed a few sheets of toilet paper in the palm of her hand and caught some to observe. A few close sniffs repelled her efforts and she dropped it back in the bowl in disgust. There was a dash more courage the next time when Claudia dipped her finger to scoop up a chunk of poo; she even dabbed it ever-so-gently with her tongue, so lightly she didn't even taste anything. She tried again, this time a bit firmer and longer. It was wretched and bitter, but bearable, nothing like what she expected; she wasn't sure what she expected actually. To vomit maybe?

In these early stages, Claudia would have flashes of Catholic guilt and end up in the shower washing off small streaks of stool she'd rubbed onto her chest, while aiming questions at herself she couldn't answer. A few days of abstinence would follow, but gradually the guilt corroded and Claudia would relapse.

This loop continued, experience accumulated and, with it, creativity. She imagined herself a toilet slave as she lied on her cold, naked back in the bathtub; a fresh pile of her own doing floating above her in the palm of her hand. Claudia fantasized that someone was standing over her; a domineering Mistress, perhaps, who'd captured her against her will and was about to use her as a toilet. With one soft hand locked in her crotch and her gentle fingers swirling around her clitoris, Claudia stared at the edges of the pile of shit in her hand, tantalizing and taunting as it threatened to plunge onto her, knowing that a slight tilt would end in a smelly predicament. It was peculiar adrenaline. Eventually, she'd let it fall, splattering on her chest. Each time she became more adventurous. She graduated to smearing onto her face, enjoying the rush she felt from the stench and her own repulsiveness. Some days at work she refrained from using the bathroom for as long as possible, saving up so she could rush home to the delight of a humungous dump to play with.

Learning more about herself and what turned her on, Claudia refined her fetish. Shit that was a soft, without being runny, was her favorite. It smeared smoothly and the felt so much nicer than hard shit, so Claudia made sure to increase her water intake throughout the day to keep her excrement at the preferred texture. Her desk real-estate was now dominated by a huge water bottle and handfuls of high-fiber snacks; everyone in the office marveled at her newfound healthy lifestyle -- little did they know. Meanwhile, at home, Claudia was now even slowly pushing shit into her mouth. The first couple of times she quickly spat it out and nearly drowned herself in mouthwash, until one time she decided to let a nice lump rest in her mouth while she pleasured herself. Now she knew what scat tasted like and, sure, it was horrid, but in an alluring way. The once daunting prospect of feces in her mouth didn't faze her anymore, so the following playtime she mustered the courage to close her mouth and even chew. Claudia had done a lot of reading on scat play and was aware of the health risks, so she was careful not to swallow. Each dalliance was a progression or an evolution of the last. Claudia would solo role-play her fantasies; she would shit on a plate and press her open lips to the edge before tilting it to watch as it agonizingly slid into her waiting mouth; her tongue rimming the plate playing the part of an imaginary asshole releasing its load.

Eventually, Claudia's creativity could only take her so far. Being alone had its limitations. The inertia of Claudia's confidence was banging against a wall; the sensation of playing solo was no longer fulfilling her. Midnight rolled by and signed off an uneventful 28th birthday, apart from close family and very few friends, most had even forgotten to send their wishes. Claudia decided she owed herself a guilty pleasure. She wanted to uncage her inner submissive so that it could be caged by somebody else; as a birthday gift to herself she reasoned. Intense research ensued. Stumbling through websites and scrolling through forums, Claudia landed on a fetish dating site that looked reputable and thusly subscribed. Her profile, she thought, was tailored with meticulous attention to detail in the hope of attracting a scat mate for a scat date. Claudia had never previously considered herself to be attracted to women, at least not sexually, but she decided it was of paramount importance to her to have the 'safety' of a woman for her first scat experience. In any case, this didn't feel like sex to her, so gender felt irrelevant. Claudia wanted someone with experience, who could offer her tutelage or mentoring.

A profile belonging to a Mistress Eva, "Seeking a female toilet slave" (which are apparently not so easy to come by), appeared to check most, if not all, boxes. A stern but attractive woman filled the profile pictures of this mysterious Mistress. Claudia thought she looked intimidating, even in her photos, but couldn't help be drawn into her aesthetic gravitas.

"Leading Mistress Seeks Female Toilet Slave," read Claudia. "To serve me as I see fit." Wonderful, she thought. "England's darkest scat Mistress." Perfect! "Prepare to be broken in under my domination." The last line scared her a little, but also galvanized her adrenaline. Claudia abandoned the notion of recklessness and decided life was too short to suppress her desires. Thus, an enquiry was sent.

Mistress Eva's first reply was precise and to the point. "Do you have experience? Are you available January 23?"

Claudia was equally succinct, "Yes and yes." The first 'yes' felt a little white lie, but the question was vague. Did she mean experience with scat or experience playing with others? Worried she'd be rejected, she opted for the favorable interpretation, only to realize that she'd contradicted herself on her profile anyway. Surprisingly, she received a reply all the same which Claudia met with excitement flavored anxiety. Throughout their exchanges, Mistress Eva asked several peculiar questions, such as her measurements and known allergies. Claudia obliged until it officially became a date. Was this really happening? Her chest seemed to inflate with both fear and adrenaline which, for someone whose life to that point had been so humdrum, was significant. The sheer idea of it was so exhilarating that Claudia calculated how many days until her appointment. The countdown officially began.