Fucked Up And Real Shitty Ch 01

Fucked Up And Real Shitty #1: the road to scat acceptance

Have you ever fucked the shit out of someone? Not in the figurative sense, where you, the pitcher, give the catcher a name-screaming, pillow biting, sexual workout. I mean literally. Fucked the shit out of them? Not some bits of ca-ca on your condom either. I am talking bowel movement, diarrhea. Not many people have. That’s why I wrote this.

I didn’t know I had a thing for scat. For the longest time it repulsed me. It seemed like diving into an active septic tank with an open mouth. Always recoiled from the few German videotapes that the adult store had in stock. Looking back, it was an aesthetic prejudice. The cover models were…well, German. You know the type: pale, awkward and unattractive.

The adult video store I worked at seemed to only order shit films from one company. Their video boxes always had the same design scheme, a garish red and black in a gothic font. The photography was always grainy. I guess there isn’t enough money in that niche market to spring for new cameras.

A wrought iron candelabra always manages to be in the background of the cover photo. The participants all look like they were released from the Munich holding tank after making bail for grave digging arrests.

The ghostly twenty something wretches that populate these flicks have that look. You know the one I’m talking about. That “I am the lovechild of a scabby death metal roadie and a crack whore groupie” look, that “ I am getting typecast as the girl who lets Labrador Retrievers take her in the ass, when do I move onto the Shetland ponies?” look, that “ crystal meth seemed like a good idea at the time” look.

Pretty shady characters, no one I would enjoy running into on the street. They were about as erotic as car crashes and puppy kicking. My erection, while I’m working, is pretty constant but the slender display of shit films never failed in making it vanish.

So I kept away from that corner of the store and that genre. Obsessively.

As an obsessive personality and an information glutton, it was only a matter of time until I ended back in shit. The owner of the store had a policy that allowed us cashiers to check out videos for free so long as we brought the tapes and discs back in one piece. I took full advantage of this. I had been a big reader in high school and this was just a different medium.

Two years of full time allowed me to work my way through almost every section in the store and a bit of graduate school. I considered my take home tapes, beyond the obvious beat off fuel, to be research material for my dissertation in sociology on sexuality. The title was “From Asians teens to Zipperheads: The role of choice in psychosexual arousal.

Some of the media got me raging hard just by glancing at it (grannies, gangbangs, interracial, midget anal, chubby chasers, etc) other stuff took repeated viewing and independent research to validate it (she males, bestiality and BDSM). For all my shuddering about scat, water sports/golden showers made me hot, oddly enough.

The girls look relatively healthy and happy in those films. No ribs showing, good tans, good teeth, they were attractive and confident. The whole vibe seems to be very Southern California laid back, “it’s only piss, it will wash off”. I justified my erections by figuring everybody had pissed on themselves at some point in their adult lives.

After all too much water, beer and dreams about sailing can yield a stained mattress. A campfire can be extinguished handily with the old wastewater. Some religious branches drink their own urine for purposes of enhanced clarity and lost nutrients. All in all, piss is no big deal.

Shit, however, is a very big deal. You don’t do it where you eat goes the maxim. I have the utmost confidence in my sphincter. No amount of any foodstuff coupled with the most skin crawling of nightmares could make me crap myself. You can’t put out a fire with feces. The thought of consuming excrement to achieve a higher spiritual level has me retching and praising atheism. All told, shit is a smelly, sticky, smeary, bio-hazard of an affair that no one outside of truly desperate sex actors would handle. Or so I thought.