"Dude..." Calvin whispered. "What... the... fuck...?"
I tried to stand, but my legs were shaky. I covered my genitals with my underwear. I tried to look up at him, but I couldn't make eye contact. My face was bright red.
"Alright, man," Calvin said quietly. "I'm gonna let you clean this up and then get out of my house. I don't want to know what was going on."
He turned around to leave, and I was finally able to look up, getting a glance of his giant ass jiggling softly as he walked out. I was absolutely gutted. I felt completely numb, grabbing a roll of toilet paper and rolling it up and cleaning up the pool of ejaculate. I was still in shock of the whole situation. It didn't seem real to me. I cleaned the bathroom up as well as I could, and despite everything that had happened, I still heard the voice in my head that said "Get the rest of the poop!"
Despite the fact that I'd likely ruined my friendship with my best friend, I felt my cock stir again as I looked at the brown streaks in the bowl. Half of me drugged by lust, the other half hating myself, I again wiped my finger on a streak of the shit, putting that hand in my pocket and shuffling out of the bathroom and out his back door.
I walked home in a haze, wanting to believe I had dreamed it all. I got into my bedroom and closed the door. I was utterly conflicted; one side of me cherished the friendship I had with Calvin more than anything, and the other side... well, my finger was a testament to the other side of me. I looked at the brown poo smudged on my finger and felt my cock begin to grow as I inhaled the odor of his waste, imagining his huge, wide, hips on the toilet. I felt the two sides of me at war with one another; yet I knew my sick, twisted side would win out yet again. I slowly put the finger into my mouth and licked it clean, my other hand rubbing me into a delirious orgasm.
I woke up to a buzz from my phone. It was a text from Calvin. My brain didn't want to read it but my cock did.
"Hey Will, I need to talk to you... what happened today? And don't try to BS me"
I thought hard about how to reply. I absolutely could not give him the truth, I knew that. Our friendship would be permanently dead, if it wasn't already. But I knew I couldn't BS him because he could read me like a book.
"I'm sorry man, I was really horny, I was thinking about that girl Michelle from Calc. I just got carried away and had to jerk off." I thought about it before sending.. it seemed honest enough, so I wasn't completely lying... I was horny, after all. But enough lying to where I might still be able to salvage some dignity. I pressed send.
Within seconds, I had a reply.
"Will, I told you not to BS me... why were you bent over the toilet, then? Why did you insist on going in the bathroom after me? And why does it look like some of my skid marks were rubbed off the toilet?"
My face turned red, and I felt tingles in my skin, but yet just from him talking about his skid marks, my cock grew stiff.
"I was jerking off by the toilet and my legs got weak when I was about to cum, so I slipped and fell and my hand went in the toilet. And how did you know, did you look at your skid marks after?" I hit send. A mediocre story, I just prayed he would be distracted. We had never talked about him going to the bathroom before, it just seemed like it was off-limits. I knew with his condition, his bowel movements were more extreme than most, but we had never discussed it.
"Yeah, I did look at them, Will. I'm on a new diet, and it's supposed to help with my huge poops but as you saw, it's not doing much... so I look at the streaks and saw they were different after you left. And nice excuse, but they were on different sides of the bowl..."
Shit, how could I forget. That excuse was revealed. This kept getting worse and worse.
"I don't think that's true also because when I walked in, I didn't hear you stumble and splash the toilet bowl. You were sitting on the ground, you just spun around..."
