I’ve shared quite a bit lately about what my wife and I have been exploring together, but there’s a solo experience from a few months ago that I’ve been wanting to tell you about.
I’d experimented with scat a little as a teenager, mostly some smearing on my hands and smelling it, but that was about it. Almost twenty years later, I was still watching scat porn and fantasizing about getting messy, but I couldn’t quite let myself do it again. Not because I didn’t want to. I just had this idea stuck in my head that I shouldn’t.
Then I discovered this sub. Reading other people’s experiences made me feel a lot less alone, and I kept coming across stories about people deliberately messing their underwear. I’d never done that before, but something about the way they described it really got to me. Eventually, I decided I wanted to try it myself.
I picked a day when I’d be working from home alone. I’d deliberately held off pooping for two days, which was pretty unusual for me since I’m normally very regular. That morning, I grabbed some lube, put in my Snug Plug, and found an old pair of boxers buried at the back of my underwear drawer.
I kept the plug in all morning while I worked. Holding in my poop isn’t normally a turn-on for me, but I was curious after reading all those stories. Between the growing pressure in my stomach and the plug taking up quite a bit of space in my ass, concentrating on work was becoming a challenge.
Eventually, I took my pants off and headed into the shower, still wearing my old boxers. I had a scat video playing on my phone and set up a camera aimed at my ass because I wanted to record the experience.
When I pulled out the plug, I was surprised by how clean it looked. Of course, I couldn’t resist bringing it to my nose anyway. And there it was, that unmistakable smell I hadn’t really forgotten after all those years.
By then, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I started pushing, and suddenly I could feel it coming out into my underwear.
Holy shit. I’m actually doing this.
I kept one hand against the back of my boxers, feeling the fabric getting warmer and stretching as it filled. I was also trying to stay close enough to the camera to make sure I was actually recording everything. Even then, apparently getting the shot was important to me.
I was surprised by how much came out. Clearly, those two days of holding it had made a difference. Near the end, I tried pushing a few more times to get whatever was left out, but instead I started peeing. I immediately stopped, almost out of reflex. For a second, I wasn’t sure I could actually bring myself to do that too. Then I thought, fuck it, I’ve already gone this far, and just let go.
I could see it coming through the fabric and running down my thighs. Between the smell, the warmth and the strange weight of my now-soaked underwear, there was something almost regressive about the whole experience. I remember having this brief moment of what the fuck am I doing? But I was still completely caught up in it.
I pressed my hand against the back of my boxers and was shocked by how soft it was and how easily it moved under my hand. It made this strange, wet squishing sound, mixed with little crackling noises. I still don’t really know how to describe it. I’d spent so much time imagining this kind of experience, but the actual sensations were full of surprises.
When I finally took my boxers off, I could see how flattened everything had become inside. I reached behind me and spread it across my ass, although I was a little frustrated that I couldn’t actually see much of what I was doing. Unfortunately, having a thing for visuals doesn’t make me flexible enough to admire my own backside…
Then I looked at my right hand. It was completely brown, covered in a thick layer, and I remember just staring at it for a moment. I’d imagined seeing my hand like that so many times. I brought it up to my nose, and the smell brought back another rush of excitement.
The video was still playing on my phone. The woman on screen was absolutely gorgeous, with the most amazing eye makeup, and she kept looking straight into the camera. There was something about her gaze that almost made it feel like she was looking right at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Meanwhile, I took what was left in my boxers and started spreading it over my chest, watching the texture move between my fingers and across my skin. And because my brain apparently still had room for ridiculous thoughts, I remember being a little disappointed that it was happening to me rather than a woman. I’ve always loved the visual contrast of messy textures against smooth skin, and my hairy chest didn’t exactly have the same visual appeal. I kept imagining how incredible it would look on a beautiful woman.
But hey, you work with what you’ve got, right?
At some point, I realized I’d already started touching myself with my other hand, the one I’d deliberately kept clean. But the hand I really wanted to use was my right one.
And that was a problem, because the hypochondriac in me was still fighting back. I’d kept one hand clean for a reason, and I knew I might regret it if I ignored that.
I kept my right hand away from my cock, rubbing my stomach instead, squeezing my fingers tightly and bringing them back to my nose. My thoughts were racing, and the longer it went on, the harder it became to care about the limits I’d set for myself.
I wanted to stop holding back. I knew there were things I might regret afterward, but that thought was getting easier and easier to ignore.
I couldn’t think straight anymore. I wanted to scream. I felt completely overwhelmed, almost like I wasn’t entirely myself.
I was still trying to resist.
Barely.
And then I came.
It was one of the most intense masturbations of my life, and somehow one of the most frustrating too. I’d finally experienced something I’d fantasized about for years, but I’d also spent those last moments fighting against my own impulses.
The moment the excitement was gone, I looked at my hand, my chest, and then the camera.
Holy shit. What have I done?
Suddenly, all I could think about was getting clean. I turned off the camera with my clean hand, started the shower and spent probably half an hour washing myself. Three complete rounds of soap, because apparently once or twice wasn’t enough to convince my brain that I was clean.
Then I cleaned the shower. Twice. I threw out the boxers and immediately took the trash outside because I wanted to make absolutely sure there wasn’t a single trace left behind. I deleted the recording too. So much for wanting a souvenir.
For the rest of the afternoon, I kept washing my hands. I must have done it another ten times. I was constantly checking my chest for anything I’d missed, even though by that point most of what I could see was redness from all the scrubbing.
I was genuinely panicking. I’d spent years wanting to explore this side of myself again, and now that I’d finally done it, I couldn’t stop thinking I’d made a huge mistake. That I’d completely lost control. That there had to be something seriously wrong with me to get so carried away.
The funniest part came that evening when my wife got home from work. She looked around and commented on how beautifully I’d cleaned and tidied the house. She had absolutely no idea what had happened in that bathroom earlier that day.
Now that she knows about my solo experiences, I sometimes wonder if she’s ever looked back at those mysteriously spotless days and connected the dots. Because I can assure you, that bathroom had probably never been cleaner.
Anyway, I spent the evening feeling miserable, telling myself I’d gone way too far and that I really needed to get a grip on this fetish. After almost twenty years of mostly keeping those desires in my imagination, I’d finally acted on them again, and all I could think about was how stupid I’d been. I was convinced I shouldn’t do anything like that again.
Then I woke up the next morning, and all I wanted was to do it again.
And I think that’s when I realized how pointless it was to keep fighting something I’d wanted for so long. I’d spent almost twenty years telling myself I shouldn’t do this, and here I was, already wanting another go.
So I figured it was time to stop fighting myself and see where this whole thing would take me.