Enjoy chapter two! Feel free to let me know your thoughts either in the comments or via email!
Schooled
Unexpected Return
"Rise and shine, Matty."
Matt's eyes barely cracked open as he heard his dad's soft whisper. Even through the slit in his eyelids he could see the contour of his dad's face right in front of him.
"It's already past noon, Matty. Time to get up, okay?" dad continued, ruffling Matt's hair gently.
"Do I have to?" Matt groaned as he turned around to the other side.
"Shush now, Matty. Don't be such a morning grump," his dad groaned performatively.
"I'm tired..."
That was the truth. Sure, it had been a few days since Matt's first job, but the feeling still lingered. The aftertaste, the smell, the fullness. Sure, it didn't particularly bother him, but it still felt... weird. The sense of strangeness he could not shake no matter how hard he tried.
"Well, I guess then there's nothing to be done. I'll have to join you under the blankets - I have no choice," his dad said matter-of-factly before Matt felt a dip behind him.
Dad had grabbed his blanket and pulled it over his own body, Matt's body shifting closer. His father's soft, yet scratchy belly pressed against his back, the coarse hairs somehow palpable even through both of their clothes. Oh no, it was this trick.
"Dad, I-" Matt said, slightly panicked.
"No, no, you're right. You need some good sleep. Here, let me cover you up properly so you're all cozy."
With swift movements, the blanket Matt was covered with shifted and moved, layering over itself a bit as a tight fabric cocoon formed itself in front of his father. There was little airflow coming in and out of the tight confines, only the loose part near dad being open properly. And then it happened.
Not even a grunt came from behind, before a loud, nigh thundering sound erupted. The belly Matt was so preciously pressed into was clenching tight, pushing out air at a remarkable volume. The bass lasted for a good five seconds before quieting down, followed by a small and short toot.
"It seems you needed a good blast from the past, hm? Don't worry, I'm more than happy to remind you how we wake people up in this house," his dad chuckled and patted the thick fabric bunch roughly.
Fuck. This was indeed how dad had used to wake all of them up when they were feeling particularly cranky back in the day. Matt knew the process all too well. First came the sound, and then came the smell. Oh fuck, it was already seeping in. The acidic stench of rotten eggs, foul stink of fish oil and a sour hint of fermented sweat. It stunk. It stunk so bad. Neither Matt nor his brothers had ever learned how to fight this. It worked perfectly as an alarm clock.
Matt whined from inside the cocoon, "Dad, please, I'm up! I'm up!"
"Are you sure? You were so tired before, what happened?" his dad's voice dripped with sarcasm and genuine humor.
"I was wrong! I'm up, I promise! Please, dad," Matt whined some more before he retched.
Even Pitstain wasn't as bad as this. Nothing Matt had ever smelt was as bad as his dad's farts. The worst part? Dad had two types of farts. And these were the tamer variant. The louder, but less intense and shorter-lasting type.
"Hmm... Well, I guess you can get out then!"
As dad's grip loosened on the blanket, Matt erupted from it, coughing as he finally reached the fresh air of his own bedroom.
"Wow! Look at that, Matty! You really are awake! Well, then get up soon and come down for your breakfast. Or, well, lunch, I suppose."
With that, a gentle kiss from cracked lips met Matt's curly hair and a ruffle followed, before the weight behind him lifted. Quick, socked steps slowly quieted down as his dad had gone back downstairs.
Matt truly loved his dad, he really did. Yet the methods of that old man could oftentimes be very forceful, if not a bit sadistic. Still, he was glad he was on his side. He wouldn't choose anyone else as a father or closest friend.
Washing himself quickly and changing into his daily outfit, he made his way downstairs and saw the beautiful plate of lunch waiting for him at the kitchen table. Dad was also seated there, browsing something on his phone, his thick fingers slowly tapping away.
"Glad to see you up now, boy," dad gave him another chuckle before he pulled out the chair next to him.
"Yeah... thanks for that," Matt rolled his eyes a bit.
"Are you sure you want to give me the lip?" Matt's dad looked up at him, unblinking.
"No! Sorry!" Matt instinctively stood up straight when he sensed the shark smelling his blood.
"That's a good boy. Now sit down and eat."
Matt didn't need to be told twice. His curls bounced a bit as he took his place beside his dad and started munching away. As always, it was delicious. His father made the meanest goulash.
"You think they're gonna call you in today? Been a while," dad said as his hand went straight to Matt's hair, his eyes not moving away from the screen.
"Maybe. I'd be happier if they didn't, but hey," Matt shrugged and continued eating.
"Fair. But at least you get more money if they do. A pretty sum too."
"I guess. But we're not tight on money, are we?"
"Oh, not anymore, don't worry. I make enough to sustain the both of us, boy. But it's nice to have your own income in case something happens to me. Or if we get into... problems again."
Matt snorted, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."
"And what do you mean by that?" his dad laughed a bit too.
"Well, you're built like an absolute unit. Your medical results are better than mine. You work out and eat healthily... well, somewhat healthily. You have connections. Now you have money. Need I go on?"
Matt's dad laughed harder, "True that, kiddo. But you never know. Just want to be safe rather than sorry. We both learned that snakes can linger close and you might never see them."
"Yeah, I get that." Matt shrugged and went on eating.
They continued on silently, the plate on the table soon empty and another stomach full.
"Was it good?"
"The best, daddy. Thank you."
Matt's dad gave his son another ruffle, smiling gently, before standing up and taking the plate to the sink.
"I don't have any clients today. Want to continue watching the series from yesterday? What was it called again, uhh... You know, the one about the murders with the hot babe in it," he asked as he washed up.
"I know, I know," Matt rolled his eyes a bit, smiling. "We can watch, yeah. I hope we can finish it today, honestly. I can't wait until we get to the new series about-"
A phone ringing. And it was THAT ringtone. Fuck.
Matt grabbed into his pocket and answered as quickly as he could, "Hello, yes?"
"Heyo! On my way to your house again. You have like three minutes tops. Ready?" Patrick said on the other end, audibly smiling.
"Yeah! Just, uhh, I'll wait for you like last time!"
"Sounds good to me! See you soon."
Silence again. Dad didn't even seem phased by it, just coming over to Matt and grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Good luck, Matty. Though I know you won't need it. We can watch it later today, okay?" he gave Matt another kiss, this time on the temple.
"Yeah..." Matt replied anxiously, angling his head closer.
"Shush, Matty. You'll do great! Now go out there and make me proud!" a few rough hits landed on Matt's upper back, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs.
"Yup..." Matt said, already walking.
He couldn't look his father in the eye. He just couldn't. Not before he was going to leave and eat shit again. Not before he was going to eat men's steaming feces and not mind it. Not before he... he was going to be a Toilet...
Patrick's car was already parked on the curb when Matt came out of the door.
"Damn, that was quick," Matt said, surprised.
The passenger door was wide open, Patrick hunched down a bit to see through it.
"Heyo! Yeah, I was a bit generous with my time. But hey, at least we can get you there sooner now! It's an emergency."
"Oh? What does that mean?"
"That means plumbing fucked up somewhere and they need a place of relief. So you'll be installed there temporarily."
Matt got into the car, closing them both in. Patrick didn't wait for even a second before he started driving, smoothly accelerating onto the road.
"Will it be any different than last time?"
"Well, not really, I guess. Mostly the same rules and stuff," Patrick drummed against the steering wheel. "Besides the obvious change in scenery, that is. But I'll be more available today! So I can pay close attention to you, okay? If anything's wrong, just tell me, though I should know just from seeing."
"Okay..."
"Relax, Matt. You did very well on your first time as a Toilet. You'll do better the second time, I'm sure."
No response. He couldn't. He just had to steel his nerves. Not for the experience itself, but for his reaction to it. Or lack therefor, rather. It was strange... Everyone seemed so chill with what he was doing. Like it didn't matter that he was a human waste bucket. Sure, the government enforced it, but still. He expected at least some backlash.
"And we're here!" Patrick said excitedly.
"Huh?" Matt blinked.
How long had he been ruminating for?
"It wasn't that long of a drive, Matt. Pretty close to your home," Patrick shrugged and got out of the car.
Matt did the same, still a bit caught off-guard. Only now did he truly see where they had driven to... A high school. Wait. Not just A high school. This was MATT'S previous high school.
"Wait, I'm going to... Here?" Matt asked, panicking.
"Yeah. The male teacher toilet is completely unusable for now, so you'll be acting as the replacement. Come on now, the sooner the better," Patrick locked the car and started walking.
"That's okay, but... here? People know me here," Matt protested.
"So? Remember, Matt, we have you under our protection; don't worry," Patrick smiled as he looked back at him.
"If... if you say so..."
Going through these halls again was a bizarre experience. He knew them so well. The lockers, the rooms. He could even see some familiar faces through the doors. It was quite empty for now, probably because summer break was just around the corner and lessons were in full swing.
It didn't take long for them to get there. The fabled teacher's bathroom. One of the places he and his ex-classmates had always hoped of sneaking into one day. But not like this...
Patrick opened the door and then the door to their right. The porcelain toilet was taped all over, yet the lid was still open. A familiar blinking light glinted from the corner and the equally familiar rules plaque hung on the wall. The weird tube was in the corner as well.
"Well, here we are. You know the gist of it and we've already prepared everything you need. Don't worry; if anything spills here, the janitors will get it. We can't install a whole drain, after all," Patrick laughed and was already on his way out.
And with that, it was just Matt. Matt in the stall of his teachers... in his previous high school. Not exactly memories he wanted to relive, but oh well. It could be worse. He could see his teachers naked... Eat their waste... Yeah, it couldn't really get much worse.
Matt wanted to reach out and protest some more. Get himself relocated or... something! But he couldn't... He wouldn't! He wanted to make his dad proud... He wanted to make sure he was a good worker, even if it was working as a Toilet...
And he would make sure he'd be damn great at it!
Nuggets of Wisdom
Some time had passed already. Matt wasn't sure how long he had been there, probably not even an hour, but it was mostly quiet. No visitor yet. Even the lady visitors to the cabin next door were quite rare. Did the teachers even know? How would they react if they saw him here? Maybe the had already forgotten that he even existed. It had been a few years after all.
The bell rung and his body tensed. It was time to make it or break it. The volume increased tremendously in the hallways, a cacophony of different, usually shrill, voices. None of this evoked any good memories in him. After all, there were only a few things that could be counted as a silver lining from this building.
Most of the sounds were voices he did not recognize, occasionally interrupted by a deeper, adult voice - the teachers he had oh-so loved. They would probably end up shitting into his mouth. Would they recognize him during? Would they look into his eyes again after?
For a while, he was left to wonder. All of the voices he could place in his mind simply walked by. Perhaps they hadn't needed to go. Perhaps they had decided to bite the bullet and go to the student bathrooms. He didn't know and honestly didn't want to find out. He wished they'd all just avoid the bathroom for today.
Sadly for him, his wish wasn't meant to come true.
The door opened to the bathroom and footsteps rushed on the tiled floor - heavy and uncoordinated. A loud bass erupted from outside the door.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh no. Quick, Harold, quick!" the old, deep voice said.
That was Harold, alright. Harold, his previous history teacher. A funny, slightly heavyset man with enough stories to entertain his pupils for days. A father of five, dutiful husband and beloved by mostly everyone at the school. And he was going to use Matt.
As Matt stared at the door handle, hypnotizing it to never turn, it turned. And in the creak, he could already see the hunched over form of his former teacher. Their eyes met.
Harold's pupils blew open at the sight, comically enlarged through his thick glass lenses. The hand on his checkered shirt eased up before grasping at his stomach again, fabric straining. With a confused look, he glanced around, before his eyes landed on the plaque on the wall. His eyebrows dropped as he read, legs stomping on the tiles, clearly in a hurry.
More gas came out of his backside, his old brown pants slightly inflating with filthy air - like a little bubble that got lost immediately. Seemed to be a familiar scenario.
"I... Do I have to? I don't..." Harold asked, urgency barely disguised in his voice.
Matt didn't respond verbally, simply placing his head over the toilet bowl. The quicker he got this over with - the less he had to think about everything that was going to happen on this day - the better. So much better.
Harold whined, closing the door. More gas erupted from him. It smelt mildly of sulfur, and mostly of baked beans. Many beans. But there was a hint of sweetness too, like putting one's nose into caramel. Speaking of caramel, as Harold pushed his pants down, a skidmark resembling this sugary treat paraded itself on his underwear. It was barely visible, as it was mostly in the fabric that was deeply wedged between his cheeks, but it peeked out nonetheless.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his white briefs, yet his hands shook - whether from his bowels or his reluctance, it was hard to tell. All Matt could see was how his beloved teacher's head turned around, the kind eyes filled with dread, sadness and disgust as his throat worked. Yet despite what his moral compass must have been telling him, another rumble came from his belly mound and echoed in the stall, pushing the fabric of his underwear out. The shit stain blossomed fully, showing its true majesty as his underwear practically ballooned out. It was a mighty loud fart, and a LONG one too. At least a good five seconds, if not more. A whimper escaped from the old man's mouth, his hands finally pushing the last obstruction out of the way as he hovered over Matt's face.
Yes, not sat - hovered. Matt got a glimpse of Harold's dick, which is something he had never asked for, but that was a common trend these days. It was quite small, currently shriveled up and his apricot sized sack was also rather tautly pressed close to his body. Funny, it kinda fit him.
Instead of looking at cocks, Matt should have been doing his duty, and the ass above reminded him of that. A rapid series of farts, like zipping up a jacket, erupted from the hole as it clenched tight and opened up wide in quick succession. The air was now mostly odorless, but it hurt Matt's eyes a bit as it landed in them. He could taste some particles of shit in there too. At that point, they were probably like a shotgun spread all over his face. With a groan and a heavy swallow, he steeled his nerves for the worst.
The pucker kept opening up, again and again... yet nothing more came out of it, not even a blast of air. A groan of frustration erupted from the graying man above, the silver hairs around his rim bundling together when he clenched up properly. Another rumble came, loud, quiet, then louder.
"This is going to take forever," a tiny gruff sob echoed, followed by a groan.
Relaxing completely, the hole went slack and allowed passage to everything it had been keeping away so far, which turned out to be gas. A lot of gas. Starting really loud, it exploded into Matt's face, and he could swear he saw a brownish fog wafting over him. Then it turned rather sputtering as the rim tried clenching together, unsuccessfully. It sprayed some ass juice and sweat all over the poor Toilet, primarily into his mouth though. Just when he thought it was over, the volume picked up again, followed by a groan, the climax coming in the form of a powerful rip. And then the long-awaited shit.
It crowned and then fell. A nugget. A simple and small poop piece. Matt didn't even bother chewing; he just swallowed the deposit and quickly opened his mouth again. This couldn't be all, right? And it sure wasn't. One after the other, little clumps of sturdy shit started hailing into his waiting orifice, most of them managing to land directly into his throat, some brushing past the uvula on the way there. It felt rough, it scratched and it was a tough pill to swallow - almost literally.
Yet just like a bombardment during the many wars that Harold taught about, the payloads couldn't stop coming. Pushing against the walls, Harold tried supporting himself, mostly successfully. His ass came a bit lower, fully blocking out any light from hitting the Toilet. The massive hairy cheeks could not stop the shit thought. A barrage came. Many pebble-sized balls crowding Matt's tongue as he tried to gulp them down. He wasn't even finished with the bigger sizes yet!
But Harold was unrelenting, his guts finally going full throttle. An intermezzo of short gas bursts and conical shit shots played in the stall, slowly indicating the end of the show. Matt was trying. He was trying his best and succeeding! Because he was what? A BROWN! And the Browns were not quitters, whether it be at their job or in life as a whole!
Thankfully, he didn't have to toughen up for too long. The assaults ended. He couldn't feel anything new landing on his tongue anymore, except one or two minuscule strays dropping from above. Probably some dingleberries.
Surprisingly, a new aroma emerged to accompany this curtain call. A sickeningly sweet, and deadly silent fart. It enveloped Matt's nostrils, pouring into them like liquid, filling his lungs whether he wanted to or not. The smell had almost nowhere else to go, so all of the fart was redirected directly into him. The poor guy started to panic, but oddly enough, the smell was manageable. After all, he had had practice. A gentle gust tickled his skin as it kept seeping out of the asshole above him, its bearer moaning quietly as if no one was around. Because no one WAS around. Matt wasn't anyBODY right now. It's like he finally realized that. Like this was the moment it hit him again. He could have seen it during his first shift, but now it was even more apparent.
Somehow the objectification felt... comforting. Just like he had felt about it before. This time around though - he didn't fight it. He enjoyed being able to endure such a tear gas attack, caramel sticking up his sinuses like it was nothing. Because to him, in a way, it was nothing. This had nothing on dad's gas. Nothing on that deeply fermented, spoiled, condensed man-stink from his beloved father. In a way, he was thankful for the questionable methods he had had to endure in his life for this very moment.
Bringing him out of his thoughts, a ray of artificial light pierced into the toilet bowl, his eyes squinting. Harold was lifting himself up. No words, no sounds, not even a look. Only a deep crimson bloom on Harold's other, cleaner, cheeks could tell Matt what was going on in his teacher's head.
Matt would have offered to clean, but judging by the speed of his client's movements, that wasn't desired right now. Or ever. Oh well, the old guy already had some shit on there, so what was some more?
Barging through the door with a strength Matt hadn't seen him utilize ever before, he was gone. The stink, the shit, the beloved high school educator - all gone. Just like that. And Matt was fine with it. He wiped his eyes, trying to get the tears out, and simply sat down onto the tiled floor again.
Yeah, maybe his previous history teacher had just unleashed salvos of digestible fecal matter into his stomach, but who cared? It wasn't like anyone would find out. Wasn't like it was actually Matt doing this. No no, it was a good Toilet performing its duty. And if that was what he had to tell himself in order to not think of how his dad would look at him right now, then so be it.
When It Rains, It Pours
It was chill and weird. Perhaps weirdly chill or chillingly weird. No matter what words Matt tried to mull over in his head, it was like a thick fog set over his gray matter wrinkles. He didn't really want to think about what he had just done and with whom exactly he had done it. With strangers it had already been upsetting enough, but one of his favorite teachers? Something he really didn't want to think about. Oh fuck, he was starting to think about it, no no no. He was a Toilet now. Toilets didn't think. They simply didn't. They didn't have to and they would never have to. That was his privilege to use and he would leverage it to its fullest.
A fart-coated breath left his lungs while his hands clenched on his thighs, gripping against the fabric of his jeans. Luckily, his tolerance for this job was a godsend at this moment. As long as he didn't think about his dad or other beloved people in his life again, he could probably do this. No, he could definitely do this. For as long as he needed to. He just had to get out of his head. Nothing he was doing was wrong or bad. Dad had told him this, Patrick had told him this, and they were both right. They had to be. So he would be a nice, obedient worker and simply accept the fact that he was a natural talent at eating steaming man shit.
Only a few minutes had passed since Harold had left - well, escaped, really. The bathroom itself was actually quite active, but mostly on the women's side. The door over there kept opening and closing, yet no one came to Matt. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, but it felt like an insult. He couldn't explain why this hurt his pride a bit. Though that could most likely also be traced back to Harold. The other male staff must've heard about just who was on Toilet duty. Putting a plug up one's ass was probably more pleasant than shitting into a previous student.
Yet this lack of visitors would pass, the stall door opening to a rather slender man. His black hair was sleeked back, bags under his eyes drooping nearly to the bridge of his sharp nose. He made no sound, not even a hello, nothing. Considering who this was, he probably didn't even care he was going to shit into a living being. Especially not into a student of his, current or not. This man, the unilaterally most hated teacher, was never known to hold anyone dear. And it showed even now.
Good old Mr. Thornton was just as classy as always. Velvet shirt that cost more than his salary and silky pants with the brand clearly visible for everyone to see. Really humble and subtle. With a sigh, Matt just positioned himself over the bowl again. The sooner he got this prick over with, the better. That evil, slimy, coffee-addicted asshole of a geography teacher had better finish his business without too much of his typical bitching and moaning.
The sentiment seemed to be shared as Thornton didn't waste much time before closing the stall door behind himself and pulling down his pants to a laughably simple piece of underwear. Grey, dull and cheap. The boxers fluttered in the air on the twiggy frame of the teacher as he pulled down those as well, revealing a bony ass that looked weak to a concerning degree. Without much ado, the older man placed his pinprick behind onto the seat - fully. That wasn't much of a problem this time around, since his weight wasn't nearly enough to inconvenience Matt. Not unlike what could've happened with Harold. The seat didn't even truly budge.
From between his thin legs hung an even thinner manhood. Matt had heard the term 'pencil dick' before, but this was the first time he truly saw equipment worthy of that title. Average in length, yet narrow in its girth. If it could even be called 'girth' at this point. But hey, maybe Thornton was a grower. Not that Matt could envision a woman stupid enough to touch that skeleton of a man, let alone fuck him. His balls were suspended in a hanging walnut-sized sack, similarly disappointing as the rest of him.
Unlike his previous visitors, Thornton didn't make a sound. His pucker just relaxed and the tightened again, giving out nothing. Closed, his pinking rim looked so tight, not even a hair could pass through. But surprisingly enough, it opened up into a very gaping entrance. What a skill to have. Maybe the man really had gone and fucked himself like nearly every student had told him to do.
Karma seemed to have listened to Matt's shittalking and decided to punish him with a pun. Before Matt could react, a deluge of brown, smelly water was deposited straight into his mouth. The concoction was clearly shit. Liquid shit. Steaming, slightly chunky, but mostly slippery and oddly slimy. It stuck to all of his teeth as it passed directly into his throat, flushing down the stuck nuggets from before. And it didn't seem to be stopping. Oh fuck.
Matt gulped and gulped down the stream, yet the fecal waterfall continued. Occasionally, the torrent sputtered, spraying all over Matt's face, not just his mouth. He was pretty sure some landed in his nostril, eyes and even his hair. Fucking hell... Of course it was Thornton who had to be a problem even while shitting.
A brief reprieve came, and a sigh from above too. This gave Matt enough time to fully swallow all of the sewage flushed into his open mouth, his tongue swirling around, trying to detach the sticky parts from the crevices of his mouth. Before he could finish, another jet of yellowish splurge came out of the orifice, hitting him right as his tongue was pressed into a far corner of his gums. The taste spread all over his taste buds, ricocheting all over his lips. An aroma of coffee dominated most of the sludge, mixed with a hint of chili pepper. It stung. Especially as some more landed into his eyes.
The only option he had was closing them, yet that only made it worse as it barricaded the feces inside of his eyelids, rubbing the spicy mixture all over them. Luckily, his tears came quick, managing to wash a lot of it out. Fucking Thornton.
It took another while until the stream tapered off, but by that point, Matt had managed to get it under control. He gulped down the diarrhea like his life depended on it, swallowing like a jock with a beer keg. His own belly started swelling up a bit from the amount of rancid content his stomach had to endure - little time to digest.
His vision was still blocked by the ass so unceremoniously sitting right above his face. Sure, this is technically what it should have always been like, but still - the fact that it was fucking Thornton irked Matt to no end. Why this prick? He who had made his life absolute hell years ago. The vitriol rising up Matt's throat was almost as vile as the shit that had just slid down.
Lying in his uncomfortable position, his mouth remained open and ready for more deluge, but none came. The ass above was wafting acrid air right into his nose, but that was about it. A few puffs of poor aroma.
And then Matt waited. And waited some more. Yet nothing happened. Sitting there under the pinprick ass that had sprayed hot shit all over his face just a few minutes ago was a different kind of irritating. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't even bothered by the nature of his job anymore, but rather his current client.
The burning question on his mind was - how long was he supposed to just wait there? Thornton was doing a whole lot of nothing. Was he on his phone? Contemplating life? Constipated? Judging by the deluge from before, it was clearly not that. So what was taking so long? Maybe he was waiting for a cleaning? Could that be it? Last time it happened once, so Matt wasn't really sure if that had been the norm. Being the way he was, he also hadn't thought to ask, of course.
Sticking out his tongue, he probed at the wet ring, gently worming his pink probe into the loosened, hot cavern. It was just as nasty as the rest of the shit. But, just like all the other times, somehow perfectly manageable. Even if it was Thornton.
Lick after lick, slurp after slurp, most of the remnants were gone in a matter of seconds. Matt's throat must have been painted brown by the end of it, but at least it was over. Yet that fucker still didn't stand up. What was he expecting? Was Matt missing something? This was getting absolutely ridiculous, so speaking up was the only way out.
"Sir? Are you done using the Toilet?" Matt asked in the most level voice he could muster.
A surprised, quiet gasp came from above - delivered by a shaky voice.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, forgot," the man replied and slowly stood up.
Forgot? He forgot he was sitting on a human? Not just that - a former student? Why was Matt even surprised. Again and again he had discovered just how awful this person was and this was just one of those times. Sure, he had viewed him through the eyes of a pupil, but even now the view was not much different.
Light. Finally, Matt could see properly again. The two thin cheeks lifted off of the seat fully, quickly covered up by underwear and pants. Some fresh air too. Well, as fresh as it could get in a toilet stall. Craning up his head, Matt's neck popped a bit, relaxing after being fixed in place for such a long time. Only then did he catch a glimpse of Thornton's face.
Red-rimmed eyes and frowning mouth, the sadness radiated off of the teacher like Matt had never seen before. The young man's heart sunk a bit as guilt and sympathy swelled up. But what for? Whatever had caused the grown ass man to cry, he probably deserved it. Though as much hatred as Matt harbored, he could not help but feel bad.
Without leaving a chance to investigate the cause of this grief, Thornton left the stall. Just like that, Matt was all alone again. Silence. Normally, one would run after such a sad man and inquire more. Or ask later. But Matt did not have such a choice in his current position. After all, he was just a Toilet.
On a Short Leash
The bell had rung a few times since Thornton had visited the stall. Thankfully, he was the second and last person to do so up to that point. Matt was, admittedly, a bit upset. He had tried to get the specks of spray shit off of him, but what worked for his face, didn't quite work for the collar of his shirt. It was full of spots. The smell was less than optimal too. Hopefully he could get it out until he got home.
Scrolling on his phone for getting shit out of fabric was not exactly productive, considering he didn't have access to even something basic like water. Plus, his stomach was aching a bit from the vile concoction of before. But he'd hold it. He knew he had the option to use... whatever that thing was for his own waste, but he didn't want to use it. It felt... wrong. Like it was a cop-out. A shortcut for weaklings. Crossing his legs in protest, he opted to breathe deeply instead.
Solitude helped with ignoring the rumbling in his stomach, but fate had decided that he still had to endure one more visitor. When he heard the door open, he thought it was another one of the women teachers, but the lack of clacking high-heels made him doubt it for a bit. It sounded like some pretty heavy steps, yet fast at the same time. A shadow loomed through the bottom of the stall door before it opened.
The steps from before had been caused by a pair of sneakers, slightly larger than dad's - and his father already had trouble finding shoes big enough for his feet. There was only one singular teacher from Matt's time who had stompers bigger than a size eighteen. Craning his head up, he was met with a pair of caramel eyes, belonging to none other than Mr. Potok. Gym with him had been a pain, but that was mostly due to Matt's hatred for PE, not the person supervising.
One thing that Matt knew for sure is that he felt scared. The man standing before him had a reputation that garnered him bigger respect than the damn principal. A yell that shattered eardrums, gaze that pierced steel and hands that could snap a neck in a second... Probably. Nobody had been dumb enough to actually provoke Mr. Potok to that point. In a way, dad and him had this in common.
The five o'clock shadow on Mr. Potok's angular jaw shifted a bit, lips parting as if preparing to speak. But instead, he smiled, letting his grayish teeth shine in the light from above. One of his large palms reached behind him and closed the door. Matt's fear did not abate even a little bit.
With no fanfare, the zipper on Mr. Potok's shorts was undone and his fingers dexterously pulled out his cock. And that was a COCK alright. It was fully soft, yet just from that sight alone Matt could tell it was bigger than his own privates. His own ERECT privates, that is. The glans was fully exposed and approaching Matt's lips with a clear purpose.
Whether instinct or habit, Matt's mouth opened with practiced readiness, his throat preparing for the flow. The spongy head entered his mouth with confidence and he relaxed his esophagus, perfectly rehearsed at this point. He had always been a quick learner. But no liquid came. Instead, more flesh got pressed into his opening. A lot of flesh. Matt's survival senses kicked in as he wanted to pull away, but a firm hand landed on the back of his head and pushed him completely into Mr. Potok's shorts. His nose filled with the sweaty aroma of a wet bush, his forehead sticking to the sweaty shirt. There was no deodorant around this area, only stuffy musk.
Matt's hands flailed around, he felt breathless, he felt panicked, he- he!... He was okay... Okay? The movement of his limbs stilled as he breathed through his nose like there was nothing at all poking into his throat. For some reason, there was no urine yet, so he took this opportunity to calm his breathing. In and out. The rod lodged in him thankfully wasn't too aromatic, so that helped at least a little bit. He looked up.
Mr. Potok was whistling an off-tune melody, looking down, his gaze obscured slightly by his brown hair. He gave him a wink and that... helped. A lot. More than Matt had expected. He didn't know why, but seeing his face, Matt felt relaxed. His throat opened, letting the dick lodged in it breathe freely. And then came the stream.
There was little taste this time as the Toilet simply felt its stomach fill up. The warm urine poured down like a waterfall, most likely hitting the feces marinating in the stomach acid. Oddly enough, it was a nice feeling. The heat pooled in his core and spread out all the way to his fingertips. The fingers in his hair combed though his strands gently, massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling.
But it was over before he realized, the salty smell disappearing from before him, replaced by the air of the stall. In one pull, the flesh got dislodged from his throat, appearing in front him - he could swear it was a bit longer and stiffer than before. Mr. Potok let go of Matt's hair and gripped his penis instead, making it slap on Matt's cheek a few times. The droplets hanging from the cut dick spread out on his skin, glistening.
Normally, Matt was okay with his duties - reluctant, but okay. This time? He was speechless. In a good way. He wanted... more. His tongue lashed out to gather any drops hanging around his lips, desiring to test the taste. Sadly, he only got a few hints of what it would feel like - salty. But he wanted to know more. He wanted to taste it directly from the source. Where was this coming from?
The same disturbed feeling he had had about himself back during his first time surfaced again, but worse. Was he actually not only okay with, but wanting more? Why? He should have been glad it was over, and quickly at that. Yet he couldn't help but imagine the stream flowing directly through the middle of his tongue, collecting in it like it was a through. How it would drip into his throat, hitting all of his taste buds.
Throughout all of this, he had been looking directly into the gym teacher's eyes. Something in his gaze sent shivers through Matt, especially when another wink came. Even when Mr. Potok hid his length into his pants again, they held that stare. Matt wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel, but he knew it wasn't this!
It would all be okay once the guy left, Matt was sure. There was no sign of any shit coming his way, so that would hopefully be soon...
Any time now...
Any second...
Why wasn't Mr. Potok leaving!? He just stood there, still whistling to himself, leaning against the stall wall. He wasn't even doing anything, just switching between looking at Matt, the wall, and his nails. How was Matt supposed to calm down when he wasn't even alone!?
"Sir?" Matt said, throat dry. "Do you need something else from me?"
"No," came a short reply in a deep, rich voice.
Mr. Potok left it at that, his biceps flexing as he brought his hand particularly close to his face, cleaning out the gunk from his fingertips. His shirt rode up a bit, revealing defined, but still soft-looking abs.
Okay. That didn't do much. So what else was Matt supposed to do? He looked at the camera in the corner, debating whether to ask for help. Was this something he was just supposed to tolerate? The frustration bubbled up in him. Why had no one explained this thing to him in detail? Yeah, he got the rules, but they did little when both times he'd been in service, he had met a situation he hadn't been prepared for. Wonderful.
His decision was made for him, though, as another person seemed to enter the bathroom. Mr. Potok visibly perked up, even ran a hand through his hair. What was more alarming - the door to the stall opened. Why hadn't it been locked? Was this planned!?
In the bathroom stood a third man - the English teacher. Mr. MacDonald. A young one. He had come to teach the exact year Matt had enrolled, so in a way they were quite a bit close. That and the many conversations they had had after classes had ended. Truly, it was MacDonald whom Matt could thank for alleviating a lot of his mental stress and anguish from those days. But that was unimportant. The real question was - why was he here now?
He looked the same as years before. A turtleneck which seemed way too warm for the weather and some comfortable jeans to go with it. Some sleek glasses resting comfortably on his nose. Even the little beauty mark on his nose was still there, thought that should be the least surprising of the bunch. All in all, his scrawny frame looked the same as always. Except for the setting of this reunion.
Apparently, MacDonald hadn't expected to see Matt there either, judging by the surprised expression on his face. But Mr. Potok obviously had different ideas, grabbing MacDonald by the face and squeezing his cheeks in one hand, mouth coming agape. A bit panicked, the English teacher looked over at Matt, then at Mr. Potok. But no words were exchanged. Instead, the tall gym teacher gathered up spittle in his mouth and spat it directly into the waiting lips.
MacDonald didn't seem even remotely shocked, his throat working to swallow it. With a smile, Mr. Potok closed the door and locked it.
"Good boy," he whispered into the younger teacher's ear.
A shudder ran through both the subby teacher and Matt. What was going on? He didn't even remotely understand what he was witnessing, yet it was so fascinating, he couldn't look away.
"Master..." MacDonald whispered, slight panic in his voice. "I thought... in front of a student?"
"What student?" Mr. Potok raised an eyebrow. "All I see is you, me and a Toilet. C'mon, puppy, just undress for me. You want to be a good boy, right?"
Finally the grip on MacDonald's face loosened up and even Matt felt the relief. He watched as two trembling hands grabbed the English teacher's pants and slowly pulled them down. To Matt's surprise, there was no underwear to be seen underneath, just pure skin. And, yet another shock to Matt's system, not a dick. Well, yes, a penis, but not one he was used to seeing in his job. No no, it was a cock cage. A pretty small looking one too. One that Matt had only seen in quite extreme porn. These were actually real?
"Well, look at that! You didn't unlock it ever since I left yesterday, did you, puppy?" Mr. Potok asked.
"No, master! You told me not to!" MacDonald quickly rattled out.
"That's what I like to hear. Good boy. Turn around and let me see that tush."
Not showing any of that previous reluctance, the sub turned around and bent over slightly. Between his cheeks, his ring was plugged by something silvery and metallic. Its base stuck out of the anus. Mr. Potok pushed into it with his fingers, the muscles expanding as they struggled to stretch out in accordance to the rather steep slope.
"What a good boy you are, puppy. You did well, didn't you? Want a reward? Do you need master to throw you a bone, hmm?" Mr. Potok said, rubbing his sub's cheek with overt affection.
"Yes, Master. Please!"
"Good. Then be a good boy and go pee for me, and then you'll get a proper reward."
MacDonald's brow furrowed, his eyes searching his dom's, "What... what do you mean, master?"
Mr. Potok simply chuckled a bit, before grabbing the other teacher's leg. With insistent force, MacDonald was contorted, albeit a bit clumsily, into a kneeling position. One of his legs was lifted right over Matt's head. The locked nub in front of his mouth made him snap back to his senses. He had completely forgotten he was here and a Toilet to boot. He didn't really know what to do with this situation, but simply opened his mouth and awaited the next chain of events.
"Master? I... Are you sure about this?" MacDonald asked, his voice slightly shrill.
"Puppy, you're a good boy, aren't you? A good boy doesn't question his master. He obeys. Go on, pee for me. Mark your territory for your master, come on," Mr. Potok said, his tone colder than before.
"Yes... master."
Held in this uncompromising position by his master, the puppy couldn't really move too much, and thus both the ex-student and the English teacher were rather stuck. It took only a few seconds before a weak trickle appeared from the cage. Clear and mostly tasteless, it was like swallowing air. The amount was quite laughable as well. Certainly nothing like the gym teacher's. It was over before Matt could even register the urine properly.
"Is my puppy done?" Mr. Potok asked with mock shock.
"Yes, master. I didn't drink much today..."
"That won't do, come on, puppy, don't lie to me," Mr. Potok said, pushing with his knee into the kneeling man's bladder.
With a yelp, a proper stream poured from the locked dick. It shattered on the metal, splitting into smaller sprays, mostly landing in the Toilet's mouth, but hitting the surrounding area as well. This was a proper bladder evacuation. And one neither Toilet nor sub could evade.
The volume didn't affect the taste, as it just felt like drinking slightly weird water. Yellowish, but not really that much different.
"All done, master..." MacDonald chimed in again, a blush on his face.
"For real this time?"
"Yes, master... I'm sorry, I really thought I didn't need to anymore, nothing more could get out. And I really haven't drunk that much today."
"I see. I'll have to make a drinking regime for my puppy next time. We can't have you dehydrated," Mr. Potok contemplated out loud, letting go of his sub's body. "Well, but you did what you were asked to do. Come on up."
A thin, naked leg hit Matt on the backside of his head as MacDonald rushed to his feet, standing up straight next to his dom with impressive speed.
His dom chuckled, "Good boy. Come here."
Their faces joined in a kiss. A very deep and very sloppy kiss. One that Matt certainly hadn't seen in his entire life. At least not as far as he could remember. At one point, he could even see their tongues intermingle between their mouths, MacDonald's swirling all around his master's, as if vying for his touch. They broke their kiss with a massive glob of saliva falling from their wet lips and splashing on the tiles below.
"Thank you, master."
"That was barely a reward, puppy. I'll come over later today, alright? Be ready for me," Mr. Potok winked and cupped both of his puppy's naked ass cheeks into his massive hands, shaking them a bit. "Now, put your pants back on and off you go. You still have responsibilities."
Without skipping a beat, MacDonald did as he was instructed to and was already leaving the stall. Matt slowly came back to his senses, realizing what he had just witnessed. Mr. Potok stayed with him for a bit, but after a few seconds had passed, also left the stall. Saying nothing, doing nothing, acting as if Matt was nothing. Nothing but a Toilet.
And that is exactly what Matt was. Left alone, his head fell back onto the ceramic furniture he was substituting for. What had he witnessed? For how long were his two ex-teachers hooking up? Days? Months? Years? It was a bit of a shock to his system. Screw the foreign shit brewing in his guts, the shit he had just seen was far more revolting to him.
...Revolting? That's what it should have been, right? A man using another man as a dog. Abusing, honestly. No one could actually enjoy being treated like this, right? And yet what he had seen... Matt had known these people existed, but he had never come into contact with them. Yes, he had forayed into some niche kinks, but not this. And never between two men. Even the threesomes he watched were always with one man only. Because it was gay to want to watch more men than was necessary. And Matt wasn't gay. His dad certainly hadn't raised him gay. Respectful and tolerant, but not homosexual.
...So then what was the heat blooming in his gut? And why was his hard-on straining against his pants?
Surprise Visit
"Alright, here I am!" Patrick said as he opened the door to the stall.
Matt woke up from whatever mental stupor he was stuck in.
"Huh?" was all he managed to say.
"Your shift's done! Pretty short today. No problems, I assume?" Patrick said as he came over and offered a hand to Matt.
Taking it, he got quickly hoisted up. Patrick gently straightened Matt's clothes, pulling at his shirt and popped a mint into the potty mouth.
"Messy day today, huh?" Patrick laughed a bit.
"Huh?" Matt repeated himself, but his eyes widened. "Wait, dammit! I'm still all shitty, aren't I? I wanted to clean up before my shift ended!"
"Well, I don't think you can do much with this without a washing machine."
"But... Am I just supposed to go out there like this? I smell!"
"You smell like a man after a day of hard work! Plus, I don't think anyone would blame you for stinking after working as a Toilet."
"I guess, but still..." Matt said, his eyes flicking around the narrow room.
"Alright, here," Patrick said, getting his jacket off. "You can wear this until we get you home, alright? And then you can hopefully change. Sound plan?"
The patronizing edge in Patrick's voice didn't get lost on Matt, but the temporary cover did make him feel better, that was for sure. Grabbing the jacket, he could tell it was expensive. At least it certainly felt that way.
"Are... Are you sure I can wear this? Won't it also get all nasty?"
"Eh, your clothes are most likely fully dry by now. They don't smell that bad either, believe it or not. But in the chance that it does get dirty? Oh well. I'll wash it. It's my job to make you feel good with your job, so that takes priority."
"Huh... Thanks!" Matt said, chipper.
"You're welcome. Now let's go. The plumbers want to take a look here now."
Thus, they started walking out into the now empty hallways. This brought back pleasant memories, oddly enough. Waiting for his brother to pick him up from extracurriculars. The same peeling paint and ancient decorations. All was pretty much identical to how it had been during his time, except for the missing pressure of homework. Not that adult life turned out to be much better.
Thankfully, they didn't see anyone on their way to the entrance. They even made it to Patrick's car without a stop. But, of course, it could not be that smooth.
"Good to see you again, Matthew," Mr. Potok said from beside his car, which was, conveniently, parked right next to Patrick's.
"Good evening, Mr. Potok," he said with practiced manners.
"Oh, don't give me that, Matthew. I'm not your teacher anymore. Call me Dmitri," he laughed a bit, slamming the rear door shut and straightening up.
"Uh... Sure, Mr. Dmitri," Matt said, wincing a bit, feeling the unnatural word on his tongue.
"I see this is a pattern with you," Patrick chuckled and leaned on his own car.
"He's always been a polite one. That doesn't seem to have changed at all," Mr. Dmitri chuckled as well. "Matt, call me Dmitri. Just Dmitri. No need to be so formal with me all the time, you know? Unless you'd rather avoid me. I did make your scrawny ass work a lot back in the day."
"No, no, it's okay... Dmitri. I just didn't expect to get this informal... under these circumstances," Matt said, wiping his hands on his pants, suddenly feeling very dirty.
"What circumstances?" Dmitri asked, winking.
"You know... Didn't expect to work here, if I'm being honest."
Dmitri chuckled again, "Fair enough. But hey, I'm sure you're wonderful at your work. You've always had a good work ethic, even if your skills have been... less than optimal at times. Especially at basketball. Your brother must've stolen all of those genes, I guess."
Matt could feel a sting he hadn't felt in a while, but he tried his best not to let it show. His hands balled up into fists.
"Yeah... I guess I must've gotten different talents."
"True. Being a good liar is not one of them, though. That's reserved for your other brother, I fear. Which is good. Because after all this time, it seems you've finally gotten a bit more honest with yourself, if you catch my drift," Dmitri said, winking one more time.
"Huh?"
Matt was genuinely confused. What was he talking about? What drift was there to catch? He hadn't had any epiphany recently. Ever since high school, really. It had all been pretty much the same.
"I think you know what I mean, Matt. But I get why you wouldn't want to say it out in the open," Dmitri said, glancing over at Patrick for a brief moment. "But I'll have to go for now. I have an important appointment later today and I still need to prepare. You two have a lovely evening."
And with that, he did a two-finger salute and got into his car properly. Matt watched the red SUV drive away. It disappeared into the horizon on the opposite end of where he'd be going.
"I won't pry, but just for the record; Was he trying to give you trouble for your job? Do I need to interfere?" Patrick asked, opening the door to his own car.
"Oh, no no! I don't think so, at least. I'm honestly not sure what he wanted to say, but I don't think he was trying to pick on me or something. He's just... A bit forward, I guess. Always has been," Matt replied, slightly befuddled, before walking over to the other side.
"Fair enough. If it's not a problem, I won't poke my nose into it anymore. Do let me know if it were to come up, yes? It's best to nip these problems in the bud," Patrick said and started the car as soon as Matt's door was closed.
Dmitri's words wormed around in Matt's brain the whole trip through, but he couldn't make sense of them in any way. Then again, he was a bit distracted with the scene he had witnessed. It was... a lot to take in. If people found out about that, MacDonald would have an even harder time than he already had. That surname had been the butt of the joke for years. But it would be the least of his problems if people found out what had transpired in the bathroom.
Patrick was thankfully quiet. Not that he was usually chatty, but he seemed to leave Matt a bit more room to breathe than usual. Maybe it was the shit stains.
Before he knew it, they were at Matt's house again. Home... This also meant it was time to give the jacket back.
"Have a good evening, Matt. Until next time!" Patrick said after Matthew got out.
The stains seemed especially aggravating now. Hopefully dad wouldn't be too disgusted. Not that he could do much to help it. Rubbing wouldn't help. There was no water in sight and his saliva was out of the question. And he really needed to go... There was no getting around this, was there? He had been standing in front of the door for a good minute now. What was the point? He grit his teeth and rung the bell.
He could hear dad's footsteps again. Heavy, familiar, and safe... and a bit anxiety-inducing. The door opened, and dad stood there, chewing.
"Hey! You're just in time!" dad said, rolling his eyes, as he nodded to the dinner table with his head.
Following his hint, Matt saw two more people sitting there. His younger brother and his wife. But their car wasn't... Looking behind him, Matt could see his brother's car parked on the curb, the black lacquer shining orange. Dammit, he couldn't face his brother in a shirt like this!
"Dad! I need to go change real quick! I'll be right back!" Matt blurted out and set out to move.
"No need, Matthew. We'll be going soon. Join us now, you can go change later. We don't mind," his brother said.
Peter had always been a very busy man, but this was not the time! They would mind seeing shit stains while they were eating! Especially considering what Peter was dressed in. Dress shirt, dress pants, dress shoes, all in in an elegant black. He seemed to have his contacts on today, no glasses nearby.
His wife was the same level of overdressed, with an expensive-looking white blouse and a nice, silky green skirt. The rather short length of her skirt was the least elegant thing about her, but that wasn't much of an issue for most people.
"Yeah, just join us, Matt!" Angelica chimed in from his side, her veneers sparkling just like her blue eyes.
"Uh, I..." Matt said, pausing his stride before he even got inside.
"Do you need to change that bad?" dad asked in a hushed tone.
"Dad!" Matt protested just as quietly, gesturing to his shirt collar.
"So? Just turn it inside out. Or wear it with pride! Like a hard worker! It's not that big of a deal."
"It is a big deal! They'll notice!" Matt panicked.
"Okay, okay, calm down. Here," dad said, pulling his own dress shirt off and putting it onto Matt instead.
It was comically large, but despite the loose fabric, it covered Matt's clothes quite well. His father didn't seem too bothered by being naked from the waist up. His hairy chest bounced a bit as he turned around again.
"Now, come over and keep us company," dad said, before adding in a hushed tone, "please! It's been a nightmare and I need my right-hand man!"
Matt just nodded, closing the door behind himself and moving in sync with dad. The plea was just as emboldening as the cover. The homely, slightly sweaty smell from his new clothes was also oddly calming.
Chairs scraped as everyone took their seats again.
"So, Matthew, I've heard you have a new job. Or, well, your first job. How is it?" Peter asked, picking the last remnants of food from his very early dinner.
"Oh, it's okay. I've been managing."
"Managing? Matty's a champ at it! Takes it like a man and doesn't even bitch about it!" dad said, pumping his arms.
"That's cute," Angelica smiled.
"Mhm, very cute. Well, for better or for worse, the job is getting some heavy promotion, so it should give you quite good prospects once you move onto something better," Peter gesticulated with his fork.
"Mhm..." Matt said, his stomach grumbling a bit.
Not now! His guts were protesting all of the earlier intake again. He really had to go. Why did Peter have to be here now? Couldn't he have picked a better date?
"You hungry, champ? I can heat some up for you, if you want to eat now," dad offered, already readying to stand.
"No, no! I'm fine. Just a bit of an aftereffect of the job," Matt laughed awkwardly, squirming on the wood.
He could feel a small gust of gas escape him quietly, easing the pain for a bit. But not for long.
Peter and dad got into a debate over... something. The two didn't need much of a spark to ignite a rather heated wildfire of a debate. They could really get into an argument over anything, even the weather. Matt wasn't paying much attention, his full mental capacity busy with keeping the contents of his guts inside. Not too successfully. He could let little puffs out, which helped ease the tension, but the cavalry was closing in. He breathed a bit heavily, trying to ignore the cramps forming in his belly.
And then, during what seemed to be just another small pass of gas, a LOT of gas came out instead. Quite noticeably, at that. The entire table went silent while Matt had released what sounded like a firecracker that lasted about three whole seconds. His gaze fixated on the table as he felt a blush creep up onto his cheeks.
Just as he was about to say something in his defense, a loud belch erupted next to him. Dad's mouth was wide open, one hand on the bulge of his stomach, fingers combing through the hair above his belly button. It started out loud, and turned quite wet, finishing with a spit-spraying flourish.
"Matt here had the right idea. After a good day, you just need to let your body have its way."
Matt looked over at his dad, who winked, patting his belly a bit. The mental image of Dmitri popped into his head for a moment.
"Classy," Peter said from the other end of the table, his face scrunched up.
"Boys will be boys," Angelica chimed in, leaning onto her hand as she looked over at Matt's father.
"Yeah, clearly some of us will always be boys," Peter said dryly.
He stood up and pushed his empty plate away, turning to the doorway.
"Care to keep me company on my smoke, Matthew?" Peter asked, pulling an ornate lighter out of his pocket.
"Sure," Matt replied, getting up as well.
His blush had not gone away, but at least he could get away from the table. And maybe some fresh air would do him good. If anything, it would filter away the smell from his gases.
They walked out in front of the house, the setting sun a nice backdrop to both of them. Peter plucked out a cigarette out of a half-empty box, lighting it and inhaling the tarry smoke. A blue cloud came out of his mouth, disappearing into the lukewarm air.
"So, now that you have your own income, when are you moving out?" Peter asked between puffs.
Matt raised an eyebrow and looked over at his brother, "Where is this coming from?"
"I mean, that is your end goal, right?"
"I haven't really thought about it, actually. Didn't really search for anything and dad isn't rushing me either," Matt shrugged.
"I figured. Though do you not mind living with him?" Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Why would I? He's great."
"Yeah, when he's not being gross. Or rude. Or inconsiderate."
"Come on, dad's not that bad at all! He's just a bit of a free spirit. Let him live a bit. He's trying his best, Peter."
"I mean, yeah, I know he's our dad and all, but I do not regret my decision of leaving when I did. My life is a lot better without having to smell him all around the house. Or him coming into my bed to wake me up," Peter winced.
"He means well, Peter, even if he isn't perfect. I don't know why you two don't get along anymore."
"Because I value people who I can rely on. And I know better than to rely on him."
"Dad's always been there for us, Peter. I'd say he's pretty reliable," Matt said, feeling offended for his father.
"About as reliable as Richard. It's honestly fascinating how they share the same name, have similar jobs and agree on so many of their sensibilities. Both of them are the same degree of irresponsible. They even look the same if you squint your eyes."
"Hey, don't drag him into this! He's our brother. You should at least care about him a bit more."
"Why? He's just as bad of an influence on you as dad. If I were your father, I wouldn't have let you just sit around on your ass for years, unemployed. I would've actually made sure you become something. Something that is not a human sewage line."
"Peter!" Matt protested, but didn't follow up with anything.
"Am I wrong, Matthew?"
"I... They're not bad influences. And if anything, you're not much better!"
"What do you mean?" Peter looked over, cigarette half gone.
"The moves you pulled on dad? And me too, by proxy! Your entire... 'business' as you call it."
"What about it? It was all perfectly within the law and so is my business. I think that's just jealousy speaking for you, Matthew."
"Maybe it's my morals."
"Your laziness, your lack of ambition and your absence of taste. All qualities you inherited from that guy," Peter looked over to the house again.
Despite being younger, Peter could outmaneuver Matt in almost any argument. That was the smarts talking. Smarts Matt hadn't been lucky enough to inherit. Normally that didn't bother him too much, but when dad's reputation is involved, he always bristled.
"You know I'm right, Matthew," Peter said, letting the remnant of his cigarette fall onto the pavement, stomping it into the concrete.
"No, you're not!"
"Stop acting like a child! You're a grown ass man. Get a grip."
Matt and Peter stared at each other in the evening air, their silence only interrupted by the sound of dishes clanking in the house. The contest ended when Matthew looked away first, crossing his arms.
Peter shook his head, "Me and Angelica are going to go home now. I suggest you take my words to heart for once. Oh, and I can still see the shit on your clothes."
With a stomp and a roll of his eyes, Matt followed his brother back into the house. Dad was already busy at the sink, the sweat-slicked skin on his back glistening where it was visible through his forest.
"You boys are back? Angelica went to piss, she'll be down in a bit," he said, barely turning around.
"I won't be around for long. As soon as Angelica comes down, we'll be going," Peter declared, staying around the entrance.
"Suit yourself," dad replied.
Matt went over to the sink as well, drying the dishes. Dad smiled and winked at him, bumping into his side with his hips. That made Matt's frown finally go away, as he bumped his father back. The two of them giggled among each other, shoving their hips and evading each other. A few splashes of water ended up flying wayward as well. Their foreheads were all sweaty by the end of it, dad's immensely so. Already had been, really. The summer temperatures were always a lot.
"Boys will be boys," Peter muttered to himself, unamused.
The flush from the bathroom upstairs signaled an end to an episode of the day, high-heels clicking down the stairs.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" she laughed a bit, sounding a bit breathless by the time she made it to the ground floor. "Hope you didn't wait for me for too long, love."
She and Peter kissed, while she smoothed over the non-existent wrinkles on her blouse, her blonde hair waving over the straining upper buttons. She quickly put on her shoes from the shoe rack. They had been right next to dad's hiking boots. A number smaller than Dmitri's, but still wider.
"Thank you for having us. See you two later! Take care Father. Bye Matthias!" she exclaimed as she followed Peter out.
The door closed behind them without a single peep from Peter. Typical. Both the coldness and Angelica's lack of care. Matt sighed, and dad responded in kind; his belly expanded outwards a bit.
"Thanks for that, Matty. You made that whole thing a lot more bearable. I-" dad said, but was interrupted by Matt's growling guts.
He had tried his best, but it was impossible to keep it together any longer. He had braved it for minutes outside. Now? It was asking to get out. Urgently.
"Sorry, dad, I really need to go! I'll be right back!" Matt shouted and ran for the bathroom.
Dad shouted after him with a laugh, "Be careful running like that! Shit in your pants is better than a broken bone!"
Matt didn't pay that any mind as he could feel the shit almost hitting his pants for real. He closed the bathroom door behind himself and sat on the toilet after hastily shoving down his clothes. Before his ass even hit the seat, feces already erupted out of him. Both the hard pebbles and the diarrhea had mixed and made a light brown sludge that poured out of him. Angelica's lingering perfume was fully overpowered by the smell of his teachers' fermented shit and piss.
Hit guts emptied at an alarming rate, his rim burning a bit. To distract himself, he took off both his shirt and his dad's, stuffing them into the washing machine directly. He did the same with his pants and underwear. Yet even naked he felt unclean. He really had to take a shower. A knock to the door distracted him better than nudity, though.
"Are you going to be long, Matty? Your old man's got his situation too," dad's voice echoed in, a bit pained.
Accompanying it, wet gurgles could be heard on the other side of the wood. Dad's second type of farts. The nasty, quiet and very wet ones. A sign of quickly impeding shit. From the amount of times they had had to stop driving and wait while he crouched down in the bushes, Matt knew his dad was being serious and it was uncompromisable.
"Yeah, alright, right away!" he said, quickly wiping his ass.
He wasn't really done, but he could hold whatever was left at bay a bit longer. Not dad though - at least from the louder bubbling gurgles that were now coming from beyond the door.
Matt rushed up onto his feet and opened up the bathroom. His dad quickly slid past him and sat down, letting the nude man close the door and listen in on the deep bass that was produced by the aged guts.
Memories from earlier flashed into his mind, both from Harold and Thornton, but especially from Dmitri. Dmitri and his pet. A heat started pooling in his groin again, while the sensations of the father and son duo from his first shift came to mind. All of this imagery was accompanied by the sounds of his own father's loud, wet defecation. He could hear the deep plunges of his shit into the already filled toilet bowl.
Realizing just what he was doing, Matt snapped out of it. Standing around daydreaming about shit in the hallway - all of that naked? Not a good look. That was ignoring the absolutely rotten smell of his father's farts that would linger on the hallway for a while. He moved to his room and decided to at least put on some fresh underwear... before he collapsed onto his bed.
What did all of this mean? Why was he feeling so weird about... everything? Not just that, but why was everyone so strange? Especially Peter... He hadn't been like this when they were little. Yeah, he hadn't been a fan of their dad's antics even back then, but it was never to this... weirdly distant degree. Even after mom had died he hadn't been this unscrupulous. So what had happened?
He went down memory lane, letting his room's ambiance lull him into a sense of comfort, despite the cold sheets making his skin all bumpy. To all the times they had fought and made up. Such good times. Such long gone times...
The toilet flushed, rather laboriously at that, and the bathroom door opened. The door to Matt's bedroom also opened. Dad stood there, still bare-chested, but now his pants were undone and slowly sagging. Without a word, he collapsed on the bed next to Matt, his heavy back causing the rest of the mattress to lift.
"Rough day, Matty?" he asked.
"Yeah, a bit... Peter didn't really make it any better. Sorry, that sounds awful, I-"
"No no, I get what you mean. He's a real pain in the ass."
"Yeah... but he's still my brother."
"I know. He's also my son. And I try, Matty, I try. I even put on some nice clothes for the visit! I made fucking Ratatouille like I'm a whole fancy restaurant! Put myself into gear right after they called. And yet he didn't even say goodbye," dad scoffed.
"He wasn't much nicer with me."
"Well, I guess we both have it rough with him, huh?" dad sad as he put his hand on Matt's forehead and wiped the hair off of his face.
"I guess..."
"You know, I first thought he was queer. I mean, he was always the clean freak of the family. I've never found a single porn mag anywhere near him. He was all classy and eloquent. I was waiting for him to finally spring it on me, but nope, never came. Instead I got tricked into signing the worst deal in my life. Then I got threatened by some legal stuff. And on top of that, he pretends like this is all just a regular occurrence. I thought that boy was going to fleece me. But hey, made it out of that, haven't we?"
"Mhm," Matt replied, remembering all of the paperwork they had had to get through, let alone the payments and headaches.
"Let me tell you, I would've vastly preferred he tell me he likes prick up his ass. A lot cheaper and a lot less disappointing than this," dad growled.
"Mhm..." Matt said again, biting his lip and balling up his hands into fists.
"A scammer, that's what I raised. A dirty little cheat," dad huffed. "But at least I have one of my boys who's loyal to me and wouldn't stab his old man in the back."
Dad turned over and kissed the top of Matt's head, who stayed silent.
"You have anything you'd like to tell me, Matty? I'm here to listen too, you know? As always," dad smiled tenderly.
"I'm... I'll be fine. It's just a bit getting used to, that's all," Matthew smiled back reassuringly.
"Are you sure? You don't seem that fine to me, Matty. No offense."
"No, no, I get it. I guess I'm just not that used to working overall. So it's all a bit overwhelming," Matthew said, avoiding quite a big portion of his issues.
"Then lay some of it on me and let me take the load off of you. What kind of marine would I be if I couldn't take some complaining? Could even offer you some advice, if you'd like!"
Matt severely doubted his dad would have any advice on what was actually plaguing him, "It's fine, dad, really. Thanks, though. I know I can always rely on you."
"Well, alright then. You go shower, champ. I'll heat up dinner until then, okay? A bit early today, but hey, some people like to have it before evening even properly starts, apparently," dad scoffed once more and hoisted himself up from the bed.
The door clicked close softly, leaving Matt all alone again. Dad's smell still remained next to him, and he shuffled over to the spot where he had laid on. It was warm and big. Slightly wet too. But most importantly, it felt secure. It felt... certain. But an unease spread throughout his body. An unease telling him that things might not be this way for long. That uncertainty would take over instead, infecting everything. In fact, it had already started. He feared that. He feared that more than anything.
Thank you for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed! Feel free to guess where we're going in the next chapter, or just leave feedback!
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