Human Toilet - Embracing Filth

Sorry for the long wait, but it's here now! I hope you enjoy!

---

Thicker than Water

---

Stress

---

One hand was pulling his pants up, while the other was busy brushing his teeth. How late was it? Matt wasn't sure, but he didn't have much time. Not if he wanted to look somewhat presentable. The tie looked ridiculous on him - fuck, he should have opted for the bow tie instead.

His phone lied on the sink, displaying the same book that he had opened when he couldn't sleep the night before - 'Tips and Tricks Every Human Toilet Should Know'. A highly informative read, even if slightly unnerving at times. At least training himself up in his profession made him feel less guilty over losing sleep.

"Hey, Matty! Can you come here for a sec?" his dad shouted from the master bedroom.

"Be right-" Matt answered, spitting toothpaste out in-between words, "there!"

Adjusting his belt a bit, he walked out of the bathroom.

Dad's bedroom was as organized as always... and as musky as always. The atmosphere was always thick enough to cut and firmly reminiscent of his father in every way. Sweaty, stuffy and permeated with the smell of pure manliness. The source of this scent was sitting on the marital bed just in a pair of worn-out boxers. They had a few holes in them that Matt tried his best to ignore, as they were positioned right on the groin.

"Matty, you think this is enough?" he said, nodding with his head towards a laid-out outfit.

It was a combination of dress shirt and dress pants. The very same that he had worn about a week ago when Peter came for an impromptu dinner. Knowing him, Matthew could safely assume he'd wear the same shoes too.

"I think it's fine? I mean, it'll be our extended family only, so that should be fine? Though a tie might make it even more fine? The red one you wore for Peter's wedding, for example. Oh, maybe if you put on a nice jacket, you'd look really fine, you know what I mean? You have some other suits in your closet that look ever nicer, now that I think about it. Then again, maybe what you have now is nice because it's simpler."

"Matty, calm down. I get it, it's 'fine'," his dad chuckled.

"I would like to, but Peter's going to be there. I don't want to give him even more of a chance to insult me... or you," Matt said, squeezing the rather delicate fabric of his pants.

"I don't much care for his opinion, to be honest with you. Besides, we're going there to have fun, not to make an impression. Especially when Junior is involved."

"Yeah, I mean, Richie being there is going to help, but still... I don't know, dad, I'm just worried. Our aunties aren't exactly known to keep quiet. If I embarrass us or make a scene or something, the rumors will spread. And then-"

Matthew was in the middle of speaking when a long, wide, sweaty sole landed on his face, eclipsing it almost completely. Dad's feet had always been huge, causing a massive headache for any shoes vendor. Now, he could barely complain, considering it was exactly those feet that endured any bruise and wear just for him and his brothers to be happy. Still, this was the first time he had come face-to-face with it - sadly for him, literally. A cheesy, acrid smell entered his nose.

"Dad, what are you doing?!" Matt shrieked.

As he opened his mouth to speak, his tongue brushed against the cracked, calloused skin and licked the coating off. It was salty. Not enough to actually make Matt disgusted, especially with his job, but he nevertheless recoiled. He sputtered, trying to get his dad's juices off his taste buds, looking bewildered.

The man in question had his thick, hairy leg extended before quickly planting it on the sweaty imprint he had left on the floor before. He stood up.

"Matty, listen to me. What are we?" his dad asked in a calm voice.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked, just as confused as before.

"Matty. What are the two of us?"

"That's just repeating the question!" Matt yelped. "But... we're father and son?"

"Not just any father and son, Matty," dad said, moving in even closer. "We are Richard and Matthew Brown. And we are a team. For life."

With that said, Matt was embraced tightly, his head buried in his dad's bare chest, the coarse hairs scratching at his nostrils.

"Whoa!" Matt exclaimed.

"And when I say for life, I mean for life, Matty. I don't care what people say. If they try to annoy us, instead of a foot on their face, I'll shove a foot up their ass until it comes out of their mouth. So don't worry about that, okay? I know you have my back, and rest assured that I have your back in return. In any situation, no matter how 'embarrassing' or how much of a 'scene' it is."

"Yes, dad..." Matt replied meekly. "Can you let me go now?"

"Nope. Not until you repeat what I just said."

"Ugh, come on, dad! We don't have the time!" Matt tried to push himself away, but dad's arms didn't budge even by a little bit.

"Not happening. It's okay, just tell me the gist," his dad replied with a laugh.

"You and me are a team. Forever."

"To which situation does this apply?" his dad asked.

Matt's eyebrow raised in confusion, his voice unsure, "...Any... situation?"

"There you go!"

Finally, Matthew was free again and could take a deep, clear breath. As clear as the stuffy air allowed. Honestly, it wasn't much different at all now that he could directly compare.

"Matty... I hope you know that I'm being serious here. No matter what happens, I got you," his dad reiterated, eyebrows slanting backwards.

"I know... I know..." Matt said, staring at the floor. "Why put your nasty foot in my face though?"

His dad grinned, "That's what me and the other boys at the marines did. After all, you can't think about stupid things when you have some good, rank foot-funk up your nose, right? I first did it when-"

The doorbell interrupted the soon-to-be lengthy story. Dad started walking.

"That must be Junior. You finish preparing and I'll let him in," he said, ruffling Matt's hair as he passed by.

Before Matt could even move back to the bathroom, the door had opened and his brother's voice echoed into the house.

"Dad! Yo!" said Richard, happy and booming as always.

"Took you long enough, you dick. Matty's nearly done and here you are! Almost late!" dad said, his laugh traveling all the way to the upstairs bathroom.

"Yeah? Says the guy whose dick is poking out of his underwear."

"And it'll poke your eye out if you keep staring. Unlike you and Matty, I can get ready in a few seconds."

Matt could never understand how the two of them could talk this way. It was so unlike any other conversation he has had with either of them. At times he wondered if he was just not living in the same world as them. After all, a lot of their conversations were about sports, workout and women. Not a single topic Matt could talk much on.

Just as he finally got his tie on in a way he liked, his phone ringed. It was THAT ringtone. Fucking hell... why now?

He snatched that accursed device from the sink, Patrick's name flashing on the screen. His fingers shook as he accepted the call.

"Yes?"

"Heyo, Matt. Listen, it's a bit of an emergency. Are you ready to go in... like a minute or two? I'll be there soon. I'd really need you right now, or I'm in some massive shit," Patrick's tired voice resounded through the phone speaker.

"I..." Matt paused, moving out of the bathroom. "I'm not sure I can..."

"I know it's sudden, Matt, but I REALLY can't afford to make a mistake right now. I'm neck-deep in trouble and all of my Toilets seem to be having some sort of problem today," the man on the other end sighed. "Please? I'll owe you. You could technically use your PTO if you want, but... please?"

"I..." Matt paused, unsure what to say as he descended the stairs quickly.

Running out of the bathroom, his eyes found his dad's and with panic in his gaze, he showed dad the screen.

It didn't take his father even a single second to understand what was going on and reply with an immediate mouthed 'Go!'. Matt's mouth trembled, surprised by the speed of the reaction, but parroted the sentiment nonetheless.

"Yeah... I can go..." he stammered out.

"Wonderful!" Patrick's voice audibly perked up. "I'll be there soon. As I said, I owe you. Thanks, bye."

Richard only raised one of his eyebrows, nodding to the phone before it got thrown back onto the sink, barely not slipping in.

"Who was that? Your girl?"

"No... My job."

"Damn!" Richard whistled. "Look at you! Glad you finally earn that bread, bro. What they want?"

"They... uh... they want me to go to my shift... Like, now."

"Yeah, and Matty, being as diligent as his pops, will go," his dad nodded.

"Wait... like right now? But aren't we supposed to go to the party together?" Richard asked, visibly confused.

"I-" Matt started talking, but got interrupted by his dad.

"Yeah, but we will have to do. Matty's job is important and I'm sure people will understand. Now, you should probably go change so you don't get your clothes all dirty."

Before Matthew could even finish nodding, a car honked outside. It was Patrick's honk.

"Well, so much for that," his dad said. "It seems you'll have to go like this, I guess. Off you go, champ!"

"Wait, but... what if I don't make it to the party today at all? I won't be there for you... or Richie."

"I'll survive, Matt. Something tells me we'll be seeing each other a lot this week," his brother said with a wink.

"And I'll also survive, Matty. I'll miss my second-in-command, but at least I'll have Junior."

"Damn, okay then," Richard scoffed in mock offense.

"Anyways, off you go, Matty, or your-" dad said, interrupted by a honk. "...Or your ride will get all pissy. You got this and you'll do great, I'm sure. Now go, go, go!"

Giving him a dry kiss on the forehead, his dad practically shoved him out of the front door. Using the momentum, Matt started a half-run which ended as soon as it began.

Patrick not only sounded, but also looked haggard. Opening the passenger door without questions turned out to be the right choice, as even the closing of the car made the manager wince.

No greetings, no small talk, just the sound of the engine. Matt couldn't even tell when they started to move, but they were driving somewhere, that was for sure.

With a tentative voice, Matt asked, "Hey, so... where are we going today exactly? We've been going for a while now..."

"I... It's some sort of venue? I could not tell you jack shit right now, Matt," Peter said before groaning. "Look, I won't even be able to supervise you properly today. It's some sort of... private event thing, so nothing bad should happen, but still, be careful, alright? I'll try to look at the feed once in a while..."

"It's okay, Patrick. I get it. You have a lot on your plate. I'm sure I'll be fine. It's my third time doing this, so hopefully I can handle myself," a laughing flourish adorned the end of Matt's sentence.

"Thanks," Patrick responded curtly.

The rest of the drive was silent except for the hypnotic hum of the engine. On the other hand, Matt's thought were being very, VERY loud. Though he couldn't help it, could he? Preparing all morning for a nice family event, and then he got called to go eat shit and drink piss. In his good clothes too! While he didn't like to admit it, he was a bit angry too. And could he be blamed?! Why did Patrick have to have an emergency today of all days?! But now he was just being unfair...

His fists clenched  There was little his anger could accomplish. He had no choice but to endure. Yeah, these events had always been a pain, but at least dad would've been there! And his brothers - which was a mixed bag, but he could take it. Now though? It'd just be the rest of his family without him. Feelings bubbled up inside of him, and he couldn't quite pinpoint which one he could identify with more - the regret, the irritation or the jealousy he was too ashamed to admit.

To his dismay, the entire car ride took a bit longer usual, leaving him to stew in his emotions. At least the venue seemed nice from what he could see from the car. Stopping the vehicle on the sidewalk next to the entrance, Patrick hurried out and urged Matt on with his hand.

"C'mon, Matt! I'm really sorry to have to rush you like this, but I really have to be somewhere."

"Coming!" shouted Matt.

Stumbling over his own feet as he tried to both run and close the door, it made the start of his shift rather rough. But there was no time for pause. The venue itself looked extremely fancy, already decorated with cloth, colors, ornaments and whatever else a party needs. While he did not know what this venue would be used for, it was clear from the number of chairs alone that there would be more than two dozen people. Patrick led the way past the fancy area into a hallway to the side, isolated from the main event as per usual. And then, soon enough, Matt was standing with Patrick in front of the bathroom door, professionally labeled with the Human Toilet logo. Perhaps this would finally be an actual bathroom designed for this very purpose instead of a cheap portapotty or substitute job.

"Well, I trust that you can do this on your own, Matt. I'll have to go now. So sorry again and thank you for being as good as you are at your job. I'll come pick you up after your shift ends!" Patrick's voice grew quieter as he walked away.

"Yes, will do!" Matt shouted after him, voice lost in the empty hallway.

He was left alone. The cramped space seemed oddly cozy, only two rooms leading from said hallway - one into the woman's bathroom, the other into his toilet stand. Funny, must've been a progressive place - abolished non-human sewage for men entirely. That'd mean quite a bit of people for him...

One deep breath later and Matthew pushed the door open to his newest workplace. Clean, prepared, even - dare-he-say - fancy! It certainly looked like it would be the fanciest job as a toilet he had had yet. There was the bench he saw back in the construction site, a very fancy looking grate, a basically unnoticeable camera and the waste tube in the corner he had never had to use yet. He could work with this - especially with how spacious it was.

But he knew the job was far from easy. And so he closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall, waiting. Waiting to see just for what he had stepped away from his dad.

---

Dirty Nepotism

---

The room quickly became boring after being stuck in it for an unbearably long time. Matt had paced the entirety of the room hundreds of times before sitting down on the tiles, annoyed at the entirety of the situation. He really had to be here instead of with his dad and Richie... for this? At least he was getting paid. There was no telling of what would await him today, though. It couldn't possibly be as bad as before though, right? When he thought about it, a venue would have more civilized guests, with better hygiene and less-known faces - which he was MORE thankful for after the experience that was his last assignment.

Slowly, the volume from outside increased, chatter overlapping into a dissonant mess. Probably for the best - not like Matt could actually use any information he gained as a Toilet. How long was this even supposed to take? He took out his phone to check the time - wait, where was it? He patted down his entire get-up, every pocket, real or fake... nothing. Dammit, it must've been left at home. Well, that was great, now he had to stew in his own boredom until the first guest arrived. Ideally, that'd be never. Though he knew it was not just idleness floating in his brain. The other emotions were just as present, even if left ignored. The dread, the anxiety, the anger, and to a certain point - much to his dismay - even a hint of eagerness and curiosity.

At least the music got nice and loud after a while, allowing him some distraction. There had been a few speeches and bouts of group laughter before, yet they had been just as unintelligible as the rest of the party. Surely, it must've been at least a few hours since he had got here. Right? At least he hoped so. Judging from the amount of non-offensive, family friendly tracks that had played, he had been there for a while. And that was the closest estimate he would get.

That and the amount of footsteps that came to his door, of course. He had always straightened up, assumed proper Toilet position as he was used to, and then heard the same footsteps leave again. And he was sure it wasn't women - the typical click-clack of heels always came through and opened the toilet next door. The heavy and more clumsy walks stopped right in front of his door before turning around. Guess no matter how progressive the venue, people still weren't quite used to the concept.

Though one brave soul had finally come through. Heavy, energetic steps in an almost melodic rhythm approached. An oddly familiar melodic rhythm at that... Hearing the door open for the first time in his shift, Matthew scrambled to get into position - sitting down at the wall facing the door, his back against the fancy tiles.

A slight hum accompanied the man who was entering. Matt could place it as the theme song of a cartoon from back in the day. Slowly, the visitor entered into his view. The door was open only as much as needed for him to slide in fluidly. At first a single blue dress shoe - bold choice - was planted firmly on the decorative tiles. Above it a royal blue suit leg, then the jacket of the suit with a neon yellow dress shirt underneath - of course, a matching blue bow tie was also found. Well, it was great to know that Matt's first visitor was a fashion criminal.

As much as he was judging, though - that man was built like an athlete! Matt could see a few of the seams tearing, clothes pulled so tightly over the muscular body. A veiny, strong hand closed the door. Finally, Matt could see the man's face fully. On top of his neck - which, of course, was also defined - a lovely head resided. Sharp jawline, black mustache sitting above smiling pink lips, a matching tapered mullet and beautiful blue eyes...

Time slowed as he processed what was right before him. He felt like he knew this person really well, but that must've been a simple coincidence. Those blue eyes though... and the suit seemed oddly familiar, as if he had just seen it recently... But it couldn't be-

"Matt? That you?" the man said, his eyes widening and mouth going slightly agape.

Richie was here?! But that would mean... Every hair on Matt's body bristled, spine straightening even further. A soft gasp escaped his lips.

"Well, damn, uh... This is kinda awkward, ain't it?" Richie said, scratching his jaw.

Awkward?! That wasn't even the tip of the iceberg! Sure, he had serviced men before and he was prepared to service them again, but his own brother?! This was going too far. Surely, there had to be some sort of legislation against this. SURELY! He glanced towards the camera - still silent. Well, apparently there wasn't. He couldn't remember any from the briefings or rules either. Fuck...

"Uh, hello? I'd need a bit of help, here, bro," Richie said, coming closer, slowly gaining back his typical stride. "Never been to one of these fancy new Toilet places before. How do I do this?"

Oh, right. There was no rules plaque anywhere in the room. Guess even fancy places had their oversights. Matt cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the human Toilet, sir. May I ask if you'll be urinating or defecating, sir?" he finished the sentence by swallowing down a bit of bile.

"Oh, we're official, huh?! Alright!" Richie responded with loud enthusiasm. "I'll do both, then, bro-"

"Please, sir," interrupted Matthew, "use only the term Toilet for me. It could prevent complications, sir..."

"Oh!" Richie blinked, his head recoiling a bit. "Well, alright then, Toilet! I'll do both, Toilet!"

"Wonderful," Matt mustered up the fakest smile he could. "Please, undo your trousers, sir, so we may begin. Simply aim your penis at my mouth, and start urinating at your own leisure."

"Talk about efficient!" Richie said, fully on-board.

It was almost scaring Matt how Richard was this eager. Especially since Matt himself was less than prepared for this. This reluctance spiked once he saw Richie unbuttoning his pants, slowly pulling them down to reveal his light blue jockstrap. Of course he'd be wearing a jock even under a suit. Though Matt wasn't sure jockstraps were supposed to be this... stretched out.

The reason why became clear as soon as the fabric was pulled aside, revealing quite a modest cock. And that was an understatement. It was flaccid, yet already the length of an average erect man. Matt wanted to be happy for Richie and his endowment, though he was more concerned with how he was going to fit that into his mouth. That was the size of a cock ready for a blowjob, for crying out loud!

"Wonderful, sir. Now just start."

Opening his mouth, Matt was ready - there was no way it could get any worse than the piss he had drunk before. Richard had always been well-hydrated.

With one eyebrow raised, Richie got even closer, bracketing Matt's body with his legs and carefully positioned his cockhead right onto Matt's bottom lip. And then waited... and waited...

"Sorry, br-" Richie stopped and cleared his throat, "-Toilet. I'm not exactly used to pissing into... well..."

As he trailed off, a slight flush appeared on his cheeks. Matthew would have found it cute and teased his brother for it relentlessly, were it not for the circumstances. He could hardly be in a joking position when his throat was going to receive a golden shower.

"It's alright," Matthew said into the dick, "take your time, sir. There's no rush."

Richie responded with a nod. And the waiting continued... Honestly, Matthew wasn't nearly as bothered as his brother, who was now stepping from one foot to the other, pressing against his abdomen and grinding his teeth nervously.How the tables had turned. Guess even confident gods got stage-fright at times.

"Close your eyes, sir, and relax. I'll try to make this more comfortable for you."

Closing his mouth, the dickhead got pulled in and pressed between his lips, foreskin hitting his tongue. Just as he had recently read up on, he pushed his tongue against the piss slit, caressing the opening with a raspy texture as the muscle, splayed wide, rubbed up and down against the glans. Richie moaned, looking towards the ceiling for a bit before finally doing as he was told and closing his eyes.

"Fuck, bro, that feels real good," he drawled.

Slight irritation crossing his eyes, Matthew poked his brother straight in the balls, jabbing the still-clothed bulge harshly. After a hiss and accusatory look, Richie realized the problem.

"Sorry, Toilet. I meant to say - Fuck, Toilet, that's real nice!"

No further words had to be spoken, as the exchanged glances communicated forgiveness and moving-on faster than any voice could. Richard closed his eyes again, sparing himself the moan this time around. It only took a few seconds for the first hot droplets to leak out, before a solid stream started hitting Matthew's throat. It was oddly... different. Piss overall had tasted very bland - like water, but with a hint of salt and lemon - but Richard's was a lot more lemon and a lot less salt. Not that Matthew couldn't handle it, of course. He was a Toilet and not a quitter.

The stream intensified, adding a bit of spray as it met the back of his mouth. Richard started groaning again, and even had the audacity to push his dick slightly further in - foreskin pulling back and the glans resting on Matthew's tongue while urination continued.

"I've never had a better piss in my life, damn... So warm..." Richard said wistfully.

As cursed as the thought was - Matthew had to admit that this was the chillest time he had had with drinking urine so far. Even though the invading member continued pushing forward into his mouth, it was a rather... pleasant feeling. Very gentle. And, as distressed as he was about this sentiment, not at all repulsive. Yes, Matthew had admitted to himself that he was good at this job. But with his own brother?

Petering out, the stream only left an aftertaste, a few droplets catching on the back Matt's tongue. The cock escaped from his mouth with a plop. Dutifully, the last of the piss was gulped down, leaving not a single iota - he was getting a bit TOO good at this.

"Was that to your liking, sir?"

Richie opened his eyes, awakened from his bliss, "Hell yeah! Best piss I've ever had, Toilet!"

Enthusiastically, he reached out for Matt's hair and ruffled it in a matter both of them were all too familiar with. While Matt loved getting hair ruffles from either dad or his brother, the current situation could only invoke a deep discomfort and shame inside of him.

"I'm glad I could help, sir," he smiled, gritting his teeth.

"Dad really wasn't lying when he said you were good at this."

Richie whistled, clearly impressed, but Matthew's brain was too busy processing the sentence. 'Dad' in particular hit a bit harder. When logic finally graced his mind again, his skin went pale. DAD WAS HERE! It had eluded him entirely while he was preoccupied with servicing Richard. Oh fuck, oh no, oh fuck, no! Dad could never see Matt like this, let alone use him like this! While he didn't consider himself a religious person, empty prayers formed on his tongue, only to never be spoken. A violent shake overtook his body.

"Hey, uh, you okay? My piss ain't THAT bad, is it? Or did I piss too much?" Richie asked, concern replacing his mirth.

"Huh?" Matt shook his head, temporarily freeing himself of his thoughts. "No, sir, you are fine! I've had to deal with larger amounts in my line of duty."

"Thank fuck. Was worried there for a bit."

"It's okay, sir! I can assure you, I have some prior experience already!"

"Yup, so I've definitely heard," Richie said, fidgeting with his foreskin, "but I think I'll need you for number two soon. Is that still up on the table?"

Fuck. Matt had forgotten - he was far from safe yet!

"Of course, sir. Just this way, if you will."

Walking over to the seat, which was pressed up against the wall, he pulled at it - making it fall down onto the holds on the other side. Unfortunately for him, he overestimated the sturdiness of government-funded projects. As the plastic seat fell into its holds, they snapped, tearing themselves off the wall and causing the seat to fall further with a not-so-subtle bang.

Great, lovely, fantastic, spectacular! Just what Matthew needed! He immediately tried to pick it up - to no avail, of course. The plastic was torn off fully, with holes in the tiles left as evidence. He risked a look to the camera, but no intervention seemed to come. Truly wonderful!

"Uh, there seems to be a bit of a technical issue," he stuttered out, "but rest assured, we'll figure out a way to mend this problem, sir. Uh..."

Only having to think for a while, he strode back to his previous spot and placed his feet to the wall while laying down onto his back. He could see the bewildered look on Richard's face. The two seemed to fully realize just what had to happen.

"I..." Richie's voice died down.

"It's alright, sir. Please, feel free to crouch down and... relieve your guts into my mouth, if you will."

Despite his best efforts, Matthew couldn't fully keep his composure - his fingers dug into his pants and his breathing sped up to an unhealthy degree. Richard seemed to be having similar problems.

"There's... is that really the way?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, normally you'd have a proper seat, but I broke it."

Few words remained to be spoken. A black-and-white choice presented itself to Richie and he, after his guts let out a foreboding gurgle, had no wiggle room in the matter.

"I see..."

Pulling his dress pants down, his sizable ass was aired out. Already naked, framed only by the thin straps of his underwear. Matt had a perfect view of it for the first time in forever. It was somewhat natural for Richie to expose his ass - thirst traps got the most amount of clicks, after all - but not for purposes like THIS. Plump and muscular at the same time, the yellowish light of the room made it shine. It was a bit crazy how Richie's body had managed to turn out almost completely hairless despite dad's jungle-covered frame. Even Matthew had a bit of fuzz here and there! Richard had to have been shaving, no doubt.

Yet no matter how much Matt tried to distract himself by thinking of his brother's shaving habits, he could not push out the inevitable - Richie stepped over the Toilet, his cock facing Matt's feet, and started to lower himself. The move caused his ass to push out obscenely, blocking out all the light before he even pressed his ass to the Toilet's mouth. Though his rim seemed to be a bit misaligned when it pressed right between Matt's eyes.

"Sir, if you could move your posterior lower, please? It'd make my job easier."

"Oh, sure! Of course," Richie sputtered, moving as requested. "And then do I just... start pushing?"

"Yes, sir. If there's any problem I'll let you know. Please, don't be ashamed of any bodily functions - just let go as you have done with your urine before."

Matt did feel like a great hypocrite, yes, but at least he could try and calm Richard down. Better one cool head than none. Plus, he was sure it couldn't get much worse than all of the previous clients.

The pucker opened and closed around nothing - not a speck of shit in sight. Sweat had gathered on the edges of the rim and dropped directly into Matt's prepared mouth. The drops were aromatic enough on their own - Richard's sweat always having been an absolute stink bomb - but Matthew was used to it from both other Toilet goers and growing up with his brother's sweaty shirts and yellowed socks strewn about everywhere. Unlike dad's body hair, dad's scent had definitely passed itself down to Richard.

After minutes of sweat drops, the first fart came out. Silent, light, and awfully smelly. Matthew had the 'privilege' to sniff it up in its full protein-loaded glory. Truly, Richard's farts were second to only their dad in smelliness, and this fact had made their many long car rides quite unbearable.

"Sorry! It's pushing through, I can feel it," Richard muttered.

"It's alright, sir, take your time."

Oh, how Matthew wanted to react to the rancid air wafting into his face - little mini-farts coming out one after the other, polluting it even more. Yet he was oddly okay with it. As per usual. It wasn't particularly difficult to do so either, considering he had been exposed to them quite a lot throughout his life.

After many fartlets, a loud explosion of stinky wind erupted from his brother's asshole, accompanied by a moan. Little specks of shit spread over Matt's tongue. The main course was soon to begin.

At first, the farts seemed to intensify in smell, coming in rhythmic bursts and accompanied by a little load of shit. The frequency increased. So did the smell. Then the amount of nuggets. Funnily enough, the regularity of it all made it easy for Matt to adjust - in no time at all, any leftover discomfort was easily overcome. And then he saw it. A giant log stuck in the sphincter. Every time the rim dilated to let out gas, a little bit more of the sheer girth of that thing would get caught on the flesh. And yet Matt could not tell where that thing would stop widening. Hell, it was getting thicker than the cock of a pornstar!

The gas alleviated, every push now focusing only on the hard mass lodged between those two ginormous pale globes. How Richard even got them to spread was a mystery. Waiting with an open mouth, Matthew was prepared for it to plunge any second. Yet every time, when it started to seem hopeful as the head of the shit nearly completely plopped out, a frustrated whine would echo from above - the brown mass retreating fully.

"Sorry," Richie panted, "Protein shakes make my guts all weird. I'll try to push properly this time, okay?"

"Of course, sir. Please, don't hurt yourself," Matt chimed in.

Granted, he didn't mean what he was saying - he really just wanted this to be over with as quickly as possible. Especially since from the size of his next meal, he knew he'd be digesting it for a while. Gym bros and their gut health.

As promised, another valiant effort started. Laborious breaths, one after the other, huffed from above. And it was working! Not once did Richard stop pushing, despite sweat streaming down his body. Slowly, the turd inched out, looming over Matthew's mouth. From the looks of it, the shape was rather irregular, with lumps sticking out chaotically at all sides. Richie's rim struggled against the many bumps, stretching out painfully thin on many occasions. Sweat poured and moistened the load, seeping into the brown mass. And then everything sped up.

Matt took the unexpected assault on his mouth in stride, opening as wide as he could. The girthiest part seemed to be out, so that'd mean smoother sailing. Yet 'smooth' was certainly not something that applied to the turd itself. It was marred with cracks, like soil during a drought, and as suggested by the pained groans, it seemed to be rather gritty and rough.

Upon first contact with Matt's tongue, these suspicions proved to be true. It was like having a rock lodged between his teeth. He couldn't even chew through it! The mass got stuck in his bite, refusing to budge any which way. Seeing more of the log piling up above him, Matthew channeled all of his strength and managed to cut into it halfway... then a full chomp! His saliva had made it a bit wetter and more malleable, yet there was no way he could swallow it whole. But what other choice did he have? More lumpy mass was on its way and it'd land all over his face if he didn't get rid of quickly! Having no alternative, he relaxed his throat as much as he could and gulped it down.

It burned and it scratched - oh, how it scratched - but it was moving down. He had no time to dwell on his discomfort, be it from the taste, smell or residue; his teeth needed to bite more. After four of such mouthfuls, Richie hissed, his stool breaking off on a narrow end. A few shit-pellets dropped from the stretched-out rim, landing on Matt's face before rolling onto the tiles with a clatter. Thankfully, the more of the shit Matthew ate, the softer it seemed to become, even losing most of its lumpiness towards the end. Then it was business as usual.

A giant log later, and Matt's throat burned just as much as Richie's anus seemed to. In pulses, the abused ring of muscle dilated fully, before retreating to a narrow hole - well, definitely not as narrow as it had been at the start. With every such pulse came a not-so-subtle whine from above.

"Are we finished?" Richard heaved out.

Swirling his tongue into every corner of his mouth, Matthew tried to remove any trace of his brother's shit disappearing down his chute. But the pain of minuscule wounds all over his throat remained - and it would not go away soon by any means.

"Do you feel like you're finished?" Matt asked with one last smack of his lips.

"I guess?"

"Then we can move on to the cleanup."

"Cleanup?" Richard's head turned to all corners of the room. "With what? There's no paper."

Matthew let his tongue answer. Moving forward into a leaning position, he placed his head directly in-between Richie's buns. There would most likely be nothing to clean with a hard shit like this, but still, Matt was a man of principle. Ignoring the pained whimper, his tongue pushed into the hurting crevice. First a shout, then a hiss, and lastly a groan. As tense as Richard's ass was, it softened after a second or two of tonguing - goosebumps appeared on the skin where the tan lines from a speedo ended.

"Feels real nice," came a quiet slurry of words.

As expected, only a dingleberry or two were excavated from the trench. Matt couldn't help himself and clapped both of the massive mounds when he pulled back, emboldened by the fact that this was his brother. The rim looked much wetter and pinker. In a way, Matt even thought it looked beautiful. Richard really had lucked out with his looks, no matter where one inspected.

"All done, sir."

"Mhm, sure is, Toilet," Richard laughed, slapping his butt once as well. "Thanks for your wonderful service. Never been here before, but I might visit you peeps more often. I'd tip if I could, but I'm not sure that's allowed. Well, at least you enjoyed it!"

Confused, Matt uttered, "No protocols do not allow for tipping. At least not to my knowledge. But what do yo-"

And yet he was ignored, "I should get back soon, or dad will die of boredom. Anything else on the agenda for a toilet visit?"

"No, not as far as I know."

"Nice! I'll be going then!"

Pulling up his pants along the way, Richard sped over to the door and was out in record time, leaving behind only his farts... and the oddly sweet taste of his sweat.

Puzzled, Matt decided to clean up his workstation. He swiped the strewn-about turdlets with his hand into the drain, adjusted his clothing and tried fixing the bench - unsuccessfully. During tidying, he had come across a rather surprising encounter - the tent in his pants chafing against the tiles.

But that was silly, because Matthew would NEVER get a hard-on from being a Toilet. Especially NOT for his brother. It had to have been simple... morning wood. Just delayed. There was no other explanation - it was simply IMPOSSIBLE. He had NOT enjoyed that encounter and would NEVER assume that this is what Richard had meant. And the fact his dad was here did NOT cause him to shake and did NOT make his skin as pale as could be. This was simply NOT happening.

With a deep breath or two, he fished for his phone, having forgotten it was not on him. Great, he was not even granted a distraction. Though it'd be fine. He could distract himself in different ways. Any way was good as long as it didn't require him to think.

---

The Turd Doesn't Fall Far From the Ass

---

67... 68... 69... 71...

Wait, hadn't he missed one? Damn, he had to start from scratch again. Counting bathroom tiles was harder than it looked, especially if they were this small. Though he had gotten to 358 before! And then had lost count, but that was just a detail. And he was more than happy for this mind-numbing activity. It truly made him realize there was no trace left of anything that happened with Richie. A remarkably clean job compared to Matt's previous ones. Not that he was complaining. At least his suit hadn't gotten dirty.

Footsteps - heavy. His back straightened instinctively and cold sweat pooled all around his body. They turned around. Good, another stroke averted. Ever since realizing what event this was, all he could picture was his dad. His dad shitting in his mouth... Pissing directly into his throat... A pit in his stomach opened every time. Another heavy footfall - and another walkaway. They were like clockwork, yet their rhythm threw Matt's heart rhythm into disarray. He couldn't even check the time. Hopefully it wasn't too much longer. He couldn't survive in this perpetual turmoil.

More shoes on tiles. This time, the distinct clack of high-heels. At least he was safe with this- the door to his bathroom opened. Relief was replaced with surprise. And in the open was, indeed, a woman. Not just any woman - Angelica. What in the world?

"Uhm, excuse me, ma'am. This is the men's Human Toilet room. I will have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, it's fine! There'll be a man in here soon enough," she said with a giggle, twirling her blonde hair around her finger.

Leaving the door cracked open, she stood guard, peeking out every few seconds. Her shoe tapped on the tiles, black and sleek just like her cocktail dress - the many cutouts showing more skin than fabric, but Angelica had always been one to brag. Especially with the diamond necklace which shone around her throat, not to mention the chunky wedding band. During one such peek, she started grinning, motioning something with her hand out of the door.

"Come on!" she whisper-shouted.

Only now did it start to click. Was she planning on banging in here?! Was that even allowed?! Matthew looked towards the camera, waving his hands to get any attention at all, but there was still no response. A pair of footsteps echoed in the hallway, getting closer and closer. Yet Peter's walk wasn't usually this heavy and loud.

"Come on, Richie! Hurry up!" she continued.

Richie?! Matthew's mental address book opened, trying to think of every family member - close or distant - that could be addressed as 'Richie'. But there were only two names that could reasonably fir the bill: his dad and his brother. So then Angelica was cheating on his younger brother with his older brother?! That... was hard to believe, but it had to be. There was simply no other explanation in Matt's mind. But that'd also mean Richard was brazen enough to use a Toilet's secrecy and do it right in front of Matthew? That was a bit too... evil. Way too evil to fit that jock, at least. Or maybe he was wrong... Maybe Richie really was all sex and boldness. It would fit his looks.

The steps were near, Angelica quickly grabbing onto the man in question and pulled him into the roo- DAD?! While the door got shut, Matthew's mouth fell wide open. His instincts took over. Huddling into the corner, he pulled his suit up a bit to cover his head, curling up into a ball - arms around his knees.

From behind, only noises informed him of what was going on. Angelica's breathy whimpers, her muffled high-pitched moans, slight slaps of skin, a belt buckle, rustling fabric, wet squelches... and his dad's growls. Those damned growls. Matthew knew it was his dad from the voice alone, but he'd never heard it in such a cadence... With such a loaded meaning...

"Fuck me, daddy," she murmured just loud enough.

Revolting! Matthew felt sicker than when he had to swallow his brother's lumpy shit! How dare she use that term so... so... filthily! Who gave that whore the right?!

"Yeah? You wanna get rammed in front of a Toilet?" dad said with a chuckle.

"Oh, please. It can't say shit."

"I've read about that, yeah, though I'm impressed you got it to turn away already."

"I didn't do that. It did that on its own."

Dad laughed, "Guess it knows it wouldn't be able to keep its mouth shut if it saw the show."

Bile spewed into Matt's mouth, tasting of acid and jock shit. He swallowed it, alongside the bitter resentment bubbling in his throat. He didn't know what in that entire exchange bothered him the most. The pronoun, the smugness, the sexual tone, the implications, the coldness? All of it was equally as heinous. Or perhaps it was the continued sounds.

The sounds blended together, his brain all woozy and disoriented as he tried to process it all. A wrapper was torn, a breathy sigh, dad spitting about four times, more wet squelches followed by intensifying moans, and then a loud, echoing groan - undoubtedly dad's, filled with eagerness. Angelica wasn't lacking in the enthusiasm department either as her voice overpowered the other. Were they even aware of how stupid they were being? Yeah, the hallway was long enough for the sound to get lost in the music, but they were still being extremely risky. Or perhaps they didn't care? But if Angelica was here, then Peter must've been here too! Matthew wasn't sure which explanation was worse...

They just kept on going. How could sex be this loud? It was harder to ignore than porn - especially when she couldn't tone it down even a bit. Even without looking he could tell each thrust apart from her grating moans. Though, admittedly, his ears were a lot more sensitive to his dad's occasional grunts - those usually foreboded a quickening of rhythm. From languid thrusts to a fast pummel, before they arrived at jackhammering. Angelica's voice entered into crescendo, before peaking all of a sudden. Good, hopefully this meant it'd be over soon. But, of course, that was wishful thinking, since it was his dad's turn to become a moaning metronome; his voice deeper and a lot less desperate than hers, but still filled with need.

And then it finally came - or, rather, dad finally came. Defying expectations, he came quietly, with only a suppressed moan - still audible to Matt's ears, no matter how covered they were. And just like that, the nightmare was over...

"That was amazing," Angelica heaved, "just as always, daddy."

"Good to hear."

"I'll go clean up a bit next door. You get rid of the rubber, alright?"

"Sure."

The door opened and closed.

"Excuse me? Uh... Toilet? I'm not sure what to exactly call you," dad laughed as if nothing had happened. "Is there a bin here by any chance?"

Fuck, why couldn't he have just gone out of the bathroom like her? What was Matt supposed to do now? He couldn't afford to ignore him! And he wouldn't! His chest puffed out, courage coursing through his veins when he let his suit fall into place. Dad didn't raise a quitter! Matt was a Toilet! Toilets fulfill their duty - be it brother, dad, or otherwise! He had to do his job and forget. His job and forget. Job and forget...

The reaction was instantaneous. Dad's eyes widened as soon as Matt turned around, arms going limp as they fell to his sides. Going from a grin, Dad's paling face turned into the grimmest frown Matt had seen in a while. Though the biggest eyesore remained right in front of his face. Still somewhat hard, dad's long, fat cock hung out, condom wrapped tightly - so tightly it looked like it might rip any second - around about half of its length. Collected in a sagging bubble of rubber, an impressive amount of dad's cum shone in the artificial light in its full creaminess, white as driven snow. Matt couldn't remember the last time he had seen dad naked, but it was definitely not THIS big in his memory. He was a bit too mesmerized to speak, before dad's instincts kicked in and he covered his cock with his hands.

"I-" dad started and never finished.

In the entirety of his life, Matt could not remember a single instance of dad being at a loss for words. Oddly enough, it was a vindicating feeling.

"There are no bins here, sir, no. Though I can help you with other Toilet matters if needed," Matt took over the conversation.

After a brief pause, dad nodded nigh imperceptibly, "Understood. Sorry for the hold-up."

With that, he pulled the condom off and tied a quick knot at the top, shoving it into his pocket. After pulling up his zipper, he turned around and started leaving. This was almost too good to be true - a 'get out of jail free' card. Then came a fart. A number two fart - the trumpeter of impending shit. Matt knew. Dad knew. Both of them paused, bodies going stiff.

"I am prepared if you need to defecate, sir," Matt droned out.

Dad's head whipped around in surprise, mouth going from open to a straight line. His hands clenched into fists. Another rumble came from his ass turning into a squeaky whistle, making dad wince. This one wafted over to Matt almost immediately. There was simply no way dad could hold it in. They both feared what they knew.

"I understand," dad nodded with a pained expression. "Would you mind elaborating on the protocol? I have read up on this, but... I'd rather listen to a professional."

As messed up as it was, something in Matt's body warmed up at the comment and the corners of his lips turned upwards.

"Of course, sir. Please, come over here. Since my clumsiness has broken the bench, I will have to ask you to crouch over my mouth. Afterwards, feel free to simply release the content of your guts," he said with cool professionalism.

"Right," dad nodded, looking no more at ease.

While walking, small toots followed him, growing wetter with each step. He stopped in front of the Toilet, looking down at his feet while Matt lay in position. His fists had not stopped clenching. Judging by his pained expression, they weren't the only clenched part on his body, yet he still made no move - looking deep into the Toilet's eyes, trying to find something, ANYTHING. Matt didn't know what dad wanted to see, but nothing except duty would be found - dad would be PROUD after using him.

When the next fart came, Matt could swear it was a shart. That wet and that smelly? Had to be. And since it was the trigger which caused dad to finally start moving, Matt would soon get to experience it first-hand. Unlike Richard, dad decided to position himself facing away from Matt's body, crouching down immediately after pulling his pants down. The sight of beige fabric was replaced with two hairy mounds, boxers having been pulled down at the same. The pucker was clearly visible despite the size of the cheeks, pulsating, its rim already wet and discolored. Distracting Matt from the show, dad's still-sticky cock fell from where it was laying in the displaced underwear, smearing the Toilet's forehead with remnants of milky-white cum. Pieces of underwear lint sticking to the glans fell into Matt's hair.

"Sorry 'bout that," dad mumbled, "Can I begin?"

"Yes, si-"

Matt couldn't even finish the sentence before the anus above him opened. With a pained groan, Dad evacuated a massive log from his ass in one push. It slid with wondrous ease, the cracked, shiny surface on full display. Having developed the reflexes of a true toilet, Matt opened his mouth obediently, grasping the shit firmly into his teeth and starting to chew at it. Despite the rough-looking exterior, it was oddly malleable. Like a biscuit of sorts. Seeing just how much was coming out of dad's ass, Matthew had no choice but to become a bit more sloppy with his process. A twinge of juice escaped from the dump every time he bit into it, lubricating his mouth and throat, making the entire process a lot easier. 

Compared to the pain he had felt with Richard, this was oddly a lot... better. Not just the process, but the sensations were also more pleasant. Even the taste was, dare he say, slightly pleasant. A slight hint of bitterness, but mainly umami. Like eating a LONG, brown, juicy steak... that just so happened to be coming out of his dad's ass. And he knew just what heaps dad could shit out, so they would be here for a while. As the log's descent slowed, Matt had the luxury of taking his time - chewing each bite thoroughly until it became a watery mush. Funnily enough, dad's shit didn't smell nearly as bad up-close compared to having to clean up the bathroom after him. It was a heady and overwhelming stink, true, but an enjoyable one. The combination of taste, rank and the low grunts of effort from dad formed a haven. He felt safe, despite all of the waste flowing down into his stomach.

Grunt after grunt, fart after fart, push after push, they eventually made it to the finish line. Only a few little clumps were left in dad's guts, coming out one by one, landing in Matt's shit-smeared mouth. His lips were only brownish, but his teeth and tongue were fully caked with fecal matter. Despite that, only a small dopey grin formed on his face - eyes glazed-over and unfocused.

The equally brown pucker above clenched up and opened wide, expelling little but some hot gas. Small specks fall down from the rim.

"I think that's it," dad said, muscles tensing for a stand-up.

But Matt's instincts were faster. Perhaps it was the mind fog, perhaps it was his sense of duty, or perhaps it was something he dared not name - regardless of the reason, his hands shot up all the same, fingers hooking themselves into dad's oddly-firm flesh. Despite being covered with a generous deal of fat, dad's ass was still trained muscle at its core. Using his newfound grasp - and ignoring his dad's gasp of surprise - he pulled himself up and aimed his tongue straight at the hole. It slid in like a hand into a glove.

Dad moaned, swallowing any words of protest with it, and he lowered his frame immediately. After all, Matt was showing no sign of stopping. Licking at the inner walls, the pucker itself, the surrounding skin, everything! He hadn't been there to pick out dad's suit, hadn't been there to prevent dad from wearing that hideous emerald tie, hadn't been there for a lot of things today - so he had to make sure at least daddy's ass would be pristine under all the beige fabric. Though at least dad had cared enough to try and apply his fashion advice...

Funnily enough, dad's hole had a lot of shit collected on the inside of the rim. Soft, mushy fudge that stubbornly stuck to the walls. He fished everything out. The dessert tasted just as great as the main course. At some point, he was just making out with a wet asshole, but neither of the men seemed to mind - both tongue and ass seemed to enjoy the process, so who were they to deny their bodies this fun?

Alas, all good things had to come to an end. As pleasant as it was having dad's giant scrotum splayed out on his forehead while tonguing dad's chocolate starfish, this couldn't last forever. The party was waiting. Yet Matt could at least TRY to prolong his heaven. With little resistance from his visitor, he pushed himself up and back, dragging dad's shaft all over his face before letting its head settle on his lips. Unlike before, dad didn't seem surprised or perturbed. If anything, he even helped get his cock into his son's mouth - cockhead escaping from its foreskin directly into the Toilet's mouth with utmost gentleness.

Matt felt the delirium creep in fully. Not only did he have dad's shit all over his throat and mouth, but his entire head was enveloped in dad's underwear.  The smell, oh the smell. It was like being home. Despite the fishy rank of drying cum and acidic stink of urine, they were dad's! His tongue moved on its own, teasing the piss slit which had invaded his mouth ever so graciously. The star of the show did not tease further, as a strong jet of pee erupted directly into Matt's mouth. It was hard to determine what tasted better - dad's turds or dad's piss. It was extremely similar to Richard's, except leaning a bit more into... citrus? That felt like the closest thing Matt could hope to equate it to.

The urine flowed down his throat, its warmth spreading all over his body. Greedily, he gulped down every single drop which his dad's girthy cock bestowed upon him. Even this could not last forever. The stream tapered and with it Matthew's bliss. Dad's mushroom head had filled his mouth so perfectly, it was a shame to have to let go. And then - pop! Lukewarm air rushed into the dad-shaped hole left behind in his lips, dick presenting itself in its full majesty. It was mostly soft, but even so, magnificently big - Matt felt lucky to have such a personal view.

With decisiveness, dad cleared his throat and stepped away from the Toilet. His movements harbored no sign of what had happened, but the lack of color on his skin spoke volumes. Uttering not a single word of gratitude, dad simply walked out. Crash. The door was closed with unnecessary force.

Another client done! Hip-hip hooray for Matt! His haze was partially pierced by a few rampaging thoughts. How could he have done this? Why was it so much better than usual? What would dad's reaction be back home? And why was Matt's hand covering a sticky puddle on his crotch?

Cherishing his brain fog, he simply ignored these questions and lain down onto the tiles again. Dad's smell was still in the air. How lovely...

---

Addicted to Stink

---

The stain had mostly gone away, leaving one sporadic white patches around Matt's crotch. Sadly, the lovely haze had gone away as well. Every single action that he had done with dad, most of which he himself initiated, came back at him full force. All he could do was paw at his trousers, nails scratching against the fabric, while his mind reeled and coped - and it was failing. Yes, he could remember the taste and smell and how great it was - his stomach gurgled with each happy memory - but it was dad! Dad's shit, dad's piss, dad's farts, dad's cock, dad's ass, dad's smell, dad's everything! He shouldn't have enjoyed it! Shouldn't have even thought about enjoying it!

Yet here he was, sitting on the very same tiles as before, thinking about dad's rump and blushing. He felt the brink of a meltdown coming in. At the start of his job, he was still fully confident in his straightness, but now? How could he claim any of it when he obviously enjoyed it? At least Dad hadn't seen Matthew's body betray him - unlike Richard. That day was a nightmare which simply refused to end.

And it was still far from over. Once again, footsteps. Heavy. Heavier than both dad's and Richard's. Oddly arrhythmic, though - clumsy and disorderly. His mind jumped to the chance of thinking of something else and started going through all the possible options of who this could be. There weren't many men in the family who could boast about weighing more than dad.

The handle turned. Twice, actually, considering it flung back into place the first time. The second time was a lot harsher and quicker. With an intimidating bang, the door crashed into the wall from just how wide it got torn open. And framed by the entrance was a person Matt had not expected to see. His uncle.

Normally, Matt had expected most relatives to be here. But uncle Julian? After what happened last time? Inviting a longtime alcoholic and a gambling addict to an event could only go so well. That's precisely the reason why he hadn't been seen for a good ten years or so. And now he was here? Of course he was! Like this day could not have gotten any worse!

Uncle's mouth opened, breath flowing in, preparing to speak - and yet only a deep belch came out. Resonant, loud and awfully wet - spittle flying onto the tiles. A quick hiccup and then another burp. A shorter one, for a change. It would be almost comical to see the bulging frame of the man swaying from foot to foot, fighting to not fall, if only it weren't so sad; and considering Matthew's position - absolutely terrifying.

Slowly, the drunk lumbered over to the Toilet, clumsily kicking the door shut again. The look in his eyes was vacant; dull. Even his odor - an aura of stinging ethanol combined with stale sweat - had more life in it than his body. And unlike every other guest Matt knew of, uncle decided to not dress up, instead opting for a holey wife-beater combined with stretched-out cargo shorts; those were already halfway down his legs, revealing one pair of yellowish, moist tighty whities.

Seemingly, there was no need for explanations as Julian didn't seem even remotely confused or appalled; surprising, given his current state. The hulking drunk simply started to pull his clothes off fully.

Matt didn't hesitate, his instincts kicking in as he got into Toilet position. While still a blood-relative, Julian was so foreign to Matthew that he felt no different than with the construction workers on his first shift. All he had to do was follow protocol and open his mouth.

Julian's shorts were already pooling around his ankles while his sausage fingers struggled to pull at the discolored underwear. The fabric was stretched-out over his pelvis, going somewhat translucent in a few places, while failing to hide the sizable bulge in the front. It really seemed like Matthew was the only one missing out on the endowment gene.

Finally, after many-a huff and puff, Julian managed to free his cock. The girthy flesh flopped in the air, caught by his equally meaty and equally veiny hand... And then it started pissing. Caught by surprise, but dutiful to the bone, Matt shifted at an incredulous speed, catching the very beginning of the stream and following the wobbly line wherever it went. Julian hadn't bothered to aim. Judging from the way he was shifting his weight and nearly stumbling from where he stood, it wouldn't have helped much either way.

Yet the trajectory of the piss wasn't the problem. No no, it was the taste. While Matt was used to ammonia and bitterness, Julian's body was filled with a sour and burning concoction. It stung on the way down, like downing a shot of vodka, except instead of a small glass, Matt was getting a bladderful.

A small silver lining was the fact his uncle's dick was far away from his mouth. He could see the smegma coating peeking out from beneath the foreskin opening - fat head exposed slightly. It looked really similar to dad's, except maybe a few fractions of an inch shorter and slimmer. Brothers by blood, for sure.

Julian groaned, pressing against his stomach and pushing into his fat, making the piss jet out a few times. His hand moved back, exposing the head more, fulling showcasing the chunky yellowed residue all around the skin. Matthew was busy with suffering through the acidic taste, and still couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since that thing had seen water. Little chunks broke off and flowed into the stream, but Matt had made sure to ignore them.

Slowly, the piss subsided, a few stray droplets landing on the floor as he failed to catch them. Though this visit was not nearly done. Julian turned around and Matt had a clear view of one giant, lardy ass. It was all flabby and pale, though the area around the crack was clearly discolored - a dried, baked-in brown. Glancing downwards, he could see that the tighty whities shared such a generous smear.

Out of all the visits he had received, this one was definitely the quietest. Even when Julian toppled backwards, the two men made little sound. Matt prepared his head on the tiles, closing his eyes as all the light vanished. A heavy thud echoed, the cheesy dick right on his nose, while the two lardy mountains enveloped his hair. With a few laborious exhales, Julian managed to push himself forward, covering Matt's face fully. The saggy flesh surrounded the Toilet's head, pushing the rim impossibly close against his mouth. The residue was palpable - a crusty, crumbling debris left from who knows how many shits.

A slight panic fell over Matt, the weight from above crushing, but not painful - he was confined beneath his uncle's ass. Not that it mattered much, considering he had to keep his mouth on the tap either way. Still, the fact there was so much pressure holding him down was more than petrifying. At least the tiles seemed to capture the brunt of the weight, so he was safe - for now.

Little time could pass before a sharp smell hit Matt's nostrils. Putrid, deceased, rotten. Truly the stuffiest and smelliest fart Matt had ever smelled. Well, maybe except for dad's and his brother's when their diet was particularly greasy. Though the fart was like lightning before the thunder. After the smell was gone, a resonant rupture of air erupted straight into his nose, echoing off the walls of the bathroom. It was a lot less smelly, but his eyes burnt from the gust that entered.

Two more of such farts, and the first speckles of shit came. Surprising, considering how all of Matt's visitors had either needed some encouragement to start pushing out their log, or had been on the verge of shitting themselves. Uncle needed no such thing. He simply pushed and shit came. Oh, and it came as a true deluge.

Watery, runny brown sewage leaked from Julian's ass, flowing straight into Matt's mouth. It tasted absolutely horrendous. The taste of it burned on the tongue, corroding any coating a mouth might have. A few chunks were spilled alongside the gunk, catching on Matt's teeth. He had little choice but to eat - well, drink - what he was being given. At least the consistency made it easy to gulp down.

But the shit didn't come in the form of one long piece as he had been used to. Instead, the flow of melted fecal matter ebbed and flowed, going from a thin ray to a ravaging torrent. Worst thing was - while Matt's mouth was managing to gulp it all down just fine, his lips simply couldn't open wide enough to cover the entire blast zone. Shit occasionally sprayed out so wide, it landed all over his face, hair, neck and suit. And Julian? Not even a peep! Well, okay, a grunt of exertion here or there, but truly nothing more. It was almost unnerving.

Matt's throat was coated in runny shit. And it kept on flowing. Every now and then a bubble of gas erupted into Matt's nose, intensifying the rancid stench even more. How full had Julian's guts been?! This couldn't have been normal! Normal or not - as a Toilet, it was his duty to accept what was given to him. And after his brother and dad, he was not going to tap out now. The final hurdle - nobody from his family could be worse than this.

Then came a particularly strong push - the waste, oddly mushy, hit against his mouth and pushed up and around his lips. Parts of the dump managed to crawl all the way to his nose, partially clogging his nostrils. Each inhale pulled them in a bit deeper, coating every breath with a wave of poorly digested waste. He tried pushing against the fat cheeks pressing against his head, but it was of little use. The heavyset alcoholic didn't even twitch, simply continuing to empty his guts. Mouth-breathing was also ill-advised considering the torrents he had to gulp down all the time. Little by little, with quick bursts of breath, he managed to push the shit back out of his nose. It refused to budge past his upper lip though. Great, just great.

Finally, the bursts of feces started becoming scarcer and scarcer, before a complete drought came. At long last, his mouth felt empty again. Well, as empty as it could get with all the residue sticking in every corner. But it was over. It was finally over. Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, Matt's tongue pushed upwards, meeting the still-wet pucker. It was oddly malleable and stretchy, showing little swelling or any sign of use at all. Some men really had it easy.

With long, thorough licks and tongue-jabs, Matt cleaned his uncle's ass, inch by inch. The hair surrounding the rim didn't make his job any easier, though. Whilst spreading his saliva all over the place, he used the chance to also lick up at his nose, catching the irritating piece of feces stinking up his very breathing. And with one last spin of muscle pushing into his uncle's ass, it was done. Guts empty, body in tip-top shape. All that was left to do was wait for uncle to get up... All that was left to do was wait... Any second now... Soon...

The adipose flesh pressing into Matt's face made no attempt to move. Hell, it hadn't even reacted to his cleaning, which was rare in and of itself. He tried tapping on the ass. No response. A harsher push. No response. A slap, so loud even his covered ears heard it loud and clear. Still, no response. Some proper effort was in order then.

A deep inhale and then - push! Matt's arms clung onto his uncle's bottom as he tried to push him, applying force below the thigh and hopefully getting him off. Finally, a breakthrough came! A sound from above! A snore. Loud, resonant and disgustingly wet. And then another, followed by more and more. If Matt's face had been visible, it would've shone bright red.

That was it! Clearly, uncle had no intention of budging and Patrick must've been on vacation! Well, it was all on Matt. As it is said: if you want something done, do it yourself. And Matthew had little choice in the matter.

He tried again, harder. It was hard to breathe this close to the rim, but he gave it his lungful. Uncle moved. And fast. With a loud thump, like a sack of meat hitting concrete, Julian had fallen onto his back. Matt could tell simply by the sudden ease he felt when so much of the pressure alleviated. And yet it wasn't enough. He wiggled and struggled and pushed and pinched and hit and... and...

What was he even trying to do? How pathetic could he be? He couldn't even get out from underneath uncle's ass, who was contently snoring as if nothing had happened. Tears welled up in Matt's eyes, hidden from the light. What was more pitiful than lying hopeless under a grown man's fat behind - his uncle's, no less - while three loads of familial shit fermented in his stomach. People said they had hit rock bottom, but only now did Matt truly resonate with that feeling. Previously, his head would always panic and scramble at the idea of liking his job, but now? Even being in this state, he didn't feel disgusted or ashamed. Not even a smidgen.

And yet it made perfect sense. Clearly, examining himself, he wasn't good enough for more. No reasonable man - no reasonable person, even - would have taken his work in stride. Yet he was fine with it; a clear signal from his body that he truly didn't have what it takes to do more. This was his lot in life. What he was good for.

Lightheadedness came upon him - be it from the tears or having his face crushed by his uncle, he didn't know. His breathing turned strenuous, every inhale a fight against the foul odor still wafting from Julian's pliable asshole. Splayed out on the tiles, even his arms had given up fight. The little of his senses that were still available dimmed, growing fainter and fainter, while the only image left in his blackening mind was that of his dad's distressed face when he had seen him in this very room.

---

Verbally Constipated

---

Slowly, he came to. It was warm. Very warm. But he was so fucking cold... And it was loud too. His hand was resting on the source of the heat and noise; something soft, yet also firm, that moved beneath his fingers. As his brain awoke, words began to truly hit his eardrums.

"And where were you, huh?! Why the fuck do you even have cameras if you don't fucking use them?!" came a furious, but oddly comforting voice.

"Sir, I apologize profusely," said a meeker voice. "I was swamped with other responsibilities and I just thought-"

"You thought what? That you could just leave him to fend for himself?"

"Well, yes... I know it was irresponsible of me. I assumed he would be able to take care of everything, since he's done an amazing job so far."

"That sure fucking didn't come to be, did it now?"

"You are right. And I apologize again. I'll do it as many times as it takes. I truly meant no harm."

Matthew stirred, moved by the urgency and familiar cadence of the two speakers. He knew them... Of course he knew them! One of them was his dad!

In the same instant that the realization hit him, he shot up, bright light filling his vision, before vertigo kicked in and made him crumple against the same support he had been on. The support being his father's chest, as he had noticed.

"Matty..." came a somber, quiet whisper.

"Matt! You came by! Allow me to-" said the other speaker, whom Matt could now recognize as Patrick.

"No, you're not allowed to do anything! Matt needs to rest," dad's voice grew angry again.

"But, sir, protocol-"

"Yeah, I know about the Human Toilet protocol all too well. Made sure to study up on it proper. And I'm still telling you, I'm not letting Matty go. I'll drive him home and I'll explain everything that happened to him."

"But-"

"No buts. Go away."

Dad's voice had taken a sternness which Matthew hadn't heard in ages. While dad's growls and shouts contained little sympathy, his touch sang an entirely different tune. Matt felt two strong hands pressing against his back through extra fabric which was on top of his own suit. The soft chest his head was resting on, hidden only behind a dress shirt, thumped with a rhythm which was near hypnotic.

"It's alright," Matty croaked out. "I'm sure dad will fill me in, Patrick."

As a reward, his dad flashed him a big smile, turning into a scowl when directed at Patrick, "You heard the man. Off you go. I'll handle it."

"Yes. Of course. Though we'll need to discuss this eventually, Matt. I shirked on my duties and-"

"And you'll discuss this another time. He needs to rest for now," dad interjected.

"Understood," came a single sigh of resignation.

Patrick walked away, his steps becoming quieter and quieter. Now that Matt thought about it, it was generally a bit too quiet. There was no more music, no more chatter. How late was it even?

"Dad?"

"Yes, Matty?"

"Where is everyone?"

"At home, I assume. Or on their way there, at least. It's pretty late, champ."

"How... how long was I out? What happened?"

"Good question. I found you after most people had already left. Seeing how you were still on your shift, I wanted to check in on you and found you underneath Julian," dad's face soured.

"Yeah, that's about what I remember last."

"Mhm," dad growled. "I proceeded to extract you from beneath your uncle and gave him... a piece of my mind. And then I've just sat here. Waiting for you to wake up."

"That... sounds pretty bad. Sorry for giving you a scare, dad."

A chuckle, "Only you could apologize for passing out, Matty. Don't worry, it hasn't been THAT long. Besides, at least I got to talk to that manager of yours."

Noticing the growing tension in his dad's voice, Matt reached out and put an arm around those broad shoulders. Dad pressed him tighter against his body. The tan suit which dad had covered Matt in fell onto the ground.

"It's okay, dad. I'm fine."

"I know, Matty. You're a Browne. We're made of tough shit. That's how I knew you just had to take a bit of time to come back to your senses," dad positioned Matt to be able to look into his eyes. "But do you feel alright, champ?"

"Yeah!" came a chipper reply. "I still feel a bit weak, but I do feel fully conscious at least, hah! Where is Richie, though? Did he go home already?"

"Well..." dad looked away, "he's actually staying over for a few days at ours. We wanted to surprise you, but I guess our plans got a bit derailed, huh?"

"Oh, neat!" Matt answered with the same chipper tone, but oddly enough, his feelings were quite conflicted.

"But yes, he did go home. Peter drove him, so we have my car just to ourselves. Once you're feeling better, we can set off, alright?"

"I mean... I think I'm already quite well."

"Oh? Don't try to be brave, Matty. This isn't the time to play soldier."

"Dad, I'm fine. Really. I just passed out, that's all."

"Can't be too careful, Matty. But if you insist you're feeling better, then we can go."

In one swoop, dad's arm circled beneath Matt's butt, the other grabbing the fallen suit and pressing against his back. Dad hauled himself up, lifting Matt as if he weighed nothing.

"Dad, I can walk on my own," Matt groaned.

"I'm sure you can," dad replied, but didn't loosen his hold even by a smidgen.

Clearly, Matthew would not win this one, so he let his head fall onto dad's shoulder in resignation. The scent of cologne had already faded, leaving only traces to be overpowered by natural musk and sweat. Funny; Matt hadn't even noticed that dad had put on cologne back when... No, he should have quelled his mind, as it would only distress him further.

On their way out, Matt got a good view of the venue itself again. It looked quite spacious - many chairs, a dance floor, leftovers on the ground. It must've been fun... Soon, the cold air nipped at his skin as they got out into the night, dad quickening his pace a bit.

"You good, champ? Not too chilly for you?"

"Dad, I'm fine," Matt sighed.

"Right."

The trip to dad's car was short. Though, much to Matt's bewilderment, dad opened the driver's door and got into his seat, Matthew now on his lap. The seat belt clicked as it surrounded them both.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"What? Seat belts are basic safety, Matt. I know you don't have a license, but surely you know that."

"I don't mean the seat belts, dad! Why am I sitting on your lap? You should know that isn't allowed! You have a license!"

Dad pressed Matt's head into his shoulder, "Oh, shush. I'll go slow and careful. Besides, there's no traffic cops around here. Just humor your old man for a night, alright?"

Having little energy to argue, Matt simply sighed and let himself go limp on the broad expanse of his dad's body. As much as the thought of breaking the law worried him, it was comforting to be so up close. Dad smelled nice like always. Not like Matt... his clothes must have still stunk from the many sprays they received. That'd surely need a proper cleaning. He was honestly a bit surprised that dad was able to handle it so well. Not a single flinch or gag. Or maybe he was just great at hiding it...

Matt peered into those beautiful blue eyes. There was not a single hint of disgust. But surely there had to be something there. Anything. Matt couldn't have been the only one to be marked by their toilet exchange. Or was dad really okay with it all? Matt couldn't read him. The smile shining through the thick beard didn't help. How could he really be so nonchalant? Had he no expectations of Matt? No respect? Had dad always known that Matt would be well-suited for such a position? Matthew's head was going haywire, and he didn't know what to do. It wasn't as if he could just ask. While he trusted dad not to report him if he did break confidentiality, it would've broken his integrity as a Toilet. An aspect of himself which he treasured, for reasons to him unknown.

The engine came to life as the vehicle purred. He had been looking forward to this sound back in the morning, so at least he was finally getting what he desired. Wordlessly, dad drove out of his parking spot and onto the road. The trip really wouldn't be that long, but being on dad's lap, surrounded by familiar sounds, scents and views? Matthew truly felt peace creep in. At long last. His hands slid downwards, embracing his dad's ample frame, while the father in question hummed in approval. Matt's fingers slithered their way into his dad's pockets. So warm and cozy and... squishy? Plastic? Oh...

Before Matt's mind could truly comprehend what he had felt, dad's own hand had already shot out and fished it out instead. The filled rubber from before. Pulling the window down by just a bit, the ballooning condom flew out into the cold evening air. With the click of glass against plastic, the small draft was gone and silence ensued.

"Dad?"

"Give me a moment," dad shook his head.

He turned on the radio with a flick of a finger, hand skittering on the controls trying to find anything to fill in the blanks. His knuckles were red and oddly bruised with a coating of dried blood adoring the skin over each bone. The station ended up being some niche country songs and dad put both of his hands on the wheel again - ironic, considering neither of the men was exactly a country fan.

The road was calming, passing street lights and tress creating a lovely painting outside. Too bad all Matt could think about was his potential brothers and sisters trapped in a rubber vessel getting thrown out into the unknown.

Dad spoke up first this time, "Hey, champ? I think we should talk."

"Yes. I think so too," Matt nodded.

A part of him was anxious - unsure of whether dad would dare to cross the confidentiality first. Matt wasn't sure he'd be able to uphold his duty in such a situation, despite his pride.

"Well, I'll be honest with you, Matty. I don't quite know how to begin," dad grumbled, clearing his throat afterwards. "I would like to start by telling you that I love you. Very much so."

"Don't beat around the bush, dad."

"Right..." dad's voice took a hit, cracking for a brief second, before a sharp cough came out. "I think that, since you're a full-grown man now, you probably understand that people aren't perfect. And I am no exception."

Anger flared up inside of Matt. This is the conversation they'd be having? There couldn't be a more infuriating way to breach this entire topic.

"I know, dad. I know. We all have our flaws and we all make mistakes. I've heard that lecture enough from both you and every fairy tale I liked as a kid."

"Yes, Matty, but you don't need to give me the lip," a warning edge made itself known in dad's voice. "This isn't any easier for me than it is for you. Even if I think that we both know what I want to talk about."

"Yes, dad," Matt obeyed, but his voice only grew more irritated. "Though honestly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know if it's a good idea to do this. At least right now... if ever."

"Shelving things has never been my strong suit, champ, you know this. I can't keep a secret from you for the life of me. So I'd rather get this out of the way now."

"You've certainly kept some secrets..." Matt looked away.

A pained grunt, barely audible, came from dad's throat, "You got me there, boy... But that brings me to my point. Matty, I know I'm not the best dad there is. I know I'm also not the most honorable person there is. But you know what will never change? I would never hurt you, okay? I would never betray you. We are a team. You and me."

Team... Do teammates shit in each other's mouth? Drink their piss? Lick their cum? Hardly! And yet here Matt was, his dad's fat log from earlier fermenting inside of his own guts. Not only that, but he had to come to terms with his dad fucking his brother's wife?! Normally, a person would be reeling from seeing their parent naked, but no, Matt had received a much worse shock. Of course, that was forgetting his brother and uncle on top of that. And as if that weren't enough - naturally he had passed out and was now being babied by his own dad, sitting on his lap. The conflict with Patrick was a future worry that he really didn't want to think about right now, especially since he was too busy curling on his daddy's thighs like he still suckled milk out of a tit.

But what did he even want? What could dad have said? Sorry? For what? No, there was simply no great option to pick from here - it'd be horrid no matter what. Though as much as Matt wanted to, he couldn't put the blame on dad... What was Matthew actually feeling? Anger? Fear? Guilt? Sadness? So much to choose from, and yet no label quite fit.

He responded with a single word; a word encapsulating his inner turmoil perfectly.

"Mhm."

"And I know that you will see me do stupid things at times, Matty. Reckless things. But I hope that no matter what, you'll never stop trusting your old man."

"Yeah..."

Clearly, dad wasn't exactly thrilled by such an answer. His eyebrows were slanted back; moist eyes glistening in the street lamps as they inched closer and closer to home. The first time in Matt's recent memory where dad genuinely seemed sad. Even beneath the beard he could see his dad's lips sloping downwards. How Matt wished to just tear off the band-aid and speak clearly. To tear down this veil of pretense.

"Is there anything you'd like to add, Matty? And don't evade me now, please."

"Well..." there was a lot Matt wanted to ask, but he settled for one question. "I was wondering if you were sexually active, dad."

A heavy exhale, "Yes."

"Oh, um..." such a quick answer was not expected. "Well, then... I hope you enjoy yourself."

The moment those words left his mouth, Matt wanted to kick himself for them. Such a golden opportunity, and he had wasted it! Why couldn't he ask something directly, like a real man? He was speaking to his dad, for fuck's sake, and yet Matt was the one beating around the bush now.

"I... Yes, I do enjoy myself."

"I figured... I've seen the condom in your pocket."

"Yes, you have. Sorry about making you discover it by touching it. That's something I had really hoped would not happen."

"You didn't make me do anything. I guess my hand was just drawn there naturally... It was an accident."

"Fair. Still..."

They were both skirting around the elephant in the room, both not daring to breach the surface and therefore breach the Toilet protocol. It was infuriating...

"No, it's okay, dad. I'm just glad you're still popular with the ladies. Hopefully, you have a good instinct for picking them."

"I do," dad shot out. "I certainly know when getting involved with a woman is something fruitful. I also know when it's stupid. Sometimes, it's both."

"Mhm..."

Silence, once again. There was little to say now that they had talked themselves into a dead end. The road was getting more and more familiar. It had to be a matter of seconds to finish this conversation. After all, they could hardly have it around Richie back home.

"Though no matter my taste in women, you'll always be a priority, champ. I love you."

Matt looked up at his dad's face again. He saw the same saddened expression as before. Little would make dad happy when he was like this, but to Matt, it was pretty obvious what the right response was.

He settled against his dad's chest for the remainder of the ride. Whatever their problems were, they could be discussed another time. After today, he had enough. And so came his last words of this car ride.

"I love you too, dad."

---

Thank you for reading! Sorry that I don't post regularly! I would still appreciate it if you left feedback! Hope you all enjoyed!

---

To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

---