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19 Temmuz 2023, 10:01
Ken and Fred were seated for their first dinner at the Mounds Hotel at a small, circular mahogany table in the dining room. Their bare feet rest on the soft, elegant green carpeting which was accented by the soft mahogany trim. The men perched on wooden seats, wearing only the enormous white diapers provided.
Fred could smell the natural odor of high anticipation wafting off of his husband's tan, hairy chest across the table, blending with sweat and the stench of, of course, fresh poop.
Fred had gotten used to the sensation of his own dung in his diaper that he'd laid earlier - he'd managed to slide the rim of the oversized diaper around his desecrated briefs, which sagged from his slender hips as they enclosed five grapefruits' worth of moist, squishy feces.
The diaper was large and expandable, but extremely puffy inside. It pressed up on the sticky poop, which had thickened at room temperature since the pair left the hotel room and was clinging in immovable clumps to Fred's smooth thighs.
Fred rocked back and forth slightly in his dining room chair and opened and closed his lap, feeling the tingling of his sticky poop as it playfully tugged at the short hair on his testicles and rippled back and forth with ease against the pulsing lips of his own anus. Despite Fred's play, the filth stayed completely contained in the diaper - for now.
Ken smiled back at Fred with a nervous twinge and grasped his husband's hand on the tabletop, thinking of the generous gobs of his husband's poop and his own cum that he'd carefully wiped off his chest with his bare hands, 'giving back' the mess to his husbands open arms - or should he say open pants - less than an hour ago. Ken felt a fresh wave of satisfaction at the warm memory. But he still had to release his load from the airplane ride to Nevada, and he wasn't sure how he would just yet. "Never felt so jam-packed, yet here we are, about to eat dinner?" He had to go so bad that he'd barely been able to walk from the hotel room to the dining room.
Eight or so other clusters of men sat at tables surrounding Fred and Ken in the dining room: a scattering of couples of different ages, a few apparent college students (obviously on a very divergent spring break), and a few loners who had come on their own to luxuriate for the weekend. Everyone was sitting shirtless in their hotel-branded diapers. Some men wore wide brimmed hats or leather cowboy boots, legs spread out proudly at the dining room chairs. Some men kept their hair, some were clean shaven head to toe. Everyone was smiling.
Ken felt a bent pleasure at seeing so many adult men of different shapes and sizes sitting shamelessly in the puffy diapers, as if they were merely wearing sportswear to the gym. The tables were arranged in a roughly rectangular format next to a large stone fireplace that blended with the mid-century concrete fortress style architecture.
"Ffffffffttttt" A resounding fart into a microphone drew everyone's attention; all the men sat erect in their seats. The hotel host Al appeared on the dining room floor. He had changed outfits into a skin-tight, dark green jumpsuit that clung to his figure around a puffy diaper. He perched himself on a high stool that fit his open crotch like a glove, and pulled his inner thighs in around the seat, his bulge poking outward proudly. He had exchanged his cowboy boots for pointed rubber boots that came up to his thighs, making an attractive and somehow powerful contrast.
"Gentlemen, welcome, welcome," he began in his demure voice. "We hope you enjoy the simple dinner of homestyle roast meat, meat alternatives, plenty of legumes, potatoes, and chocolate torte. Everything will be laid out for you to eat at once, and there's much, much more İzmit Escort (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) where that came from at the buffet. So eat as fast or as slow as you want; come for your seconds, thirds and fill yourselves. And yes, it's all infused with the naughty little potion you may have enjoyed already, or are about to enjoy..." Al winked in Fred and Ken's direction. Fred smiled back and squeezed his thighs together in a new thrill atop his mess.
"We, my friends, are men who love to poop and glorify our nasty side. Playing with our poop is an inherent pleasure to us that society tries to deprive us of, but we don't let that happen, do we? As we mature and blossom into-" Al paused to bend down and sniff his own musky, bare chest, his bulge swelling to the size of a large conch shell. "As we mature and blossom into men, our biomes grow richer and the poop we make grows more and more complex, fragrant, and glorious. Our beautifully and sensitively innervated prostates naturally crave the massage of big excrement. It's simply innate to our anatomy, my dears. So please, enjoy the freedom and explore your pleasure with us as deeply as you wish. With that, let's feast and prepare to manifest our manliness in the filthiest, the filthiest of ways" Al raised a glass of what was presumably a glass of the foamy potion, threw back his head, and cackled atop his stool.
A chorus of lusty laughter spread across the dining room as the guests dug into the food and drink.
Fred ate deliberately and slowly, chewing each bite of his helping of food and watching his husband. Across the table, Ken felt as if he would burst, but was somehow pulled to eat more. He soon realized that he had already put down a second helping of steak and a third helping of beans from the buffet table. It was then that he felt his core muscles start to heave, and his stomach was suddenly so tight that even sitting became impossible. A steamy, wet fart slid out of Ken's broad anus, spreading out between his generous cheeks, and concluding in a 'thud' feeling which told Ken that a feces of incalculable size was waiting to emerge.
"Honey, I think it's, uh, time" Ken's southern twang returned as he whispered excitedly.
Fred leaned back and flashed a mischievous smile at his partner-in-crime. "You got it baby. You lay your treasure wherever you'd like. I'm watching."
Nervous beads of sweat sparkled on Ken's forehead. "I, uh, think I need some privacy with just you... it's gonna to be big."
"May I offer some reprieve?" The faint smell of cum preceded the appearance of Al at the couple's dinner table. "I had a feeling about you two, that you might want some, erh, time."
Fred sat up excitedly. "Yes, please."
"Well, then, follow me, you productive pair," Al winked and sauntered away.
Ken heaved himself up and carried his heavy core behind Al. Fred squeezed his hand reassuringly. With each step he felt himself losing control of his anus.
"Now isn't the time," he told himself, "Too many people," he felt subconsciously aware of the eyes of so many men in the dining room, eating and laughing in their diapers.
But the more he hesitated, the greater the pain grew.
Al led the couple to the edge of the dining room and through a double doorway. A stucco floor, wide enough to fit a car, paved a broad hallway ahead. The hallway curved abruptly and the floor sloped downward into a spiral ramp. Al walked slightly ahead of the twosome, at a leisurely pace, as if he was enjoying himself. The air was damp and rank of - was that cow manure? It absolutely was.
Fred felt himself get excited, and Al's pace quickened ahead. Down, down the spiral ramp they walked. Fred couldn't stand the anticipation; he stepped up next to İzmit Escort Bayan (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) Al to ask about what awaited them.
Ken couldn't walk faster. In fact, he could hardly walk.
He was about to reach forward to Fred when he took a step and felt the world stop.
A distinct, silky slip between his butt cheeks, as if a third leg had sprung outward.
"Oh. Ohhh." Ken murmured. The slipping sensation continued out of control, with a thrust of pleasure as a warm, foot-long log of a feces as thick as a large potato launched out, twirling effortlessly and mashing between his buttocks like a smooth clay saucer.
It was suddenly happening... the pressure against Ken's prostate and rubbing of poop against the smooth patch of skin on back of his scrotum ensconced him in self-pleasure, the basest joys of his sexuality. He was riding a soft, gooey leg of his own creation, which prodded him playfully right where he wanted to be prodded, inside and out, and he wanted to do more. All he had to do was to keep walking; the poop seemed to be slipping out uncontrollably by now. The billowing sensation between his cheeks was spreading farther and farther outward. Ken's cautious stride turned to a very deliberate waddle, as more and more and more of his product glided out with each step... left, right, left, right, left, right... soon it was the volume of a bowl; not longer after it had grown to that of a large pot.
Ken felt like his anus was spewing forth uncontrollably, and his chest involuntarily spasmed with each step. He stopped and clenched his fists in delight, feeling his diaper sag down the back of his thighs as he pressed his legs together. The massive balloon of feces made a moist, sensual crackling sound as it spread across his rear end from his left hip to his right hip, and peaked almost a foot outward from his round rear-end. It jutted out in the shape of a rounded pyramid, gauzed by the diaper fabric between Ken's thick thighs.
Ken leaned against the wall, engulfed in his own brown stench and laughing to himself, just feet behind his husband and Al. Poop had crept well into the front of his diaper, bathing his helpless, erect dick in a sea of thick brown.
He couldn't believe what he'd done, and he was so content he couldn't put it to words.
He didn't have to- his butt did. A jubilant, wet fart exploded from Ken's rear, splatting over his pounds of fresh poop and echoing forth down the spiral hallway.
Fred and Al stopped in their tracks and stood erect. Fred turned around, already smiling, to find a beautiful sight.
"Oh-ho-ho yes." He smiled devishly and beheld his husband, standing in all his largesse and glory, leaning against the wall, gazing back with a tempting grin. "Oh baby, oooooh baby yesss" Fred slowly approached Ken, feeling the curls of his hair tighten and tingle as he put his warm arms around his husband's broad shoulders.
"Freddy, I did it, a little early maybe, but babe I did it so big and I love it" Ken whispered into Fred's face. Fred furiously kissed Ken's neck over and over, and gradually pressed the crotch of his own filled diaper - now humble in comparison to Ken's - and felt the pounds and pounds of Ken's warm BM shift around his mottling grasp.
"I LOVE it, I-, I-, I-" Ken felt his husband's massaging hands and the flowing river of poop between his thighs. With a joyful cry, Ken came for the second time that day, his thick penis throwing blobs of cum upward into his diaper, blood pulsing to his head in a fever of happiness in the arms of his filthy lover.
"My good boy, goooood boy" Fred cooed in Ken's ear, feeling his own bulge inflate against his husband's pulsing dick with the slapping sound of flowing poop and joyful semen.
Al Escort İzmit (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) stood and looked on in his green tights, rocking back and forth, rubbing his own bulge in a trance as he watched the engorged men kiss and entangle their legs, pressing full diapers against each other for at least 5 minutes. The two came to their senses, turning to Al with legs outspread without a shred of shame, knowing he'd enjoyed watching their bliss.
Al raised his hand in salute and spoke in his slow, honey-laden voice "My messy friends, you are a sight to behold... Ken, you have obviously pooped your pants sooo many times in your subconscious before this day, dear. Consider this a realization of your truer, dirty and beautiful self... but I don't think I can stand to watch any more without being invited to partake," he winked under his saluting palm. "How about I show you the rest of the way to your private bath? It's certainly, well, full. You can keep playing here in the hall but I can't guarantee you'll be alone for much longer; the other guests will be following soon."
Fred puffed his chest outward and clasped Ken's bare waist, smiling contentedly in the cloud of his husband's stinky air. "We're exclusive boys after all - please kind sir, show us to our bath."
The couple followed Al, Ken waddling in the pounds of poop. He felt the cum dribbling down around his semi-flaccid, post-ejaculation penis. His prostate still throbbed warmly beneath his massive butt cheeks, massaged constantly in the thick coat.
It was only a couple yards further to a dimly lit, wood-paneled corridor. The air hung heavy, warm, and moist, like that of a bathhouse. Al slowly stopped and opened a sliding door on the left side, squatting and gesturing to enter as he opened the door.
"I present you, gentlemen, your private bath for the weekend..."
Fred took one look inside and immediately smiled with wide eyes.
Inside the subdued, tastefully appointed 400 sq. ft. bathing room there was a wood deck flooring with a couple of small stools, a tile area with a shower and a drain hole, all surrounding a pool filled with what appeared to be ... not water... but the thickest, rich brown... mud? The thick matter was illuminated by soft, incandescent ceiling lights. The putrid air was the strongest the men would encounter at the Mounds Hotel. It filled their lungs and hung like a thick comforter.
"A- a mud bath!? YES!" Fred couldn't control his boyish excitement.
"Not quite - this is a pooping pool. It's a mixture of refined cow manure, mud, and neutralizers that take out the dangerous bacteria. We've shipped the mud from select parts of the Mississippi River delta, where it's known to be particularly smooth and putrid." Al glanced down at the couple's pulsing bulges.
"Need I explain more? You can do whatever you want in it. And of course, please, don't wash off when you're done. We've got microbiome tailored for your skin mixed into it so- by all means, take as much as you like to bed, sleep in it! Our only request, you see, is you leave liquids out of the pool. To protect the delicate consistency of what's inside... So if you would like to relieve yourself, just do so away from the pool, as I happen to be doing right now." Al smiled and stood up straight as he released a warm stream of pee out the front zipper of his diaper-tight suit, right onto the floor.
Fred giggled uncontrollably as he nodded to Al, grabbed Ken's arm and led him into their private "bath". Fred immediately wiggled his diaper down his muscular legs, dropping clumps of poop to the floor and using his hands to messily collect his feces into a mound in his diaper for later. Without a word he turned to face Ken and stepped backward into the pool of feces.
First his feet touched the warm manure surface, and he paused to enjoy the sensation of poop tickling the bottoms of his toes.
"Let's get cleaned up, honey," Fred faced a grinning Ken and grasped his husband's hand.
To be continued...
Fred could smell the natural odor of high anticipation wafting off of his husband's tan, hairy chest across the table, blending with sweat and the stench of, of course, fresh poop.
Fred had gotten used to the sensation of his own dung in his diaper that he'd laid earlier - he'd managed to slide the rim of the oversized diaper around his desecrated briefs, which sagged from his slender hips as they enclosed five grapefruits' worth of moist, squishy feces.
The diaper was large and expandable, but extremely puffy inside. It pressed up on the sticky poop, which had thickened at room temperature since the pair left the hotel room and was clinging in immovable clumps to Fred's smooth thighs.
Fred rocked back and forth slightly in his dining room chair and opened and closed his lap, feeling the tingling of his sticky poop as it playfully tugged at the short hair on his testicles and rippled back and forth with ease against the pulsing lips of his own anus. Despite Fred's play, the filth stayed completely contained in the diaper - for now.
Ken smiled back at Fred with a nervous twinge and grasped his husband's hand on the tabletop, thinking of the generous gobs of his husband's poop and his own cum that he'd carefully wiped off his chest with his bare hands, 'giving back' the mess to his husbands open arms - or should he say open pants - less than an hour ago. Ken felt a fresh wave of satisfaction at the warm memory. But he still had to release his load from the airplane ride to Nevada, and he wasn't sure how he would just yet. "Never felt so jam-packed, yet here we are, about to eat dinner?" He had to go so bad that he'd barely been able to walk from the hotel room to the dining room.
Eight or so other clusters of men sat at tables surrounding Fred and Ken in the dining room: a scattering of couples of different ages, a few apparent college students (obviously on a very divergent spring break), and a few loners who had come on their own to luxuriate for the weekend. Everyone was sitting shirtless in their hotel-branded diapers. Some men wore wide brimmed hats or leather cowboy boots, legs spread out proudly at the dining room chairs. Some men kept their hair, some were clean shaven head to toe. Everyone was smiling.
Ken felt a bent pleasure at seeing so many adult men of different shapes and sizes sitting shamelessly in the puffy diapers, as if they were merely wearing sportswear to the gym. The tables were arranged in a roughly rectangular format next to a large stone fireplace that blended with the mid-century concrete fortress style architecture.
"Ffffffffttttt" A resounding fart into a microphone drew everyone's attention; all the men sat erect in their seats. The hotel host Al appeared on the dining room floor. He had changed outfits into a skin-tight, dark green jumpsuit that clung to his figure around a puffy diaper. He perched himself on a high stool that fit his open crotch like a glove, and pulled his inner thighs in around the seat, his bulge poking outward proudly. He had exchanged his cowboy boots for pointed rubber boots that came up to his thighs, making an attractive and somehow powerful contrast.
"Gentlemen, welcome, welcome," he began in his demure voice. "We hope you enjoy the simple dinner of homestyle roast meat, meat alternatives, plenty of legumes, potatoes, and chocolate torte. Everything will be laid out for you to eat at once, and there's much, much more İzmit Escort (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) where that came from at the buffet. So eat as fast or as slow as you want; come for your seconds, thirds and fill yourselves. And yes, it's all infused with the naughty little potion you may have enjoyed already, or are about to enjoy..." Al winked in Fred and Ken's direction. Fred smiled back and squeezed his thighs together in a new thrill atop his mess.
"We, my friends, are men who love to poop and glorify our nasty side. Playing with our poop is an inherent pleasure to us that society tries to deprive us of, but we don't let that happen, do we? As we mature and blossom into-" Al paused to bend down and sniff his own musky, bare chest, his bulge swelling to the size of a large conch shell. "As we mature and blossom into men, our biomes grow richer and the poop we make grows more and more complex, fragrant, and glorious. Our beautifully and sensitively innervated prostates naturally crave the massage of big excrement. It's simply innate to our anatomy, my dears. So please, enjoy the freedom and explore your pleasure with us as deeply as you wish. With that, let's feast and prepare to manifest our manliness in the filthiest, the filthiest of ways" Al raised a glass of what was presumably a glass of the foamy potion, threw back his head, and cackled atop his stool.
A chorus of lusty laughter spread across the dining room as the guests dug into the food and drink.
Fred ate deliberately and slowly, chewing each bite of his helping of food and watching his husband. Across the table, Ken felt as if he would burst, but was somehow pulled to eat more. He soon realized that he had already put down a second helping of steak and a third helping of beans from the buffet table. It was then that he felt his core muscles start to heave, and his stomach was suddenly so tight that even sitting became impossible. A steamy, wet fart slid out of Ken's broad anus, spreading out between his generous cheeks, and concluding in a 'thud' feeling which told Ken that a feces of incalculable size was waiting to emerge.
"Honey, I think it's, uh, time" Ken's southern twang returned as he whispered excitedly.
Fred leaned back and flashed a mischievous smile at his partner-in-crime. "You got it baby. You lay your treasure wherever you'd like. I'm watching."
Nervous beads of sweat sparkled on Ken's forehead. "I, uh, think I need some privacy with just you... it's gonna to be big."
"May I offer some reprieve?" The faint smell of cum preceded the appearance of Al at the couple's dinner table. "I had a feeling about you two, that you might want some, erh, time."
Fred sat up excitedly. "Yes, please."
"Well, then, follow me, you productive pair," Al winked and sauntered away.
Ken heaved himself up and carried his heavy core behind Al. Fred squeezed his hand reassuringly. With each step he felt himself losing control of his anus.
"Now isn't the time," he told himself, "Too many people," he felt subconsciously aware of the eyes of so many men in the dining room, eating and laughing in their diapers.
But the more he hesitated, the greater the pain grew.
Al led the couple to the edge of the dining room and through a double doorway. A stucco floor, wide enough to fit a car, paved a broad hallway ahead. The hallway curved abruptly and the floor sloped downward into a spiral ramp. Al walked slightly ahead of the twosome, at a leisurely pace, as if he was enjoying himself. The air was damp and rank of - was that cow manure? It absolutely was.
Fred felt himself get excited, and Al's pace quickened ahead. Down, down the spiral ramp they walked. Fred couldn't stand the anticipation; he stepped up next to İzmit Escort Bayan (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) Al to ask about what awaited them.
Ken couldn't walk faster. In fact, he could hardly walk.
He was about to reach forward to Fred when he took a step and felt the world stop.
A distinct, silky slip between his butt cheeks, as if a third leg had sprung outward.
"Oh. Ohhh." Ken murmured. The slipping sensation continued out of control, with a thrust of pleasure as a warm, foot-long log of a feces as thick as a large potato launched out, twirling effortlessly and mashing between his buttocks like a smooth clay saucer.
It was suddenly happening... the pressure against Ken's prostate and rubbing of poop against the smooth patch of skin on back of his scrotum ensconced him in self-pleasure, the basest joys of his sexuality. He was riding a soft, gooey leg of his own creation, which prodded him playfully right where he wanted to be prodded, inside and out, and he wanted to do more. All he had to do was to keep walking; the poop seemed to be slipping out uncontrollably by now. The billowing sensation between his cheeks was spreading farther and farther outward. Ken's cautious stride turned to a very deliberate waddle, as more and more and more of his product glided out with each step... left, right, left, right, left, right... soon it was the volume of a bowl; not longer after it had grown to that of a large pot.
Ken felt like his anus was spewing forth uncontrollably, and his chest involuntarily spasmed with each step. He stopped and clenched his fists in delight, feeling his diaper sag down the back of his thighs as he pressed his legs together. The massive balloon of feces made a moist, sensual crackling sound as it spread across his rear end from his left hip to his right hip, and peaked almost a foot outward from his round rear-end. It jutted out in the shape of a rounded pyramid, gauzed by the diaper fabric between Ken's thick thighs.
Ken leaned against the wall, engulfed in his own brown stench and laughing to himself, just feet behind his husband and Al. Poop had crept well into the front of his diaper, bathing his helpless, erect dick in a sea of thick brown.
He couldn't believe what he'd done, and he was so content he couldn't put it to words.
He didn't have to- his butt did. A jubilant, wet fart exploded from Ken's rear, splatting over his pounds of fresh poop and echoing forth down the spiral hallway.
Fred and Al stopped in their tracks and stood erect. Fred turned around, already smiling, to find a beautiful sight.
"Oh-ho-ho yes." He smiled devishly and beheld his husband, standing in all his largesse and glory, leaning against the wall, gazing back with a tempting grin. "Oh baby, oooooh baby yesss" Fred slowly approached Ken, feeling the curls of his hair tighten and tingle as he put his warm arms around his husband's broad shoulders.
"Freddy, I did it, a little early maybe, but babe I did it so big and I love it" Ken whispered into Fred's face. Fred furiously kissed Ken's neck over and over, and gradually pressed the crotch of his own filled diaper - now humble in comparison to Ken's - and felt the pounds and pounds of Ken's warm BM shift around his mottling grasp.
"I LOVE it, I-, I-, I-" Ken felt his husband's massaging hands and the flowing river of poop between his thighs. With a joyful cry, Ken came for the second time that day, his thick penis throwing blobs of cum upward into his diaper, blood pulsing to his head in a fever of happiness in the arms of his filthy lover.
"My good boy, goooood boy" Fred cooed in Ken's ear, feeling his own bulge inflate against his husband's pulsing dick with the slapping sound of flowing poop and joyful semen.
Al Escort İzmit (https://izmit.pompaci.net/) stood and looked on in his green tights, rocking back and forth, rubbing his own bulge in a trance as he watched the engorged men kiss and entangle their legs, pressing full diapers against each other for at least 5 minutes. The two came to their senses, turning to Al with legs outspread without a shred of shame, knowing he'd enjoyed watching their bliss.
Al raised his hand in salute and spoke in his slow, honey-laden voice "My messy friends, you are a sight to behold... Ken, you have obviously pooped your pants sooo many times in your subconscious before this day, dear. Consider this a realization of your truer, dirty and beautiful self... but I don't think I can stand to watch any more without being invited to partake," he winked under his saluting palm. "How about I show you the rest of the way to your private bath? It's certainly, well, full. You can keep playing here in the hall but I can't guarantee you'll be alone for much longer; the other guests will be following soon."
Fred puffed his chest outward and clasped Ken's bare waist, smiling contentedly in the cloud of his husband's stinky air. "We're exclusive boys after all - please kind sir, show us to our bath."
The couple followed Al, Ken waddling in the pounds of poop. He felt the cum dribbling down around his semi-flaccid, post-ejaculation penis. His prostate still throbbed warmly beneath his massive butt cheeks, massaged constantly in the thick coat.
It was only a couple yards further to a dimly lit, wood-paneled corridor. The air hung heavy, warm, and moist, like that of a bathhouse. Al slowly stopped and opened a sliding door on the left side, squatting and gesturing to enter as he opened the door.
"I present you, gentlemen, your private bath for the weekend..."
Fred took one look inside and immediately smiled with wide eyes.
Inside the subdued, tastefully appointed 400 sq. ft. bathing room there was a wood deck flooring with a couple of small stools, a tile area with a shower and a drain hole, all surrounding a pool filled with what appeared to be ... not water... but the thickest, rich brown... mud? The thick matter was illuminated by soft, incandescent ceiling lights. The putrid air was the strongest the men would encounter at the Mounds Hotel. It filled their lungs and hung like a thick comforter.
"A- a mud bath!? YES!" Fred couldn't control his boyish excitement.
"Not quite - this is a pooping pool. It's a mixture of refined cow manure, mud, and neutralizers that take out the dangerous bacteria. We've shipped the mud from select parts of the Mississippi River delta, where it's known to be particularly smooth and putrid." Al glanced down at the couple's pulsing bulges.
"Need I explain more? You can do whatever you want in it. And of course, please, don't wash off when you're done. We've got microbiome tailored for your skin mixed into it so- by all means, take as much as you like to bed, sleep in it! Our only request, you see, is you leave liquids out of the pool. To protect the delicate consistency of what's inside... So if you would like to relieve yourself, just do so away from the pool, as I happen to be doing right now." Al smiled and stood up straight as he released a warm stream of pee out the front zipper of his diaper-tight suit, right onto the floor.
Fred giggled uncontrollably as he nodded to Al, grabbed Ken's arm and led him into their private "bath". Fred immediately wiggled his diaper down his muscular legs, dropping clumps of poop to the floor and using his hands to messily collect his feces into a mound in his diaper for later. Without a word he turned to face Ken and stepped backward into the pool of feces.
First his feet touched the warm manure surface, and he paused to enjoy the sensation of poop tickling the bottoms of his toes.
"Let's get cleaned up, honey," Fred faced a grinning Ken and grasped his husband's hand.
To be continued...