Archive-name: Fetish/allamfam.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: An All American Family Keywords: mf, scat Chapter ONE "Twas the night of Thanksgiving and all through the house, the Schidinks were stirring..." Little Timmy Schidink, only ten years old and very angry, sat on on the toilet in the the groundfloor bathroom. He had withheld his shit five days, but now the Turkey dinner was forcing the issue. His constipated gut ached as he pushed and pushed trying to squeeze the delayed monster turd out his distended rectum. Grace Schidink in the master-bedroom hummed happily as she prepared the boudoir for the private pleasure she and Kurt had been planning for weeks. With an expert flourish she rolled out the red rubber sheet onto the king-sized mattress, fastening it securely at the corners. Next, she opened up four brand new packages of disposable drop cloths and began covering the floor around the bed. The macrame plant hangers followed... down came the spider plants, up went the chrome hooks Kurt had recently added to their toy chest from the medical supply house. Behind the locked door of his third floor bedroom, handsome athletic smooth-bodied muscular blonde square-jawed blue-eyed Kurt Jr., home for the holidays from his Sophomore year at UCLA, popped a videotape into the VCR, put on his horn-rimmed distance glasses and lay back on the bed playing with his nipples as the crude titles rolled over the screen. Kurt Sr. was making ready in the master bathroom. Oh no. He'd forgotten to pick up that extra tube of Preparation H and there was none left in the medicine cabinet. "I can't believe this," he muttered to himself, pissed off that he hadn't made out a list before he'd gone shopping yesterday. The stores would all be closed now. Perhaps Kurt Jr. might have some he could borrow. Kurt put on a bathrobe and stepped into the hall where he was greeted by the sound of snickering and dirty giggling coming from behind middle son Marvin's closed bedroom door. It sounded smutty to Kurt and he didn't like it. After all there were the other parents to consider. Marvin Schidink was hosting a slumber party for his neighborhood playmates Eddie and Victor, and their parents had given permission. Kurt didn't want any repercussions. He rapped on Marvin's door. "What're you guys doing in there?" The sniggles stopped. "Nothing, Dad." "May I come in?" Victor hurriedly tossed the pink rubber dildo-dick he'd stolen from the magazine store under the bed. Just in time. [Whew] The door opened. Kurt looked into the room. The three boys, Marvin 12, Victor 15, and Eddie just 13 were all sitting bolt upright under the covers of Marvin's bed. There were comics spread all over the bed. Innocent enough, Kurt decided. "Now you boys, keep it down in here." "Yes sir." "...and don't do anything smutty, you understand. Tomorrow isn't a schoolday so you can keep the lights on until 12:00, but then you've got to hit the hay, understand?" "Yes sir." Kurt closed the door a proceeded up the stairs to Kurt Jr.'s room. He knocked once. "Kurt Jr...?" [Oh FUCK!] Kurt Jr. grabbed for the remote control and pushed OFF just as the words, "SCAT LOVER TAPE #3" bloomed onto the screen. "What is it, Dad?" "Do you have any Preparation H, Son? Your mom and I are out." "Just a second, Dad, I think I do, I'll check." Kurt hopped into his jeans and took a fresh tube out of his dopkit on the nightstand. He was about to open the door when he realized that he still had two big green snakebite suction cups attached to his nipples. He yanked them off, hoping the reddened erect nipples would go unnoticed by his father. They did. "Having a flare-up?" Kurt Jr. asked solicitously as he handed over the medication. "No, Son, it's for your mother." "Well this should do the trick...it always works for me." "Thanks, Kurt Jr., I'll buy you a replacement tube tomorrow." Kurt Jr. watched his father head back down the stairs. Sr. was a great big blond muscular man with a giant butt and a fairly large belly, but all-in-all real masculine, like so many of his Polish buddies who rode with him on the back of scavenger trucks working hard in all kinds of weather hauling garbage to provide food for the table and a college education for the kids. Jr. shut the door and began looking around the carpet for his snakebite cups. Grace could feel that sexy feeling starting in her bowels, she resisted pulling down her panties and fingering her clitoris. There was still some preparation to be finished, and she'd better hurry if she wanted to pull it off. She smiled to herself thinking about the surprise she'd planned... Kurt and Grace did an enema night every now and then, two or three times a year, usually after church on a Sunday or on a holiday where Kurt didn't have to go to work at crack of dawn the next morning...but they'd never tried anything like what Grace had secretly planned for Kurt tonight. The two bags hung side by side from the hooks.. Hers pink and holding two quarts. His was black, a special mail-order model from New Jersey, and weighed a ton when full at six quarts--there were five in it now. Fortunately, Kurt was still getting ready. Grace brought a one liter bottle of Winners Cup vodka from the back of the closet where she'd had it stashed for this special occasion. Glancing nervously toward the closed bathroom door, she poured the whole thing into the black bag which now bulged almost to overflowing. Hurriedly she rehid the empty in the closet. Grace felt her heart pounding--Kurt did not allow any alcohol in the house, but she knew that just once she had to do this... The door opened, flooding the room with harsh light from the bathroom. Kurt stood there untying the belt to his bathrobe. "Lucky for us Kurt Jr. had some extra, Hon. I clean forgot it when I went shopping yesterday." Old Prep-H was their favorite lubrication for these occasions. Grace always had been pile-prone and the shark oil medication seemed to work best for working in the enema nozzles--they both preferred it. Kurt looked around the room, his wife had really been busy, while his only contribution was to stack the dishwasher. "Gee, you got everything set up already, I should have helped." It was all there ready to go: the extra towels, the plastic buckets. Even the Port-a-Potty had been unfolded and put in place a few feet from the edge of the bed. "By the way, Hon, I didn't tell you how delicious that turkey stuffing was you put together--I made a real pig of myself. That enema'll sure feel great...." With that, Kurt involuntarily cut loose a thunderous fart. "Mercy!" giggled the little woman, "hold your horses. You're snortin' and rarin' to go, aren't you?" "Better believe it." Kurt hung the robe on the hook of the door and flopped his big hairless body onto the rubber sheet. His enormous uncut dick bounced against his belly and then tilted out into space semi-erect and ten fat inches long, the head still tucked behind his generous pink foreskin, except for the glossy dime sized end surrounding his piss hole. He cupped his giant elephant scrotum with its unusually tough thick skin and fluffed himself a few times while he watched Grace slip out of her bra and panties. Grace had managed to keep her trim little figure; of course her breasts sagged a bit more these days than they had on their wedding night some 22 years ago and those small brown nipples pointed at her feet now instead of at the ceiling, but Kurt liked the way she looked, and her extremely thick bush seemed to him if anything denser than ever. The routine, a pattern developed over more two decades of enema nights, never varied. They kissed for about five minutes and then unceremoniously switched to a spoon style position. Kurt's bag was so much bigger, simply because his abdominal capacity was greater. It also took longer to feed and so Grace always got him started first. Kurt propped one leg up in the air as his wife began working the Prep-H into his crack and past his baby-tight ruby asshole. She was greasing him up good tonight. He felt his dick stiffen as the little woman's finger got the knuckle past the first sphincter. Ah this was the life! Kurt wished he could have an enema every night. Now she was starting in with the nozzle, Kurt offered barely any resistance and Grace slid all six inches of it into his rectum. "Let her rip," he moaned as she reached for the clamp and released it. He heard a gurgle and felt the first surge. With the weight of a gallon and a half of fluid backing it, that initial rush always took his breath away, but then he relaxed and went with the flow. He could feel the liquid coursing into his lower colon, it was a great feeling and he noticed that his cockhead had now worked itself totally into the open at the end of a full and glorious boner. Then he felt the first hint of cramping... oooooohoh...Grace slid the fluted nozzle back and forth in his asshole to divert the momentary discomfort. Soon Kurt's gut had accommodated its growing load and he repositioned his leg onto the rubber sheet. It was a signal to cut the flow for a moment and for Mr. Schidink to start the process up on Mrs. Schidink. Kurt felt great...almost light-headed. This was the best damned enema he could remember. He watched his wife spread wide her undercarriage with its masses of black wiry curls barely revealing the intricate scrolls of her liver-colored cunt lips and puffy puckered anus. He squeezed out some Prep-H. Ooops too much. He pushed a glob into Grace's anal openingf and scraped another big glob off the red rubber which he also lubed into her hairy crevice. He felt terrific ...they were just going to have to arrange to do this more often. The woman's enema nozzle was much daintier than the one lodged inside him, even though Kurt's rectum was teeny and his wife's was if anything impressive by comparison. But then men were men and women were women and this nozzle was especially designed for the fairer sex, just as the one shoved up inside him was designed by that Dr. Jay in New Brunswick especially for men--or rather "guys" (to quote the instructions on the box). "Oh you big clown! Quit fooling around." "What're you talking about, Hon?" "You stuck it in the wrong hole," Grace giggled. Kurt rolled over and took his reading glasses off the nightstand. Sure enough. He couldn't believe it. There was that nozzle protruding from the back end of Grace's slippery brown vulva, a full inch south the proper slot. Kurt was astounded, he'd never made that slip before. "Sorry, dear. I guess I just wasn't looking where I was going.' He pulled the plastic stem out and reinserted it into her pulsing asshole. "How's that?" "Bullseye," she crooned and indicated for him to start the flow. Kurt reached for the tubing and released the clamp. A minute passed, he was feeling lightheaded but good. "Kurty, I'm not feeling anything can you adjust the nozzle or something..." Oh Shit! Kurt suddenly realized that his own gut was about to burst and that the black enema bag was half empty. He'd released the wrong clamp(!) By the time he got his line cut off and hers started, he felt like he was going to explode. Grace knew intuitively what he was feeling and she began jerking her husband's foreskin back and forth over the swollen dickhead, again diverting his attention from the temporary cramps which had sent his entire abdomen into spasms. "Oh yeah, that's it, Hon, keep pumping." He took deep breaths bouncing back and forth between agony and ecstasy. Then it was her turn for a spasm. "Aaaaennh....oooooh...Kurt...clamp me off I'm filling too fast." This time he managed to get it right despite his growing lightheaded but happy loss of coordination. They lay there resting for a while. Finally she said: "Think you can take a little more, Kurty?" "I guess so, as long as you keep jocking me off." "You really like how I jock you off, don't you darling?" "You bet I do. Why you're just about the best jocker-offer I've ever had." "Is that a fact???" her tone went testy. "Oh not what you think, Hon. I meant before we got married...you know, with the other boys in the locker room--just messing around." "I see...Well, then I forgive you...Boys will be boys." Kurt decided to change the subject. "Lets 69. Okay? We haven't done that in a long while." "With the hoses in?" she asked incredulously, this wasn't like her conservative hubby at all. "Sure. Besides, it's about time we add to our bag of tricks." He was feeling adventurous. "Whatever you say, you big lug." She was very pleased as she watched the father of her three sons get up on all fours and back up over her with that thick black rubber tube snaking out of his ass toward the plant hangers on the ceiling. Little angry ten-year old Tommy still sat on the downstairs john grunting, pushing and straining his stopped-up asshole. Maybe if he frigged himself it wouldn't ache so much. He'd watched Marvin do it with Victor and it made them real blissful. He took his tiny weener in his fist and began jerking it around. But it didn't seem to want to get any bigger the way Victor's did. Meanwhile Victor was in the process of demonstrating the art of masturbation to a new initiate. He and Marvin had done it to themselves, to each other, even once in front of Timmy. But Eddie had never done it, despite now being a good two weeks over 13 and already showing traces of a mouse-colored mustache. That's what this whole slumber party was all about. It was Victor's idea actually, but he'd made Marvin promise not to tell Eddie anything about it ahead of time. The three boys were sitting on top of the bed in their pajamas and Victor had hauled the rubber dildo back out from under the bed. "What's it used for, Victor?" Eddie asked. "A dildo-dick? Why, it's kind of a teaching device." "A teaching device? I don't get it." "You will. Marvin and I'll show you." Victor passed the footlong rubber erection to the 12 year old Schidink boy. "Show Eddie how you beat off, Marvin." "My dad says you'll go to hell if you beat off." Eddie stated with no little concern. "Your dad's full of crap." countered the older boy. "He is not. He's a Born-again and Born-agains never lie!" "He is too. Beating off feels so good--it's the best, there's nothing in the whole world that feels near as good. Not even screwing your girlfriend." Marvin, who was about to show how you beat off a dildo-dick, looked up in astonishment. "You have a girlfriend?" "Of course I do." "Oh yeah," interjected Eddie, "prove it--what's her name?" Victor thought for a moment. "Betty," he muttered without much enthusiasm. Marvin was now really impressed. "And you screw her? Really screw her? In the pussy?" "Sure I do, right in the middle of her pussy." Victor regained his tone of authority. "Yessir, right in the middle." Eddie too was becoming convinced. "What does a pussy look like?" "Well, I'll tell you, but only if you let me and Marvin beat you off." "But I told you already...I DON'T WANT TO BURN IN HELL!!!" Eddie wailed. "Don't be stupid, Eddie. You only go to hell if you beat yourself off. Not if somebody else beats you off. [....!??] "Are you sure?" Victor could see that Eddie wanted very much to believe him. "I'm positive. In fact you can even beat somebody else off and it doesn't count...it's only when you beat yourself that you go to hell." Victor could see Eddie was weakening. He was pleased with himself. "But first you're going to have to show us your penis." The bald guy wearing the sunvisor was wheezing audibly. He weighed 275 pounds easily and could barely hold himself up in the squat over the scrawny longhaired guy with the pimples and coke bottle glasses lying flat on his back between the fatman's legs in the bathtub. HERE IT COMES... Kurt Jr. twisted his left tit with one hand while he held the bottle of Locker Room up to his nostrils with the other. The shaky camera panned down the fat guy's back to his distended shit hole. IT'S COMING OUT... Kurt recapped the popper and rammed his middle finger back up into his own hungry poop-chute, just as a brown turd ribbon began squeezing out the fat man's rectum, dropping by clumps into the longhair's open mouth. Kurt pushed his finger in as far as it would go up up toward a lump of his own shit. He clamped down with all his might and then withdrew his finger to look at the treasure. It was clean. He held it to his nose and sniffed. DAMN...nothing. Back on the screen the pimply guy had started rimming the filthy asshole. The shit was getting smeared everywhere. One of the guy's lenses was completely mudded out. Now THAT is disgusting Kurt thought to himself. He was irritated with SHIT LOVERS #3. It was exactly like LOVERS #1 and #2. Why did they always use such ugly nerdy types in these scat videos? That guy shouldn't be wearing his glasses for godsake. It was ludicrous and made the whole thing a travesty. Why couldn't there ever be any nice healthy looking guys with white teeth, flawless tans and fresh blow-drys like in all the other porn? After all, I'm hot looking, atheletic, with a nice body, Kurt thought, I'm a shit lover...why can't they make these movies with guys like me. This is so demeaning. It really pisses me off. If only he had more guts, he reasoned for the thousandth time. He'd given it so much thought...lead the movement, give public speeches, be a spokesman and role model, march in the parades... If only he had more guts. Guts enough to bring respectability to scat. Educate the public. Go into politics even. Who knew where it might lead? Kurt Schidink Jr. the country's first Brown Hanky Congressman. B.M. Brothers Unite!!! Keep your chins up high!!! Don't be oppressed just because you let people shit on you. Spread those Cheeks and FLY!!! It made his head spin. Kurt took another hit as the video shifted to a new duo. Well, not entirely new. There was that same fatty but this time he was wearing a black wig..(!) THIS IS REALLY INSULTING...what a piece of shit this #3 was turning out to be and he'd forked over $89.95 for it too. Non-refundable. At 10:03 pm, the exact moment of Kurt Jr.'s disappointing discovery, downstairs his father had positioned himself over his mother's cunt and his tongue was beginning to search out what they called her little love-snail, his youngest brother Timmy still on the pot was on the verge of passing out from pushing out and his other brother Marvin was untying his pajama bottoms. And two blocks away out on the icy street the fuel pump of a '79 Ford Pinto was giving up its life, unbeknownst to Larry Henderson, the car's current owner coming back from a gay bar through a neighborhood he'd never been in before. It was incredible coincidence that when the engine died it died right in front of 677 Rigoletto Place, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Schidink and their three fine sons. The coincidence was made greater by the fact that during the summer of his highschool sophomore year Larry and Kurt who were classmates and neighbors at the time used to get together to assfuck and suck each other off. But then Kurt's family moved across town and Larry took up with a different crowd and the rest was history. Kurt and Larry had not seen each other in 25 years. Larry steered the coasting Pinto across a slick of ice next to the curb. Shit it was cold. For the first time that evening he regretted not wearing more than the jockstrap under his leather chaps. He got out and threw open the hood. His butt was FREEZING. He hoped he'd be able to spot what the problem was, only the problem was that Larry actually only knew zip about cars and realized that the gesture was more one of macho reflex than constructive action. Larry could see his breath in the beam of his flashlight. It was dark except for some yellowish light coming from behind the upstairs shaded window of 677. Behind those shades Grace was moaning herself through multiple orgasms under her husband's increasingly clumsy ministrations and manipulations. Kurt didn't know what had taken over him. He felt great. Out of control, but great. And then Grace crested her biggest wave and one knee kicked out in one of the many reflex actions her coming was prone to and landed square in the center of her hubby's swollen tight-as-a-drum fluid-filled paunch. OOOOoofff. [pop] The stopper blew out of Kurt's greasy red hole, which opened up like a fireman's hose and sent quarts of brownish fleck-laden water flying across the bedroom spraying all over the mirrors and glasstopped vanity. What was happening? Kurt didn't really know. He looked between his legs and caught the reflection of his hydrant butt at full power. Oddly, he felt removed from it all...no big deal... time stood still...he was just floating in a blissful out of body experience... In what may have only been seconds later he found himself sitting on the Port-a-Potty squirting out a few remaining ounces, while Grace, ever the vigilant homemaker, good-naturedly surveyed the damage. Larry Henderson knew he had only two choices, both fairly humiliating: ask these folks to call AAA or find a bus stop and hope that public transportation was were still running at this hour. He might have opted for the later option, however the risk of frostbitten buns made him decide to head for the front stoop of 677. I sure hope these folks are home, he thought to himself as he prepared to ring the bell.- - - - - - - - - - - - - [TO BE CONTINUED...] --