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Archive-name: Fetish/allamfam.txt


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 always works

for me."  "Thanks, Kurt Jr., I'll buy you a replacement tube


        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 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


        "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'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 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...]


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