Deviant Mage Pt. 03 - Lower Lanovul

She summited the fence snowy top, and then descended down the other side, oozing down it with one mucky hand adhering her to the planks, leaving a lovely shit-smear as she went. Then she descended a quarried slope shored up with intricately arranged dry stones, from the gaps of which half-bare branches of greenery protruded. She was in a posh person's garden, full of elegant stone planters and big ornate pots, and it probably would have been very pretty in the spring and summer. Now it all just looked half-dead and covered in snow. Something about the snow made the night seem unusually bright; her shit-sense was very helpful in letting her know about the pots full of excrement around the corner, but she had no difficulty seeing with her mundane vision as she crept her way towards the pots of precious filth.

She knew that she really ought to scout the location before she tried anything. When she'd done crazy stuff before now, she'd always taken time to prepare carefully. Surely she ought to do that now. Though she didn't know how much time she actually had before the Long Night ended. She hesitated for a moment.

Fuck it. She was going to be covered completely in a layer of fresh crap, and it seemed like she was even better at using her powers when she was high! She'd already been at the point where she was comfortable telekinetically controlling shit and adjusting supernatural properties she gave it on the fly, but she barely had to think about what she was doing now. She would face whatever she was to face at the height of her power! So why was she so worried about 'suitable preparations', exactly? She'd already made them!

With renewed eagerness, she skulked around the big plastered house with its fancy woodwork and fresh paint, towards the an unassuming side-door- the servant's entrance, presumably- and went for the cluster of five lidded clay chamber pots that were sitting off to the side. They had an artfulness to their shape, and she could see the vague shapes of elaborate painting upon them- all so that the people looking at these pots didn't have to think about how they were full of human waste. Between the four pots, there were nine peoples' turds in them, though one of the pots contained nothing but piss.

It took her two trips to bring the pots out to just a dozen feet in front of this house's big fancy front door. Then, grinning wickedly, she assembled the pots of refuse in a pentagon around her. Several lights in this well-off household's window were lit, but no one had seen her yet.

She stripped off her cloak, then eased her way out of her filthy, ragged dress. She regarded the dress. Feeling impatient, she folded up the filth-saturated rag. She put her dagger belt back on, and tucked her dress into it. It was bulky, draping a little stiffly over her left thigh. She couldn't afford to lose her only clothing. Her rain cloak, she set to the side. Her nearly-bare filthy form was on full display, her grimy and crusty body dark against the sterile white snow. She directed the warmth-germs in her underclothes, grime and hair to reproduce more. They would generate more heat soon. There was enough warmth-producing filth in her hair and knickers that she actually wasn't too uncomfortable, but it wasn't all that pleasant to abandon the lovely warmth that her germ-ridden dress had provided. But oh well, that wasn't going to be a problem for long!

She upended a pot of piss and shit over her head. She felt icy-cold urine soak into her crusty hair and shower down her grimy shoulders. She felt something mushy and icy-cold land on her head. She squealed from the shocking cold, and from the thrill of doing this, and just for the sake of making noise. She was tired of being quiet when she had filthy fun! Everyone needed to hear how much she enjoyed this!

She upended the next chamber pot over her head as well, and then the third. All of them were icy-cold, some of them probably hadn't been far from freezing. The warmth she had generated was no longer enough, and she started to shiver, although that was just as much from the jittery thrill of doing this as it was from the cold. She started mashing handfuls of human waste into her greasy, scraggly, matted, clumpy hair. She upended the forth shit-pot into her knickers and mashed several strangers' crap against her pussy. Gods, the last time she'd gotten covered in this much human waste had been the Castle Lan cesspool, and every bit of this stuff was fresh! This was incredible!

She moaned with exaggerated but genuine pleasure as she took big handfuls of crap from atop her head and smeared them thickly onto parts of herself, while she massaged several complete strangers' feces into her vagina with her other hand. Each handful was icy-cold, but it warmed quickly against her hot, filthy flesh. The consistency of the crap varied from firm and clumpy to thin and mushy. She felt the grittiness of undigested seeds, the lumps of half-digested mushrooms. She couldn't imagine more wonderful sensations, and the smell was incredible, especially once the poop warmed up.

There was a flickering of lights from the house. Someone came to the window. Sitting in the middle of a patch of snow now tainted yellow-brown was Stench. There was enough dim light coming from those windows that it was pretty clear what she was doing.

She smiled at the window, waved a hand (clumps of shit fell from it) and then she pulled the front of her knickers open and dumped the next pot of crap and urine into them. Cold piss was overwhelmed by the warmth of the filth and the heat of her own body. Cold shit rapidly warmed up as she fingered her shitty pussy with shitty fingers, through knickers bulging with other people's poo. She slapped another handful of filth onto her left breast and started toying with her nipple...

"What in the True Name of Hethaltie is that girl doing?!" came an (expected) shout from the front door. A fat middle-aged man, with several family members and servants behind him, looked at Stench agog.

"Any of you got any more poop? I just used up the last of it!" she called back.

The old man made a gagging sound of revulsion. Pansy. "Get that revolting creature off my property!" he shouted at his servants. And Stench grabbed her cloak and ran into the deep shadows, giggling, pulling her knickers up as she went. Effortlessly, she was up and over the man's garden wall and into his neighbor's yard.

Someone had heard the muffled commotion from next-door, apparently, because a man and woman (most likely servants) were peering out into the gloom with oil lanterns in hand, their night vision ruined completely, and they hadn't seen Stench yet. Conveniently, the passage of many feet had left a trail of more-or-less clear cobblestones amid the snow where she'd landed, so Stench's landing and footsteps were silent. She managed to creep to this house's back door without making any noise that would draw the servants' attention, and she then took those chamber pots and dumped them over her head as well. In shadows just beyond the light of the advancing lanterns, she massaged eight loads of shit onto every remaining inch her already filthy flesh, inside her knickers and out.

With encouragement, the warmth-germs had made their way into the layer of fresh poo she was now utterly, totally covered with, and she'd gotten the distribution nearly perfect- they produced enough heat that it felt like all the muck she was covered with had freshly come from people's asses. A trail of mist wafted lazily from the hot filth, like her stench was so intense it was visible. High as she was on witch-hemp, the sensuality of being so covered in the sticky, slimy, grainy, chunky excrement was exquisite, and she had to spare a few moments in this fragile privacy to run her mucky hands over mucky flesh, relishing every sensation.

There was a point Stench had become quite familiar with, where she was covered in so much poop that no additional filth could stick to it, and any additional dung or poo applied to her body just sloughed off. That was the state she was in now- she was surrounded by a ring of fallen crap, even though she wanted all of it on her! Or in her. She took a taste of the filth on her body and spat brown spit onto herself. She made a turd more solid so she could stick it up her cunt. She started thrusting fingers into her ass, so that she could shit other people's shit! Everyone in the world would consider her the lowest and most disgusting thing in all of Lanovale, but all she felt was triumph in her accomplishment!

The servants' lantern light finally shined upon her, one of them shouted something, then the two servants ran towards Stench, one of them bearing the lantern, the other brandishing something. A broom, probably.

"Aww, can't you just let me cum again?" Stench called, annoyed- she actually had been nearly to a second orgasm. Then she threw one of the chamber pots at the guy in front, and he dropped his lantern in surprise (its fall was cushioned by the inch of snow and it didn't shatter), and Stench took off again. Clumps of poo fell from her steaming body as she ran, and hopped another tall wooden fence that no one should reasonably have been able to climb so quickly. Then she skulked her way through someone else's yard, and straight-up stole the plainest-looking of their chamber pots.

She dumped the piss out of it onto the snow, but used the pot together with her coprokinesis to collect all the other turds that were gathered here on the porch outside the servant's entrance. She then went on to the next person, to go through their chamber pots.

Now that she was completely covered in fresh, supernaturally warm poo, she found she actually got too hot if she started to exert herself, but that was fine, because getting sweaty meant that her body odor actually did manage to establish itself through the stink of shit. Her tits were on full display and her knickers still bulged with crap despite how lumps of it fell out with every footstep. She breathed hard and a grin wouldn't leave her face. She loved every breath of her stench. It was her stench now, a stink composed of over a two dozen people's crap, and yet she could smell her own body's reek, mixing with the shit! She'd taken all those people's power for herself!

She was just about to head out from the relative safety of these walled-off lots in order to show off, when her nose, whose sense of smell seemed even more acute now that she was high, caught wind of another stink- no, a melange of various stenches- that was quite different from the ones she had so-far acquired. One that had nothing at all to do with shit, but which still drew her attention. It was the smell of rotting food, of decaying fruit and vegetables seasoned with hints of rotting fish and meat. Mold and fermentation and the general decomposition. A smell she was quite familiar with, thanks to Castle Lan's kitchens. Compost.

Fuck yes.

Her shit-sense was almost useless in finding where this particular stink was coming from, but she found the source soon enough, thanks to a combination of her mundane sense of smell and a scattering of excrement- probably rodent crap- mixed in with the pile. It came from a small yard, with a huge and ramshackle-looking house off on the other end of the property, all the windows lit and with the buzz of conversation audible from within. Stench faintly recognized that building, even though she was behind it; that was one of Lower Lanovul's inns, wasn't it?

They were probably doing roaring trade right now thanks to the Wandering Duke's merchants, so they'd wasted a lot of food. The tavern's compost heap steamed faintly in the icy cold, no snow able to stick to it. Stench, clumps of crap falling from her utterly filthy form, approached the pile, a lewd grin on her face. She set down her stolen chamber pot.

It had felt like she couldn't possibly get any filthier, but now, looking at the large heap of moldering scraps before her, it became obvious that she absolutely could- she just needed to introduce some new kinds of filth.

The closest thing to hesitation she had was in trying to decide what to mess around with first. Her shit-sense was no help when it came to compost, but her germ-sense was. Quickly, she found mushy brown mold-encrusted orbs- rotten apples- that broke apart when she picked them up, and which she smeared over her front and into her pubic hair. They smelled sweet and vinegary and moldy. She started to jill herself some more, reaching fingers covered in moldy mush into knickers full of other people's shit, and had to occasionally pick away apple seeds from her labia.

Still playing with herself, she found some a couple fish skeletons, the heads still attached, the eyes rotted out and maggots picking away at what flesh remained. Even she felt a pang of revulsion when she picked one of them up and smelled the fishy rot, but it was an exhilarating kind of revulsion.

She squeezed the head with one hand, feeling the bones crunch and maggots squirm under her fingers, saw fetid juices drip from the bones, and she caught those juices with her opposite hand. Then she methodically worked the revolting liquid into her shit-slick armpit hair. She broke the other intact fish carcass in half and, using coprokinesis to help, placed it into her hair just above her left ear, the dead fish head on display as a deliberate, disgusting hair ornament.

Then she flopped down into the compost pile, and let herself be wild. She wasn't sure what half the things she mixed into the muck already covering her filthy body were, she just knew they smelled sweet and sour and moldy and rancid, so intense that patches of the heap even made her eyes water (possibly something to do with rotting onions). Her orgasm would have come quickly, but she deliberately edged herself. This was a new experience, and she wanted to savour it.

She let herself cum about ten minutes later as she found something pale and clumpy that reeked of sour milk, and worked it into her hair. She moaned loudly and lewdly, straight-up inviting anyone to come and investigate. And indeed, from the inn, she heard the tone of the voices inside change. She saw figures peering out through the lit windows, though she was lost in the gloom for now.

She lay there on the disgusting pile, breathing heavily, mist rising off her. She was totally doing this again. There weren't actually that many compost piles out in the fields, because all of this wonderful refuse represented wasted food, and anyone out in the fields who was rich enough to afford to throw any food away had animals to feed their scraps to. This was her first time getting to experience compost in such a pure state. But, as she breathed in the enhancements to her reek, how the myriad stenches of dozens of decomposing things combined with the stink of several kinds of crap (her body odor was currently lost, but that would change once this stuff started to dry out) she felt like another part of her identity had slid into place.

And now it was time to show herself off properly to the people of Lanovul.

She loved the feeling of having shit-filled knickers, but she wanted people to see her hairy, mucky pussy, saturated with fresh shit and clumpy with decomposing detritus and hardened lumps of crap (she was starting to call them shit-beads). Wanted people to see her filthy, shapely ass, which had been soft from a lifetime stuck in the castle, but which was rapidly firming up from these last few days of adventure. She stripped her knickers off, stuck them in one of her pouches, and stood naked except for her filthy shoes, tattered stockings, crusty dagger-belt (though her dress and rain cloak were hanging from it and obscuring her ass and thighs a little. Oh well), and the thick coating of now reasonably colourful filth. There were maggots crawling on her, and stinking mist was rising from her. She stood and idly stroked herself as she picked up her pot of crap.

She wanted to cum again, but she didn't let herself. She wanted to be horny. She wanted to have lots of deviant impulses to act upon! Grinning wickedly, she leapt over a wall and onto the main road. Naked, tits bouncing and ass jiggling, with clumps of feces and compost falling from her body as she ran, leaving a faint trail of stinking haze in her wake, clutching her stolen shit-pot, she darted between astonished pedestrians and bemused animals hauling carts. She made sure to pause a couple times in patches of light so that everyone got a good look at her.

A few blocks over, she jumped into another person's yard, chosen very strategically. They had a couple shit-pots out, which she used to top up her shit-pouch. Now it was time for the real show.

She hopped over the fence, to one of the most consistently busy intersections in Outer Lower, and then found herself a street lantern to stand under (this was a nice enough area that thieves didn't make off with the lanterns). Now visible for all to see, she dumped her pot full of crap over her shit and compost-covered head while passersby stopped and stared. She flaunted herself before them, thrusting shitty fingers into her filthy cunt, caressing her mucky curves, edging her own arousal. She had a true audience, this time. They stood in the darkness while she basked in the light, and it was hard to see what their reaction to her performance was.

Steadily, the crowd gathered new members, and pressed closer. Stench's dagger was half out of its sheath, its rust-filmed steel gleaming in the lantern light as she played contentedly with filth, fallen excrement at her feet. She faced this shadowy crowd without fear or shame, and a wild grin just wouldn't leave her face. She was someone who was clearly out of her mind, armed and dangerous. They wouldn't get too close until someone decided to be brave.

She heard what a lot of people in the crowd were calling her, but their words didn't register. Everything they called her was foolish. Every demand they made of her, like 'stop that', was stupid. She clearly wasn't stopping until she wanted to, and they couldn't make her!

She moaned in an orgasm seasoned with weed and pure adrenaline, leaning against the light pole and smearing it brown just from touching it. Her orgasm was so intense that she squirted, and the contractions in her pussy made the log of shit up her cunt pop out. It fell to the snowy ground, steaming in the lantern light. She steamed in the lantern light, and didn't currently care what conclusions her audience drew from the sight. She sighed contentedly in the afterglow. She'd really just cummed her brains out, legitimately, in front of... fifty or so strangers? Yep. Apparently that was a thing now.

Awesome.

"I reject what you call me! I defy your standards of decency!" she shouted into the crowd. "I am Stench!"

"You're under arrest!" shouted someone in the crowd. Barging out of the crowd, elbowing people aside so hard that several people were knocked to the ground, came a burly man whose face was a mask of seething rage, who was wearing a Lanovin 'uniform'.

Right. She could probably take him if she cheated with magic, and the temptation to humiliate one of the Lanovins' professional bullies was real, but this whole performance was meant to encourage people (especially the Lanomen) to underestimate her. Now, if she fled like a coward...

That thought had come to her in an instant, and she was already running, dagger in hand, before the thought was finished. She charged through the hostile crowd with the enraged lawman behind her. Hands grabbed at her, but her naked body was so covered with fresh shit that she was basically greased, except it was even better, because that grease could harden and ablate any time someone actually touched her. She was barely even slowed down as she squirmed her way through the crowd like a worm, until someone, probably by happenstance, got ahold of her dagger belt. She slammed the back of his hand with the heavy steel pommel of her dagger, and he let go with a yelp.