Poopy Pals Pt. 01

James stood happily that morning in front of the mirror, enjoying his free Saturday, wondering what antics he'd get up to for the weekend. He flexed his strong but lean core, shaved carefully twice a week to expose his rippling abs that extended all the way down to the waistband of his white Hanes briefs.

Boxes lay all over the new apartment, clothes piled on top of a few, appliances strewn all over an impeccably clean kitchen. A pizza box with a singular cold slice complemented an empty beer bottle and stack of papers with 'Lease Agreement' on top.

The 26-year-old had just moved into his first apartment and wanted nothing more than to pretend there was nothing to unpack, nothing to do but enjoy the carefree summer day, much like those days he enjoyed long ago, as a teen whose parents left at home all summer once he was old enough. So much time had gone by where he hadn't felt as if a parent, roommate or sibling was there to be a bother, to be a wrench in his plans to engage in his secret hobby without fear of discovery. How long had it been? Four? Five years? That last summer break from college perhaps?

"It's been too long" he whispered silently to himself, his lips parting slightly and holding, then turning to a devious smile.

James gazed into the hastily unpacked mirror again, leaning against a wall with an almost boyish carelessness, and stared downward. He began caressing his mushroom-shaped head through his boyishly white underpants, and felt it slowly harden, then turned around and pointed his butt toward the mirror.

Such a tight, youthful ass, clad in combed cotton. Sure, genetics made him lean, but he still worked at it as much as any gay man had to in this town. He stared intently into the mirror, his lips spreading slightly into a devious smile as he obsessively focused on the seat of his cute underwear.

A slight, airy gas sound could be heard in the living room, and then a small crackle, coming right from James' tight ass. His cheeks began to spread more.

"That's it..." he said.

A small protrusion appeared nearly dead center of James' underpants. It stayed in place for just a moment, then with another small crackle, began to widen greatly and distend the seat of his briefs, the white fabric seemingly encompassing every inch of it, as the bulge curved downward and rolled into the seat, then broke away, only to be replaced be another large protrusion following the same path, and another, collecting into a single lump in the center of his underwear. He let out a deep sigh, and stood straight up again, noticing his rock-hard erection as well.

Here in this new apartment, this young man could finally engage in his hobby without fear of exposure or recourse, without any consequence. Here stood a young man who had performed his secret fetish for the first time in so long- to perform his bowel movements in his underwear- on purpose. Behold, a pants pooper- finally unleashed.

Sporting a rock hard erection, he almost instinctively tapped the warm, thick bulge in the seat of his pants. Precum dripped and stained the crotch instantly.

"Mmmmmf, it's perfect in texture" he noted.

He then confirmed by pulling the elastic leg hole back and staring at the brown pile of thick, waxy sausage-shaped poops, collected as a warm mass like he was filthy baby wearing a dirty diaper. But this was no baby- here was a man who, throughout his relatively young life, performed this sordid act hundreds of times without detection.

As far as he knew, anyway.

Across the street, one story up, was 28-year-old Michael, a gay man living in the small one-bedroom he'd called home for a couple years. Usually one to sit around and watch Netflix on a gray, cozy Saturday like today was, he seemed preoccupied with something. He was holding binoculars up to his eyes with one hand, pupils dilated wide open, with his right hand unconsciously stroking his penis through his underwear.

"You've got to be fucking kidding..." he trailed off. There before him, in the image he was seeing secretly in the binoculars, was a hot guy in the new apartment across the street, walking around rather innocently in his underwear.

Innocent except for what his underwear contained, anyway.

"Dirty, dirty boy...you like that?" Michael asked.

For several minutes, he watched as this new tenant across the street walked, crawled, and sat in a pile of his own poop. On purpose. Then started jacking in his loaded underpants, only to shoot across the room in a matter of seconds.

"Jesus..." Michael blurted out.

It COULDN'T feel that good, could it? He looked down at his crotch, still hard, and in a spur of spontaneity, walked off to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of tighty whities on the way.

He really hadn't dumped in two days, or was it three? He'd always found his dumps pleasurable, but in his underwear? Why, he hadn't tried that in years. He, like many boys, had tried his sordid act at least once in puberty, the horny bastards they all are. Or was it twice? He remembered it feeling strange, but pleasurable? He was too scared of getting caught. At the time, anyway.

Michael slipped on the briefs, tossing his trunks away with his toe, and stood in front of the toilet, definitely feeling a load ready to come out. He tried peeing a little first, straddling the toilet with his legs. His briefs immediately became warm and wet, and a stream poured into the bowl with a familiar splash. He stopped moments later, realizing his was starting to get hard while looking at the patch of glistening wetness. Excited, he sat on the bowl.

"Is this how...I...I don't know how to..."

His toilet training being tricked by thinking he was sitting pantless on a toilet bowl, Michael's ass suddenly opened and a log widened his hole. A bead of sweat fell listlessly down his brow. His anus was taking over- the log was actually emerging. He felt it creep slowly between his widened cheeks, and rest gently against the cotton of his briefs.

"No, this is fuckin' crazy." he blurted, but it was too late to abort.

Three days of poop is an unusual amount for any rectum to expel, and it's a challenge for a toilet to even handle from an average-sized adult. These poor white FTLs were about to face a unique experience to say the least, as was Michael's prostate. The log, over three inches wide, stretched the briefs out and pushed the seat downward. The thick, firm logs was so heavy that Michael's anus pushed it out on its own as he felt a sensation he hadn't known in over half his life.

The gigantic log curved and collapsed into a shape not unlike a big baked potato. His shocked grimace turned to a smile. He now knew two things: he now had a new hobby, and he was far from done.

A second log, a bit softer but still claylike and thick, pushed with ease onto the growing pile, a third behind it, piling on top, and a fourth and final log rolled into the load, then forward against his balls.

"Incredible." he said, satisfied his big BM was complete. Michael almost gingerly stood up, looking at the remarkable pile and realizing how hard he was. He'd never been this turned on in his life and he hadn't even touched his dick yet.

"I...I just did a big poop in my pants."

He cupped the giant, thick lump of fresh BM in the middle of his underpants. It was as big as a couple grapefruits. His cock was dripping. With a giant grin, he stared back at the toilet and dropped the lid...and sat...slowly.

Nearly two and a half pounds of thick feces began spreading around in a garment not designed to hold that amount of waste, but then again, at that size, little is. A mountainlike peak formed between his cheeks and moved backwards first, all the way up to his waistband, and pushed a now-crushed log right out the top, while more of the load moved forward, rolling up against his balls.

The look in Michael's eyes was one of a locked, fixed trance, his hands shaking with near delirium, hearing the squelching sound of his filth pouring out the legholes of his laden tighty whities, then came a feeling an unprecedented euphoria, followed by an unconscious gyration in his legs.

A thick spray of semen flooded his underpants and dripped downward, making rivers into the massive mountain of poop in this grown man's briefs.

A convert made.

To be continued...