Following an uncompromisingly indulgent scat session, completely covered in shit, with shit in my teeth, my stomach stuffed throat-full of shit devoured, it is sublimely, transcendentally delightful to walk barefoot around my suite of rooms, careless of shitty footprints and hand prints wherever they may be left. Belief alone determines reality; so this reality – for one whose life is devoted, dedicated, committed to filth – is in no way less real, in no way detached, from any other reality. 

A higher octave of this otherworldly bliss, whenever I may so indulge, is to cover myself in shit, completely, then to remain the rest of the day like that, and to go to sleep like that. The shit dries and forms a shitty mantle on my skin. As I go about my day, whenever I shit, or if I am fortunate to have donations of shit from the men I suck, the men who fuck me, depending on whether there is any left over after I eat as much as I like, I spread the fresher shit on top of the drier shit, creating a wonderful layered effect.

Succumbing to this degree of submission to filth is only for the most zealous. The eventual washing of leather furniture, the covers of upholstered furniture, the bedding, and the pillows is no bother at all. It is just another opportunity for the observance of my unfaltering obsession with shit. Aside from the leather, which is simply wiped clean, leaving behind permanently the welcome burnish and fragrance of shit within its grain, I gather up all those wonderfully shit encrusted items, toss them into the large bathtub, and fill the bath with hot water. When the tub is full, I let everything soak a while, then agitate the covers and bedding to release as much of the shit as is willing to surrender itself to the warm water. I then wring them out, and dry them. Meanwhile, with the shitty water, whatever pee I have added, and whatever additional shit, together with a warm-up of hot water, I take a shit-bath.

I sleep often with shit in my mouth, and all over my face, head, and body. It is truly amazing. While asleep, I do not hesitate to pee and to shit in the bed. Upon awakening, country to what might be anticipated, my days begin in joyful renewed immersion into the spiritually exalting realm of filth infatuation. Re-emerging again into the public, the smell of shit impregnating my skin, its taste fully distinguishable on my breath, requires a few extra steps – the application of fine perfume after a normal, that is, a non-shit bath, and the chewing of aromatic greens. It is so very much worth it, though. This ritual is compelling, mesmerising, spellbinding. As soon as I clean up, I want immediately to indulge again.

Here in the Philippines, in the bliss of my remote hillside refuge, all sexual fantasies are fulfilled, the satisfaction of all of the most extreme aberrations from commonly perceived decency granted, the purpose of my existence is confirmed.