Do you know the “bag of dog poop” prank? It's very simple. You need a paper bag, place dog feces inside, put it outside someone's door, light it on fire, then knock or ring the doorbell and hide at a safe distance, watching what happens.
My friend David, who I was in the same class at high school with (we were both 18 years old), always looked for ways to entertain himself at the expense of others and this time he wanted to pull this exact prank on Mr. Birkbeck, my next-door neighbor. Mr. Birkbeck was an older man who used to serve in the military but had retired early due to health problems. He was a lonely, eccentric guy, so he seemed like the perfect target. When David suggested that we play a prank on my neighbor, he didn't have to convince me much.
On Friday evening we had everything ready. We had a flammable bag, found a large, fresh, wet dog shit that (with disgust) we managed to stuff inside, and waited until dark so we could hide in the bushes and watch our victim more easily.
Unfortunately, we didn't foresee everything. When I lost at rock paper scissors so I was the one to leave a bag of shit under my neighbor's door, I crept into Mr. Birkbeck's house and set a trap under the door. What I didn't expect was that before I rang the intercom and ran away, the door would open by itself and I would find myself face to face with a man several decades older than me, who was wearing a jacket and black combat boots as if he was just going out somewhere. Not knowing what to do, I started to run away, and old Birkbeck, seeing the fire at his feet, put it out with one of his boots.
“Howard Vaisman!” he called my name in an obviously angry voice. “Get back here or I’m going straight to your parents!”
I could see David's face peeking out from behind the nearest bushes, shaking his head at me not to do it, but I really didn't want my parents to find out about this joke, because I might forget about the new console I was trying to convince them to buy. I preferred to face the immediate consequences, so I looked at David resignedly and went back to Mr. Birkbeck.
“It was just a prank…” I started to explain, but couldn’t stop myself from grimacing as the omnipresent stench of burnt dog shit hit me.
"And now you'll clean up after this prank, you little brat," he said, giving me a stern look and indicating that I should enter his house.
Even though we were neighbours I had never been inside, but not wanting to incur the wrath of a man older than my father, I obediently went inside. I looked at the concerned David for the last time as Mr. Birkbeck stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His house was very neglected. It was obvious that it lacked a woman's touch. There was a lot of junk everywhere, covered in a layer of dust, and there were a few beer bottles by the door. On the cupboard I noticed a photograph of my neighbour when he was younger. It showed him in an army officer's uniform. However, I couldn't concentrate on looking at the house, because I was terrified of the situation, and in addition the shit that was stuck to Mr. Birkbeck's shoe spread a terrible stench.
The older man pointed to his booted foot.
"Wipe it off."
"With what?"
“Take off your shirt and wipe it off!”
"Yes, Sir... I'm so sorry..." I said and with embarrassment I took off my shirt revealing my bare torso, knelt on the floor and began to wipe the shit off his combat boot with disgust. Mr. Birkbeck leaned against the wall and lifted the sole so I could reach every part of the shoe. The stench was unbearable but I tried to breathe through my mouth and almost managed to avoid gagging. I could feel the man's eyes on me, carefully monitoring what I was doing.
"Keep going. The boot must be clean."
My white T-shirt quickly became a T-shirt with brown spots and stripes. I had to grab it more and more often by the parts that were dirty with shit, to effectively wipe off what was left in the hollows of the sole. It was disgusting, but I had no choice.
“I’m done…” I finally said with relief, and Mr. Birkbeck examined the sole carefully, then reached for the T-shirt I was still holding, on which I had collected all the feces from his shoe. I expected him to throw my T-shirt in the bin, but instead he surprised me by slapping me in the face with it. Then he repeated it a few more times, hitting my body as well, although I tried to cover myself. I could feel bits of wet shit sticking to my body, but I couldn’t even wipe myself off properly because my hands were covered in it too.
“Hey, stop it!” I protested, still kneeling on the floor. “What are you doing?!”
“I’m teaching you a lesson, boy,” he replied, took something out of his pocket, grabbed my hair, and started scribbling on my forehead. I should have gotten up and run away then, and I definitely shouldn’t have let him take pictures of me with his phone, but I was too scared to stand up to him. Besides, I was naive, and it didn’t occur to me that someone might want to blackmail me.
“Give me your phone number,” he ordered, and I obediently dictated it to him. “I’m saving it as Shitrag, now get the fuck out of my house.”
I nodded and ran out of his house like I had been burned. Then I took out my own phone to look at myself on the camera. I had dog feces on my face, which smelled awful, and the words "DOG CRAP LOVER" were written on my forehead. How could this bastard do this to me? I felt the need to wash up as soon as possible. At the same time, I was ashamed to show myself to David, so instead of going back to the street where he could be waiting for me, I jumped over the fence into the house where I lived with my parents. I entered the house quietly so that no one would notice me and quickly slipped into the bathroom. There I immediately undressed and washed myself in the shower for a good half an hour until I was sure that I had washed off both the filth and the smell.
Then my phone rang. I was sure it was David wondering if I was OK, but it was an unknown number. I picked it up and heard Mr. Birkbeck's voice:
"Hello, Shitrag . Have you seen the MMS I sent you?"
"No..." I replied and checked that I had indeed received a message. I opened it and saw a picture of myself looking into the camera while kneeling shirtless, covered in shit on my face and body, with "DOG CRAP LOVER" written across my forehead.
“Do you see it now?” he asked calmly.
“Yes… You have to remove it!” I raised my voice in frustration.
“I’m actually wondering whether to hang that picture up all over the neighborhood. You know, as a prank,” he laughed cynically. “Or to warn the other neighbors about your sense of humor.”
“What?” my heart began to beat faster. “You can’t! I’ve really learned my lesson… I’ve realized my mistake… Please don’t do this!”
There was silence for a moment, and it seemed the longest moment of my life. But at last Mr. Birkbeck spoke again:
"Okay, if you do as I say, I'll keep the photo for myself. Are you alone?"
"Yes... I just washed up... Why do you ask?"
Instead of answering I saw that Mr. Birkbeck was trying to make a video call. I accepted and quickly showed only my face on the front camera of my phone because I was completely naked. Mr. Birkbeck had his own camera turned off so he could see me but I couldn't see him.
“You haven’t got dressed yet?” he asked, seeing part of my chest.
“No, I just got out of the shower. I’m not wearing anything.” My voice was shaking. The situation I found myself in was causing me a lot of stress.
"Okay. Don't get dressed. Turn your phone volume up so you can hear me, and put it in front of your toilet so it's fully visible on camera."
I did as he said and leaned my phone against the wall with the camera pointed at the toilet bowl, having no idea what he was talking about. I stood so as not to get in the frame with my naked body.
“Perfect. Now sit on the toilet and take a dump,” he ordered, and I felt my heart stop for a moment.
“W-what?” I stuttered. “But on camera? Are you crazy?”
“You do it or tomorrow morning your shitty face will be plastered all over the trees in the park,” he threatened, knowing I would do everything to prevent that from happening.
“No, please… I’ll do whatever you want…” I replied resignedly.
“Then do it, Asswipe,” he urged me, and I slowly entered the frame and sat on the toilet, covering my crotch with my hands. I tried not to look at the camera, but it was hard not to glance in that direction at all. I saw on the screen that the camera was showing me in all my glory, naked as nature had created me.
"I don't know if I can do this..." I said to the phone, even though I really did have to take a shit.
“You better make it, for the sake of your reputation in the area…”
I sighed and began to focus on this intimate act, my face quickly flushing with embarrassment. I don't know how I could have been so stupid as to allow a much older, practically stranger, man to gain so much control over me.
"Good boy. Take a nice poop. In the meantime, show off your young cock and start masturbating."
I looked at my phone in shock.
"What?! You're a perv!"
"You only just realized? Listen, this is your last chance. Do what I say without talking or I'm hanging up and going to print your shitty photo in color," his voice was firm. I could tell he wasn't joking. I had no choice. Unable to believe that this was really happening, I started jerking off on camera while trying to relieve myself.
“That’s it… Don’t stop…” he said, and I wondered if he was masturbating himself at that moment.
I thought I wouldn't be able to combine these activities, because the first few minutes seemed completely fruitless, both in trying to take a dump and in getting an erection, but eventually I felt a breakthrough and as I focused on it, one turd after another suddenly flew out of me with a loud splash. When I finished, I looked at my phone in shame.
"Done... Can I hang up?"
"We're not done yet. Pick up the phone and show me what you did."
I rolled my eyes and reached for the toilet paper before getting up to get the phone, but Mr Birkbeck stopped me.
"I didn't let you wipe yourself. Show me what you did."
I shook my head in disbelief, but got up with a dirty asshole and went to get my phone, then pointed the camera at the bottom of the toilet bowl. Two long pieces of poop were floating in the water.
"Good job. Now put the phone back where it was. I want to play with you some more."
“More?!” I was irritated.
"Be nice and do as I say."
It took me a moment to remember that I had no other choice and finally I obediently placed the phone against the wall as before.
"Okay, now kneel in front of the toilet and show your ass to the camera."
With each subsequent command I liked it less, but I felt my resistance was futile. I slowly knelt down with my back to the phone and lifted my ass.
"You've got a great teen ass. It's a shame it hasn’t been owned before. Grab your ass and spread it. I want to see your dirty hole."
I hesitated. I wanted to grab the phone and hang up because this had gone too far, but I couldn't take the risk. I had to give in. I felt dirty and pathetic as I did what he told me to. I knew that since I hadn't wiped myself, my asshole was probably brown with feces. I could smell them, but I couldn't tell if it was from there or from the unflushed toilet.
"Good boy. Now for the last task, but you have to do everything I tell you. Okay?"
“Okay, but that’s it!”
"Yes. You only have to do three things at once so listen to me. You have to hang your head in the toilet above your shit. I want you to smell it, but loudly enough for me to hear. In the meantime, you have to play with your hole with your left index finger. Make sure I can see clearly on the camera how you're digging in your shit and putting your finger inside. With your right hand, you have to continue jerking off. The task ends when you cum on the floor."
I looked in disbelief at the camera so Mr. Birkbeck could see my reaction and disgust at his perverted ideas, but I didn't say anything. I was only thinking that this was the last task and the end of my nightmare. So I slowly leaned over the toilet and lowered my head just above my turds. I had never looked at my poop so close before. And I had never smelled it so clearly. I started to sniff deeply so that Mr. Birkbeck could hear it and I immediately regretted it because I felt sick. But I couldn't stop, not after everything I had been through. So I quickly started wanking, although I didn't feel the slightest bit aroused. What was left was playing with my anus. I hesitantly reached for it with my hand and slowly touched myself with my index finger. I immediately felt the soft substance of scat. It was disgusting, but I forced my finger to circle my butthole, then began to carefully insert it, deeper and deeper, more confidently. I could have tried to imagine that it wasn't warm shit coating my finger, if not for the fact that my nostrils were breathing in its stench. My eyes filled with tears, but I gave myself over to this humiliating combination of actions.
"What a dirty young slut you are. Smell that disgusting stench and play with your dirty hole. The whole finger has to go inside."
I obediently followed his instructions. I had never had anything in my ass before, so I was uncomfortable, but I managed to get my entire index finger inside me and alternated between pushing it in and out. I was stressed, so it took me ages to get aroused and cum, but eventually I came on the floor with my shit in front of me.
When I looked at the phone, Mr. Birkbeck had hung up. He had used me for what he wanted and he wasn't going to give me any more of his time. But it was a kind of relief for me because I felt like I had survived this horror and could try to forget about it as soon as possible and get back to normal life.
I didn't know that this was the beginning of my new life as “Shitrag” and the real horror was yet to come.
