question about scat/piss and humiliation

The reason I let guys see me piss, shit and wipe it on myself if because I have a humiliation fetish for letting guys have fun degrading me or watching me degrade myself. I think this is because when I was young and my parents thought it was taking too long to potty train me they would punish me by wiping shit my from diaper under my nose and on my face and then make me sit on my trainer pot for a good amount of time. I also recall at time when I was about 5 and I did not make it to the toilet in time and got a turd on the floor. My mom made me pick it up with my bare hands and put it in the toilet and then sit on the toilet for a few minutes with dirty hands. My brother who was about 17 at the time, witnessed the event and was laughing at me while I was crying. I don’t remember a lot of things from my childhood but I remember those things. so I have two questions. First, for the guys who like shit for shit and do not have a humiliation fetish or enjoy seeing a dude degraded, would you still enjoy seeing me shit and wiping it on myself knowing my history? Second, did similar things happen to you which you believe resulted in your shit/piss fetish?

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  1. I got ,my fetish simply by having an accident in my pants when I was 7 years old. I liked the feeling and enjoyed feeling the shit ooze in my buttcrack while I did it while standing. I’ve been doing it ever since when I’m home alone and the opportunity presents itself. I never got caught with a load in my pants.

  2. I got the fetish because a boy in 5th grade shit himself on purpose and said it was fun and I should try it. I tried it 2 years later in the 7th grade in front of some boys in my class and got hooked on messing myself. I was teased by them and later started to get off on that. it seemed fun to do the messing and get teased.

  3. I was bullied by a bigger boy when I was about six years old. He followed me home after school and when we got to my front yard, he stopped, pooped a big turd into his pants and shook it down his pant leg onto our lawn. He frightened me a great deal, and I believe that that was probably the start of my poop fetish. (Anxiety almost always makes me want to wet myself and poop in my pants.)

    At about the same age, I was also coerced by two older boys into peeing into a bottle behind an old shed. And I had a true poop accident about then too (at least I think it was an accident); when my mother noticed the unusual odor in her kitchen after I came in and climbed up on the kitchen counter to watch her baking an apple pie. She cleaned me up without a fuss. Almost certainly I associated the pleasure of having a warm pile of squished poop in my pants with that loving, uncritical response from my mother, not to mention the wonderful aromas of apple pie, which remains my favourite pie. When I told my psychologist about these incidents, she responded by saying, “I’m surprised you didn’t develop pee and poop fetishes.” “Well, ” I said, “I did.” That began in a long series of interesting and useful discussions, which led me to finally revealing my fetishes to my wife, to whom I had been married for more than 40 years.

    There were other incidents too, none of them overtly sexual but they nevertheless became sexual as I approached puberty, no doubt because I am human and male.

    I have never been teased or bullied about my fetishes because I have never revealed them to anyone except my wife. But I certainly do beat myself up about them on a regular basis.

    A final note: When I was 19, my mother found a badly stained, wet pair of my underpants hidden in one of my dresser drawers. I discovered that they were missing when I returned home one night after a date and found that my dresser had been “tidied up”. She never said anything, but just returned them, washed clean, to my drawer. Within days, as a result of this incident (and because I was hating college and needed to get away from my bombastic, hypercritical father and smothering mother), I joined the army. I had the naive hope that being in the military would somehow help me put my fetishes behind me. Vain hope — at my first opportunity after my enlistment, which included a short tour in Vietnam and a nearly fatal wound, I pooped a huge load in my pants and enjoyed thoroughly smearing myself with it. I haven’t stopped since then, except for brief forays into “purity”.


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