#cowshit

[skyredneck]

[outofcontextai]

[cowmudlover]

6 Months in the making

I had a fantastic night last Wednesday involving large dildos, Old Holborn roll-ups and 10 litres of fresh cowshit!

But first a little background....

I knew I was going to have the house to myself for 6 days so started planning what I wanted to do.

Monday night was going to be the first night but two days before the weather forecast looked like it was going to rain!! Shit I thought - well rather no shit - would be watered down or washed away.

Monday afternoon I set off for some "farming" - about 20 minutes from where I live. I parked up and saw that the cows were down the lane, but the fencing was down so did not know where the farmer was so could not take the chance. I walked down the lane a little bit, but nothing there! Dejected I walked back to the car, rolled a fresh one from Old Holborn aromatic and drove home.

I set up the Black and Decker workmate and set about strapping Rambone to one side and Mr Ed the horse dildo to the other. Made up a fresh batch of X-Lube, smoked another rollie and then set about stretching my arse.

2 hours later I was worn out, hungry for food and decided to take a break.

Wednesday was going to be my next chance.

So on Wednesday after shopping I drove back towards home, went straight past and arrived a the lane again. Fence was down but the farmer and the cows were walking away over the far side towards the farm.

With a throbbing cock, rolled one up, got my bags and set off slowly down the lane.

BINGO! Fresh cow pats everywhere!

Using my bare hands I filled two carrier bags with the fun stuff, and headed back to the car.

I didn't plan this properly as I now had hands covered in thick green stinking cowshit. Oh well I used it as hair gel. Hands clean, hair styled, time for a roll-up.

I was shaking with excitement as I drove home thinking how my luck had changed.

I had nearly everything for a great night: fresh cowshit without bugs in as it was so fresh, an ample supply of Old Holborn Aromatic and Original, Licorice Rizla, huge dildos, fresh lube and no disturbances for at least two days.

I was planning on eating some food first so I did not need to stop, but decided on the fuck it approach, no food just smokes and shit.

Tipped the two bags into a large bucket, added some boiling water to get it to the right sticking consistency and texture, also made it warmer for smearing, inserting, eating, etc.

Attached Rambone to the shower wall, had the Irish Cob dildo and lube to hand, Mr Ed laying on the bed and climbed into the shower cubicle.

I was so excited I just stuck my head right in to the bucket, completely submerged and breathed out. Now if I wanted to breathe it would mean getting a mouthful!! So I did!!!

Again and again and again.

After 30 minutes I wiped most of the shit off of my head, and popped a t-shirt on covering what was already running down my body nto my cock and balls, slipped on some jogger bottoms and headed out of the bathroom.

I had to be careful not to drip shit all over my bed as fresh cowshit stains everything green.

Headed outside with a glass of wine and some Old Holborn for a couple of smokes.

I was stinking, plastered in cowshit over my head, chest, cock and balls stood outside in full view of anyone who wanted to look grinning from ear to shitty ear.

The shit in and around my mouth coated the outisde of my wine glass which added to the atmosphere of a complete dirty pig.

I repeated the above for about another 2 hours and was completely exhausted. I hadn't come so was still horny, but needed a break.

I laid on my bed about 3 hours after first dunking my head thinking that I really should get some sleep, but the bucket of hot shit was calling me back.

I'll post the next stage over the next day or so as sat here now with a boner and need to address that first!!!

[mluxbauer]

[admiraltx]

Ready to do some powerful gardening

[porcelainiaa]

" If you dump me, I'll stab you with my pitchfork. " :. ❀'-

[botteskipu]

DSCN2220

[an-t-hiho]

[the-mud-and-dirt]

living in the countryside just means that sometimes the air outside smells really bad of cowshit

[fizzigigsimmer]

Don't Fuck With Dad

Also known as the ficlet where Billy accidentally becomes the guardian of a future baby and falls in love with his baby daddy in reverse.

The first raindrop splats against Billy’s cheek seconds before it begins to pour. Back home, Billy would have been able to sniff out the change in the air a mile away - that familiar scent of salt and brine that rolled in off the coast whenever a storm cell passed through.

There is nothing to warn anybody a storm is coming in Hawkins fucking Indiana. He hasn’t smelled anything but mud and cowshit for weeks, and the only respite he gets is when he is driving late at night, windows down, pedal to the floor.  

He’d ignored the first few drops and the heavy looming clouds because he didn’t want to entertain heading toward whatever lame hick shit the kids at school were getting up to. He sure as fuck wasn’t about to go home to Neil and his bad mood. 

It would be calling Billy’s number eventually, so why rush it? 

Except the rain was stirring up something foul - rot on top of wet  - the funk filling his nose. Taking a final drag on the cigarette between his lips Billy tosses it to the side of the road and rolls up his window before it can fill his car. God damn he hates this town.

The rain is really coming down hard now. Sheets of it blurring the lines of the road in front of him. He’s still a few miles outside of town. Thinks he’s getting close to the old power plant. There isn’t much to see on either side except for gray fields and the brown smudges of trees, either way but it still makes him a little edgy. He finds himself wondering about Max. Just because he’ll catch hell for not knowing if he gets home and precious baby Max is unaccounted for. Like it’s his fault her dumb ass doesn’t know enough to come in out of the rain.

Kid is probably fine. She is probably riding around like a queen right now in Harrington’s car with her nerd friends again. Which he isn’t going to think about, because he had new rules for himself since that strange night in October. Staying away from Steve is one of them, even in his mind. Especially in his mind actually. 

The irony is, he’s totally thinking about Harrington when it happens, but even if Billy hadn’t been distracted the rain was coming down so thick he probably wouldn’t have seen him anyway. The figure running across the road suddenly appears between his headlight beams and there’s nothing he can do but slam on the brakes and turn the wheel, hoping to god that he doesn’t hit them.

He does. The car slides on the wet pavement and fishtails to one side before he feels the ominous thud, between his palms and up his arms, his thoughts becoming a litany of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

The body lays on the side of the road, a few yards away from where Billy struck it - him! Holy shit. It takes seeing the guys beat up sneakers and mud splattered levis for it to really sink in that he has just hit a real person with his car.  Like a live person, who might now be un-alived, thanks to him!

Billy’s knees are knocking together, his teeth rattling in his skull with shivers that have nothing to do with the rain soaking through his clothing as he runs over to the body. It’s definitely male - jean clad legs splayed awkwardly on the pavement, his toros curled in a fetal position. 

“Hey! Hey buddy, are you alright?” Billy calls, praying desperately for a response. Slides to his knees in relief at the body’s side when a pained groan reaches his ears.

Billy pushes at his shoulder to turn him over before he remembers that you’re not supposed to move an injured person and the man on the ground moans softly. The hair on Billy’s skin raises at the familiarity of the sound. And it’s a revelation, because there’s no reason for Billy to know Harrington by something as small as that - just a grunt of breath under the pounding rain - but apparently he does. 

Steve’s a wreck: tears in his clothes, scratches on his face and arms, and underneath the thick layer of dirt that stains everything else Billy spots blood. 

But it’s not just his injuries that unsettle Billy. It’s the strange lines on his face like he’s aged ten years since basketball practice. He doesn’t understand why Steve looks like he’s been through a war zone - or why he smells like absolute death. Billy can’t help but make a disgusted face at the stench of rot that clings to him as well as the slime - not mud - covering his clothes, and now Billy’s hands. Fucking gross.

“B-Billy?”

Familiar brown eyes blink open slowly and stare up at Billy dazedly, but before he can answer a sharp cry cracks through the air. An infant's cry. It’s so wrong and out of place that Billy jerks back like someone fired a gun. Steve reacts to the sound on instinct, pulling enough strength from somewhere to sit up and open the thick parka he wears and reveal the tiny bundle strapped tightly to his chest.

“Hey, hey, baby it’s alright. Daddy’s here.”

He makes these shushing sounds, rushed and insistent despite their softness, as he tries to sooth the baby. Tells the kid everything’s gonna be okay as he unwraps it, shaking hands feeling over its body for injuries. Billy just hopes it’s true. It’s so fucking small in Steve’s arms and Billy hit it with his car!

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Billy demands, swapping terror for beligerant rage because what the fuck is Harrington doing running across the road like that with a kid anyway. “I could have fucking killed you!”

The rant makes Steve look at him again, but it’s not with an expression that makes sense. For a moment he seems confused, like he didn’t understand the plain English coming out of Billy’s mouth. And then something like dread creeps over his face and he turns his head to look back at something in the darkness. 

“Billy.” Steve breathes his name like a prayer and it makes the cold hand of fear drag down his spine. Steve sounds downright terrified. Billy follows his gaze but beyond the glow of his headlamps all he can see is the dark silhouette of the iron gate that surrounds the old steel mill. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

Harrington doesn’t answer. Instead Billy suddenly finds an infant shoved into his arms and has to fumble not to drop the damn thing. It begins to wail again as it is handed over, but Steve doesn’t stop this time to try and soothe it. He wipes the water off the poor things face and presses one hard kiss to its forehead - daddy loves you - and then he’s pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and  stumbling to his feet.

“Wait a minute! Harrington what the hell?!” 

Billy clambors to his feet after him as quickly as he can manage without dropping the screaming baby in his arms, his heart sinking into his stomach because that sure seemed like a goodbye to him.

“I need you to take her.” Steve sways on his feet, weaving like a drunk and pauses to pant for breath before he looks back at Billy. “Get her out of here.”

“Fuck you! You’re not -”

Before Billy can finish, a strange animal scream rips through the air, chilling his blood. He can’t place it. Can’t say it’s a cat, or a fox, or a rabid fucking coon, cause he’s never heard anything like it before. It doesn’t sound right.

“Billy, listen to me.” Steve warns even as Billy demands to know what the hell that was. “Keep her safe. Okay? You have to get in the car and go. Right now!”

The thing is, Billy is inclined to agree. Whatever is out there in the dark making that awful sound is not something he wants to meet. But -

“What about you? Where the hell are you going? Steve!”

But Steve is staggering away from him, visibly powering through the pain as he runs into the darkness. Toward danger.  He shouts something over his shoulder that Billy isn’t sure he catches right. Something about coming back for the kid. 

And then he’s gone.

[reallystellacadente]

I know I ranted endlessly before the election about the pointlessness of voting third party as some form of protest or punishment for Harris/Walz for not being what your ideal candidate was. I still disagree with your choice vehemently, but know this:

I DON'T BLAME YOU AT ALL FOR THE RESULTS.

That's because I blame the 13 FUCKING MILLION PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T VOTE BLUE WHO DID IN 2024. And of course for the ignorant/racist/sexist/*phobic/ weakass fools who voted for the least qualified, most authoritarian hunk of cowshit the GOP either follow like sheet or can't scrape from their shoes because even without him, their agenda sucks.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! First of all I absolutely love everything you all do for the fandom, so thank you! Secondly, I was wondering if you possibly had any fics that are cowboy-centric/set in the Wild West? Preferably not E rated, though anything is fine really. Again thanks so much!

Hi! Here are some wild west cowboy fics for you...

White Wings by HipHopAnonymous (T)

Years after their disagreement over procuring holy water, Aziraphale and Crowley cross paths in the American Wild West. Aziraphale is still prickly, but willing to lend Crowley a hand with a temptation. Unfortunately, things go south quickly, and they find themselves in over their heads.

Two Horses Passing in the Night by D20Owlbear (G)

Crowley is a bronc rider. Aziraphale is a skilled calf-roping, southern dandy. This is how they meet.

Secrets Over Saloons And Saddles by bread_isyummy (NR)

It’s 1892, Aziraphale has traveled to the west, the promise of new books pushing his curiosity. By extraordinary chance he is reunited with his hereditary enemy. They share a few drinks and a moment they both swore to never speak of.

run across the river (just to hold you tonight) by hope_in_the_dark (T)

In which their first kiss happens differently (and they have five percent better communication.) Based on that one ask where Neil said he meant to give us a Wild West flashback but couldn’t because of budget reasons.

Gods Gonna Cut You Down by Wanderingsilvan (T)

Trouble is stirring in the Wild West which unfortunately catches both Heaven and Hell's interest. To respectively remedy and worsen the situation they both call upon their agents on Earth, neither of who have any interest in going to the Americas and traveling through the dirt, dust, and cowshit. Unluckily for them neither of their head offices particularly cares about what they do or don't want to do.

West of Paradise by castielrisingabove (T)

After a life as one of the most feared outlaws in the wild west, Crowley is met with one of his greatest challenges yet: asking his dearest friend, Zira Fell, to run away with him. That's already a tall order, but Crowley's about to find something else on his plate: the afternoon keeps repeating. Can Crowley find the right way to make his dream come true, or is he doomed to ask this impossible question forever?

- Mod D

[cowmudlover]

6 months in the making - part 2

I laid on the bed for about another 30 minutes stuffing Rambone and Mr Ed up my arse. I alternated with those big boys and my slightly smaller Irish cob didlo which was supplemented with a smaller throat fucking dildo. Both went in eventually, but it was still not hitting the mark for being a dirty pig.

I got out of bed, moved some of the toys back into the shower cubicle, had the lube on the shower shelf and started to get set up again.

A this point I remembered that I had a used condom in the bathroom bin, so hooked that out and added fresh cow shit to the cum still sat in the tip. Tied that off and put it to one side for further play back in bed later.

The bucket was still slightly warm, but I added a bit more hot water to loosen it up a bit and got myself in position for a full head dip.

Sown I went right up to my shoulders after making sure I had breathed out first. I sat there hunched over with my head fully submerged for a few seconds until I started hearing my heart pounding in my chest and took a breath.

My mouth filled half way and then I let it out again.

Up from the bucket and then straight back in mouth wide open.

I kept doing this until my mouth was full and then used the throat fucking dildo and shoved it as far as possible into my mouth. No gag - throat training was paying off - and I felt the first chunks hit the back of my throat.

I swallowed eagerly and repeated this action about 6 more times.

It was at this point that I thought “I ain't getting enough inside me in one go” - so mouth open again, breathed out and plunged head first back into the filth!

I gulped and swallowed a good three-quarters of a litre, maybe more, before coming back up for some much needed air.

I was rubbing my swollen cock and tied off balls with my shitty hands but made sure not to do it too much, I didn’t want to come yet!

By now my body as well as my head were pretty plastered in shit, and felt it was time to get out of the mess, clean up and get to bed.

But first, one more open mouthed plunge, swallowed two more full mouthfuls and pulled my heading from the suction of the bucket.

I moved the bucket to the outside of the shower and turned on the hot water. I had already removed the shower trap as I knew it would get blocked if I didn’t, so let the hot water start to clean me.

I was not able to see much as my eyes were so full of shit, and hearing was very muffled, but it felt good to feel the lumps of shit fall off of my body. I was exhausted but elated at the same time.

After ten minutes the water was running clear and I was able to dry off. Rambone, Mr Ed, the Irish Cob and other toys were now clean too, so I tossed them onto my bed.

Quick tidy up in the bathroom and back to bed.

Now the cowshit and cum filled condom came into play.

My balls and cock were still tied off and were aching for release, but first I squirted some lube into my mouth, laid on my back, got my throat fucking dildo in one hand and the condom in the other and started to relax.

I placed the tip of the condom into my mouth and let it slide down into my willing throat.

Releasing the tied up balls and my cock, lube squirted onto the head, I started to massage my aching head.

I knew it would not take long as I had waited six months for this session, so I started sucking the condom in and out, then forced it into the back of my throat with the dildo.

I did not last long at this point and shot load after load across my chest, splashing cum on the condom hanging out of my mouth.

I laid there for about 10 minutes, condom hanging out of my mouth and felt completely drained.

Shall I take another shower - nah I thought, lay here with cum drying on you, shit still in your mouth from the ruptured condom and enjoy the moment!

Maybe same thing again in a weeks time if I am lucky, maybe some pictures this time if I can get it set up properly!!

Until then, I have the memory!!!!!

[mluxbauer]

[eldritcmor]

More incorrect quotes

Gaz: *over coms* Cornfield cornfield cornfield. Storm getting yeeted into the sky. Cornfield cornfield. Hey look! More cornfield!

--

Price: Has anyone seen Storm, recently?

Soap: has anyone seen the microwave recently?

*Distant explosion*

Ghost: Found them.

--

*Storm dancing around the kitchen in a shark onesie with death metal blaring from their phone*

Gaz: *filming around the corner* and here we see Dad's I mean Price's favorite child

--

*Storm and Soap are sparring*

Storm: oh come on, my father could at least throw a punch when he hit me. What the fuck is this shit?

Soap: *stopping immediately* your father what?!

--

Storm: *petting the moss between an eldritch forest gods antlers* it's so soooft.

The god: *rumbling in contentment*

Ghost: how in the fuck?

--

Storm: *pointing at soap* daddy issues make you a people pleaser. *Then to ghost* mommy issues make you well a sociopath or a psychopath. Take your pick buddy.

Ghost: thanks.

Gaz: wait what does that make you?

Storm: *proudly* absolutely fucked up

--

Storm: shit fucking ass crackers!

Gaz: what did you lose?

Storm: my will to live. Also have you seen my pen?

Gaz: The one that lights up?

Storm: yup.

--

*Ghost carrying Storm over his shoulder, wrapped in a blanket like a very disgruntled sack of potatoes*

Angel (thank you @kawasama): why?

Ghost: cause otherwise we would have had to use sedatives.

Storm: *angry hissing*

--

Storm: *sniping to the beat of Yung gravy's oops* my ex be on some hoe shit~

Gaz: *in concern* you good?

Storm: *grinning as the target's head pops* just peachy baby.

--

Storm: *dangling upside down from the claws of a 20ft tall creature made of teeth and shadows* No! Bad night god! Put me down!

The rest of TF-141: *getting ready to piss off a eldritch creature with bullets*

Night god: *pouting as it sets Storm down*

Storm: good job! *Praising and cooing to said creature* now go find the pretty bastard. *Holds up a picture of Graves*

Night god: *sniffs and takes off*

TF-141: *concerned and scared* what did you do?

Storm: solved a problem.

--

Storm: *being hugged by soap*

Soap: aw, who's getting used to human contact.

Storm: *angry hissing noises as they try to escape*

--

Storm: *being carried over Ghost's shoulder.*

Soap: *being dragged by storm by his tactical vest*

Gaz: *being dragged by soap also by his tactical vest*

Price: oh great, it's the will fuck shit up train. In level order no less.

--

Storm: *fresh out of a cold shower with a large sunburn on their back*

Soap: *Slaps the sunburn as a greeting* Ay storm!

Storm: Shit ass you sheep fucking pile of discarded cowshit.

Soap: well no need to be rude.

--

Storm: *riding on König's shoulders*

Price: hey, kid. Whatcha got there?

Storm: A sad friend, can we keep him?

--

Storm: *in a massive cuddle pile of their siblings(not by blood. found family), dozing happily while on leave*

Front door: *Creaks open*

Storm: *Sitting bolt right up, letting out the most heinous death rattle in warning*

TF-141: *was invited here, as they are in the states and didn't wanna be base bound* •-•

Storm: *waking up* shit!

--

Price: *leading a mission brief on next target*

Laswell: *walking in, carrying storm at arms length* I think this one is yours, price.

--

Storm: *chilling on the couch, jamming to music*

Ghost: *wandering by and just scoops them up like a sack of potatoes*

Storm: ope, I've been scooped. Hi ghost!

[olderthannetfic]

About people normally not catching drama from book publishing: about 4 years ago in my state (not US) there was this drama between two published authors. It was dumb as cowshit, as entertaining burning car, and as explosive as a fucked duck.

They got signed by the same publisher, and for some reason they decided they hate each other. They didn't even write the same shit, unless you consider cishet romance to be special, but the publisher also mainly publishes cishet romance, so you decide.

Apparently they started a hate campaign against each other using their fans. It went as far as fans attacking each other, review-bombs, sending dangerous things in the mail, it ended with doxxing, bomb/murder threats and small business bookstores cancelling order for these authors because the fans would steal the books, or ruin them in store. What I remember from the two authors is that they pretended not to know, but obviously would vague post encouraging and praising the fans for it.

No idea how it ended, but I haven't seen anything since 2020. I guess covid would have shut down a lot of that shit.

Anyway, literally no one fucking remembers, and I found out that unless you were part of those two fan groups, or are a nosy cat like me, it really wasn't something anyone heard about.

--

Amaaaaazing!

IDK what it is, but cishet romance circles do seem to produce a lot of "rivals" for no reason.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: other writers are not your rivals. Not in publishing, not in indie selfpub, not in fic. Your competition is Netflix or a nap.

Also, dumplings...

I need lunch...