Eightball was not the first in the room to stir when morning came. Through the night, a great heap of tangled bodies slept away, lulled and comforted by the constant gurgling of their collective insides. It made a squishy lullaby amid the heavy breathing and wandering paws, feet, and noses through the long hours of the night. The stallion remembered putting his face down on the twin pillows of someone's rump to go to sleep on, and now the squeaking breezes of morning farts were waking him up as they squirt into his wide horsey nostrils. The ass was fur covered but it was too dark to tell who or what this person was. The problem with everyone sharing their excretions is that after a while you can't tell one species from another by scent alone. He happily tucked his nose into the furry crevice and snoozed. Before long he could feel something stirring between his legs, but it was not himself. The curious little movements continued for several long moments until he figured out what was going on. Seems he was not the only fur to go to sleep face-to-groin that night. Eightball could not help but smile, shifting ever so slightly to leg his orbs rest on the eyes of some dreaming fur, the little shifts caused by his REM state of sleep. What wonderful dreams to have, he mused, with your face up a horses butt and his nuts giving you goggles.

The early hours wore on, the sunlight outside the large tent making the inside nice and cozy. Scents of the leftover waste and ♥♥♥ mixed with the bracing pungent odor of unwashed bodies started to permeate heavily. Before long the lighter sleepers were up and while a few quietly slipped outside, others were already licking paws, groins, and pits, enjoying the appetizers made by the bodies of their fellow campers. Eightball woke up thirsty and cotton-mouthed, hazy memories of lasts nights game of "Enema Truth or Dare" and several bottles of booze swimming achingly up behind his eyes. He glanced about, seeing the empty and near empty bottles dumped across the room and the discarded personal douches that always reminded him of a miniature turkey baster. The game was simple enough, like regular Truth or Dare, only your Dare meant that you took a shot of booze up the tailpipe and then blasted it right into the mouth of the person taking the challenge.

Giving his pillow a few adoring licks in thanks for its services, Eightball started to untangle himself from the arms and legs of the sleepers in his pile. Most everyone was stirring now, and already the sounds of farts, licking, moaning, and swallowing were rousing even the deepest sleepers. The equines bladder filled him with that sense of urgency he found so arousing in the morning, and already his ♥♥♥♥ was sliding from its sheath. Nice and heady smelling with days and days worth of sweat and musk, for even at home he almost never washed his ♥♥♥♥. Yes indeed, that smell was his favorite cologne. Often he drove his truck with his fly open and the heat on, just to bask in it.

"Okay boys, who wants their morning juice?" he grinned, several sets of ears perking and tails waving at the prospect of starting off the day with the ever coveted richness of the 'first piss'.

"Oh me!"

"I want some!"

"Hehe, sure!"

Eightball looked at the volunteers and smiled broadly. All three of them messy from the previous days play. There was a blonde headed otter whose bright eyes were far too perky for this time of morning, a fox whose coat was usually firey orange but was now stained almost completely brown, and a skunk that looked as though his entire chest and tummy had buckets of sloppy mess poured on him.

"Ok then- all on your knees in a row." The horse grinned wickedly, and let out that tellale sigh that every man makes before letting his essence fly. The three furs scrambled hastily to get into place, noses up and mouths open looking like a clutch of baby birds waiting to be fed. Eightball flicked the little 'bean' of dried ♥♥♥ that sometimes plugs up a stallions urethra from the gel their body makes used for sealing up a mares sex after breeding. It bounced off the foxes nose, who tried to snap it out of the air but missed. Then the hot spray came, deep yellow and full of the unused nutrients, dead cells, and bodily toxins to make a cocktail of bitter-salty goodness. His piss carried an extra richness and sweet taste from all of last nights burbon as well. Holding his ♥♥♥♥ by the base, watching the eager faces as his stream waved back and forth across three mouths and covered their faces with urine. Their soaked furry faces dripped onto their bodies and the floor while the stud let them have it like a garden hose, the pattering sound of piss hitting fur and the rising watery pitch as it filled their mouths three times apiece. By now the fur whose rear he had been sleeping on, a small zebra, had gotten out his video camera and was recording the fun. Eightball took it from him and held it to his ♥♥♥♥ so the bottom of the image caught his flare and the hot gold stream feeding the three thirsty campers. After handing it back to the zebra, who began to eagerly film the trio as they fell about each other, licking faces, grinding paws into crotches, and getting ready for some prebreakfast fun he gave him an appraising look. The striped little hoss had a narrow chest, soft features and bright innocent eyes.

"Aren't you a little short for a camper?" but paused and winked at him, "Forget I asked, an come see me sometime tonight." Then the horse pulled on his dingy cutoff sweatpants and walked out into the light, blinking in the midmorning sun and looking about the camp.

Most campers he saw were shuffling along towards the lodge, some of them with a little bit of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ hobble to their step. Others took long steps with a brisk, relaxed stride, glowing from the days early sexual conquests. Eightball surveyed the hungry furs and marked most of them as veterans like himself, about half of them had showered themselves off so to start all over again decorating themselves with messy fun. The others, like him, went 'as is' and were all more or less the same colors of sludgy browns and yellows. Hoofing it towards the lodge, he fell in step with the other vets and newcomers alike, many of them knowing that the more and more often you ate, and ate right, the more mess your body would be able to produce. As they filed in to the aptly named MESS HALL, they found many campers already eating (and sometimes playing with) their food. MESS food was fairly unique in this dining hall, Eightball glanced at the menus on the wall, categorized by the kinds of dumps you were likely to have from the result of eating them. There were recipes that would make you backed up and give you huge compacted ♥♥♥♥♥, dining tips for the loose wet messy movements, and a list of items that made you gassy enough to give you cramps before blowing your buddies nose off with a scent foul enough to blister paint and wet enough make you check your shorts afterwards. The horse did not know what time it was, and frankly didn't much care. While he was here, nothing else mattered but having a good time and the outside world simply ceased to be. Breakfast type food was still being served but it looked as though the staff was getting ready to break the bar down so they could start setting up for lunch.

"Load me up." Was all he said when it came his turn, and the staff gladly scooped up the eggs, meats, hash potatoes, and French toast sticks onto his plate. Satisfied that the quantity and weight of the plate would keep his body up to speed for his stay, Eightball then went and found a seat with his leonine partner.

"How's the food?"

"Tastes like ♥♥♥♥ of course!" the lion grinned, dipping a clawed finger in a nearby bowl of what looked and smelled to be like whipped feces mixed with butter that he spread onto his eggs and licked the finger clean.

"Get any trick sausages?" the horse asked, know