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Background: Several of my series take place in the same "Piggysleaze Universe." The Scat Frat and A Week in Grassmore are more-or-less present day; The Hall of Pigs is set in the future. This new series looks at the past, and tells the origin story of a cabal of pig families that work to turn the world of men into rutting, perverted raunch pigs. It contains lots of raunch between males of many ages, so don't read if you don't like piss, scat, fisting, and other degenerate themes. Also do not read if 18 or younger. Email is always welcome: piggysleaze@mail.com
1871
Jacob walked down Fifth Ave in his smartly tailored Savile Row suit. His muscular frame and handsome face turned the heads of both men and women as he strolled past. His tailor had ensured that his meaty ass and massive cock were especially well-framed by the snug trousers, and he purposefully eschewed a jacket in favor of a waistcoat so that both cock and ass were on prominent display. After all, you never knew who might show up at The Bear, Bull, and Boar House tomorrow seeking their unique services.
The erstwhile farmboy still marveled at how far he and Zeke had come in the span of just over a decade. His ivory dildo and fisting collection had yielded a king's ransom, which Zeke had then carefully shepherded through a series of risky and ultimately bountiful investments. His lover and adopted brother was a natural-born genius for spotting opportunity. Five years ago they had purchased their four-story brownstone on Fifth Avenue, the most glamorous and most prestigious street in all of New York. There was little from the sidewalk to indicate what went on inside, and clients entered and exited discretely through another building around the corner, connected by tunnel. But today, Jacob took out his phallus-shaped key and entered through the front door, unlocking the raunchy paradise and home he and Zeke had built.
Like the outside, little on the first floor suggested anything about went on each night on the floors above. Here in the entryway, the marbled floor gleamed, the crystal chandelier glistened, and the walnut staircase upwards glowed with countless hours of polish. To his left he could hear the sounds of the nightly buffet spread being prepared in the kitchen, as well as the clatter of champagne and whiskey bottles being brought up from the wine cellar. To his right, the "clean" rooms were undergoing their fresh change of linens, towels, and warm tubs of bathwater so that guests could return home at the end of their depraved evening without reeking of shit, piss, and more.
Nodding with satisfaction that all was well in hand, he headed up to the parlor floor. This is where guests of The Bull, Bear, and Boar could mingle with his staff, selecting one, two, or more for their evening's entertainment. Food and drink was endless; opium and a new drug called cocaine was readily available. A handful found there satisfaction here, but most were eager to indulge in the decadence of the third floor.
Continuing up the staircase, Jacob surveyed the cavernous and notorious third floor, which hosted orgies of raw pig sex whenever The Bull, Bear, and Boar was open. It was a far cry from the cramped and creaking rooms above the tavern that had once carried the establishment's name. Now the parlor house (the latest euphemism for a whorehouse) was as posh and exotic as anything in the city, or any city for that matter. Given the very nature of what went on here, it was constantly being refurbished with different themes as the old eventually succumbed to the wear of constant filth and use. Jacob had set up tonight's room as an Arabian Nights theme, with the entire space strewn with carpets, pillows, and water pipes packed with exotic hashish. Open Bedouin-style tents were dotted throughout, further enhancing the fantastical scene. The two fireplaces on each end were already preparing the space to be as hot as a desert oasis.
Content that all was in good stead here too, he headed to the fourth floor in search of his lover, brother, and partner. Walking quietly to avoid waking his employees on the left side of the house, he turned to the right and entered the suite he shared with Zeke. He found the magnificent black man behind his desk as always, surrounded by books, ledgers, and stacks of papers, all in perfect order and symmetry. He walked behind the desk and straddled the massive giant in his chair, greeting him with open mouth and slobbering drool. Zeke picked up a half-smoked cigar from his desk and inhaled deeply before exhaling down Jacob's eager throat. Jacob took the cigar and reciprocated, enjoying the lazy tendrils of smoke that passed back and forth between them. They enjoyed the ritual and fine smoke until it was burned down to a stub, at which point Jacob reluctantly relented his position in order to stand next to Zeke and survey the notes in front of him.
"Who is coming tonight," he asked, looking over the guest list that he knew Zeke already had memorized, prioritized, and delegated for immediate and long-term plans.
"The Aston twins again," Zeke said with an eye-roll. The pair of wastrels certainly helped pay the bills with their nightly fees and generous tipping, but Zeke had already determined they'd be destitute and on the street before the end of the year. No need to do much but ensure their good time until then. "Harold Woodcock is returning with his brother Edgar, who is visiting from San Francisco." Jacob nodded, glad to hear that. The Woodcocks, appropriately enough, had a massive timber fortune. Zeke had already convinced Harry to invest in their vision of expanding filth and raunch to all men, but Eddy would be an additional resource on the West Coast. They knew the two men, now in their 50s, had grown up sharing their love of shit. It should be a nice reunion.
"Truescat," Jacob said questioningly at the final entry on tonight's list. "Who's that?"
"That is tonight's golden opportunity," Zeke said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his cock in anticipation. "Every steak at Delmonicos and any other fancy restaurant and hotel ultimately originates with the Truescout family. They've cornered the market on bull cock." Jacob laughed, arching his eyebrows skeptically. Zeke plowed ahead: "The family had a reputation for breeding livestock equipped with the most enormous cocks, overflowing balls, and endless stamina for fucking. Every rancher from New York to Salt Lake City fights to pay top dollar for one of their breeding bulls. They're doing the same with horses. In Saratoga, the racetrack crowd can't throw money at them fast enough."
"And Truescout is a sneaky version of Truescat, meaning they are pigs like us," Jacob added, filling in the blanks as to why Zeke was so excited.
"Not just pigs, but pigs who understand genetics. They are in the breeding business, AND the business of cock and cum. If we can convince Harlin Truescat to join our cause, it would be a huge boon," Zeke had that gleam in his eye that he got whenever he talked about Darwin, genetics, and the natural instincts of the male species. He was a true revolutionary, and Jacob was his most loyal and dedicated follower. "And it gets even better. He is bring his ten-year-old son with him to initiate him in the ways of raunchsex." Jacob let out a low whistle and was rubbing his cock in anticipation too.
"Well, then let's make sure it is a night to remember," he said.
Several hours later the parlor was in full swing. A dozen men and boys were scattered among the richly upholstered couches and chairs in various states of undress. Zeke sat between the corpulent Woodcock brothers, each easily 300 pounds of rolling fat and loose muscle from their college wrestling days. Their hairy bellies and chests, a mix of brown and silver, pressed in on Zeke who luxuriated in the feel of hot, squishy flesh encasing him from each side. He rubbed his dark, sweaty hands all over the mountains of white skin as he switched back and forth between making out with the two bulls. His own massive cock was leaking like a fountain as huge bellies massaged it from each side.
Across the room the Aston twins -- Charlie and Chester -- were already fucking a pair of waifs with very shitty asses. New York's most notorious unmarried society bachelors fit their roles perfectly -- tall, square jawed, and broad shouldered, each the mirror image of the other and both looking as if they just stepped off the pitch of a Yale/Harvard football game. What society did not know what that they were degenerate pigs who couldn't get enough of The Bull, Bear, and Boar's selection of young, shit-loving boys. The younger the better, and the shittier the better. Based on the heavy pounding up against the wall that both moaning boys were receiving, the twins were very satisfied with tonight's selection.
Behind the mahogany bar, the ageless bartender Sully was naked save for a series of ball stretchers that brought his massive sac down to his knees. His legendary walrus mustache was busy scrubbing the ass of his teenage apprentice, who was kneeling on the bar with his dirty hole in the air. Sully slobbered into the filthy trench, rubbing his bristles back and forth through the warm muck that his ministrations were generating. His mustache gleamed in the gaslight with wet filth. Ever the professional, he was simultaneously mixing the house's signature cocktail of piss and champagne as he ate ass, squirting generous amounts of rank daddy piss into the crystal flutes.
That left Jacob and the father-son guests of honor, the Truescats. Harlin Truescat looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of the latest cowboy dime novel. Naked save a Stetson hat and a pair of boots, his ruddy, tanned body and wind-weathered face were handsome and dripping with frontier masculinity. He and Jacob sat sprawled on a sofa, legs draped and asses pressed together. Harlin had brought thick-rolled cigarillos, packed with marihuano from Texas. The pungent smoke had Jacob feeling horny and crackling with sexual energy, as the two men leisurely allowed their hands to explore the other's puffy nipples and sagging balls.
Between them, on the floor, was the most angelic boy Jacob had ever seen. He literally looked like a cherub -- pure white skin, flaxen gold hair, massive blue eyes, and puffy, pink cheeks. Naked on his hands and knees, the pert milky globes of his tender ass glowed in the light. The little, earthly angel was expertly sucking on Jacob's massive cock. His father cooed in between long draws of his weedy smoke, "That's right Andy. Show Jacob what a good little cocksucker you are. Make Daddy proud." Jacob tossed his head back in the pure pleasure of feeling his cock disappear down the tiny gullet, his girth hugging the child's tender throat. "We started him cocksucking last year," Harlin drawled in his sexy Texas accent. "Had the ranch hands line up to train his throat. Took to it like a duck to water. Same way with his ass. Was ready to take his first horse cock by the time we left for Galveston to catch the steamer here. Something to look forward to when we get back, I `spose."
"He eaten shit yet?" Jacob asked, his head buzzing from the grass, which didn't stop him from taking another massive hit.
"He loves drinking Daddy's piss," Harlin answered, giving his stiff cock a tug. It wasn't long but it was thick as a closed fist and throbbing with a spiderweb of angry veins. "But I wanted his first shiteating to be special. That's `round the time I heard rumors of this place. Had business in New York, so thought we'd pay a visit, maybe give him that all-important first taste."
"Let's head upstairs," Jacob offered, sad to disengage with the lad's talented throat for even a bit. Harlin nodded, scooping the tiny Andy in his arms as he rose. Father and son kissed passionately as they walked to the staircase, Andy bopping along in his dad's muscular embrace. The rest of the room followed, eager to join the others, leaving just Sully and his young assistant to continue their rutting on the bartop counter.
Little Andy's eyes opened wide when they arrived at the staircase landing. He was amazed to see a scene straight from one of his favorite tales. Lanterns illuminated the recreated oasis of tents, rugs, cushions and bejeweled pillows. The air was filled with the smell of hot musk and exotic spice. Treasure chests straight from Ali Baba's cave overflowed with sparkling paste glass gems and carved phallus dildos of every size, while ceramic jars and bowls glistened with lubricants and oils of every viscosity and description. Andy looked at his father in wide-eyed wonder and begged to set down, whereupon he immediately began running from tent to tent and cushioned pile to cushioned pile, exploring every inch of the wonderland. His hard little cocklet bobbed ahead of him as he explored.
The massive mounds of flesh that were the Woodcock brothers settled atop a pile of rugs, their paunches rolling down over their quivering cocks and heavy balls. Zeke dipped his arms into one of the jars, and begin probing their open cunts with his thick fingers and dripping fist. He worked charioteer style, punching his way into one brother then the other, then both simultaneously. "Ah, fuck me with your whole arm," Harry moaned, his brother Eddy lying beside him begging for the same. The two hocked and spat into each other's faces as Zeke worked, smearing snot and slime over their faces.
Zeke, never one to miss an opportunity, worked his whole arm into Harry's cunt, leaving poor Eddy whimpering and empty. The distinguished older gentlemen fisted himself to fill his hole, but seeing his brother impaled on Zeke's meaty forearm and bicep, he knew it wasn't enough. Zeke looked into the begging Eddy's eyes as he worked his brother's sloppy hole. "Are you going to join your brother in our work? Match every dollar he provides with two of your own?"
Eddy just moaned, gibbering and drooling, but finally managed, "Yes. Anything. Everything. It's yours." With that, Zeke yanked out his arm, now coated with one brother's slime and shit, and plunged up to his shoulder in the other. The two screamed in ecstasy and agony, one full; one empty, only for Zeke to repeat the process in reverse. His arm was a blur, punching back and forth down to his now shit-encrusted armpit in each timber baron's ruin's cunt.
Meanwhile the Aston twins were plying their young, shitty companions with deep draws of hashish from the water pipes. The fragrant smoked wafted through the rest of the "Bedouin camp," that echoed with the sounds of squishing guts and moaning men. Charlie grabbed an urn brimming with olive oil and dumped it over them all. The quartet ground and writhed in a mass of slippery limbs as they smoked more hashish, the little boys' shit smearing across any surface of flesh they encountered. The Ivy League jocks and the tiny street urchins slid and glided in endless combinations as they part wrestled, part fucked, cocks easily sliding into any oil-slick hole it encountered. Piss flowed freely in the moaning, increasingly filthy mass, followed by both men and boys emptying their bowels into the churning viper pit of flesh and sewage. The rest of the room groaned appreciatively as the stench filled the space, riding on the scorching air being pumped out of the roaring fireplaces, soaking them all in stink-wet sweat. Every inch of the foursome was now coated in a slick slime of oil and shit, humping and fucking into every available hole between them.
Throughout it all Jacob and Harlin divided their attention between all the wonderful sights, sounds, and smells between them. Harlin had grabbed a whiskey bottle on the way up the stairs. As the two men reclined in a sea of silk cushions, ornate rugs, and plump pillows, they drank, and kissed, and took leisurely sucks on each other's cocks. It was a languid, unhurried affair, as they rubbed their hands over each other watching the writhing pile propelled by the Aston twins, and the ferocious fisting session engineered by Zeke on the two huge bull daddies.
But mostly they watched little Andy playing amid the tents and other props of their Arabian Nights. His childlike enthusiasm and carnal nature were a sight to behold -- one minute playing with a painted wooden scimitar as if he were fighting a dragon; the next sliding a wooden plug deep into his puckered pink hole. His boyish giggles mixed with guttural moans and a sailor's vocabulary. His smooth, hairless body glistened with sweat and dripped off his walnut-sized balls and quivering cocklet.
"You must be proud," Jacob ventured, noting the adoring look on Harlin's face as they watched the angelic ten-year-old. He leaned over and sucked the cowboy's balls deep into his warm mouth, suckling and nursing them as Harlin considered his answer.
"He's perfect," the cattleman finally said with a contented sigh. "I wish there were more like him." Jacob started to pull off to answer, but Harlin pushed him back down to continue his expert service. "No, I know already...the ideas you and Zeke have. I think you are on to something. I think you are right. You don't have to sell me on the plan. I'm in. `Was even before we got here, but especially now. Every father should enjoy nights like this with their sons." Jacob moaned happily around the slobber-drenched balls in his mouth, giving them a hard pull with his teeth in appreciation for the good news. Harlin moaned in pleasure. Jacob used his mouth to yank the hot globes further and further from the proud father's body, with Harlin encouraging more and harder. They were a beautiful scene, the weathered and handsome man leaning back while Jacob pulled like a dog with a bone on his massive balls. Eventually Harlin tapped Jacob to come up for air, panting with lust as he growled, "Let's feed my boy."
He called Andy over and situated him between the two men. They ran their big hands over his tiny body, probing every inch of his smooth skin. Without prompting, the boy started pissing so that the pervy massage he was receiving was warm and wet with kiddie pee. His cherubic mouth spouted filthy moans of "yeah, rub me down in piss," and "I'm a fucking piss pig little boy daddy, just like you want." Harlin just nodded in open mouthed passion, drool leaking out over his face and chin. Again without prompted, the ten-year-old grabbed the whiskey bottle and drank heavily, happily getting fucked up between the two grown men molesting him.
Harlin let out a loud, ripping fart that filled the air. "You smell my stink, boy?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.
"Smells good, daddy. Smells like a nasty, filthy man, just like we all should be." Here he added his own little boy farts, an obscene echo of his father's. Jacob joined in until they were immersed in an almost-visible cloud of stink and putrid ass funk. "Ahhh, fuck daddy, it smells so good," Andy moaned. "I fucking love the stink that comes out of men's fuckin' dirty holes. I want every hand back on the ranch to coat me in clouds of shitcunt stink like this." Jacob marveled at the boy's inherent nastiness. It was just like Zeke had been saying for years -- THIS was a man's true nature. Harlin has brought it out in his son before it could be squashed and suppressed. It was a beautiful thing to see.
The cowboy father beamed at his pig son. "Yeah, little boy. Tonight you're gonna get a lot more than clouds of stink. Tonight you're gonna be a real pig and learn what real men do with hot, fresh shit." Andy just trembled with lust and excitement. He'd been wanting this since he was able to walk and talk. At last his father deemed him ready. Harlin hoisted his legs up in the air, even as his still-farting hole was blossoming out. A thick, hard, solid snake of Texan turd flowed out, plopping into his hand with a loud squish. It was a beautiful, glistening log, at least ten inches long. Harlin hauled it up and held it in front of Andy's panting face, "Suck on this fuckin piece of prime man shit, boy. Suck it down like all the cocks you suck on the ranch. Daddy's pig shit is going down your throat, just like you've been begging to have for months."
Andy just nodded eagerly, opening his little mouth as wide as it could go as his father inserted his loaf of man sludge into it. Harlin held one end, while Andy made love to the turd with his mouth, sucking and slobbering over it like a cock. The little boy deep throated several inches, moaning and groaning around the shit phallus, before pulling to the end and sucking hard around the edges. He ran his pink, little tongue over it, and ran it along his soft cheeks, leaving smears of brown on each side of his angelic face. His lips were dripping in liquid filth as his work softened the outside of the pile.
Jacob watched the entire scene with ever-growing, unbridled lust. He crawled over to Harlin, looking longingly up into the cowboy father's eyes. The Texas just nodded and released his grip on his end of the turd so that it was lewdly and entirely hanging out of little Andy's stretched boy mouth. Jacob admired the moment, and then dove down on the exposed end, matching the child's deepthroat technique until the log disappeared entirely between them. Together they bobbed back and forth, taking turns for who had the majority of the massive dump down their gullets. As it got slicker and sloppier under their constant sucking and slobber, brown drool ran down their chins and over their bodies in an ever-expanding river. Finally, the moment came when it broke off in the middle, and each pig -- boy and man -- was left with a mouthful of sludgy sewage. Together they chewed and kissed and spat, passing the mixture back and forth until it was nothing but a slurry of shit, at which point they swallowed the delicious meal like the feast it was.
Andy sat smiling, his teeth and lips brown and coated. "Fuck, daddy, I want to eat your shit every fuckin day. I want my belly full of hot, stinking man shit from your nasty, raunchy pig cunt. Can I daddy? Can I eat your shit every day from now on?" As an answer, Harlin simply pounced at his boy's shit-coated mouth and began to devour it in drooling, open mouth kisses and jousting tongues. The force of his father's lunge sent Andy sprawling back, his legs flying into the air. Without a second's hesitation, his father found his son's exposed hole and plunged his thick cock into it, his hips flying like a locomotive in and out of his son's tiny cunt. Jacob spit into his hand a brown sludge and began jacking his cock, watching the lust-overcome father pounding away at his boy as the two made out.
"Fuck yeah, you little whore," Harlin growled when he wasn't swabbing Andy's mouth, "you're a real pig now, just like your old man. We're going live in filth boy. Eat shit all day. Drink piss. Puke it up and eat it all again. Living in stink on the ranch, Andy -- you and me and the hands. Wallow in our filth." He was pumping fast and faster, his own face now a shit- and slobber coated mess just like his little boy's. Jacob was standing now, jacking his cock over the rutting father-son pigs below him. Pounding harder and harder, Harlin bottomed out deep in his child's ravaged hole. "FUCCKKKK. Shooting my baby seed in my pig boy's cunt. FUCK YEAH. Stink hole full of cum. Take it Andy. Take daddy's pig cum." Judging from the shuttering spasms as he sank deep inside his boy's guts, it appeared that the Texan cattleman had just deposited a few thousand gallons of jizz in his son's stretched boipussy.
"FUCK," Jacob bellowed as he shot a volcano of creamy ropes over the pair, splattering them in a dozen volleys of boiling hot cum. Too young to have a real orgasm, Andy simply shook and spasmed in the throws of an ecstatic seizure, his little body heaving with a dry cum. The three collapsed into each other amid the sweat-soaked pillows and cushions. Around them the pig orgy continued, but they snuggled in quiet contentment, as if they really were under a canopy of desert stars in a distant Arabian oasis.
As they drifted off to sleep, Harlin murmured one final thought. "Jacob, you and Zeke will never want for anything to make your plan a reality. We're going to change the world..."