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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
1960
Duro Marron sat behind his desk, a cut glass tumbler of scotch beside him, and a lit cigarette in his hand. The sound of telephones and typewriters wafted in through the half-open door, competing with the faint drum of traffic that drifted from the street to the executive floor on the 20th level. The refrain of male voices saying "BBB International, how may I help you," was repeated every so often, as calls were answered and transferred around to the various divisions of the multi-national corporation.
Anyone casually walking past his light-colored office door would have likely seen what they expected -- an incredibly handsome 44-year-old man in an impeccable suit. Duro's clean-shaven face extenuated his square jaw, slightly-dimpled chin, and Latino honey-brown skin. His dark hair was smartly parted on the side, and even from behind the desk, it was obvious the man still had the body of a linebacker, even in his 40s.
But look closer, and it was clear this not the typical New York executive. Both the crotch and ass of his gray suit were torn open, revealing -- should Duro stand up -- a beautiful fat cock and puffy mancunt of unwashed floppy meat. Under his jacket and on either side of his skinny black tie, two holes were cut into his starched white shirt, revealing nipples at least two and a half inches long -- the result of a lifetime of pumping and suction. Those lucky enough to suck on his lewd udders discovered they secreted delicious precum-like milk.
Duro glanced at his Rolex watch to confirm he still had a bit of time before the partner's meeting. He walked over to the stainless steel drink cart and poured himself another scotch, his dwindling cigarette hanging from his mouth as he blew jets of smoke from his nostrils. "Donovan, we're running low on ice," he called out to his assistant. Within a minute the naked twenty-something was pouring fresh ice into the bucket, his cock hard and dripping like it always was around Duro. "What would I do without you," the older man purred in his smoky, gravelly voice, grabbing a pair of ice cubes in his hand, which he then used to stroke his assistant's quivering cock. He knew from their countless hours of working together that Donovan was a quick cum, and sure enough, it only took a handful of sensuous turns up and down his ten inches of meat before the lad was spurting hot jizz all over Duro's pantleg. Donovan simply moaned at the release, too tongue-tied around his boss to attempt much else, before he returned to his desk to continue his typing duties.
Duro chuckled as he looked out the window, knowing how much of a crush Donovan had on him. Of course, Duro had fucked all of the assistants on the 20th floor at one time or another, but Donovan was such a sweet, doe-eyed young man. He made a mental note to give his assistant a raise and full access to his next monster dump of shit. He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out another from the pack in his shirt pocket, firing it up with his gold Zippo. Exhaling, he thought about how much things had advanced and changed.
Of course, Uncle Roy Truescat had been right all those years ago. Members of the Bull, Bear, and Boar club had shored up their finances and investments well before the October 1929 crash. During the ensuing Great Depression, various pig families throughout the country had snapped up everything from banks to farms to corporations for pennies on the dollar. Recognizing their growth and increased complexity, the club had built a 20-story art deco skyscraper over the old building, encasing it behind a gleaming steel structure in the streamlined moderne style that rivaled the Empire State Building and Chrysler Building.
The old Bull, Bear, and Boar clubhouse still served many of its old purposes, particularly the library and greenhouse; but the Great Hall was largely a ceremonial space these days. Instead, floor after floor rose above the old structure buzzing with the work of BBB International. Quietly and mysteriously one of the richest and most diverse companies in the world, the work of BBB International was the same as it always was -- spreading filth and raunch to every male on the planet. Duro Marron and his brother Pedro were co-chairs of the entire sprawling operation, with Duro taking the lead on the crown jewel in their master plan. According to the latest reports, the entire food industry would be consolidated into ten companies sometime in the 2000s. By then their additives would be ready, and the testing could begin. It was still decades away, but completely within reach.
Duro took a final swig of his scotch and headed down the long hall to his brother's office. All around him, men in various states of dress and nudity typed, filed, and clustered around reports and documents; while others fucked, fisted, shit, and pissed. It was a the natural way at BBB, where raunchy man-sex mixed freely and seamlessly with the important office work at hand. He paused a couple times along the way to snog with one employee or another, who groped his generous cock and heavy balls as he went.
He walked into Pedro's office to find his younger brother bent over a table being fucked. The room reeked of unwashed flesh and piss, and he recognized the man plowing his brother as the drunk bum who lived in the alley behind the BBB building. He resisted rolling his eyes, knowing his own weakness for filthy cock, and instead simply cleared his throat and announced, "The partners' meeting is in ten minutes."
Pedro looked up at him, glassy-eyed and drooling as the hung homeless guy pounded him in front of his favorite Rothko painting. He focused long enough to retort, "Well, you better help him along then," before lolling his head back and groaning appreciatively. Duro walked around to the pair and dropped to the floor, scooting underneath the action, his legs sprawled out beneath the standing fuckers. The bum's filthy, unwashed balls were low-hanging and hairy, swinging back and forth as he fucked. Duro opened his mouth and drew them in, his nose pressing into a trench of shitty taint. The stench of the guy was overpowering, and as Duro ran his hands up and down his filthy thighs, he could feel the man's sores and grime. Like his brother, he was getting off on the filth and depravity of the unwashed stink. Running his hand through Donovan's cum still on his pantleg, he lubed up his hard cock and started stroking as he sucked hard on the massive balls in his mouth.
The drunk moaned and picked up his pace, slamming into Pedro's cunt hard enough that bits of shit were flying out and onto Duro's white shirt. "Fuck my shitty ass you stinking pig," Pedro groaned, "Fill my cunt with your dirty, rancid cum. Pump it in me while my brother sucks your nasty, vermin-ridden balls." The guy slammed into Pedro one final time as he unloaded into the moaning executive. Duro could feel the balls in his mouth churning out what must have been a river of cum, filling his little brother's hungry cunt. Without a word, the bum pulled up his piss-reeking pants and walked out, leaving the two Marron men stroking their cocks in Pedro's massive office. Duro shoved his face into his brother's freshly-fucked trench, his tongued digging for the homeless pig's huge load to drain into his mouth. "Yeah, big brother, chew on my shitty ass! Drink all that cum out of my fuckin' nasty pig cunt. Fuck, he smelled so fucking good. Still feel his homeless stink all over my backside. That's it brother. FUCKIN EAT HIS LOAD FROM MY CUNT. FUCKKK...." Pedro shot his load all over the table, coating it in creamy streams of white.
"FUCCCKKKK," Duro moaned into the caverns of Pedro's floppy cunt as he jizzed all over his shirt, volleys of cum mixing with flecks of brown that had splattered from his brother's ass minutes earlier. As he pulled his face out of his brother's trench, he tasted and smelled the cum and ass slime that coated his lips, nose, and chin. "Time to go," he announced, hauling himself up and already heading for the door, not bothering to clean his face or shirt. Pedro pulled up his navy blue pants, letting his still-dripping cock hang out as he followed behind.
The pair entered the conference room, with Duro taking a mental tally of the attendees. With the two of them, the room now held six men -- the partners who oversaw all of BBB International's work. "Sorry we are late, gentleman," Duro said smoothly as slid into the chair at the end of the table while striking up a fresh cigarette from his pack. "We had to wrap up a quick threeway with a homeless bum first." No one around the table seemed surprised at the admission, and a few adjusted their cocks at the sight of their leaders fresh off such a nasty fuck. Like the Marron brothers, the four other men tended to wear suits to the office, although it was not required. They simply liked the look and feel of silk, wool, and cotton mixed with shit, piss, puke, and cum. "I think we can make this quick. Let's go around the room and give our updates. Hank, why don't you go first."
Hank Armstrong oversaw the pornography division. His legs were sprawled up on the table, his shiny black leather shoes resting on the polished beechwood surface. He was slowly and casually fucking himself with a 16-inch fleshy dildo through a wide slit in his silk pants. While working the massive rubber cock in and out of his hole with his left hand, he calmly ran his finger down the papers in front of him. "Obviously, our goal remains to get as much porn into the hands of boys and men as possible. We've made excellent progress here with Times Square, filling it with bookstores and theaters where men can get off. Porno theaters are also spreading to other cities. We are also targeting major trucking routes for bookstores, so that men can hook up with hot, nasty truckers. Unfortunately, it is still difficult to get kids into these places." This elicited a round of commiserate moans at the injustice of not allowing little boys in porno bookstores and theaters. What a fucking shame. "So we have to have fathers buy as many books and magazines as possible to take home."
Here, he paused his report while he more aggressively fucked his ass with the massive dildo. "Yeah," he moaned, "nothin' better than a boy finding his dad's porn stash, jacking off to the hot guys on the pages, and then having his father walk in and join him." The men around the table nodded appreciatively, imagining such encounters taking place across America.
"Fuckin' beautiful," Pedro concurred, "fathers and sons jacking their cocks together while they flip through pages of porn." Even though he had cum minutes before, his dick was already stiffening up through the hole in his pants, as were cocks all around the table.
Hank continued, "Of course, what we want is for more and more porn to be viewable in the home as well as in sleazy bookstores, arcades, and theaters, although we all love those too. So we're bankrolling the development of something called a video cassette. Essentially, porno movies can be recorded and played back on a cartridge that can fit in your hand, and also played off a machine connected to any tv in any living room. Imagine it, gentlemen, porn playing non-stop right there in the house, sons sprawled out on the floor naked, seeing men fuck and suck on their father's massive tv whenever they want."
"Fathers showing them nastier and nastier movies," offered Doug, head of advertising, as he stroked his big black cock. "Start out with fucking and sucking, but then get into pissing and shitting. Canine and horse fucking. And lots of kiddie porn. All playing right there in house. Hank, that's fucking amazing, man."
"Agree," said Duro, "Hank, that is a brilliant plan. Take whatever funds you need. Excellent work. Doug, Hank here deserves some reward for this. Why don't you slide your beautiful cock in along side that big dildo of his while you give your report." Doug Highball pulled off his pants before grabbing his papers standing up in order to walk behind Hank. The former NBA basketball player's hard cock stuck out a foot and more ahead of him, oozing precum, already slicking it up as he stroked and walked. At 6'10 he towered over Hank, who had also stood up and was bent over the table, never once letting up on plowing the dildo in and out of his cunt. He only paused long enough to give Doug a chance to line up his anaconda with his gaping hole, letting out a long moan as he adjusted to being double dicked by two massive cocks -- one flesh, the other rubber.
Once Doug settled into his fucking rhythm in and out of his fellow partner's stuffed cunt, he began his report. "So, we all know there is nothing sexier than a little boy smoking. I love coming home and seeing my son stroking his cock and blowing jets out of his nose, with a red hanging out of his little mouth." The men nodded and stroked their cocks in agreement. "That's why we are going start marketing cigarettes to kids." The statement got more than a few utterances of surprise, but Doug continued, "Of course, it won't be as obvious as all that, but we're developing a cartoon character to take over a brand, ensuring that little boys light up. As soon as they start feeling that sexy rush of smoking, they'll begin experimenting with other boys, and we build from there." He paused his report, but not his assault on Hank, who was sprawled on the table moaning in pleasure as his cunt was stretched and pounded. The other partners watched in appreciation, thinking of younger and younger boys smoking and playing with their little cocklets.
"We've also been running experiments in subliminal advertising. Right now about half of all beer ads running during football games have subliminal messages, unknown to everyone but us, of course. They are messages like suck your buddy's cock' or jack off together" or `fuck him up the ass.' As men gather to watch football together, they are getting increasingly horny and turned on by the idea of man-on-man sex with their best friend, co-workers, golf buddies, and so on." As Doug talked they could all imagine the scenarios: It's hot in here, right? Men stripping off shirts down to their wifebeaters. Then pants...hey it's just us guys, you know. More beer, more football, more ads. Buddy, are you strokin' your cock? Yeah, me too. Wow, nice meat. You want another beer? Fuck yeah. Fuck that looks good. Can I touch it? Can I suck it? Fuck, this is hot. Man, will you fuck me? I really need it. Just do it. Our secret. Ohhh fuck if feels good. Fuck me. FUCK ME. YEAHHHH.
"Excellent," Duro exclaimed, lighting another cigarette, as did several other men, as Doug finished up his presentation. Their cocks were hard and leaking, with many of the partners now sitting with open shirts and bare-assed in their chairs, stroking away. "Thank you, Doug. And it looks like you've got some staying power, so you just keep fucking Hank, and we'll move on to Allen." Doug did exactly as instructed, pistoning in and out of Hank's ass, feeling his slick black cock glide up against the slippery rubber of Hank's enormous sex toy. Now that his presentation was over, he allowed himself to moan softly, the sound of slapping bodies filling the conference room.
Allen Huimann, who headed up gyms and fitness, looked the part. His massive bodybuilder frame barely fit in the chair, and his enormous, veiny pecs were on fully display, already oiled and glistening. Pedro to his right had reached over and was rubbing them, massaging the slick sheen into his flesh, and tweaking his big nipples. The bald-headed, fifty-year-old daddy hulk began: "Our networks in Germany and Russia continue to perfect steroids and enhanced testosterone," he began before his report was interrupted by the giant rip of a wet fart from his enormous ass. Allen continued, "and we are ensuring every gym has a steady supply of steroids for men to make themselves as huge as they want." Another ripping fart, and the room was filled with the raw stench of ass. The men breathed deeply, savoring the stink of masculine funk and filth.
The huge bodybuilder reached down and absently rubbed his expanding and contracting cuntlips as he talked, "Also, we're in the middle of a huge building boom for gyms. And we are making sure each one has musky locker rooms, open showers, steamrooms, and saunas, so that men can gather for sweaty sex before or after their workouts."
His farting continued and accelerated, and he could feel his cunt opening up to give birth to a massive dump. Without missing a beat of his report delivery, Allen climbed up on the table and settled in a squat, his huge meaty ass hanging out of the ripped open seat of his pants. "We've also been working to synthesize the unique stink of locker rooms, mixing sweat, testosterone, ripe jocks, and filthy socks with pheromones and the natural smells of cum, piss, and sweat." At this point a full eight inches of a huge turd was dangling from his distended hole, as big in diameter as one of Allen's own impressive forearms. "We've been pumping that smell into every locker room in America, but especially schools. We know the brain's pleasure centers are stimulated by that distinctive smell that every good locker room shares. Boys start getting horny and associating it with sweat and stink." The turd had grown to a foot or more in length, and was curling on the conference table as Allen continued, "We've seen an uptick for circle jerks in the showers, visits to coach's office after hours, celebratory gangbangs after a big game. Nothing beats the stink of a good locker room," he virtually moaned as he pushed and another several inches of the massive log emerged before his cunt finally closed off and it settled in coils where he'd been squatting.
Having concluded his report, Allen stood upright and hopped down back to the floor, leaving behind a two-foot spiral of steaming, stinking bodybuilder shit in the middle of the conference room table. Since Hank was already being fucked over the same table, he was closest and grabbed a handful of the filthy mess, shoving it into his face and open mouth. He went back again, but this time reached behind him so that Doug could do the same. The two then proceeded to shitkiss and make out as they fucked. The rest watched the beautiful spectacle, obviously eager to join in and begin devouring the stinking shit before them, but Lorenzo di Cazzo spoke up, "Before we share Allen's generous gift, I believe it might be good for me to give my report first. I think you'll see why in a minute." They looked enviously at Hank and Doug, who in turn looked sheepish for jumping the gun, but everyone nodded their ascent.
Lorenzo, every bit as suave and debonair as his ancestors -- even shirtless and with ripped apart Italian silk dress slacks -- opened his briefcase. First he passed out several brown bottles, instructing the men to inhale deeply up each nostril. He watched with pleasure at the result, huffing from his own little container. "We're calling them poppers. Amyl nitrite. Fantastic during sex. Please, keep those close at hand. But now try this," he said, pulling out a glass pipe for each man packed with crystalline rocks, followed by a small torch lighter. Demonstrating the technique, he blew out swirling white clouds with a long, "fuuucckkkk, that's so good." He was joined by a chorus of similar utterances as the room filled with smoke and the groans of pigs feeling it hit. "Crystal meth," Lorenzo said hazily. "This and poppers will take man-on-man sex to whole new levels. It will open up the doors to male instinct and release the pigs in all of us. And now, gentlemen, let's fuck."
He reached for a pile of the still-warm shit resting on the table in front of them, and coated his cock thoroughly, painting it in filth until it was completely covered. Duro came over and dropped to his knees in front of the Italian drug genius before inhaling Lorenzo's shit-coated meat down his throat. Lorenzo leaned back in his leather chair, taking deep huffs of his poppers while his boss sucked him. Meanwhile Allen and Pedro had climbed back on the table alongside the massive pile of Allen's waste. Just as Lorenzo had coated his cock from the stinking mess, Pedro began slathering his whole arm in the thick shit. Allen meanwhile was rubbing his bald head and face with his dump, savoring the feel of shit across his hairless, smooth skull. Lost in the feel of massaging his head in shit, Allen shouted in surprised ecstasy when Pedro punched into his entire shit-covered arm into the bodybuilder's cunt, plowing past both rings until his entire arm was up to the shoulder inside the older man's emptied-out guts. Both were huffing deeply from their poppers bottles, barely taking a breath as they moved the opening back and forth to each nostril over and over.
Hank and Doug had resumed their double fucking up Hank's insatiable cunt, adding handfuls of shit as well to their raw pig sex, smearing it over their shirts, ties, jackets, and pants, and allowing it to plop in heavy splatters over their expensive black dress shoes. The sound of their smacking bodies became wetter and sloppier as their standing fuck in the middle of the meeting room became increasingly a wallow in Allen's sewage.
Duro and Lorenzo saw that as copious as Allen's dump had been, the impressive shit -- when spread out over six men -- was starting to disappear. By mutual, unspoken consent, they broke off their scatological blowjob and climbed atop the long, expensive conference table as well. Just as Allen had done, they settled into a pair lewd squats at opposite ends, allowing their pig cunts to squelch obscenely with farts and gaseous explosions. Then the two BBB International executives began shitting as well, dumping their guts onto the expensive wooden surface in stinking, rank piles. Like everyone in the room, they were completely fucked up and spun by the meth. Both were gooning their cocks, allowing their mouths to hang open, drool pouring out. They uttered groans and animal noises as they shat, no longer bothering to form real words, but instead letting primal, primate-level instincts take over. Even as he jacked his shitty wet cock, Lorenzo grabbed a pile of his own shit and threw it across the table at Duro were it smacked with a loud, wet plop into the man face, contorted with primate-level animalness. Duro responded in kind, even as his own dump was still pouring out of his guts. Picking up a handful, he too threw it, growling in primate lust as it landed over Lorenzo's thick cock and heavy, hairy balls.
Shit splattered the other men too, who moaned in meth-enhanced pleasure and also allowed their human conditioning to breakdown into animialistic rutting. Pedro emptied his ass even has he punched harder and harder into Allen's ravaged hole. Doug and Hank did the same, releasing shit as they fucked. Shit was everywhere, in smears and piles, splatters and mounds. They ran their hands through it and scooped it up. Soon shit was flying between all of them, coating them in more filth, as well as every wall, chair, and inch of tablespace in the conference room. Shit hit the ceiling only to later drop back off on their sweaty heads and faces and flush, sweat-soaked bodies. They all pressed closer together atop the conference room surface, bringing their fucking, fisting, and shit-jacking into a tight and tighter cluster of pigs. Urine flowed at regular intervals as their hard cocks shot streams of steaming piss in random directions and across every surface. What remained of their expensive suits where smothered in filth and ripped to hanging shreds.
There were no words anymore, just grunts, howls, moans, and growls. They simply rutted and wallowed in the shit-coated room, inhaling the stink through more and more hits from the bottles of poppers. Did it last for minutes, hours, days? They didn't know. All they knew was primal shit and sex. And when they started to cum, it was both simultaneous and explosive. Ropes of spunk splattered in every direction, spreading their piggish seed in geysers of cum. The sharp smell of pig jizz mixed with the stink of shit and musk of sweat-drenched bodies. They collapsed atop each other, a pile of flesh, filth, and ruined suits.
A couple hours later they were still asleep atop the conference table, exhausted and dripping in filth. Donovan opened the meeting room door and quietly whistled with appreciation at the trashed space. He spotted his boss Duro at one end, his peaceful face peeking out from under someone's hairy ass. Boned up the second he smelled the stench of the room, Donovan wanked his cock hard and fast. Like everyone knew, he was a quick cum, and almost immediately he began spunking all over Duro's handsome face and still-perfectly parted black hair. Satisfied with the facial he delivered, he left a newly-arrived memo and report next to Duro's sleeping body. He'd read it when he woke up. Donovan glanced over the summary at the top: "New concept called World Wide Web being developed. Could one day connect pigs through porn, chats, pictures, movies, stories and more. Could be the next frontier." Donovan smiled at the idea. The work of BBB International was never done...