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Disclaimer and background: All good things must come to an end, and this is the last chapter in the series. Like all the other chapters, it combines light science fiction and heavy raunch, along with a few other delicious depravities. It is extrapolated out from some of my other stories, but should stand on its own if you haven't read those. As always, do not read if younger than 18 and this work of fiction does not represent any real people (duh...it is set in the future!). Email is always welcome: piggysleaze@mail.com
Jared was the filthiest he'd ever been. He reeked of puke, shit, and gunged food and he loved it. Dripping and nasty, he'd never felt more like a pig. Although his stomach had been thoroughly emptied, he was still pretty drunk from the copious amounts of the beer and tequila he'd drunk with Ricky and his daddy, which made him all the hornier. Even has he walked to the final door of his museum visit, he couldn't help but run his hands all over his raunch-covered body, feeling the slime and savoring the stink.
When he arrived at the door, he found it to be made of intimidating solid steel with huge rivets and crossbeams of thick wood painted red. Modern monitors announced what lay on the other side: The Hall of Wrecked Cunts. In his sexual fugue of drunken horniness, Jared uncharacteristically skipped the history lesson about how genetics had perfected the male anus with additional pleasure centers, elasticity, and the ability to regenerate quickly in order to promote endless wreckings over a lifetime. He also skipped the cultural lesson that in the all-male pig utopia of today, the term "cunt" had taken over to describe what the male asshole had been engineered into: a wanton, puffy-lipped, forever-hungry fuckhole. Instead, Jared breezed past the educational bits and pulled open the heavy door, hurrying into the dimly-lit room bathed in red.
The floor was covered in dark red leather pads from one side of the room to the other, all of which were slick with lard, lube, piss, and shit. Ten-gallon buckets of Crisco were placed at regular intervals and large squeegee bottles of fisting liquid could be found scattered from end to end. Other canisters of oil -- motor oil, olive oil, baby oil, and more -- rolled about within reach as well. Around the entire parameter, the walls were covered with attached baseball bats, strap-ons, and other instruments of anal assault. The room was filled with writhing bodies, each slicker and slippier than the last, as everyone was coated in grease, oil, and other messy substances. On a bit of a drunken whim, Jared plopped down at the edge and launched himself into the scrum, his body hurling towards the rutting mass as if he were on a kiddie slip-and-slide. He came to a halt when he bumped up against the side of a long-haired, long-bearded bruiser covered in tattoos, including a prominent one across his chest with the words "Satan's Pigs" arced over a well-rendered motorcycle. "What do we have here, boys?" the biker asked to a few similarly tattooed guys around him, including another long-haired, crazy-eyed dude who was fisting him past the elbow.
"Holy shit, he fucking reeks," said someone, while another disembodied voice from the pile added, "yeah, fucking puke stink, man. Fucking hot. Making me even harder."
"What's your name kid?" asked the first biker that Jared had collided with.
"I'm Jared," he said in a somewhat muted squeak, aware that several tattoo-emblazoned Satan's Pigs had broken off their orgy of fisting and fucking to turn their attention to him. There were maybe a dozen of them -- some wiry thin and boney, others burly and roid-pumped; some skinheaded, others, like their leader, a mass of long, grungy hair. But they all shared the same prominent tattoo of the Satan's Pigs logo across their chest. Jared knew the biker gang's reputation for rough sex and wild living. As the men crowded around him, he was getting hotter and hornier as he pondered his future in their hands.
"Well, Jared, I'm Mac, and I think I speak for all my boys here when I say there ain't nothing we love more than some young pig cunt. We're gonna have some real good fun with you." He turned and called over his shoulder, "Smokey, let's get this little fucker ready for some fun." The aptly-named Smokey turned out to be a skeletal skinhead with a meth mouth grin and a fully packed pipe. Jared eagerly reached for it as Smokey fired up the butane under the bowl. The 12-year-old inhaled deeply, eyes rolling up as the biker's extra-amped crystals filled his body. His exhale was a moan of pure pleasure as the heat raced through him, and he went back for another hit. Mac chuckled at the boy's impressive tolerance ... one that rivaled his own, and he procured another pipe from Smokey to share with the boy. The two were soon lost in a swirl of thick, milky clouds as the other gang members slipped away to select a few well-chosen items. By the time everyone was back, Jared was floating on waves of heat and every cell in his body was vibrating with horniness and lust. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do, which was just how Satan's Pigs liked it.
He lay back on the slick leather pad and hoisted up his legs. His boicunt was fingered by different rough hands, as they teased his already puffy lips with their calloused fingers. He was moaning and begging for more when he felt a thick wad of lard slap against his hole, warm but still solid against his cunt. Jared looked over and saw Mac slathering up his hairy arm with a pile of wet, thick shit. He had no idea whose it was, but one of the bikers had definitely contributed, as the air was thick with stink. Jared moaned even louder, imagining what a filthy mess his piggy tunnel was going to be.
Mac walked over to Jared and his quivering hole, the biker's massive arm dripping in slippery shit. Then he pushed through the pile of lard, grabbing a handful as he punched into the boy's guts. He felt it dissolve in his hand as it melted inside the kid's scorching hot cunt, mixing with his shitty arm to make the entire chute slick and slimy. He sank deeper and deeper into the boy until he felt his arm slip past the second ring. Jared spasmed at Mac's invasion, shuddering and groaning as the biker's meaty arm plowed ahead without mercy. As high and loose as he was, Jared still welcomed the bottle of poppers that had been stuffed under his nose, huffing deeply back and forth while Mac slid in, never once pausing. His arm was like a train in Jared's tunnel, pushing past any resistance or obstacle. Only when the biker's long armpit hair began to get sucked into Jared's wanton cunt did Mac decide he was deep enough, since he was practically to the shoulder anyway. The head of Satan's Pigs then held himself there, keeping the boy on the edge of ecstasy. Jared's mouth lolled open and he began drooling. His rock-hard cock began pissing uncontrollably, his hot bladder juice drenching all the bikers who were manhandling him -- squeezing his nipples, yanking his balls, biting his ears and toes.
With the boy quivering on the entire length of his arm, Mac lifted up, earning a sob of pain and pleasure from Jared as he was tilted up and back onto his shoulders. He nodded to a couple of his buddies, who took the boy's dangling legs and held them aloft. That's when Mac began pumping his arm in and out of the stretched hole, sliding completely out so that Jared's guts gaped and sloshed obscenely, blossoming out into a shiny wet rosebud. Mac would admire his handiwork for a second or two, only to sink his arm right back in the entire length. Jared moaned gibberish, punctuated with words like "fuck," "good," and "more." By silent command one of his bikers squatted down and began shitting into his cupped hand, bringing the mushy turd pile up to Mac in between punches in order to re-lube his leader's muscled and tattooed battling ram. The added shit lube coated Jared's insides with more biker sewage and he bucked on Mac's arm to try and suck more and more of it into his ass.
The two guys holding the boy's legs gradually pulled them further and further back, until Jared was completely resting on his shoulders, with Mac's arm plunging in and out of his hole like a piston. The other guys continued their ministrations across Jared's body. The boy's face was running with slobber from two bikers on either side of him that were making out over every inch of his face and neck, drooling into his mouth and ears, swabbing his nose, and chewing along his throat, leaving angry red bitemarks. His nipples were likewise being chewed raw by another pair of dudes that lay flat on either side of him. Mac's two assistants holding Jared's legs did not miss their opportunity to insert his small feet into their mouths, alternating between sucking them clean and sinking their teeth into his tender flesh. With Jared essentially doubled over, space was tight to get at his cock and balls, but fortunately a couple of Satan Pig's little Latino fuckers managed to squeeze in to work them over too, squeezing his nuts with a vice-like pull and gnawing all around his sensitive, oozing cockhead. Those that couldn't find a spot along the small boy's body stood in a circle around the others, hosing the writhing mass down in rank biker piss and hawking loogies that landed with satisfying smacks on flesh.
When Mac felt like his arm had done all it could do, he yanked out one last time, watching with satisfaction as Jared rosebudded cunt distended out of his body like a wet, red snake. The youngster tried to cry out for something to refill his hole, but his lips was covered with another meth-head biker's toothless, slobbering mouth, so he just bucked his ass in desperation. One of Satan's Pigs stepped forward with a baseball bat and shoved it down into the boy's quivering cunt, using it like an old-time butter churn to ravage Jared's hole. Mac lit up a cigar and watched in admiration as his biker brother worked over the kid. The bat was really sloshing his guts good and each plunge released a satisfying wet gurgling sound and the metallic, rank scent of shit and gore. Mac stroked his engorged cock he watched the boy. Jared's eyes said it all, he was loving every second of this and craved more. Mac had never seen such a young pig so perfectly embody the no limits ethos. It almost made him want to head to the progeny center, cum in a test tube, and have them start incubating his own son to start playing with in nine months.
Eventually he decided to change things up, in part because his own ass was getting twitchy and itchy watching the boy. With a loud whistle past his cigar, the boys each began pulling off the ravaged kid. Mac called them together into a tight huddle to share what he had in mind, and they nodded with appreciation at his plan. Meanwhile Jared just whimpered and moaned on the mat, rolling around with his hand stuffed as deep as he could get it inside cunt, begging for them to come back. "Please, please, more. I need more. Don't leave me." Fortunately, the biker gang had no intention of leaving him just yet.
At Mac's command, several of the bikers began to coat Jared's arms and legs with grease until he was as slippery as an eel. They also squeezed his ass full of fisting lube, using their hands to make sure his shit chute got coated thoroughly. Barely able to keep a grip on him because he was so smothered in slickness, four of the bikers, including Mac, grabbed the boy. Each of the four had one arm or one leg, and they hoisted him into the air spread-eagle style. Jared looked like he had been bound to an invisible stretching rack, arms and legs spread out by each of the four bikers. He looked around confusedly, unsure what was happening, until he saw one of the bikers bringing forward a full-sized orange traffic cone. He gasped and trembled with excitement and lust as his four keepers held him aloft and the cone was lined up and positioned under his gaping, falling-open cunt. Still holding his smoking cigar in his teeth, Mac gave the word and the four of them lowered Jared down, watching as the end of the cone slid effortlessly into the 12-year-old ass.
Inch by inch he was lowered as the cone got wider and wider, invading him and filling him completely. He screamed in pain and joy, hoping it would never end, but Mac's plan was not nearly complete and the bikers stopped his downward progression about halfway through. Jared had no choice but to hang there, suspended between the four men with the traffic cone's top half buried in his cunt. That's when the biker holding his right arm told Jared to make a fist. The boy was incoherent with lust and meth, and barely understood the command, but he tightened his hand into a ball. As the other three held him steady, the burly, hairy guy turned around and sank his ass onto Jared's fisted hand and then arm. He didn't stop until his ass fully came to rest in the crook of Jared's armpit at the shoulder. Jared felt the warm, shitty, wet pulsing heat of the biker's cunt all up and down his arm. The biker moaned with pleasure. Then a gruff voice from his left side said the same thing: "make a fist." Jared complied and in an instant, he felt his entire left arm disappear into a meaty sheath of stinking biker cunt.
His arms above his head were now entirely gone, hidden away in the deep recesses of manly pig guts. Where once he had been held by the callused hands of the bikers, now he was suspended by the grip of their steamy, musky holes. Now it was Mac who issued the command: "straighten your foot out." Jared did and sure enough, he felt his left foot begin to slide into something warm, wet, and slick. Lifting up his head, he saw his third biker was now foot-fucking himself on Jared and kept pushing backwards until the entirety of Jared's leg up to his crotch was buried inside biker ass. Mac was no longer holding Jared's remaining leg, as he was completely supported by being impaled onto the other three. Turning around, the gar-smoking gang leader lined Jared's right foot up with his cunt, and pushed, ramming himself backwards until he bottomed out at Jared's upper thigh. The boy had been transformed into just a stump, suspended spreadeagle in the air with his arms and legs completely gone and his own ass still speared on the cool slippery rubber of the traffic cone.
The remaining members of Satan's Pigs now stepped forward; the helpless boy completely prone and vulnerable to whatever they wished. The toothless meth-head that had made out with him earlier now drove his hard cock down Jared's throat. Others went back to his nipples for further destruction, along with his cock and balls. He felt tongues and teeth all up and down torso. The skinniest of the bikers -- basically a skeleton with biohazard tattoos all over his body -- managed to squeeze in at the top of Jared's head and unloaded an ass full of his disease-ridden diarrhea all over the boy's hair and face. This sent the meth-head over the edge and soon Jared's mouth was flooded with cum as well as rivulets of liquid shit. As soon as he stepped away another of his brothers took his place, sinking his big black cock down Jared's gullet. The four captors who had imprisoned Jared's arms and legs with their cunts were now riding his appendages, gliding up and down. The awkward pattern of being pulled in all four directions at once sent the traffic cone up, down, and around Jared's gaping, bleeding hole.
And Jared couldn't get enough. As soon as one cock erupted in his mouth, he begged for another to suck on like the whore he was. In the few seconds he had between mouthfuls he cried out for the bikers to punch and squeeze his balls and to rip apart his puffy pig tits. If they were waiting to feed him cum, he implored them to cover his stump of a body with piss and shit and puke and blood and snot and spit and anything else their hot, biker bodies could give him. He was flying with pig ecstasy. With no way to jerk his own cock he felt it erupt with cum spontaneously, even as it was being slapped and chewed. Jared bucked up and down as his orgasm took over his body, shooting fireworks of creamy jizz high into the air. As soon as it was over, he started building to another one, and erupted again. Then again. And again. His body had turned into a singular conduit of pure sexual pleasure and energy, spasming him with waves of orgasmic release, one after the other. When he ran out of cum he simply convulsed with dry orgasms. He was dripping in sweat and his body had turned feverish with the heat of his lust and hunger. His arms and legs burned like hot pokers, sending all four of the bikers into overdrive, humping up and down on him and jacking their own cocks to mind-blowing climaxes. Those around Jared began pumping out their loads too in a massive circle jerk, even if they had already cum in his mouth. Geysers of jizz shot in every direction and gallons of it poured over Jared's nearly-sizzling body, mixing with the filth and gore that already coated him. The bikers bellowed in animalistic pleasure, punching and biting the boy with out-of-control lust as ropes of scalding pig batter blew from their enormous cocks.
Their biker seed spent, each of the four cunt-hosts for Jared's arms and legs slid off respective appendage. With no support anymore, Jared succumbed to gravity and was left to drop unceremoniously the rest of the way onto the traffic cone. He screamed as his belly expanded in the shape of a triangle as the rubber invader stretched him to the very limits. "Mmmm..." Mac said around his smoked-down cigar, "that was fun. Alright boys, let's hit the road." They walked away from the moaning, thrashing boy leaving him impaled. Jared floated in spent piggish ecstasy, for how long he had no idea. He occasionally ran his hands over his ravaged body, feeling all the places he had been gifted by Satan's Pigs. A slurry of assorted liquids collected in greasy pools under and around him. He replayed the scene in his head and all the other adventures he'd had at the Hall of Pigs, drifting in a hedonistic haze of unlimited pleasure.
"There you are." The voice seemed to swirl around Jared, warm and comforting, wrapping him like a hug. "Oh, Jared, did you overdo it today?"
"Dad?" Jared managed to croak out through his cum-coated throat.
"I'm here, baby," came the voice again, along with the familiar musk of his father's warm armpits. "I came to pick you up and when you weren't at the entrance, I figured I'd better come find you." He felt his dad's strong, hairy arms encircle him, and his body was suddenly resting against his father's comfortable pillow of a gut.
"My sexy, horny pig boy," his dad chuckled, "you are the very definition of 'ridden hard and put away wet.'" Jared was too tired to get the joke, but he smiled anyway, nuzzling deeper against his daddy's naked body. "You know you have to take that out, don't you?" The boy whimpered, but part of his brain agreed with what his father had said. Reaching down, he slowly uninserted the cone, feeling it slide out of his body bit by bit before a final whoosh as his cunt ejected the remainder. His ass rosebudded a full foot outside his body, his red guts hanging loose and wet in the open air. His father reached down and gently massaged the distended flesh, slowing and carefully running his hand over the beautiful, massive flower.
Rocking and cradling his son, Jared's father waited, patiently rubbing the engorged, raw meat as it slowly was reabsorbed back into the boy. He admired the cockring that surrounded Jared's finally-deflating cock and balls, noting that all 12 gems were glowing brightly, including the red one at the top. Eventually, he picked up the filthy, reeking lad in his arms, holding him close to his big, hairy pecs as they headed to the door.
Jared began to drift away listening to his father's soothing heartbeat, but forced himself to some level of alertness when he heard his daddy's voice one more time. "Mr. Cummingham called me again," Jared heard his dad say through the fogginess in his brain. "He told me Dr. Wadd wanted you to come back to the museum this summer after school has let out. He's going to make you a summer intern. You get to spend every day here. Jared? Jared, did you hear me?" Jared nodded and mumbled something incoherent, but was smiling from ear to ear. When he finally passed out from exhaustion his final thought before dreaming was that he had to be the luckiest boy in the world.