Pigtown Daddies (Part 1)

What choice did he have, really? He had to get this…thing out of him. Well, that wasn’t really the issue, Evan supposed, the issue was that he couldn’t get himself to leave it out of him. He’d been at the bar last night–the usual bar–but on the way home, he’d ended up…somewhere else. He didn’t remember much through the hangover and blackout, but he did remember the name–Pigtown. What had happened there…he only had a vague collection of memories, but what he did know was that when he’d woken up in his bed this morning, he’d had the thing in him.

The dildo.

The massive fucking dildo.

It had to be at least nine inches long, and thicker than a beer can–he’d felt the pressure in his ass when he’d woken up, along with the raging hard on, and when he’d tried to pull the thing out in disgust, he’d gotten it most of the way–but then his hand had plunged it back in, and he’d groaned, stroking himself off and fucking himself until he came in his bed. Horrified by what he’d done, he managed to get the dildo out long enough to take a shit, but after that, his hole had started to itch, and before he could even think too hard about it, he’d grabbed the dildo and slid it back inside him with a gasp–and that alone had started another round of fucking himself until he came.

The whole day had gone on like that–Evan trying to pull the dildo out, and when he rarely succeeded, trying to keep it out, and his hands working against him to get it back inside him and jack off almost constantly when it was. He didn’t understand it, but somehow he knew that Pigtown had been the start of it, and it might be where he can get the thing out.

The bar wasn’t particularly crowded, with plenty of seats, but Evan didn’t take one–he was afraid any pressure might get him started again, and looking around at the clientele, this…wasn’t the place a straight guy wanted to get caught with a dildo in his hole. Still, he didn’t recognize anyone, but he made his way to the bar to ask the hefty bartender if he knew anything. It turned out that he didn’t even have to ask, “Back so soon boy? You seemed pretty eager to get out of here last night. Ready to take Mick and Barrett up on the offer?”

“I–look, I don’t know who they are, but I…I have…did they do something to me? Last night?”

“Can’t get it out, eh?” the bartender said with a wink, and Evan flushed a deep red. “Don’t be embarrassed–the whole bar saw it.”

That didn’t help Evan feel much better.

“Look, you should go talk to them. If you ask real nice, they might help you out. They headed deeper not too long ago. You’ll find them, I’m sure.”

Deeper. He hadn’t noticed, but what he had assumed was the back wall of the bar wasn’t a wall at all–it was just dark. Walking stiff, he headed into the dark, feeling his way around a couple of bends, before emerging in a red-lighted chamber, where there were considerably more people, and considerably more sex going on that Evan was comfortable with. Mick and Barrett–who the fuck were they? He didn’t recognize anyone, even as his eyes adjusted to the light, but then came the whistle. He looked over, and two hulking muscle men, not too much older than him, were standing against the wall, waving him over. “Back so soon boy?” One of them called, “I thought you weren’t even gonna step foot in here again, from the tone ya had last night.”

The other one chuckled, “Nah, I told ya he was just bluffin’, Mick–he wanted it, he’s just playin’ hard tah get.”

Evan walked over, still a bit stiff, and the two men chuckled. “What the fuck did you do last night? Why the fuck can’t I get this…this thing out of my ass!”

“Easy boy,” Mick said, “We just gave you a choice is all–be our boy, or…well, you know what the other option is, don’t you?”

“Ya sure seemed tah like it last night, when we was poundin’ yer hole with it fer an hour, while everyone else was watchin’!”

“Well I don’t want to…to be your whatever, and I sure as hell don’t want this thing inside me, so let me fucking take it out already!”

“That ain’t the way the deal works, boy,” Mick said, and before Evan could do anything about it, one of his meaty hands slapped his ass, right on the butt of the dildo, forcing it in a bit further, and Evan moaned, his cock pulsing.

“But since ya came back,” Barrett said, “We gets tah make another deal with ya–how’s that sound? Two choices, either ya become our boy, or ya take yer punishment again, and like it, of course.”

“I’m not gonna be your fucking boy, you fucking creeps!” Evan said, “Now get this thing out of me, you fuckers, or I’ll make you fucking faggots take it out.”

“Ya hear that, Mick?”

“‘Sure do Barrett.”

“Boy still don’ wanna be our boy.”

“Guess that means he’s gonna have to take his punishment again–such a naughty boy.”

wesleybracken:

“I just don’t see why all of this information is necessary.”

“I assure you, Mr. Kilward, that we use all of the information on those forms in the hiring process.”

“Well yeah, but isn’t it just, a little too…personal?”

“If you’d like to leave, no one is stopping you.”

Zach looked at the door, and then at the interviewer across the desk. He really needed this job, but sexual interests? Number of previous sexual partners? When do you feel the most sexy? He didn’t want to answer any of this.

“Here, I’ll tell you what,” the interviewer said, “Go ahead and leave blank any questions you don’t feel comfortable answering, alright, and we can fill them in later.”

That sounded fair to Zach, and so he hurried through the forms, generally leaving the more probing questions blank, before handing the papers back to the interviewer, who started putting the information into his computer.

“Hmm, well, it looks like you left out the number of previous sexual partners you’ve had, Mr. Kilward, I’m just going to ballpark it, and say…1700.”

“What? 1700, but—” Zach said, but his head was suddenly crushed with memories of hundreds of sexual encounters he had somehow forgotten.

“Yes, and I think you made a mistake here, under sexual orientation. You marked ‘straight,’ but you seem 100 percent gay to me.”

Men, all of them men. How many men had he been with? What was happening?

“Hmm…preferred position? I think, ‘bottom.’ Oh and I love this one—‘When do I feel the most sexy?’ Hmm… that’s a hard one, but if I hazarded a guess, I’d have to say, ‘When I’m humiliating myself, acting like a fat pig and begging men to use my like the fat slutty cumdump I am.’”

“No, no what are you doing? Please, please stop!” Zach said, but let out a loud snort of pleasure when the interviewer reached over the desk, pinched his nipples through the shirt and gave them a twist.

“Tell me what you want little piggy, don’t be shy.”

“Oh fuck, can…can I suck your cock *grunt* please sir, I haven’t had a drop of cum in hours and I’m so hungry…”

“Then get under my desk and suck me off bitch, but take it slow—you left so many blanks, it’s going to take me hours to fill it out for you.”

Zach tried to resist for a moment, but who was he fooling? He got down on his hands and knees and squeezed his way into the small space underneath the desk, his bulk not fitting very comfortably, but he didn’t care much at all when he saw the interviewer let his cock out of his fly, and he started licking at the head, hornier than he could remember being ever in his life.

“So Zach? What should we fill out first, do you think? Let’s see, there’s this whole section on medical history here, maybe we should look here. Now, weight and height…just keep sucking piggy, I’ve got some work to do here.”

Zach sucked happily, distantly aware that as he did his body was shifting in ways that he couldn’t explain, but which felt completely natural. After half an hour of sucking, the interviewer stopped writing, reached under the desk and wrapped his hands around the back of Zach’s head, ramming his cock deep into his throat. He expected to gag on it, but it slid down his throat so easily. He reached under his gut to try and touch his cock, but for some reason he couldn’t. He could feel his cock there somewhere, but he was so big. Cum erupted down his throat and he swallowed it down hungrily, grunting and snorting as he did, and the interviewer rolled his chair back, allowing Zach to crawl out.

The Zach that emerged was very different from the one who crawled under. Now in his fifties, his head had balded entirely, but his body was covered with massive amounts of hair, along with a thick beard reaching to his huge moobs. He’d lost over a foot in height, standing just over five feet, but was even larger, the fat rolling off of him, making him pant and sweat as he stood there, hornier than ever, yanking at his too tight collar, trying to pull his polo down over his huge gut.

“Let’s get those off of you, I have a new uniform for you to wear anyway,” the interviewer said, and stripped Zach down. Then he pulled out the leather and chains, boots and fist mitts first before shackling his Zach’s feet and hands together, a leather hood, and then the interviewer circled around him and started slipping a finger into Zach’s ass.

“Shall we continue the interview, you fucking pig? I have a special chair for you here,” the interviewer said, and showed Zach a simple stool with a thick, ten inch dildo stuck on it. “Your ass is hungry, right? That enlarged prostate and sloppy bladder of yours desperate to be fucked?”

Zach couldn’t stop himself, and he started working the dildo into his old ass. As soon as the tip hit his prostate, he felt his cock spurt into his fat pad. He didn’t know what it was–cum or piss–but it had felt wonderful, and he kept fucking himself, only barely listening to what the interviewer was saying now.

“I made a few alterations to your work and education history. After all, a sex pig like you doesn’t need a college degree, or even a high school diploma.”

“Trashman? Nah…hmm….I think janitor. Yeah, a janitor at a gay bath house, that filthy one downtown.”

“Must have been hard, finding work with all those tattoos on your face, but hey, you have to let the slut shine, right piggy?”

“Zach, what a dumb name. Your name’s Crud now, bitch. And no fucking last name for you–you don’t need a fucking family being embarrassed by you.”

Piss, he was dribbling piss–he could smell it. Hell it leaking down his huge legs and onto the floor, his nostrils flaring at the scent. Crud wanted to get down, lick it up, but he had to fuck himself first, he was such a fucking whore.

“Still, we’re going to find you some steady work, just trust me. How would you like some slave work? It doesn’t pay well, but you can have all the cum and piss you’ve ever wanted. A rough, filthy biker gang is looking for a pig like you–how’d you feel about meeting them, and seeing if it’s a good fit?”

“Oh fuck, I’d love that sir, thank you!” Crud said, and he felt the tingle of his tiny cock which had been building finally release, and a piddle of cum spurted out along with the piss leaking from his worthless cock.

“Oh yes, I think you’ll be perfect for the job. First though, let’s see if that worthless hole can take both of my fists, and then you’re going to have to suck the piss from this carpet. I have another interview in three hours, and if I can smell one whiff of piss, I’ll take your balls.

Crud pulled himself up off the stool and immediately got down and started sucking at the damp carpet, while the interviewer started working one gloved fist into his slutty ass. He’d get it perfectly clean–he was a great pig. He was so happy the agency had found him a slave job! It’s just what he’d always wanted.

Source: paintchipsforpyromancers

“Well, I’ve always been a believer that size matters,” the shop owner said, “I like a long cigar–thick ring–I’ve always felt they were the most satisfying. Still, I know it’s a matter of taste. These are going to be too small for a guy like you though, I promise.”

“I’d still like to try one, if you don’t mind,” Jed said, a bit annoyed at being sold up, but the owner just cut the short cigar Jed had selected and lit it. Jed took a couple of puffs before he let out a yelp, the cigar dropping to the floor from his mouth, and both of his hands went around to his ass. “What the fuck?”

“Sure, it seems big when it goes in, but here, let me show you,” the shop owner said, quickly undoing Jed’s belt and dropping his pants and underwear, before reaching around and sliding the four inch, slender buttplug out of Jed’s ass, “See? Way too small.”

“What the fuck was that thing doing in my ass?” Jed said, but the owner had already picked up the smoldering cigar from the carpet and put it out, before retrieving a foot long cigar, as thick as a beer can from behind the counter, “Now, this will definitely fit you better.”

Jed tried to fight him off, but the owner shoved the cigar in his mouth and lit it, and as soon as he inhaled, he nearly screamed through the cigar. Something massive had materialized in his ass, and the owner peeker around him and chuckled, “Well well, I guess you’re into baseball, eh?”

The man bent Jed over the counter and started working the metal bat in and out of Jed’s wrecked hole, and while he protested for a while, after his first orgasm, Jed started enjoying it–even relishing it–especially after the owner took out the bat and replaced it with his fist, driving it deep into his now starving hole. When the owner finally let him stand upright again–Jed’s suit was gone, replaced by a leather harness and vest, the words “FIST ME” tattooed across his lower back, with a huge ring hanging from the septum resting on the massive cigar he hadn’t finished smoking yet. Jed, unable to stand the empty ass, grabbed the scummy bat from the ground and worked it back up into his hole with a groan.

“I think I’m gonna need a few dozen of these ones, I think,” he said around the cigar, “Size really does matter.”

“See? ” the owner said, “I told you,” and rang up the sale.