Tag: pig

You are at the movie theater when you meet him. You brought a date, but didn’t share enough of that large soda you guzzled during the first act, and now you have to go piss. You excuse yourself, hoping your date doesn’t hate you for being “that guy who has to piss during the movie,” and rush to the bathroom, where he’s waiting for you.

Maybe not for you, maybe for any man. Maybe if you hadn’t hogged that soda, he would have found someone else. But you turn the corner and see him standing on the tile, naked aside from his boots, covered in tattoos that swirl and dance before your eyes. Your mind goes blank, aside from those beautiful colors and his deep voice, telling you to come closer, strip and come closer, little pig.

You can smell him now, smell his musk, and he tells you how much a pig like you would love to smell the pits of a man like him. He tells you what a fat little pig you are, what a dirty, dumb, obese, nasty hog. Are you really growing shorter, plumping up and putting on a huge gut as he speaks to you, or is it just a fantasy, a fantasy you suddenly long for?

He puts a boot up on a urinal, showing off his hairy, dirty crack, and with a grunt you dig your face in deep, licking and chewing all the filth you can find. Unable to control yourself, your cock releases your full bladder, and with both hands you are rubbing it on yourself. He pushes you down onto all fours, wets his cock with some spit and forces it into your ass. You snort and squeal, cum shooting from your cock and mixing with the piss on the floor, and when he finishes, you crawl after your master on all fours, gut dragging on the floor, head empty aside from the filthiest fantasies your mind had never dreamed of. 

You never return to the theater, you never finish the movie. All your date finds of you is a puddle of piss on the men’s room floor, a wad of cum shot in the middle of it, and a pile of clothes from a past life.

Source: manthrone

“If you ask me, all those stinking hippies should just go get a damn job!” one of the bankers shouted, bringing another round of clapping, laughing and snorting from the businessmen and politicians seated around the table.

A CEO picked up where that one left off, “Ha! No kidding. And their fucking glitter-bombing or whatever–fucking faggots *grunt*. Like a handful of stinking glitter is going to do anything!” Again, everyone laughed, still stuffing their faces with as much food as they could grab with their bare hands.

Daniel, however, wasn’t feeling well, and he hurried to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if it was the large amount of wine he’d drunk, but his face…what was wrong with his face?

“Daniel? Are you in there? What’s wrong?” a voice said outside the door–it was Daniel’s brother Chuck. He stepped in, and Daniel was horrified–his brother’s head had been replaced with that of a pig, and he looked like he had gained a hundred pounds, his suit ill-fitting on his now obese frame. And the hungry look in his eyes–it was making Daniel horny, and he pulled his cock out of his suit pants, struggling around his own expanding gut.

Chuck grinned and got down on his knees, slurping down his brother’s cock, Daniel snorting and grunting as he drove his dick down Chuck’s throat, feeling his clothes ripping off his body. His mind–he knew something was wrong, but it felt as though he were being controlled by something else–some primal urge, something not human. He reached around with a trotter like hand and began probing his asshole, feeling his new corkscrew tail. The sensation of having something at his hole threw him into overdrive, and he shot a huge load down his brother’s throat, but it wasn’t enough. He bent over the sink, and in a strange rough voice no longer his own, he panted, “Fuck me, Chuck, *oink* fuck me!”

Daniel watched his potbellied brother heave himself up off the floor, his deformed cock leaking precum, and he realized that he was now more beast than man. There was none of the usual spark of intellect in his eyes–but his terror was swept away once his brother thrust his hard cock into his ass, rutting and squealing. Daniel looked in the mirror, his own mind crumbling away, and realized too late that foul smelling glitter could have an effect, if one knew the right spells.

Back in the dining room, the brothers’ guests had descended into their own orgy, clamoring out of their ripping suits and onto the table, gorging themselves in between bouts of mindless, bestial sex. In the morning, the reporters thought it was a prank–a high-profile fundraiser for a Republican SuperPac filled with pigs, but as the reports came in of the politicians, businessmen and CEO’s who had gone missing–well, one thing was certain. Politics in the USA would never be the same again. 

It wasn’t easy to relax and enjoy the rodeo when you could feel the eyes of those two, burly cowboys drilling into the back of your skull. The worst part, was that they made no effort to hide it. Whenever you looked back, they’d keep staring, and grin. You asked them to stop, but they never said anything back. Soon, you couldn’t take it, and you left.

They followed you, waited for the right moment before dragging you off, and throwing you into the back of their truck. You don’t know how long you’ve been here–there’s no outside light in the barn, but the lights turn on and off at intervals which seem to fast to be days. You’re tied up, and there is a trough in front of you which is always full. You eat. If you don’t eat, you get punished. On occasion, they come back and stare, but they speak now. They say that you’ll get them a fortune on the auction block in a year. They say you’ll make the buyer’s very happy, after all, they do love their potbellied pigslaves.