Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 2)

Carter woke up in bed. His bed–the same bed he was always in, the bed in his father’s house where he’d been sleeping since he was a kid. He…held out hope, every time, that it might be somewhere else–that…he might be someone else, but apparently not yet. That’s what a lot of people didn’t understand about the place, he supposed–or what they wouldn’t understand about it. What people like his dad wouldn’t be able to understand. Normal people. People who were happy–or even those who weren’t happy. Maybe just at least content. Content with the world as it was. But for Carter…this world was terrible. He didn’t fit into it, no matter how hard he’d tried, no matter how well he could pretend…he knew there had to be something else out there. And then, he’d found Pigtown.

That, or Pigtown had found him. Online first, in chat rooms, on old websites. No one knew exactly where it was–unless you knew where to find it. You had to want it, or maybe you had to want something that was there, or maybe it was the place that wanted you first. All the stories said that if you found it, and you went long enough, eventually you wouldn’t be the same person who entered…but Carter was finding out the reality was a bit more complicated than the myth. Sure, the first time…the first time was a rush. You never left the first time the same as you went in. He’d been this skinny little twig of a kid, nervous as hell, standing around in the dim light with all these hulking men smoking cigars and wearing leather, and after that first drink shoved into his hand, the first kiss, the first fuck in the dark–he’d woken up the next day, back in his bed, and he’d been different. Thicker, hairier, with a constant insatiable need to smoke. Not a bear exactly, something more like a muscle cub, but the most important thing, was that it was difference. Progress, according to a certain scale.

But he’d still been here. Here in the same life, going to college, living with his dad–but now, somehow, he was more miserable. He had to hide so much more from everyone. If anything, he felt even worse than he had been before going–and the only place he ever felt better, was there, at Pigtown. He’d started to wonder if it was a grift–if the bar didn’t want things to get better, if it just wanted to eat him alive. He knew it could, he’d seen some of them in there, the ones who didn’t leave anymore, or couldn’t leave. They weren’t…anyone anymore. They were whoever you wanted them to be, whoever the bar wanted them to be. He didn’t want to lose himself though–he wouldn’t let that happen.

Changing after that first time wasn’t impossible–there were other guys at the bar who’d experienced it, and unless they were all lying…he’d get there eventually. He’d become who he wanted to be one day, even without Pigtown, though it would make it easier. It was then, as he lay in bed, thinking about this, that there was a sudden snore beside him. He looked over, and realized, with a bit of horror, that he wasn’t alone in his bed–beside him, rolled away under the covers, was the back of…well, someone else, still sleeping.

“Fuck,” he said, quietly, wondering what in the hell he was going to do. His dad was home, and he always got up before Carter, especially on the weekends. Now he had a stranger, from Pigtown, and he had to try and sneak him out of the house before his dad asked any horrible questions, or did something even more awkward, like invite him to eat breakfast with them. He got up, and threw on some boxers–hoped that the man would stay sleeping for a bit longer–and went out to scout the house, and see where his father was. With luck, he might be reading the paper in the backyard, and give him a longshot chance to sneak this guy out without being seen.

The house, however, was empty. His dad was probably running errands or something, thank goodness. He ran back upstairs, but stopped himself before shaking the man awake. He…knew that face, didn’t he? Was it someone he’d fucked around with before, in the bar? Someone he’d woken up with? This wasn’t, after all, the first awkward morning-after he’d had, but it was the first time anyone had come home with him. He couldn’t worry about this–it didn’t matter who it was, all that mattered was that he got this fucker out of his house as quickly as he could, before his dad got back from wherever he was.

“Hey, Hey!” he said, giving the man a shake, “Get up–you gotta go.”

The man gave a grumble, and rubbed his eyes, before blinking them open. “W-Where…what the fuck…”

“Yo, get up, get your clothes on. My…housemate can’t see you here.”

The man didn’t seem to be listening. He was just…kind of shaking, looking around the room, trying to understand what had happened. “I…I don’t…I didn’t want…” before he could get anything else out, he leaned over the side of the bed, and puked his guts up onto the carpet beside the bed. It was…grey. The guy must have been eating ash–Carter had puked shit up like that before himself, in the mornings after he got a little extra carried away. He sighed, touched the guy’s shoulder, and he flinched away from him, and scooted back away from him, wiping his bearded lips. The man looked at him again, his eyes focusing a bit better on him, and they went wide with shock. “C-Carter?”

Fuck, they did know each other, but from where? “Look, we can catch up later, you have my number, but you have to get out.”

“What the fuck–was that…was that you?” he said, “You…they…you fucked me, you…fucked me, and–and I wanted it, and…” He rolled over to the other side of the bed and tried to puke again, but his guts were already mostly empty, so he just heaved a few times.

Carter was mostly confused. This was the first time someone had reacted so badly after waking up–with him at least. He’d been pretty freaked out like this the first time–had it been this guy’s first time last night? But then how had they known each other? Gears clicked and whirred, and the realization came to him. He tried to deny it. It couldn’t be him. He’d been working late, and he’d left before he’d gotten home. Had he followed him? How had he even found it in the first place? Wasn’t…wasn’t his dad straight, anyway?

No, it couldn’t be his dad, it couldn’t be him…right?

Pigtown Provides (Part 2) [pics]

The thing most people don’t realize, I think, about Pigtown, is that most of us want to be there. Or at least, I want to be there, and most of the people I know there never want to be anywhere else. It’s the only place a lot of us want to be, because it’s the only place where any of us can be ourselves. Do you know what that’s like? Probably not–not many people do, or ever get the chance, but ever since I was young, I knew that I was…different.

Not gay. Gay isn’t…anything anymore. Anyone can be gay, which is another way of saying that if you’re gay, you can be anyone–which really means no one. Which means you go to school, you get a job, you find someone equally no one to your no one, and you settle down, make more no ones, and die, eventually. But that wasn’t me, that wasn’t what I wanted. It’s what my dad wanted though, he wanted me to be nothing, just like him. Maybe it would be better to just tell him, to break him, finally, and show him who I am, but I can’t yet. Maybe, because I don’t really know who I am yet, either.

People like me, we know all about Pigtown, even if we’ve never been there. It’s everywhere on the internet, in all the places you go, if you need what Pigtown can provide. Most people never find it, because no one really knows where it is. No one even knows what it is, to be honest. All there are out there are stories of it. Anecdotes, rumors thrice removed. I thought it was just a jack off fantasy, I never imagined that it could actually exist, until I almost walked right past it.

I could barely believe it, when I stepped inside. It was like coming home. It was like meeting the family I had never known, the real family I had always wanted and fantasized about. I was changed, when I left–like everyone always is, as you know–but for me, it was everything rewired on the inside that really mattered. I was different. I was braver, and more confident. Not…confident enough to confront my dad about anything, but confident enough to at least buy cigars and smoke them. Confident enough to…go back.

I needed to be there. I needed to be the person I could be there, that I couldn’t be anywhere else. But I had to be someone else for my dad, for the entire world. Some people just…stay. They remain in the orbit, and they never have to leave Pigtown. They never have to remember that there’s anything beyond this. I don’t want that, I don’t think, but I would like…to have who I am in there match who I am out, but I’m not there yet. Maybe one day, I’ll figure out how. Until then, there’s just this. I walk up the stairs and into the bar, I hand the gimp my coat, and as soon as it’s off, I don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m just…me.

I’m a cigar cub. I’m on my knees at the feet of every smoking bear in sight, my tongue on their leather or rubber boots, ready to be of service in whatever way they so desire. I have my favorite daddies, of course, and plenty who have taken quite a liking to me. But I haven’t…found anyone yet, who I want to be with yet. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me, and why I can’t stay. Because I’m not here just looking to be someone…but I’m looking for someone too.

The night rolls, and we’re all rolling with it. In Pigtown, everyone is in flux. If you try to focus too hard on it, it’ll just break you apart–you just have to exist, in the moment, and trust it to take you to a level of ecstasy that you pray exists. Well, it does exist. I know, I’ve hit it before. Three skinheads forced me into rubber one night, hooded me, fed me smoke for…I don’t know, days. I lost everything. I lost so much of myself, and all that remained was pleasure. I think…I would have stayed, if they’d kept at it, but the night ended, like always, and outside, I was me again, mostly. The hair stayed–it hasn’t grown a millimeter since.

But that night, there is someone new. He’s there with some other bears I know well–they laugh when I ask about him, and they say they found him outside, just staring at the bar, and they…invited him in, as we all do on occasion. He was handsome, especially with the massive cigar in his jaw, and I was more than happy to serve him…but he had something else in mind.

Before I know what’s happening, he has three cigars wedged in my mouth, his boot planted against my chest, and I can feel my cock throbbing as smoke surges through me…and I know. I know this is something I could get used to. Someone I could get used to. We find a rhythm. He’s new to all this, but he’s enthusiastic, and I’m eager for whatever he might give me. I find it again, that supreme desire and pleasure, chained to the wall, now four cigars wedged in my mouth while he and another bear flog the shit out of me, and I have to know him. If he stays, I’ll stay. But things roll, and we separate, and the morning comes and I’ve lost him, and I cry on the tram going home, because men like that, men who get pulled in, men who aren’t looking for Pigtown at all…well, chances aren’t good, one might say.

I crawl into bed, and sleep in on Saturday. I somehow still get up before my dad, early enough to sneak a smoke in. We cross paths later…and I gotta say, he looks like shit. But I get close, and I smell…something, and see a little flicker in his eyes…but no, it couldn’t be, right?

Then again, Pigtown provides.

Pigtown Provides (Part 1) [Pics]

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I think, that as a father, I have a right to know. He’s living under my roof after all. Besides, it’s such a strange thing–he never used to do anything like this. He was a good student all through high school, though not great, and was working part time downtown at a restaurant while we worked on some credits at a local community college. Then, seemingly out of the blue, he starts acting…different.

It was little things at first, things that I only notice now in hindsight. The faint scent of cigars I’d catch on the air when I came home, the window of his room always open. On occasion, when I was switching a load of our laundry, I’d notice that all of the briefs he’d worn were slowly disappearing, and were being replaced by jockstraps. He cut his nice hair down to the scalp and started growing out a beard. Nothing on its own was enough to raise an alarm, but he was becoming so distant–we’d always had a solid relationship. I’d always told me he could tell me anything, anything that was on his mind, and I wouldn’t judge him for it, and he’d told me plenty. Now, though, he hardly ever spoke at all to me, about anything. Not about school or work, not about his friends, nothing at all. He was…afraid. I knew something was up–he was in some kind of trouble, but he wasn’t letting me help.

Things got worse. He was disappearing all night long, even on school nights, and I wouldn’t see him until the next afternoon, when he would come home looking haggard and exhausted, smelling of booze and smoke and who knew what else. We started getting into fights, and he told me he wanted to move out, that he was sick and tired of me policing his every action, and trying to control my life. I just want what’s best for him! So this time, I’m going to follow him, and see what’s going on with him myself.

I know he usually takes the tram into town, and the station he usually gets off at, and so I decide to stay late at the office, and then I camp out and wait for him. It takes a while for him to arrive–he doesn’t get off the tram until nearly 10–and I almost don’t recognize him in the long coat he has on. He just looks so…different, and I don’t know when I lost my little boy. Then, when he took out the cigar and lit it on the sidewalk…I was so disgusted, I didn’t know if I wanted to know more than that…but I followed him anyway. The cigar made it easier, to follow him, both by the smell, and by the thin line of smoke rising into the night air. I was so focused on him, that I didn’t really pay much attention to where we were walking until I happened to catch my foot on a crack and stumbled.

It was…not the nicest neighborhood. Seedy bars and a couple of condemned buildings, mostly…but it was the people around us that unnerved me more than anything else. The usual nightlife crowds had all dispersed at this point, and the people who remained in the sidewalks…well, they weren’t the sort of company I had raised my son to keep, I can tell you that much. Watching him, I noticed that he’d pause on occasion, and have a short conversation with some of the men we’d pass, usually older men, some of them smoking as well, but I kept too far back to catch what they were discussing. How did my son know any of these people in the first place? How much of this had I missed, when he was living right under my nose?

It wasn’t too much further that he reached his destination–a bar I had never heard of, called Pigtown. The name didn’t leave much to the imagination all the same, nor did the various breeds of men hanging around outside of the bar, wearing all manner of leather…rubber…or, well, nothing much at all. I’d known my son was gay–I wasn’t kidding when I said earlier that we’d had some rough conversations–but I’d imagined that to be a more…normal thing than it was. You were just substituting a girl for a boy, right? He went inside, and I stayed outside, and wondered what, exactly, I was planning on doing next.

I didn’t approve; but did it matter? He was a grown man, he could do whatever he wanted, couldn’t he? But had I really even answered my question? I still didn’t know what my son was doing here. Well, my imagination could sketch a…broad picture, but I also didn’t really…know much about what these sorts of places were. I admit it, I wanted to confront him about this, not only about…this, whatever he was doing…but about him hiding it from me. But not here, not in public. I could do it later, at home, when we could be a little more…level headed. I turned to head back to the office, get my car and go home–

***

“Hey, where you goin’, man? Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Oh, I’m not…I’m just on my way home.”

“Home? You came all the way here, and now you’re just going to walk away? Whatever you’re looking for, man, it’s in there, trust me. Nothing provides like Pigtown. No judgement, no limits.”

“No, look, I don’t think you understand…I’m not…like you. I’m not gay.”

“Who said anything about gay?”

“I mean, you’re…well…”

“Yeah, come on, I think you need an introduction. Rod would never forgive me if he let someone so cute get this close, and didn’t even bring him in for a round of drinks.”

“Get your arm off of me–”

“Don’t worry man, we’ll get you what you need–Pigtown provides, even if ya don’t even know what you need.”

Pigtown Prison II – The Rookie (Part 5)

Jeff looked up at him, where Keith loomed large over everything, over his entire life. What did it really matter, if he agreed or not? He’d be Keith’s toy either way–but at least, if he agreed…maybe he would be happier with himself. So he said yes, and Keith told him to take two days, sell his things, end his lease, and return with a single bag. He’d be living with Keith from now on, as his slave. The word made Jeff balk, and when he left, he told himself he wouldn’t do it…but the desperation returned, as it always did. Two days later, he was there on the porch, one small duffel packed with only the necessities, and he stepped inside, got on his knees when ordered, and sucked his Master’s cock, showing his gratitude that Keith was willing to train him.

He stayed on at the force, but Keith had his hours cut back quite a bit, and arranged it so Jeff’s checks would be deposited automatically into his own accounts. Keith had a sizable personal gym in his house, and when Jeff wasn’t at work or completing his chores, he was there–working out and lifting weights. His meals were massive, and from the first day, Keith would inject him several times during the day, but always refused to tell Jeff what, exactly, the injections were. Still–they were working. Three months later, he was already larger–when he looked at himself in the mirror, he was beginning to see the sort of brute he longed to be…but his looks weren’t the only changes. His mind was slowing down. He had a difficult time making decisions, and relied on Keith–or Master, as he called him now, to decide everything for him–when to eat, what to eat, when to sleep, how to work out, what chores to do. It was a comfort, really, that he didn’t have to think. He knew he was being reduced to a stupid beast…but rather than be horrified, the idea actually turned him on more and more.

Keith shaved his head, pierced his nipples and cock, and began taking him to a tattoo parlour, his entire body slowly being covered by blocks and swirls of black ink, from his neck down to the tops of his feet. He loved it–especially when he was in Pigtown and caught sight of himself in a mirror, while he was balls deep inside a pig’s hole. He looked like a nasty minded thug pig, just like Keith told him he was going to be–and it was all he really wanted to be, anymore. At the bar, he would still take Rod’s drinks, but now that he was larger, the effect was even more substantial. Each time he was there, he would up even larger than before–and in turn, his daily body never felt large enough–no matter how large he got. He knew, in his mind, that he should be satisfied, but between Keith’s humiliation, and the rush of those evenings behind the curtain, even when he finally plateaued at 280 pounds of muscle and fat…he still felt puny. It didn’t help that, somehow, he was getting shorter. He lost almost six inches, from the time he moved in with Keith–and he was never able to get a straight answer why. The loss in height only made him work harder for more and more mass. He lost flexibility, his muscles restricting his movement–especially in his shoulders and neck. The pills and shots Keith were forcing on him fucked with his hormones as well, his cock and balls growing and constantly horny, hair sprouting all over his body in thick patches, and acne erupting all over his face and back, leaving his face scarred and pitted. His face–he barely recognized old photos of him anymore. He seemed so square and boxy, his head sitting right on his massive, inflamed chest, a thick beard hiding his mouth, usually stuck in a scowl.

As thick as he was, and as aggressive as he found himself behaving around the precinct–especially around guys on the force he knew he’d be fucking later in the evening, Keith kept him under his control at all times. He loved the fact that he could bend Jeff over, anywhere and anytime, and have his way with his muscle bull–with Rook, as everyone had started calling him, joking that he was built like a tower on a chess board. Keith had come up with it–as a way to shorten his usual nickname of Rookie, now that he was no longer new–and he especially loved it because Rook had grown too stupid to really understand the reference, but he knew it was a compliment, and so he grinned when he heard it all the same.

A few years later, Rook had nearly forgotten about Jeff entirely. He was Master’s enforcer, bruiser, and pet monster–whatever Master Keith wanted him to be, and whoever he wanted him to hurt, Rook obeyed him without question. The last time he felt Jeff at all, was when he was down in Master’s dungeon, punishing one of his prisoners. The leather body bag was hanging from the ceiling, squirming, as Rook went at it for another round, treating it like a literal punching bag, enjoying the feel of the flesh breaking and squishing inside so much more satisfying than the fluff of the bags he usually practiced on. Still–it had had enough. He unzipped the head of the bag, and saw the face inside–it was some old pig named Oliver, who’d been down here as long as Rook could remember, and looking at his bloody face, he felt a flicker of regret…but he stamped it out. That was weakness. He didn’t want to be weak. He grabbed Oliver by the ears, shoved his dick into his mouth and fucked him roughly, imagining he was fucking himself, that old self, breaking it up and throwing it away for good, and by the time he came, feeding the grateful Oliver a good sized load, Rook felt better. Rook felt like everything was exactly the way things were supposed to be.

Pigtown Prison II – The Rookie (Part 4)

He went back to the gym, and again worked himself to exhaustion, and then kept going. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong enough. If he was stronger, he could beat Keith at his own game. If he was bigger, he’d be in control of himself, he’d be in control of everything. He collapsed, hours later, shaking and covered and sweat, and looked at the clock. It was five thirty, and if he jogged…no. No, he wouldn’t do it. It was a trap, and he knew it was a trap, and still, he was getting up, still in his sweat soaked gym clothes, and he left, hustling down the sidewalks through rush hour until he reached the precinct building, where Keith was on the steps, in his uniform, waiting. “You had me worried, Rookie–you’re a couple minutes late. Good thing I was feeling lenient today.”

Jeff wanted to pummel him into the ground. He wanted to drag him in, throw him in a jail cell, and find someone–anyone–who would believe him. But being this close to him, smelling him, he found himself shrinking slightly as he approached…and he hated it. “You can’t…do this to me.”

Keith smiled, “Rookie, you still don’t get it. You’re going to be doing this to yourself, soon enough. Now let’s get going.”

The walk to the bar was quiet. Jeff did his best to memorize the path, so he’d, hopefully, be able to find his way back on his own, so he could report the place…later. But the street wasn’t even the same one as before–even if the bar looked the same–and now even more confused, he followed Keith up the steps and into the bar–and once he was inside, everything just came naturally, like sliding into a dream. Four or five painful drinks, and then he was himself again. He was the self he wanted to be, and then he was back behind the curtain, fucking any hole he could find, but now, Keith stayed close by, urging him on, both of them fucking pigs together, occasionally fucking Jeff while Jeff fucked someone else, and Jeff found himself…envying Keith. His uniform, and his confidence. The next morning he was back in Keith’s apartment, and back to himself, but when Keith wanted to fuck him…Jeff found himself looking forward to it, in some sick way, and that was when he realized he had, without even thinking about it, given in entirely.

He managed to keep some semblance of himself together, for a time. But every night he spent in Pigtown with Keith and the other pigs on the force, the more he wanted to be that brute, and the more disgusting he found his relatively small frame the next day. When the sergeant suggested he become Keith’s partner on the force, he jumped at the chance–and quickly discovered that Keith had quite the racket going on the side. Usually, at the end of their shifts, they’d pick up a suspect or two, with or without evidence, and take them to Pigtown. None of them ever left again, to Jeff’s knowledge…but that didn’t faze him like he knew it should. He honestly didn’t care what he had to do anymore, so long as Keith kept taking him there…but eventually, the bar wasn’t enough. He didn’t just want to be the brute at night–he wanted to be him all the time. He didn’t care what it would take, or what he would have to give up, and so, one night, while Keith was distracted, Jeff went to the bar, where Rod poured him another drink–but he didn’t take it.

He was about halfway there, at this point. Muscles hulking, cock aching for a good hole, but still…capable of thought, even if he didn’t really want to. He pushed the drink away, which caught Rod by surprise. “What’s up, Rookie? Wanting something different tonight?”

“No…I…” he hesitated, “I don’t…want it to end, anymore.”

Rod cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, and be small anymore. I can’t…take it. I hate it, I hate myself. I just…I want to be this. This brute. I don’t…care what you do to me. I know guys disappear here. I know most of the guys Keith and I bring here just go behind that curtain and never come back out. I don’t care what you do to me back there, but I can’t go back out. I can’t bear it anymore.”

Rod nodded, “As sexy as that would be, chaining you up down there, making a real monster out of you–that’s not quite my call.”

“You own this place! It can be your call. I give you permission, please, just…just take me.”

“This is the deal I have with Keith. He brings me men, and in return, I let him do what he likes with the ones he claims–men like you. And trust me–he likes you a lot, and he likes how miserable you look the morning after. I suppose you could ask him. He might be willing to let you stay down there, if you beg. He likes it when they beg–trust me.”

He looked at Keith, and then back at Rod. “He won’t do it, I know him. He won’t.”

Rod shrugged, and pushed the drink over to him. “Then bottoms up, Rookie. Get what you can, if you can’t get what you want.”

The next morning, even though he knew what Keith’s answer was going to be, he asked anyway. He got down on his knees and begged for it, really, begged for Keith to let him be the brute, begged him to let him stay there, if he wanted. Keith just listened, laughed, and shoved Jeff onto all fours, and fucked him again, right on the floor.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Keith asked, “Sure, you make a sexy beast, at night, but what I love is this,” he hammered in his cock for emphasis, “This, the morning after, seeing how weak you are, seeing you realize how weak you are. Letting me do whatever the fuck I want to you, all of that ego, and all of that power just stripped away, and you turn into a desperate little faggot, everytime. Because that’s what you really are, you know. A desperate faggot. All of my pigs are. Don’t feel too bad about it–none of you can help it. Not you, not the sergeant, not the captain, not anyone on the squad. You’re all just pigs–and nothing more.” He kept fucking, Jeff trying to feel some anger or rage at Keith…but he just felt empty. The cock in his ass filled the hole slightly, but it wasn’t enough–it was never going to be enough. Keith finished, and slipped free, and while he wiped his cock off, he said, “Still–you want it that badly? Then fine. I’ll help. But you don’t get it the easy way, and you have to do everything I say pig. No talking back, no resistance, and never, ever say no. One chance–take it, or don’t.”

Pigtown Prison II (Part 3)

But of course it was for better! He…didn’t really want to be that beast, did he? No! Of course not! He tried to convince himself of that for a few minutes, and generally succeeded in doing so, burying that secret joy back in his chest, and he got out of bed, looked around for his clothes, only to remember that he’d…torn them all to shreds. How in the hell did he even get home last night–or rather, how in the hell did he get here? While the beginning of the night was relatively clear, the whirlwind of sex never seemed to end in his memory–there was just fucking, then nothing, then here, himself again and hungover.

The door to the room swung open, and there, in the doorway, was Keith–also completely naked, with that same cocky grin on his face from the bar plastered across it. “Morning Rookie–feeling alright?”

“F-Fuck you,” Jeff managed to stammer, “What the fuck was that?”

“Just an initiation of sorts, is all. You certainly enjoyed yourself, don’t you think?” He walked in, and he reeked of sex and leather and smoke, just like Jeff did, and he scooted back on the bed. “No, get the fuck away from me.”

“Oh? After giving you such a good night, where you enjoyed yourself so much, and now you think you can just prude up? It’s time for you to learn, Rookie, that a night at Pigtown with me doesn’t ever come free.”

Jeff couldn’t resist him–he didn’t feel like he could do anything. Keith had him pinned down, kissing and licking his neck, and to his own disgust–he liked it. Keith liked it too, feeling Jeff struggle, feeling how weak he was, and taunted him with it, mocked him, how such a big man from the night before was just going to give it up like this. Before long, Jeff was on his belly, Keith inside him, fucking him, and fuck, it felt good–and Keith knew it felt good. It was like he…knew him, inside and out, every button, so that by the time Keith finally filled Jeff’s hole with a load, Jeff had already shot his onto the sheets beneath him, and he felt like whore.

“Not bad Rookie, for your first real fuck,” Keith said, and got up from the bed. “You can borrow some of my clothes to get home, if you want–or just go naked. You were certainly shameless and proud of it last night in the streets. Or hey, if you want more, you can always stick around.”

He didn’t want to stick around. It took Jeff most of the day to sort his shit back out, get to his car where he’d parked it, and get back to his apartment. If anything, it was nice having a concrete problem to solve–but when he was alone again…everything came surging back. The shame, the weakness, the…lust. The clothes Keith had given him were dirty cast offs, full of his musk, and Jeff couldn’t help but smell them, thinking about that fuck earlier–but also about how he’d felt that night before. How big he’d been. How horny he’d been. How good it had felt to be so dominant and powerful. Looking at himself in the mirror, it was difficult to convince himself that he really was back to normal–compared to who he’d been for those few hours, he couldn’t help but see himself as a runt. He jacked off a couple of times, and then decided to go to the gym.

He spent hours there. He skipped his cardio, and focused on weights, pushing himself to the max over and over again. At first, it was just to prove to himself that he was a strong as he remembered…but eventually it wasn’t about proving himself at all. He…wanted to be that big again. He wanted it like he’d never really wanted anything in his life. This wasn’t enough–if…if he couldn’t be that brute, then he…he didn’t think he’d ever really be happy again. In the end, he just exhausted himself and trudged home, every muscle on fire, covered in sweat but no larger than he had been. Everything felt so…hopeless. But maybe…maybe if he could find that bar again, he could get another one of those drinks. Maybe just…one more night like that, and he could get this all out of his system.

He followed Keith’s directions to the letter, but when he reached the alley, the bar was nowhere to be found. It didn’t even look like the same part of the city. He cased the whole street anyway, and then started weaving around the streets nearby, certain it had to be close, but everytime he thought he saw a flicker of that blue neon, it turned out to be just another closed sign hung in the window of a pawn shop or restaurant. It had to exist. It had to. It couldn’t have all just been in his head, he refused to believe that. Defeated and desperate, he went back to his apartment and fell into a fitful sleep.

He skipped work the next day, and called in sick. He couldn’t face them, any of them, not after what he’d done. Especially not after what he’d done to the sergeant…and not after what the sergeant had begged him to do to him. It was clear–this was all Keith’s doing, and that bartender. He needed to turn them in, and clear house at the precinct. If that involved implicating himself then so be it. So he called the captain’s line, ready to confess, but when the phone picked up, he didn’t get an answer–all he could hear was some distant grunting and moaning.

“That you, Rookie?” a voice said over the line after a minute. It was Keith. “Of course it is. The captain and I are busy at the moment–I heard you aren’t feeling too good though. Need a pick me up? Meet me at the precinct tonight, six sharp, and we can go get you what you need.”

The phone hung up, leaving Jeff standing there, shaking, cock hard and erect, wondering just how high this went. Did he dare call someone else? Go to internal affairs? If he did, and the person he talked to was compromised…he had a feeling that neither Keith, nor Pigtown, would treat him kindly for that betrayal.

Betrayal–it wasn’t a fucking betrayal! The fucker had lured him there under false pretenses, drugged him, and then raped him the morning after in the clear light of day. He didn’t understand his own reluctance. He’d never been one to shy away from the moral act, even if it was difficult, but he found himself caught between that old self, and someone else entirely. He needed to clear his head. He needed to work out.

Pigtown Prison II – The Rookie (Part 2)

“Fuck…” Jeff muttered, the room spinning a bit, “Fuck, what the fuckin’ shit…”

“Hey now, Rookie, calm down for a second,” Keith said and stood up after him, “You feelin’ good man?”

“Fuck–hell fuckin’ yeah I feel fuckin’ good!” Jeff said, “I…I ain’t never felt like this, fuck!”

“Yeah, I thought you’d like this, once you got the hang of it,” Keith stepped closer, rubbing his leather uniform against Jeff’s bare skin. He looked up at him, having to crane his neck a bit further back than usual, because he seemed…shorter than before. Shorter, and wider. In fact, it was kind of hard to move his neck, because of how much muscle had been packed onto it–the same with his arms, and his thighs. Keith bent down, and kissed him roughly, Jeff returning it with plenty of fervor, wrestling with his tongue, but Keith simply forced his way into Jeff’s mouth, invading and dominating him with just his tongue, so that when he pulled away, Jeff was breathless. “Come on Rookie, let’s meet the rest of the guys, eh? I have a feeling you’re gonna have a great time tonight.”

Keith put his arm back around Jeff’s shoulder, and now the smell of the leather wasn’t off putting–but spicy and somehow exciting. Jeff reached down and idly stroked his cock, only to discover he was already completely hard–and much, much larger than he had been previously. He felt powerful. He felt…fuck, he felt like fighting. He felt like getting in a fucking brawl, and knocking someone flat, before rolling them over and raping their ass. He reached around and grabbed Keith’s ass as they passed through the curtain–but as soon as he did, Keith stopped, and gave him a side-eye. “Careful you don’t bite off more than you can handle, Rookie. I’ve been at this a whole lot longer than you.”

Jeff…wasn’t sure of what to make of the look in Keith’s eyes. The red light of the backroom met the green and just turned them a harsh, unyielding grey, and a spike of fear cut through him, and he pulled his hand away. “Good boy–why don’t you go say hi to our sergeant over there?”

Keith pointed to a threesome underway, an older, chubby bear spitroasted by two hung muscle bears, also in police uniforms like Keith was. The pig in the middle–it took Jeff a moment to recognize him, but it was, in fact, the sergeant…but twisted. A full tangled beard, eyes crazed with lust, a hundred pounds heavier–but it was him. He looked over at Jeff, and he knew what the pig needed. He stomped over, shoved one of his fellow officers out of the way and took over, ramming his cock in deep, fucking him roughly, and Keith just watched, for a moment, letting him get into a nice rhythm, before he went over, pulling his own cock free as he did. He shoved Jeff in deep, and then slipped two wet leathered fingers into the brute’s hole, listening to his moan with pleasure, and then fucked him hard, Jeff nearly lost in a sexual haze, pounding into the Sergeant with even more fervor, snarling and growling until he exploded, and Keith filled the rookies hole as well.

“That’s a good fucker–now go make some new friends, eh?”

Jeff, eyes glazed and lost, just nodded dumbly, wandered over until he saw another hole, and started fucking all over again, his cock not even going soft in between fucks. Satisfied, Keith slipped back out into the bar proper, and sat back down at the bar.

Rod just inspected a glass, and then set it down. “Not your usual flavor, I have to say.”

“He was gonna be a troublemaker, I could just tell. Better to nip it in the bud.”

“He has a solid will–think you can handle it?”

Keith gave him a wink, “I learned from the best, right boss?”

***

Jeff, woke up with a burning headache–unlike any hangover he’d ever experienced. He remembered Pigtown, or at least most of it, but it seemed–impossible. One minute he’d been himself, and the next he’d literally ripped his way out of his clothes, become some dumb hairy brute…and then he’d spent the rest of the evening in a sexual frenzy. He lost count, in his mind, of how many different holes he’d fucked–fellow officers of the force, both ends of their sergeant, other anonymous pigs who had all begged him for his seed. He’d kept expecting, after each orgasm, to finally come down from his high, but it seemed like every load only made him hornier, every load larger than the rest, his balls churning with need. Fuck, just thinking about it was getting him horny! He reached down for his cock, only to find it had shrunk.

No–not shrunk. It was normal. It was his dick, but after a night wielding such a massive cock, it felt so…small. He gave it a few strokes, but despite being turned on my his memories, it remained flacid, and more than that, his arm ached too much to even begin to jack off. Every inch of him ached–but more than the hurt, he simply felt…weak. Whether, like his cock, it was a matter of exhaustion from the night before (a night he still wasn’t quite convinced had actually happened) or simply a matter of comparison, after being such a massive beast of a man, capable of hefting the three hundred and fifty pound sergeant into the air, and impaling him on his cock, he didn’t know–but what he did know was that he hated it.

He felt awful. He felt sick, but more than that, he couldn’t believe what he’d done–what Keith had done to him. What that bartender had done to him. He opened his eyes a crack, hoping to see his apartment ceiling, but it wasn’t. He was somewhere else, in a sizable bed, alone. He was filthy too–reeking of sex–but his body was back. For better or worse, he was himself.