Date: Sat, 8 Apr 2017 09:10:20 -0700
From: Boy Mercury X <boymercuryx@gmail.com>
Subject: Zeus Breeds Pigs in Olympia

This story is an entirely fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, involving
consensual sexual relations between related persons.

Copyright me 2017.

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ZEUS BREEDS PIGS IN OLYMPIA by Boy Mercury X


1.

Me and Dad have been together since the start, before the other kids, the
farm, the hogs and everything.

There's a lot you wouldn't guess to look at us now, like how Dad was a
young prodigy at Microsoft, or that he was also a competitive weightlifter
because Socrates said it's a tragedy for a man to grow old without seeing
the beauty and strength of which his body is capable.

After he made his nest egg he quit programming in his 20s he quit his job
and moved further west, to Olympia, the state capitol, which is also
surrounded by rural areas.  "Olympia, Olympus, this piece of shit is the
home of the gods," he says.  He means it too, and he doesn't see the
contradiction.

We live off the land as much as possible, growing our produce and
butchering chickens and goats from time to time.  Dad is most of the time
our general carpenter, electrician, mechanic, chef, veterinarian and
doctor.  He's my tutor too, when he has time, supplementing my public
school education with his own spin on the classics and business.

We buy as little as possible, driving into Oly or Seattle for the things we
can't grow.  Even in a big lot store Dad will try to bargain down the price
from a pimple faced sales clerk with no power at all.  It used to embarrass
me, but Dad always says don't ask don't get.

The hogs are not for eating.  They're show hogs for animal husbandry, not
for eating, and thank God it isn't a real hog farm because that's the most
foul thing you'll ever smell.  Dad keeps just a few breeding sows and his
prize boar Sophocles, the stud.  Before Sophocles was Euripides and before
him was Aristophanes, but Sophocles was without doubt Dad's favorite.

Dad has said that Zeus took all sorts of forms to get at women, bulls and
swans and whatever, but if Dad could do that he'd come as a boar.  Boars
have orgasms that last 15 minutes on average, but Dad has seen Sophocles
clock in at a half hour.  Scientists say no one knows what a boar is
feeling, or if it's the same as when a man cums, but Dad says just try to
take a boar off before he's done and you'll have the fight of your life.

Zeus had over 90 kids with all sorts of goddesses and mortal women, but Dad
set his sights on 12, the number of gods in Olympus.  He was at 8 so far,
and had prospects for getting all the way to his goal.  Except for me, the
kids lived with their moms, and mostly spent summers with me and Dad on the
farm, which was handy because that's when we had the most work. Paying off
the moms eats up a lot of the nest egg, but Dad manages it so no one really
knows how much there is in total.

Even though he's a crazy ass show hog breeder on a shitty family farm, he
has looks women like and he can sweet-talk anyone when he sets his mind to
it.  He's not a competitive weightlifter at all now, and he gained a lot of
weight since he was, but he still lifts so he's built under it all, so even
with a big belly he has massive shoulders and chest, and biceps as big as a
kid's head.  He's jowly too, and shaves only now and then so he's got a
half-grown mustache and beard most of the time, but he's still got a
handsome face, with amber eyes and gold and chocolate hair.

You'd be surprised how many women see him as some sort of challenge, and
having a baby with him is the price of admission to play, but not a one of
them lasts.  His sweet side doesn't last, and he's also a bastard who will
tell anyone what he thinks, and does as he pleases.  He doesn't pull his
punches, not with strangers, not with those he knows and not with us kids.
What's the point in being a self made man, he'll say, if you can't fart and
burp and say what you feel to anyone you want.  And I guess that's how the
farm could be Olympus and a piece of shit at the same time.


2.

Dad was serious about breeding, and approached his own breeding project
almost the same way he did Sophocles, his stud boar, trying to improve
results through diet and behavior.

His consumes daily supplements to increase sperm count and semen output. He
gobbles up Zinc, L-Arginine, Lecithin and Pygeum, the master potion, and
does kegels in addition to lifting to make for longer, more intense
orgasms.

"I may not make 30 minutes like Sophocles, but I aim to set some records,"
he says.

Breeders keep boars near enough sows to smell them, but limit their orgasms
to breeding time. A lot of breeders have their breeding boars mount a dummy
to get their semen to sell on the market, but Dad doesn't have the heart to
do that to Sophocles, who only fucks straight up sow pussy.  We have
separate sow and boar pens, and another breeding pen for when Sophocles
gets a fucking date.

Sometimes Dad will ask Sophocles afterwards how he enjoyed that sow cooter.
He just looks at us with his pig eyes, but I think he'd say One word frees
us of all the weight and pain of life, and that word is love.

Dad has a policy for himself that he will only cum in a pussy, which is
probably the hardest part of his plan because unless he's getting it
regular, he might have to go a while with no jerking off or anything.  When
he's seeing someone regular it's not such a problem.  But mostly it's long
stretches and that's why on Friday and Saturday nights he trolls dive bars
and sweet talks any breeding age woman he meets from Seattle to Forks and
all points in between.

Even if a woman is on birth control he'll stick with the policy.  He says
no birth control is perfect, so at least his boys have a chance.  The one
exception is a woman pregnant, because you can't get more pregnant, so even
though he wants pregnant pussy too he'll live it up and titty fuck a
pregnant woman.

He'll tell you he loves titty fucking, and nothing better than titty
fucking a pregnant woman whose boobs are big and full of milk.  Not that he
doesn't love pregnant pussy too, but those titties are something else.

I've seen him at it, because when he's got a woman he'll fuck anywhere they
want.  I've walked into the kitchen to find a woman straddling him at the
kitchen table, I've seen him thrusting between the massive boobs of a
girlfriend days before birth, I've seen him out in the hammock humping a
new woman just as hard as his boar Sophocles.

Dad's bedroom and mine are on one side of the house, but all the younger
kids are on the other when they're on the farm in summers, so Dad has
pretty free license, and though he wouldn't admit to any limits on his
impulses it looks to me like the more public aspects of his breeding life
only happen when no one's around but me.

Sophocles says a lusting cock is like being chained to a mad master, and
Dad will tell you some day maybe he'll be free of it, but he didn't see
that time coming soon.


3.

Because the nest egg was only enough to get us kids through childhood, and
Dad to his death in old age, and also because he sometimes dipped deep to
pay off one of his women, we knew once we hit 18 we were on our own.  There
was no money for college, but the farm property was vast enough that we
could build up here, or go into the world to make our fortunes.  Youth,
says Dad, is the best time to be poor.

I was first to turn 18, and the truth is Dad depended on me, being both the
oldest and the one most consistently present.  I was already tending to a
lot on the farm, but Dad offered to me to be the farm manager, for my room
and board.  I drove a harder bargain, and added some cash payment too.  He
didn't like that so much, but you don't grow up with a cheap bastard
without learning to be a little bit of one yourself.

"Don't ask, don't get," I said.

He pointed to Sophocles, serenely eating from his trough, and said, "This
is the unperturbed state in which every man should seek to keep himself."

In the end he yielded, and with my first wage I drove to Seattle to buy a
dildo and some fancy lube.

You might not think a boy on a farm would have a lot of opportunity for
sex, but you'd be surprised what a body fit from hard work and a discreet
tongue will get you.  There's men, a few anyway, on these farms that work
hard their whole lives, marry dutifully, and just want a boy on the side
for a little pleasure free of obligation or labor.

I never got built up like Dad with his weightlifting, but even I know I
look pretty good.  I have a long lean torso and smooth skin with tiny
blonde hairs that get almost white after working shirtless on the farm all
summer.  I have some of Dad's good looks in the face, and his handsome
smile.  With my farm boots and worn jeans and baseball cap you might think
I was just some farm boy looking to marry some big titted girl.  But it was
their brothers and husbands and fathers I was thinking of.

I took to hooking up with Tim Skyler, a farmer nearby with had a pretty
wife and a couple of tow-headed kids, who liked to suck dick from time to
time, and liked mine just fine.  We'd meet up when I was in town to buy
things, because I didn't have much free time otherwise, and hook up in a
public bathroom or in the pickup.

One day he told me his farm, a real producing farm, was doing pretty good
and he needed a good manager to help him, was I interested.  I have to
admit the idea of my own real job was appealing, and if you throw in some
free heads now and again that sweetened the deal.  But I knew the kids
would be home for summer soon, and one of the gilts would be up for her
first breeding soon, and I couldn't see leaving Dad high and dry.

"If you change your mind, Merc, let me know," he said, then went back home
to his wife with a load of my cum in his belly.


4.

Dad knew I was lusting after him too.

On Sunday mornings we'd hold our weekly farm meeting, he and I, while he
showered, the curtain open.  If he got some pussy on Friday or Saturday,
he'd have a clear head for business on Sunday morning.  And sometimes
Sunday morning meant having to drive some hungover slampiece back to Tacoma
or Aberdeen or wherever she left her car the night before.

I'd watch Dad shower while he talked about shopping lists, hogs that needed
breeding and equipment that needed tending.  His chest, belly, ass, legs
and nuts were covered with soft downy baby golden brown hair, which was
something so soft and pretty on such a big hard body.  Like I said, he had
a belly, but also big weightlifter shoulders, pecs and biceps.  He just
seemed so abundant everywhere, including his fat cock and round ass.

He could tell I was looking at him and asked if I liked boys or girls, and
I said boys I figure.  He asked if I liked him in that way, and I said I
figure.

"If you're going to be a cocksucker might as well own up to it," he
said. "Shame too because you're good looking and could have your choice of
girls.  But it is what it is.  Puts my breeding line in a hell of a funny
place though."

"I figure," I said, watching the soaps water our off his cock and balls.

"Better teach you to fight too," he said.  "You're already a thirsty son of
a bitch, and you're gonna' need to know how to defend yourself."

Some fathers might have been unnerved by the situation, but Dad wasn't.  He
might have liked the attention, to be honest.


5.

Dad and I had a flirtation, you could say.

I woke one Friday night from the noise in his room, and got up to find him
in his bedroom, the door open, rutting with a big girl, thrusting up into
her with his full weight. When he saw me standing there he looked up and
said "Sorry son, just making another little piglet to worship me like you
do."

They fucked almost non-stop for two days, and on Sunday we had our usual
business meeting while he showered. I went ahead and slow stroked my boner
over my jeans, almost hypnotized by the flow over his softly furred body.

He cupped one of his pecs and caressed it and said, "You want some of this
Daddy tit?"  Of course I did, and he let me take a lick of his nipple.
Then he sighed and said he'd drive his chippy back to Chehalis.

I jerked off into his towel after he dried himself, thinking about that
lick.


6.

Things came to a head after Sophocles' impregnated one of the sows, which
made Dad proud and maybe a little envious.

I fed the chickens and hogs, and watered down the boar and hog pens

After the little ones went to school, while Dad sat at the table and I
cleaned up, I said "Sophocles is getting on, he's been breeding for three
years.  We might want to keep one of the shoats from this coming litter to
raise up as the next boar."

I said that because boars don't have too long a breeding life because they
get too heavy to mount anything and develop leg weakness.

"Sophocles is fine," replied Dad, bluntly.  "That hog's got plenty of
breeding in him."

After a few minutes of silence he added, "I know you said Sophocles is
getting too old, but it sounded like you might be talking about me. You
have something to say?  Spit it out. "

"Nope, not me," I said, cleaning up our breakfast, pouring the leftover
bacon fat into a little tin where we keep it in the refrigerator.

Dad changed the topic by grabbing at his morning boner tenting his boxers,
and said "Jesus fuck, I upped my pygeum supplement and now I'm leaking
precum like a faucet all day.

He knew how to get me, because even though we flirted with each other, I
was the one who wanted it more.  I looked out the window and could see the
boar pen. I could almost hear Sophocles say fortune is not on the side the
faint hearted.

"Let's see it," I said, and Dad obliged.  He popped his cock out of his
boxers, and as he said, it was dripping a stream of precum seeping into his
boxers.  I noted it had been almost a month since he'd brought a woman
home.

I was still holding the tin of refrigerated bacon fat, so I scooped some
out right in my hand, walked over to Dad, and slathered it on his
erection. I wasn't going to have a damn pig say I was faint hearted.

His cock twitched for a second at the contact with the refrigerated fat,
but as it warmed and lubricated my stroking, his cock swelled defiantly.
Dad and I looked each other straight in the eyes, almost waiting to see who
would blink first.

His greased cock was a fountain of precum, and I was merciless in my
stroking, going especially slow as I grazed the head of it.  I licked my
lips, wanting him so bad.

But he took my wrist in his hand to stop me, and said, "I'm so full up, too
bad there's not a real cunt on this farm to take it.  Fucking shame."

Even with his cock pulsing and the precum oozing out of him in a steady
stream, he was so in control.

"You're a fucking cock tease," I said.  "Go find yourself another farm
manager.  I'm done.  I quit."

I grabbed a kitchen towel for my bacon greased hand and walked out onto the
farm.


7.

I made my way to the hogs and went to the breeding pen where I could be
alone, but Dad followed me, still in his pygeum precum stained boxers,
carrying the tin of bacon fat.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I'm leaving," I said.  "The Skyler farm offered me a job, and I'm
leaving."

"You're being rash," he said, and was holding his erection in his boxers.
"I forget you kids take shit seriously."

"Is your plan that we just go on like this, you and me?" I asked.

"It occurs to me," he answered, "even Zeus took to a boy now and then
between getting women with his babies.  He came to Ganymede in the form of
an eagle."

"Yeah well I don't see any eagles around here," I said, not yet
understanding his point or intent.

He stripped off his boxers and nodded to the dirt floor and said, "We're in
the breeding pen, Merc, let's breed.  That's what you want, isn't it?"

"What?" I said, not even sure what he meant. Did he mean the hogs?  Or us?
"I don't -- I have to take a shit."

"Now who's the cocktease?  Come on, hands and knees, like a sow," he said
as he scooped up a handful of cold bacon grease and smeared his cock with
it.

Almost in a daydream, I stripped off my jeans, kicked off my boots, and got
down on my knees.  They sunk in the moist earth, and so did my hands.

Dad knelt behind me, and without pause pressed his cock up against my hole,
rubbing it against my pucker, and I heard him say "Little pig, little pig,
let me in," and the head speared up into me, spreading my hole open.

He paused just to get his bearings, and starts to slide up into me, in one
long move. I kept saying fuck, fuck, as my hole and bowel tried to
accommodate him, but he was moving faster than I could keep up with. That
was faster and more steady than I ever was able to do with my dildo, and I
was quivering inside trying to take it.

"You're a mean fucker," I said.

"You even know what you want, boy?" he asked.

"I want you to fuck me," I said.

"Fuck you?  Son, I'm gonna' rearrange your guts."

He pulled almost all the way out of me and slowly slid all the way back in,
faster and harder and I lost my wind and dropped my shoulders into the mud,
trying to wrestle for a solid grip to hold myself up.

He started some long slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out and then
in again, and I was almost dizzy with the alternating sensations of being
full and empty and then full again. I let myself settle down into the mud,
and let him work my ass.

I could have gone on like that, but Dad threw his full weight on me, all
250 pounds, forcing my legs to spread wide in the slick wet earth, so I
buckled flat under him, pressed flat into the mud.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?" he asked as he covered my whole body
with his. "You're gonna' stay right here and manage this farm, and you can
get a breeding now and then if that's what you need, right?"

"I can't breathe," I gasped, struggling to fill my lungs, "please Daddy."

"Tell me what you're gonna' do," he said, lifting off of me enough for a
moment's respite, as if to say even my breath was his to give or take.

"I'm staying here," I panted, "I won't ever leave."

Dad said good boy, the buried his face against the back of my head and
started pounding me hard. I didn't think there was any deeper to go but his
cock was hitting new places in me, drilling down into my core. He was a god
and a pig and my father all at the same time.

His breath was coming in frantic little gasps and his thrusts were harder
and shorter and faster.  His whole weight was on me and I was drowning in
mud, and he was fucking climbing over the top of me shoving me deeper down,
and I couldn't lift myself and the mud was smacking and he snorted and
shooting a hot fountain of semen deep in me, his thrusts so hard they were
pushing my own cum out of me into the mud.  I came and came, and when I was
done he was still going strong, pumping his cum into me, gorging me with it
as my ass made sick wet farting sounds.

We lie there till even after he was done and his cock had gone only half
hard, trying to regain both our breaths while my belly gurgled.

Dad put his face up against mine and whispered "If you ever try to leave I
will find you, and I will chop you into pieces and feed you to the pigs."

Then he kissed me on the side of my face, slid out of my bottom and stood
up.

I struggled to get up, feeling volcanic inside.  I squatted, instinctively,
and my ass erupted in a loud belch and a hot flow of shit, semen, bacon
grease and mucous.  It came in a wave, then another and another.  I broke
out into a cold sweat and shivered, humiliated doing this in front of Dad,
but I couldn't have stopped it to save my life.

Looking at his precious load mixed with my feces in the mud, Dad said
"Fucking shame."  He started back to the house, turning back once to say
"Just kidding about the chopping you up thing.  You kids are so fucking
serious."

On my knees, with my beaten guts and aching hole I looked around at the pen
and the farm that I would live on for the rest of my days.

Sophocles observed.  His eyes said, The keenest sorrow is to recognize
ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.

That's when I realized how much I hated that fucking pig.


THE END