Date: Sun, 11 Sep 2022 13:09:20 +0200 From: "Piggysleaze@mail.com" Subject: A Week in Grassmore 7 Like your stories piggy and sleazy? Then be a good pig and donate to Nifty... now! https://donate.nifty.org/ Welcome to the latest Piggysleaze series. It is set in the same "world" as some of my other stories, so I've provided a quick background summary if you haven't read those. This series is one of EXTREME raunch, and will eventually include scat, puke, and other degenerate themes. As always, do not read if younger than 18, and this work of fiction does not represent any real people. Email is always welcome: piggysleaze@mail.com Backstory: By 2022 a secret cabal of filthy, degenerate, incestuous raunch families had attained the highest levels of power and money. They used their privilege, wealth, and positions of power to launch a scheme that had been decades in the making: filling the food and water supply with pharmaceuticals that would turn ordinary men into filth-craving, depraved pigs like themselves. For one of their first testing trials in the fall of '22, the cabal selected the small Midwestern town of Grassmore, population 1,000. This is what happened over the course of a week, as the additives began to affect the town's male inhabitants. SUNDAY Father Paul was already sweating under his vestments and he could see his hands were trembling. He tried to calm himself. Closing his eyes, he began a recitation of the Lord's Prayer. Yet when he came to the end and opened them again, he saw that he was jacking his thick cock under his hiked-up robes. "FUCK," he mumbled to himself in an uncharacteristic profanity, "not again." He forced himself to release his chokehold on his dick. How the hell was he going to get through mass? The past week had been one of growing alarm for Father Paul. It had always been easy for the 50-year-old tubby priest to maintain his vows. He'd spent most of his life feeling largely a-sexual, with only a benign fatherly glow towards everyone he met. Maybe it was because by 30 he already resembled Santa Claus, with premature grey hair, beard, and a big, round belly. While other men at the seminary were sneaking off for sex, Paul just wasn't that interested, nor did he feel any stirrings for women or even the kids he ministered to. But earlier in the month, he'd started feeling urges and sensations, that kept growing. For the first time in years, he'd jacked off. Then he did it again, this time fingering around his asshole. He was ready to go again when he forced himself to stop, drawing from a well of faith and training to keep his hands off his cock. As his mind cleared just a bit, he realized that Satan must be at work, corrupting his thoughts and body. The steady stream of calls, emails, and visits from his congregation -- well, the female members of it anyway -- only seemed to support that theory. All around Grassmore, wives and girlfriends were discovering that men were turning into rutting pigs who were only interested in man-on-man sex. By this week, it seemed as if a tidal wave of lust was crashing through the town, with the womenfolk ultimately just bailing on the entire community. Father Paul had tried to rally the remaining few to attend mass on Sunday, so that they could face Satan's scourge together. Now, peaking out through the sacristy door into the church, he saw only three families (out of a once-large congregation), plus Hobo Joe, the homeless guy, sleeping one off on the back pew. The Dickersons, Tony and Tina, were sitting up front and their two homeschooled boys, Nick (10) and Andy (12), were in their altar boy robes, attending to the church's candles and incense burners. Father Paul noted the heavy flow of incense smoke flowing into the church ahead of mass. On the other side from the Dickersons sat Jim and Nancy Coxton, along with their young daughter. Funny how Father Paul couldn't even remember her name. And finally, a few pews behind them, sat the elderly couple Harry and Martha Van Pik, as she piously ran through her rosary beads before the service began. Father Paul shook his head disappointedly. Ten people, if you included the passed out drunk, in a church that once held hundreds. He wondered how even this small group had managed to make it until Sunday. Looking at the men, they were all flush and fidgeting, their hands returning again and again to surreptitiously rub their cock and balls through their Sunday dress slacks. The priest felt his old life slipping away and a huge part of him wanted it to. He hungrily eyed little Nick Dickerson, imagining what his cock would feel like up the boy's tiny little ass. Looking down he was stroking his cock again. "Fuck," he thought to himself, "maybe if I just bust out a load I can focus again." He stood there at the sacristy door, imagining Nick and Andy splayed out on the altar while we went back and forth between their shitty little cunts. Biting his lip to keep quiet, he shot long ropes of jizz deep into the church that landed with obscene splats on the marble floor. He prayed no one had noticed. He dropped his vestments back into place just as the altar boys returned, and the trio headed out to begin the Mass. With so few people, Paul skipped over any hymns and went straight to the first reading. Standing behind the lectern, he began, "Noah, a tiller of the soil, was the first to plant the vine. He drank some of the wine, and while he was drunk, he lay uncovered in his tent." Before Father Paul could continue, he heard Harry Van Pik moan loudly. Looking up, he saw the 80-year-old standing, stroking his massive cock through the open fly of his pants. He was hard as a steel rod, more like a teenager than an octogenarian. His wife Martha was trying to pull him back down on the pew. "I bet he looked fucking hot," the elderly Harry proclaimed, his raspy, slightly shaky voice filling the church as he picked up the pace of his stroking. "Laying there naked. His big fat cock and heavy daddy balls out in the sun, getting all sweaty and rank. I bet he was leaking pre-cum all over those thick, hairy legs of his." "Fuck yeah," called out Tony Dickerson. From his elevated position behind the lectern, Father Paul could see that Tony had also hauled out his cock, a beautiful tube of veiny, thick Italian meat. He was man-splayed out in the pew, pushing his frantic wife away from him to the edge as she tried to cover him up. "I want to be like fucking Noah, padre. Yeah, a hot fucking daddy. Get drunk and naked, hang out with my boys, get them drunk and naked too so we can fuck all the time." Tina Dickerson looked to her sons up on the side of the altar for help, and gasped when she saw them busily making out, their kiddie tongues slashing away at each other's mouths. She jumped up and fled the church, Martha Van Pik only a few steps behind her. Father Paul looked over to the Coxton family, where Jim had taken off his pants entirely. He was eagerly humping three fingers up his ass while squatting on the pew, as his wife and daughter looked on in horror. "Yeah, I know the story, Father," Jim shouted into the church, drooling from his open mouth while he finger fucked himself. "Ham fucked his dad real good. Fucked that hot shitty ass. Everyone said he was passed out, but I bet Noah was begging for more, begging for his other sons to jump in and start double and triple dicking him in his ruined cunt." As if to emphasize his point, he balled up his hand and shoved his whole fist into his own wrecked cunt. Father Paul realized at some point the man's wife and daughter must have run out of the church as well, but he was only paying attention to Jim and his lewd demonstration of scripture. "That's right Jim," Father Paul nodded from the pulpit, "Ham did fuck that hot, steaming hole. How could he not? Noah laying there, drinking wine, squeezing his daddy tits, making them leak like a pair of fucking cow udders." The priest grabbed handfuls of his vestment ropes and pulled them apart ripping open a hole down the middle. His thick beercan cock spilled out as did his fat, rotund belly, which he rubbed appreciatively, glad he had a real man's gut. "Ah, fuck that's better," he said, spitting into his hand and bringing his slick palm down to grab the hard stub of priest meat. "Ham and Noah fucking in the sun, drunk and horny father-son lovers just like God intended." He paused on that last phrase, and then repeated it: "Just like God intended. I can see it now, gentlemen. All the hot man-on-man action that the Bible's been pointing us to all this time: Abraham and Isaac; David and Saul; Jacob fuck-wrestling and fisting with the angel. This is what we are meant to worship -- cock, ass, stink, cum -- we are meant to worship the unfettered, untamed sex of men." The remaining congregation of men and boys gave a roof-raising, "AMEN" to that. "Tony, Jim, Harry, come up here and join me." The three men left they pews and walked up to the altar, stripping out of their clothes as they went until they were completely naked, hard, and oozing onto the church floor. Meanwhile, Father Paul had rounded up the two altar boy brothers who were still busily making out. As he had done for his own vestments, he ripped large openings in the front of their altar boy ensembles before turning them around and doing the same to the backsides. Now everyone could see their cute kiddie cocks and fine, pert asses. Tony moaned in pleasure as he looked at his two sons, the fruit of his loins. "Tony, let's loosen up little Nicky," Father Paul said, lewdly drooling as he fondled the boy through his altar boy robes. Tony nodded and yanked one of the massive liturgical candles out of its stand. The huge 18-inch beeswax column was covered in religious symbols, burning brightly as it had been lit before Mass by Nick himself. Tony grabbed his own big, sagging balls and yanked them out from his body, squeezing the base in his fist so that the two hairy globes began turning blue. Then he poured the melted candle wax over them, moaning in pain and pleasure as the hot wax seared then cooled onto his aching nuts. While Tony ministered to his balls with the candle's lit end, Father Paul lined Nick's tight little boicunt in front of the other end and pushed him back onto the wax column, the child gasping as the candle base penetrated his pink, puckered hole. The men all watched as tiny Nicky waddled back further and further up the huge candle, as wax images of the crucifix, saints, and angels disappeared into his wanton cunt. Nine, ten, eleven inches sank into the child's insatiable hole as he backed closer and closer to his father at the candle's burning end. "I'm coming to you daddy," he moaned in his squeaky falsetto voice, tears streaming down his face at the joy of filling and wrecking deep into his guts. Tony was able to release his hold on the sacred candle, as the burning, dripping Christian symbol now had his own son as a candleholder. Fourteen, 15 inches disappeared before Nick finally stopped -- panting, drooling, sobbing all while his little cocklet strained out from his altar boy robes. He stood still, holding his ankles, while the last inches stuck out of his cunt, continuing to coat his father's balls in molten wax as the candle burned. Father Paul stood in front of the ten-year-old boy and sank his pedophile priest cock down the little kid's throat. The entire scene had already taken him to the edge and he did little more than slide past the child's flush, rosy cheeks before he began spewing ropes of cum into his tiny mouth. Cum overflowed down the sides as Nicky tried vainly to drink it all. His older brother was next, practically pushing the still-panting priest out of the way to jab his nearly-teen cock into his brother's dripping mouth. Spurts of hot incest jizz blasted Nick's tongue and lips. The two older men pushed in too, cum spurting even as they approached Nicky's drenched face. Although in his 80s, the wrinkly, spotted, wobbly Harry Van Pik blew as much or more as the rest, and Nick's face disappeared under gallons of scalding, streaming cum. He heard his father moan behind him, "FUCCKKK YEAHHHH, Oh God it is so fucking hot," as his wax-covered balls pumped the biggest load of the man's life all over his hairy chest, crotch, and hands, with even more splattering left and right all over the church floor. His son Andy raced over and began slurping it all up, first off the floor and then off his dad's hands and body. He ended by standing on his tip-toes and snowballing his collection of daddy sperm with his father, passing it back and forth between their slobbering mouths. As everyone collected their breaths, Father Paul called them to gather at the back of the church. Tony reluctantly pulled the giant candle from his son's cunt, images of Christ and the saints smeared brown and red as they re-emerged from his ravaged hole. Slimy gore dripped down the aisle from the little boy's pussy as he took his father's hand and headed to the back of the church. "The Bible has been pointing us to a brotherhood of pigs all along. Jesus only wanted to spend time in the company of hot stinking men. We know he went down to the docks to cruise for fishermen, sucking their sunbaked cocks and taking their loads. He was so good at it they started to follow him, joining in orgies of unwashed dicks and sweaty, rank holes." Here, Father Paul paused and reached behind him to rip open the back of his robes, exposing his farting hole, which was filling the church with his stink. The men leaned in, inhaling his fetid gas. The priest then began fingering his greasy cunt, even he continued his homily to the jacking congregation of men and boys. "They got drunk together; got fucked up together. Spending all their time in the hot and sweaty desert, fucking and sucking. Thirteen horny pigs, sharing their stink, their piss, their shit." Here he held up his own fingers, fresh from his hole, covered in shit, which smeared over his face and bloated belly as he talked. "Then it turned into a ministry. Every cock serviced. Lepers and beggars and filthy scum. No cock refused. No hole refused. Nothing that a man's body can offer refused." By now his hands were a blur, moving back and forth between his fat ass in order to dirty them with thicker and thicker layers of shit. He was smearing them freely over himself as he talked, coating his belly, face, cock, and ruined vestments. Clumps of shit were falling out on to the floor, landing with degenerate splats on the marble. "Andy," he called to the older altar boy, his voice thick with lust, "go minister to Hobo Joe." Andy wasted no time, but raced over to filthy homeless tramp who was still passed out on the back pew. It was obvious the man had pissed himself and Andy buried his face in the stinking crotch of Joe's wet pants, sucking and slobbering into the unwashed fabric. Joe's cock was clearly hardening under young Andy's ministrations, and he moaned in his sleep. Andy unbuttoned and unzipped the nasty clothes, and released the throbbing member. Hobo Joe's 12-inch cock was completely unwashed, covered in dried shit, cock cheese, and sores. Andy popped it into his mouth like a candy treat, sucking all the filth and stink from it in expert passes of his young throat. He savored the taste that accompanied all the rank layers of stench that radiated in stinking waves from the homeless man's nasty crotch. The rest of the group could smell the foulness from where they stood, making their cocks strain and pulse in horniness. As they watched the altar boy work like a whore on Joe's massive cock, the others were sharing in Father Paul's offering of shit. The priest kept dumping through the ripped apart hole in his robes, a seemingly-endless mass of creamy turds and mush plopping noisy on the church floor. Like the good altar boy he was, Nick scooped up piles to pass around to the congregation, coating their cocks in the priest's muck or reaching up to stuff their mouth's with his clerical sewage. The entire church was filled with incense smoke and the reek of shit, and the priest so no signs of slowing. His massive dump resembled that of a horse or elephant as it piled up on the church floor, only to be spread around his congregants. Meanwhile, Andy had climbed onto the pew with Hobo Joe, prostrating himself along the filthy bum's body in order to sink Joe's footlong cock fully into his wanton, young cunt. "Yeah, grind your pube sprouts into his bush, Andy," demanded the altar boy's father. "Collect all his crabs and lice, you fucking boy whore." Tony was aching with lust watching his son writhe up and down the unwashed homeless pig under him. It was just like Father Paul had said, it was their missionary work to service every filthy, unwashed cock and ass they could, just like Jesus. Coating his cock with more of the priest's steaming pile of shit, he climbed up behind Andy and sunk his cock in alongside the diseased rod already in his son's hole. He loved the feel of his oldest boy's cunt being stretched by his pedo daddy meat. Joe moaned as he was pulled out of his drunken stupor, feeling Tony's cock slide alongside his own inside some young punk in altar boy robes. "Fuck, man, this is fucking hot. Am I still in church? Awwww fuck, I should come more often." He looked around at the men who were jacking their cocks in handfuls of shit, their mouths open and drooling out brown sludge. Then he laid his eyes on Nick, the little boy's hands and face also coated in shit. "You got some shit in your ass little boy?" he asked the kid, who just nodded wordlessly as he picked his nose with his shit-covered fingers before eating the boogers. "Yeah, I thought you might. Come on up here on Uncle's Joe's face and take a nice, steaming kiddie dump down my throat." Little Nicky did just that, climbing up on the pew and settling into a squat so that he could face his big brother and father. The little boy knew his still-ripped open cunt was already dribbling bloody stool. Joe pressed his sore-poxed lips and tongue into the ravaged boicunt, issued a muffled command to push. Nick did indeed push, opening up his guts to the hobo's filthy face while leaning forward to kiss his older brother with his own snot- and shit-smeared lips. What flowed out of the boy was a watery sludge that splashed and sprayed the already filthy bum, coating his face in boy diarrhea. Andy rode the two cocks inside him -- his own father and a diseased homeless dude -- while watching his younger brother vacate his guts all over the hobo's face. His young pube bush was already starting to itch from the vermin that he would carry as a badge of honor. It was so hot here in the church, as incense swirled around his sweating body. He thought of Jesus sucking and fucking all the apostles, filling his hole with endless cum. And suddenly Andy was filled with the Holy Spirit of Men, recounting the words he'd heard a hundred times since his first sacrament: This is my body, this is my blood. "Father Paul, I need communion," the boy called out, his body literally vibrating with sexual lust and energy. His lifelong priest nodded his head in understanding, and hung his heavy, shit-coated balls over the back of the pew so that they dangled beside the double-dicked altar boy. Andy grabbed them and yanked them mercilessly towards his mouth before sucking one of them past his warm, drooling lips. He nodded to his still-shitting brother to take the other, the two brothers swirling and slobbering over the priest's heavy balls, savoring their shitty outer coating. Then the two boys began to get more aggressive, nibbling the skin, yanking with their teeth. Father Paul moaned, begging for more. In response, the two young brothers began to actively chew on the low-hanging mounds of meat, biting into the flesh and savoring the warm flow that flowed over their tongues. "This is my body, this is my blood," Father Paul shouted as he furiously jacked his shit-covered cock. "Eat me boys. Take my meat and my blood and be one with me you fucking hot pervert pigs. FUCKKKKK," he screamed as his balls were annihilated by the ravenous boys, sending him into a shaking climax. His fat beercan cock began to shoot wildly, firing at least six feet across the rows of pews in front of him. The sight of the two Dickerson boys eating the priest's balls, blood and gore drooling from their mouths, sent everyone else over the edge as well. Andy felt two massive loads fill his twelve-year-old cunt with scalding pig lava. He knew the jizz filling him contained both diseased and incest sperm, which made it even hotter. His own load began without even touching himself, as he spewed ropes of jizz all over Hobo Joe. Jim and Harry shot their loads into each other's shitty hands, as they screamed "fuckkkkkkk" into each other's shit-packed mouths. And even young Nicky spasmed with a dry orgasm before suddenly he began spurting real man juice from his little boy cocklet. His first orgasm came as he emptied the last of his liquid shit into the bum's gullet. Joe's filthy clothes were now coated in loads by both Dickerson boys, which he rubbed into the unwashed fabric happily. The brother's released their priest's mutilated balls, still savoring the warm, iron taste of his blood and flesh. Their communion was complete. Rubbing his ruined nuts and dripping cock, Father Paul knew that next Sunday would mean the dawn of an entirely new church and liturgy. He couldn't wait to spread the doctrine of filth and flesh to all the men and boys of Grassmore. *** Ivan Truescat reviewed the report carefully while the others around the table waited. He chuckled as he reached the end. "O.K. maybe we need to cut back on the concentration in the airborne dosage unless we want every priest's balls to be chewed completely off." The men in the darkened room laughed, agreeing with the frank assessment, although most of them would have loved a feast of hot, priest balls meat. Ivan continued, "Bottom line, gentlemen, Grassmore was a complete success." The entire table of men in tailored suits agreed. Grassmore couldn't have gone better. He turned to Dante Rammer, who headed up the scientific division of The Cabal's vast web of influence and oversight. "Do we know why we needed to dose those final few men with the airborne compound we placed in the incense burners?" Dante answered decisively, knowing the question would be raised. "We suspect genetics. A very small percentage of men might have a gene that works against the additives' effects. Obviously, it is a very, VERY small percentage, and it can be overcome, as we saw by using the incense burners in the church. Still, I think we all know genetics will be the next phase of the master plan. I recommend we start grooming some of our best minds now, both to address this question and to be ready for genetic modification in the future." Ivan Truescat nodded in agreement. It might take another generation or two, but The Cabal had always played the long game. If genetic modification could make even better pigs than additives to the food chain and water supply, the master plan would advance that much more. Ivan flipped back to the earlier pages. "I really like this Bill Stonepol," he said, rereading the complete weekly report on the bank president, his filthy son, and his transformative plan for Grassmore. "I'd like the Stonepols to become a member of our family of pigs. Let's invite them in." Again, the men at the table nodded in unanimous assent. The Stonepols and their chosen family of pigs had indeed proven admirable. Ivan continued, "Let's make sure Caleb and Wil have complete full-ride scholarships through Sigma Alpha Upsilon. My son Kyle can mentor them their first year. They, and little Skip and Kenny behind them, represent the next generation." "So, what's next," asked Marco di Cazzo, the beautiful Italian mobster who oversaw all the still-illegal aspects of The Cabal's activities, which were considerable. Ivan leaned back in in his chair, hands behind his head as he began pissing his Armani suit. The others looked on lustfully, but restrained themselves until their leader declared the business portion of the meeting concluded. At last, Truescat replied: "We pick more towns. Then cities. Then nations. Grassmore has proven the plan works. So, we continue. Let's pick twenty places this time. We'll watch the men and boys turn into rutting raunch sluts; and then we'll do it again with fifty places, then a hundred." The men gave their assent and quickly began stripping out of their expensive, tailored silk suits. Grassmore, USA would be repeated in every community. In the meantime, they could get naked and take a page from the Grassmore Experiment: No limits filth all the time. The future looked bright...