Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2021 19:10:17 +0200
From: "Piggysleaze@mail.com" <piggysleaze@mail.com>
Subject: Marco's Pig Iron Gym - 10

Disclaimer: This is a story EXTREME SCAT (i.e., shit, puke, piss) and other
depravities. Do not read if younger than 18. This is entirely fantasy and
does not represent any real people. This is the final chapter in the
story. Thank you to all the pigs who have encouraged me and provided
inspiration along the way.


A couple months after the graduation of my four seniors, I was in New
Mexico for business. After successfully pocketing a couple cool millions
for my work (and a couple cool billions for my clients), I bought an
ancient, beat-to-hell pickup truck from an online ad, got completely naked
as I slid behind the wheel, and hit the road. I was heading deep into the
desert, down dirt roads that were little more than old animal tracks. I was
following up on a rumor that was as weird as it was intriguing -- whispers
about a grizzled, old man who lived a life of filth in the desert, but was
also something of a mystic or shaman. I wasn't sure if I believe in such
things or not, but it was certainly worth checking out...


It was twilight by the time I pulled alongside a rusty, dilapidated
trailer. The yard was strewn with shit-covered bare mattresses, empty beer
bottles, cigar butts, and more than a dozen shit-crusted, discarded
dildos. I was definitely in the right place. As I exited the truck, the
trailer door opened and out stepped the man I'd been seeking, also
completely naked save for what looked to be at least a three-pound ball
stretcher he had wrapped around his impressively sagging nuts. His unwashed
hair hung down to his ass and a thick beard flowed to his navel. Both were
streaked in grey and black, and matted with food, puke, and shit. His thin
brown frame was wrinkled and weathered, making it hard to guess his age,
but his ten-inch cock was raging hard, leaking precum that would have been
the envy of any 20-something. Without a word he strode up to me, grabbed me
by the back of my head and pulled me in for an open-mouthed
tongue-swabbing. He reeked of unwashed flesh and I loved it. I responded by
raping his mouth with my tongue, working my way through his chipped and
missing teeth as I sucked out all his slobber. He spun me around and
without even a hock of spit, plunged his cock in my dry ass. He was strong
despite his appearance, and pinned me against the truck while he dry fucked
me. I moaned in pleasure and pain as he tweaked my puffy nipples and humped
me faster and faster. My hard cock and full balls were pressed against the
hot metal of the pickup truck door, the intense heat from driving in the
desert helping me build a load without even touching my cock. We both
released at the same time, spasming in wordless orgasms -- him deep in my
guts and me against the scorching metal of the truck.


As he pulled his dripping cock out of my cunt, he said, "I have been
expecting you. I know who you are and what you seek."


As I turned around I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not even sure what I
seek," I told him as I reached into my ass and coated my fingers in his
cum, "other than some nasty pig sex," I added as I sucked my fingers clean.


"Then we shall see together," he replied, grabbing me by my softening cock
and leading me behind his filthy trailer. Rounded the bend, I saw a mud
domed structure with a narrow entrance. I instantly recognized it as a
sweat lodge. As we entered and my eyes adjusted, I saw the fire pit, a
single mat, a long chest with a closed lid, and piles of what looked and
smelled like bricks of high-grade weed. My host quickly got a fire going in
the pit, and the temperature steadily began rising. He motioned for me to
lay down on the mat. As I did, he began pissing, hosing me down in a
scalding stream. He ensured to spray my entire body, head to toe, as my
hands followed his aim, rubbing his rank piss into my skin. Next, he knelt
over my chest, straddling me with his knees on either side. The flow of
shit I knew was coming was instantaneous and absolutely enormous. Even
without a watch, I was sure his dump went on continuously before at least
five minutes. How could one skinny old man produce so much shit? But it
piled on me in mound after mound after mound. When at last he finished, he
remained kneeling by my side, and slowly began to rub the mountains of
excrement over my body. He was slow and sensual, kneading my muscles in an
exquisite massage as he covered me in his waste. As the heat rose, my body
began sweating, which along with his piss, turned his shit into a warm,
smooth mud. He coated every inch of my front with the sludge, ensuring
every toe and finger, every nook and cranny of my body was encased in his
scat. He finished by running the remaining shitty handfuls through my hair
and over my face. His magical touch and the familiar, wonderful smell of
shit began to relax me more and more. At last, he stood up. "Let us begin,"
he said.


He walked over the fire, and picked up one of the green bricks of grass,
tossing it into the fire. Soon the entire hut was filled with the thick,
pungent smell of weed as I breathed in the smoke. My head was quickly
swimming as my vision began to blur and my muscles became little more than
wet noodles. "Tell me what you seek," he said, the second time he had
mentioned me seeking something. It was hard to form thoughts and words
through the heat and smoke.


"Success," I finally managed to get out of my mouth.


"Success in what," he pressed.


"Success in changing the world," I replied and it was true. I wanted to
remake the world in my own perverted image. I wanted a world of degenerate,
depraved pigs.


"Let us see," he replied, closing his eyes. I did the same, and images
began to form. They seemed like a dream, but somehow I knew they were more
than that. I was floating. At first, I wasn't sure where, but then the
blurriness came into focus. I was in a large room filled with middle-aged
men, mostly pot-bellied and balding, dressed in polo shirts and khaki
pants. I recognized some symbols on the wall -- it was a fraternal
organization, the kind of lodge that could be found in nearly any small
town across America. The men were all chatting amicably, with lots of back
slapping and hand-shaking in the typical way of these fraternal lodges,
laughing at bad jokes and bellying up to the bar for bottles of beer. But
as I watched, things took a surprising turn. The clusters of men continued
their banal conversations and networking, but suddenly they were likewise
rubbing against each other, running their hands over their fellow lodge
members' middle-aged pecs and abundant bellies. This quickly escalated into
kissing and tonguing in groups of three, four and more. As they ground
against each other, the fronts of many of the khaki pants began to
darken. They were pissing in their pants as they made out! A few poured
their beers over their fellow lodge members, slurping up the sudsy streams
from their faces. As the carnal meeting continued, I saw others dig into
the backs of their pants and haul out handfuls of wet shit. They were not
only pissing but shitting their bland, middle-class outfits. Using their
piles of steaming dumps, they coated their faces and soiled their polo
shirts and chinos. Most had unleashed their hardons through the zipper, but
otherwise they remained fully clothed as they jacked each other off with
shit-slick hands, or dropped down to their knees to suck their lodge
brothers' cocks clean, only to haul out more shit from their soiled white
underwear to reapply. I watched in fascination as the scene continued in
what seemed the most unlikely of places -- these sorts of fraternal lodges
were nothing like the gyms and adult theaters that Junior and I had created
for filthy pig sex. I wondered what had spurned this gathering into such a
frenzy of perverted shit lust. But before I could continue to watch, the
edges of my vision began to blur and collapse. Soon it disappeared entirely
and was back in the sweat lodge, laying under my own covering of warm, wet
shit.


"Send me back," I pleaded. "I want to see more."


"To see more you must go deeper," my host replied cryptically. He picked up
another brick of grass, one that looked whiter and creamier than the last
one. Dropping it into the fire, it released thick clouds of pale smoke that
quickly had my head spinning again. He opened the chest that lay beside him
and pulled out a thick brown bottle, handing it to me. I huffed the
powerful poppers as he came around and sat at the foot of the mat. He
pushed my legs up as I breathed in the thick weed smoke and took hits off
the bottle. My eyes began to roll up into my head as I felt his arm slide
effortlessly into me. Just as he had massaged me earlier, he slowly --
almost seductively -- worked his arm in and out of my cunt as the chemicals
in the smoke and poppers took over. My vision began to swim again,
dissolving and then reconstituting in another scene that I floated over.


It was a Friday night high school football game -- a classic slice of
wholesome Americana. The stadium was packed with parents and inhabitants of
the small town. The final touchdown had just been scored as the clock
ticked down and the announcer declared the end of the game. The two teams
quickly ran through the endzone to the locker rooms. My disassociated body
floated down with them. I was surprised to see both teams in the same
locker room, along with both sets of coaches. The older men were passing
around two bottles of pills that the young athletes were happily popping
like candy. I heard the white ones called "pigsty" and the blue ones called
"t-bone." I wondered about their purpose, but that soon became obvious. The
locker room quickly erupted into a beautiful raunch orgy.


Many of the players had left their helmets on, and their teammates gathered
around to fill the headgear with streams of piss. Others simply squatted
over the facemask portion and unloaded their healthy dumps right through
the opening into the still-attached helmets. The sweaty players moaned as
their football gear became packed with teenage sewage from their
teammates. Still others simply unloaded their packed asses directly into
the skin-tight white pants of their football uniforms, smearing the heavy
dumps across their athletic asses. The coaches were already naked and
walking around the two intermingled teams, picking players at random,
pulling down their shitty, sweaty pants and stuffing them full of horned up
coach cock. A few minutes of fucking and the coach would move on, leaving
the empty players begging for someone to take their place while they
self-fisted in the meantime to fill the void in their hungry cunts. Not
content with a helmet packed with shit, players began shoving their fingers
down their teammates throats, gagging them until they puked up their entire
stomach contents into one of their helmeted buddies. The locker room stank
of sweat and shit, puke and piss, and the two teams folded into each other
on the sludge-covered concrete floor in a writhing mass of testosterone and
muscle. Holes were indiscriminately filled with cock and fist as the dozens
of players and coaches fucked in a never-ending sludge of their own
making. No wonder they were so eager to end their game and get into the
locker room. Both these teams and their coaches were depraved filth pigs. I
marveled at the power of the pills they had taken. "Pigsty" and "T-bone"
they had called them. All too quickly, the scene began to dissolve and I
left the rutting football orgy behind as the sweat lodge re-materialized
around me.


As I returned back to consciousness, the old man's arm was still buried
deep in my guts, pushing up against my bladder. My rock-hard cock started
pissing wildly over us. We both opened our mouths to catch the flow and he
spit his mouthful of piss over my face as I rubbed it into my shit-covered
head. I was sweating profusely -- the musky, rank order filling my nostrils
and making me all the hornier. When at last the stream died down, I choked
out a few words from my scratchy throat. "More. I need more," I said, each
word taking great effort to form. "I need to see more. I need to understand
more"


He nodded, and reluctantly pulled his arm from my sucking hole. I
immediately felt open and empty, craving to be filled back up. He walked
over to the fire and added a final brick of weed, this one tinged with
blue. As before, the smoke began to swirl and I inhaled deeply, letting it
fill my lungs and exert its power over my senses. The bottle of powerful
poppers was still by my side and I alternated huffs with the pungent smoke
that surrounded us. I had momentarily lost track of the filthy hermit, but
heard him rummaging again in the trunk. Then through the smoke, I saw one
of the largest phalluses I'd ever seen. At least three feet of obscenely
thick, dark-grey cock emerged from the swirling haze, pointed straight at
my empty cunt. Then my host appeared and I realized he had attached an
elephant cock strap-on to his wiry body. I moaned in ecstasy, and redoubled
my efforts to inhale all the poppers and the blue-tinged smoke around
us. As the strap-on hit its mark, I felt the elephant cock work its way to
the deepest edges of my bowels. Just as my fellow filthy pig bottomed out
inside me, I saw the edges of reality fade again and another vision began.


I was in an office conference room, floating over the table around which
sat four men. They looked familiar and it took me a few seconds before I
recognized them -- Tommy, Randy, Eric, and Jason, my four graduates whose
24 hours of pig sex I had overseen just a couple months earlier. But now
they were different. Older. And then suddenly, I understood -- I was seeing
the future! My drug- and heat-fueled visions were giving me exactly what
I'd ask for: a glimpse into the world I hoped to make. Eric sat in a white
lab coat, with Jason similarly dressed. I didn't hear the conversation so
much as absorb it, their words finally giving clarity to everything I'd
seen.


Eric, who had been juicing and perfecting steroid use since he was 13, had
become an expert on compounds and chemical combinations that altered the
body and mind. My school's piggy bodybuilder had used his Ivy League
education to unlock further secrets of formulas that only a true raunch pig
could conceive. And Jason -- my bookish, brilliant, degenerate slut had
easily mastered the chemistry to turn science fiction in science. "Pigsty"
worked much like ecstasy before it, allowing the mind to readily accept the
pleasures of pigsex -- the stench of shit, the burning heat of fresh puke,
the rich taste of snot, the intense euphoria of fisting, and more. And
"T-bone" was a drug that used a man's natural testosterone into foster
intense cravings for everything a man could offer -- the gifts of his cock,
his ass, his balls and mouth along with his ability to produce hot piss,
cum, snot, shit and more. Together they essentially created versions of us
-- filth pigs whose love of depravity knew no limits or bounds. Working as
the bonded pig brothers they had become in our school, Eric and Jason had
created the perfect chemical pathway for a world of sleaze and raunch.


But what about Tommy and Randy? They sat at the conference table too,
dressed in expensive suits and ties, looking like important executives
through and through. I recognized the name and logo on the papers in front
of them, and like before, I absorbed the clarity of the situation. These
were now the grown-up versions of my first class's farm boy twins. They had
spent nearly 18 years of their lives sharing their common love of shit
surrounded by the rural world crops and livestock. Now they headed one of
the world's largest agribusiness conglomerates, a company that touched
nearly every type of food the world consumed. Who better to ensure that
Eric and Jason's compound creations found their way into every man's diet?
I had seen the results first-hand -- both the fraternal lodge meeting and
the football game had become full-scale orgies of pig filth. Everything
that Junior and I had hoped for when we turned Marco's Pig Iron Gym into a
temple of depravities was coming true.


My field of vision changed and suddenly I was seeing a kaleidoscope of
scenes that seemed to swirl around me. I saw fathers and sons heading to
the basement for incestuous, perverted bonding sessions as the men taught
their boys about the pleasures of shit eating and fucking. I saw youngsters
happily fill their tight, shitty boy cunts with their father's and
grandfather's cocks, eager to unlock even more mysteries of familial
filth-sharing. I saw barracks of soldiers who spent their nights covered in
each other's puke as they formed fuck chains of fifty or more comrades in
arms. I saw fraternities that provided their pledges to any partier who
wanted to fuck their sloppy, piss-filled cunts. I saw poker nights and
fishing trips give way to fisting orgies, and bros-only vacations dedicated
to feasting on harvested shit and puke-swapping. Everywhere I looked, men
and boys were discovering and embracing the pleasures of limitless pig
sex. They now rutted and wallowed freely wherever men gathered -- gyms and
locker rooms, hunting lodges and fraternal clubs, bathrooms and
basements. They took over churches and schools to create the same kind of
pleasure palaces Junior and I had created, placing their sons on the path
to becoming complete whores for every cock and pig cunt in the world. It
was a beautiful, filthy vision and my heart's deepest desire.


At last, the cacophony of images faded and I found myself floating back
into my body. I felt my mystic guide's elephant dildo sliding in and out of
me, a yardstick or more of enormously thick cock that split me apart. I
groaned in pleasure, sweat pouring off my body in sheets. I begged him to
pound me harder, hoping he could fill my entire body with the longest,
thickest fuck of my life. He mercilessly assaulted my hole, ripping it
apart in a gusher of churned up shit and gore. I screamed and moaned as my
cock exploded from the pleasure of it all. Spurt after spurt of bloody cum
splattered my shit-encrusted body. When he pulled the monster strap-on out
of me my insides poured out like never before, with my raunchy spirit guide
diving in to eat and drink it all. Then he lay atop me, feeding me what he
had accepted from my destroyed cunt. We swapped it back and forth as I felt
his own orgasm splatter my chest with even more pig batter. We ground
against each other to spread our discharged loads between us.


As I finally came down off the high of such a degenerate fucking, I
realized the magnitude of what my visions had shown me. Junior and I had
started down a path to create a place for depraved pig pleasures. It had
grown into a dream of perverted possibilities and then a plan to bring
those dreams to life. Now I was sure that it was all going to pay off. Men
everywhere were going to become just like us and the world was about to be
reformed into a global movement of raunch-fueled, pig sex.


I couldn't wait to see tomorrow...


The End.