Date: Wed, 7 Dec 2022 17:54:13 +0100
From: "Piggysleaze@mail.com" <piggysleaze@mail.com>
Subject: The Bull, Bear, and Boar - 2

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Background: Several of my series take place in the same "Piggysleaze
Universe." The Scat Frat and A Week in Grassmore are more-or-less present
day; The Hall of Pigs is set in the future. This new series looks at the
past, and tells the origin story of a cabal of pig families that work to
turn the world of men into rutting, perverted raunch pigs. It contains lots
of raunch between males of many ages, so don't read if you don't like piss,
scat, fisting, and other degenerate themes. Also do not read if 18 or
younger. Email is always welcome: piggysleaze@mail.com


1871


Jacob walked down Fifth Ave in his smartly tailored Savile Row suit. His
muscular frame and handsome face turned the heads of both men and women as
he strolled past. His tailor had ensured that his meaty ass and massive
cock were especially well-framed by the snug trousers, and he purposefully
eschewed a jacket in favor of a waistcoat so that both cock and ass were on
prominent display. After all, you never knew who might show up at The Bear,
Bull, and Boar House tomorrow seeking their unique services.


The erstwhile farmboy still marveled at how far he and Zeke had come in the
span of just over a decade.  His ivory dildo and fisting collection had
yielded a king's ransom, which Zeke had then carefully shepherded through a
series of risky and ultimately bountiful investments. His lover and adopted
brother was a natural-born genius for spotting opportunity. Five years ago
they had purchased their four-story brownstone on Fifth Avenue, the most
glamorous and most prestigious street in all of New York. There was little
from the sidewalk to indicate what went on inside, and clients entered and
exited discretely through another building around the corner, connected by
tunnel.  But today, Jacob took out his phallus-shaped key and entered
through the front door, unlocking the raunchy paradise and home he and Zeke
had built.


Like the outside, little on the first floor suggested anything about went
on each night on the floors above. Here in the entryway, the marbled floor
gleamed, the crystal chandelier glistened, and the walnut staircase upwards
glowed with countless hours of polish. To his left he could hear the sounds
of the nightly buffet spread being prepared in the kitchen, as well as the
clatter of champagne and whiskey bottles being brought up from the wine
cellar. To his right, the "clean" rooms were undergoing their fresh change
of linens, towels, and warm tubs of bathwater so that guests could return
home at the end of their depraved evening without reeking of shit, piss,
and more.


Nodding with satisfaction that all was well in hand, he headed up to the
parlor floor. This is where guests of The Bull, Bear, and Boar could mingle
with his staff, selecting one, two, or more for their evening's
entertainment. Food and drink was endless; opium and a new drug called
cocaine was readily available.  A handful found there satisfaction here,
but most were eager to indulge in the decadence of the third floor.


Continuing up the staircase, Jacob surveyed the cavernous and notorious
third floor, which hosted orgies of raw pig sex whenever The Bull, Bear,
and Boar was open. It was a far cry from the cramped and creaking rooms
above the tavern that had once carried the establishment's name. Now the
parlor house (the latest euphemism for a whorehouse) was as posh and exotic
as anything in the city, or any city for that matter. Given the very nature
of what went on here, it was constantly being refurbished with different
themes as the old eventually succumbed to the wear of constant filth and
use. Jacob had set up tonight's room as an Arabian Nights theme, with the
entire space strewn with carpets, pillows, and water pipes packed with
exotic hashish. Open Bedouin-style tents were dotted throughout, further
enhancing the fantastical scene.  The two fireplaces on each end were
already preparing the space to be as hot as a desert oasis.


Content that all was in good stead here too, he headed to the fourth floor
in search of his lover, brother, and partner. Walking quietly to avoid
waking his employees on the left side of the house, he turned to the right
and entered the suite he shared with Zeke. He found the magnificent black
man behind his desk as always, surrounded by books, ledgers, and stacks of
papers, all in perfect order and symmetry.  He walked behind the desk and
straddled the massive giant in his chair, greeting him with open mouth and
slobbering drool. Zeke picked up a half-smoked cigar from his desk and
inhaled deeply before exhaling down Jacob's eager throat. Jacob took the
cigar and reciprocated, enjoying the lazy tendrils of smoke that passed
back and forth between them. They enjoyed the ritual and fine smoke until
it was burned down to a stub, at which point Jacob reluctantly relented his
position in order to stand next to Zeke and survey the notes in front of
him.


"Who is coming tonight," he asked, looking over the guest list that he knew
Zeke already had memorized, prioritized, and delegated for immediate and
long-term plans.


"The Aston twins again," Zeke said with an eye-roll. The pair of wastrels
certainly helped pay the bills with their nightly fees and generous
tipping, but Zeke had already determined they'd be destitute and on the
street before the end of the year. No need to do much but ensure their good
time until then.  "Harold Woodcock is returning with his brother Edgar, who
is visiting from San Francisco." Jacob nodded, glad to hear that. The
Woodcocks, appropriately enough, had a massive timber fortune. Zeke had
already convinced Harry to invest in their vision of expanding filth and
raunch to all men, but Eddy would be an additional resource on the West
Coast. They knew the two men, now in their 50s, had grown up sharing their
love of shit. It should be a nice reunion.


"Truescat," Jacob said questioningly at the final entry on tonight's list.
"Who's that?"


"That is tonight's golden opportunity," Zeke said, leaning back in his
chair and rubbing his cock in anticipation. "Every steak at Delmonicos and
any other fancy restaurant and hotel ultimately originates with the
Truescout family. They've cornered the market on bull cock." Jacob laughed,
arching his eyebrows skeptically. Zeke plowed ahead: "The family had a
reputation for breeding livestock equipped with the most enormous cocks,
overflowing balls, and endless stamina for fucking. Every rancher from New
York to Salt Lake City fights to pay top dollar for one of their breeding
bulls. They're doing the same with horses. In Saratoga, the racetrack crowd
can't throw money at them fast enough."


"And Truescout is a sneaky version of Truescat, meaning they are pigs like
us," Jacob added, filling in the blanks as to why Zeke was so excited.


"Not just pigs, but pigs who understand genetics. They are in the breeding
business, AND the business of cock and cum. If we can convince Harlin
Truescat to join our cause, it would be a huge boon," Zeke had that gleam
in his eye that he got whenever he talked about Darwin, genetics, and the
natural instincts of the male species.  He was a true revolutionary, and
Jacob was his most loyal and dedicated follower. "And it gets even
better. He is bring his ten-year-old son with him to initiate him in the
ways of raunchsex." Jacob let out a low whistle and was rubbing his cock in
anticipation too.


"Well, then let's make sure it is a night to remember," he said.


Several hours later the parlor was in full swing. A dozen men and boys were
scattered among the richly upholstered couches and chairs in various states
of undress. Zeke sat between the corpulent Woodcock brothers, each easily
300 pounds of rolling fat and loose muscle from their college wrestling
days. Their hairy bellies and chests, a mix of brown and silver, pressed in
on Zeke who luxuriated in the feel of hot, squishy flesh encasing him from
each side. He rubbed his dark, sweaty hands all over the mountains of white
skin as he switched back and forth between making out with the two
bulls. His own massive cock was leaking like a fountain as huge bellies
massaged it from each side.


Across the room the Aston twins -- Charlie and Chester -- were already
fucking a pair of waifs with very shitty asses. New York's most notorious
unmarried society bachelors fit their roles perfectly -- tall, square
jawed, and broad shouldered, each the mirror image of the other and both
looking as if they just stepped off the pitch of a Yale/Harvard football
game. What society did not know what that they were degenerate pigs who
couldn't get enough of The Bull, Bear, and Boar's selection of young,
shit-loving boys. The younger the better, and the shittier the
better. Based on the heavy pounding up against the wall that both moaning
boys were receiving, the twins were very satisfied with tonight's
selection.


Behind the mahogany bar, the ageless bartender Sully was naked save for a
series of ball stretchers that brought his massive sac down to his
knees. His legendary walrus mustache was busy scrubbing the ass of his
teenage apprentice, who was kneeling on the bar with his dirty hole in the
air. Sully slobbered into the filthy trench, rubbing his bristles back and
forth through the warm muck that his ministrations were generating. His
mustache gleamed in the gaslight with wet filth. Ever the professional, he
was simultaneously mixing the house's signature cocktail of piss and
champagne as he ate ass, squirting generous amounts of rank daddy piss into
the crystal flutes.


That left Jacob and the father-son guests of honor, the Truescats. Harlin
Truescat looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of the latest
cowboy dime novel. Naked save a Stetson hat and a pair of boots, his ruddy,
tanned body and wind-weathered face were handsome and dripping with
frontier masculinity. He and Jacob sat sprawled on a sofa, legs draped and
asses pressed together.  Harlin had brought thick-rolled cigarillos, packed
with marihuano from Texas. The pungent smoke had Jacob feeling horny and
crackling with sexual energy, as the two men leisurely allowed their hands
to explore the other's puffy nipples and sagging balls.


Between them, on the floor, was the most angelic boy Jacob had ever
seen. He literally looked like a cherub -- pure white skin, flaxen gold
hair, massive blue eyes, and puffy, pink cheeks. Naked on his hands and
knees, the pert milky globes of his tender ass glowed in the light. The
little, earthly angel was expertly sucking on Jacob's massive cock. His
father cooed in between long draws of his weedy smoke, "That's right
Andy. Show Jacob what a good little cocksucker you are. Make Daddy proud."
Jacob tossed his head back in the pure pleasure of feeling his cock
disappear down the tiny gullet, his girth hugging the child's tender
throat. "We started him cocksucking last year," Harlin drawled in his sexy
Texas accent. "Had the ranch hands line up to train his throat. Took to it
like a duck to water. Same way with his ass. Was ready to take his first
horse cock by the time we left for Galveston to catch the steamer here.
Something to look forward to when we get back, I `spose."


"He eaten shit yet?" Jacob asked, his head buzzing from the grass, which
didn't stop him from taking another massive hit.


"He loves drinking Daddy's piss," Harlin answered, giving his stiff cock a
tug. It wasn't long but it was thick as a closed fist and throbbing with a
spiderweb of angry veins. "But I wanted his first shiteating to be
special. That's `round the time I heard rumors of this place. Had business
in New York, so thought we'd pay a visit, maybe give him that all-important
first taste."


"Let's head upstairs," Jacob offered, sad to disengage with the lad's
talented throat for even a bit.  Harlin nodded, scooping the tiny Andy in
his arms as he rose. Father and son kissed passionately as they walked to
the staircase, Andy bopping along in his dad's muscular embrace. The rest
of the room followed, eager to join the others, leaving just Sully and his
young assistant to continue their rutting on the bartop counter.


Little Andy's eyes opened wide when they arrived at the staircase
landing. He was amazed to see a scene straight from one of his favorite
tales. Lanterns illuminated the recreated oasis of tents, rugs, cushions
and bejeweled pillows. The air was filled with the smell of hot musk and
exotic spice. Treasure chests straight from Ali Baba's cave overflowed with
sparkling paste glass gems and carved phallus dildos of every size, while
ceramic jars and bowls glistened with lubricants and oils of every
viscosity and description.  Andy looked at his father in wide-eyed wonder
and begged to set down, whereupon he immediately began running from tent to
tent and cushioned pile to cushioned pile, exploring every inch of the
wonderland. His hard little cocklet bobbed ahead of him as he explored.


The massive mounds of flesh that were the Woodcock brothers settled atop a
pile of rugs, their paunches rolling down over their quivering cocks and
heavy balls. Zeke dipped his arms into one of the jars, and begin probing
their open cunts with his thick fingers and dripping fist. He worked
charioteer style, punching his way into one brother then the other, then
both simultaneously. "Ah, fuck me with your whole arm," Harry moaned, his
brother Eddy lying beside him begging for the same. The two hocked and spat
into each other's faces as Zeke worked, smearing snot and slime over their
faces.


Zeke, never one to miss an opportunity, worked his whole arm into Harry's
cunt, leaving poor Eddy whimpering and empty. The distinguished older
gentlemen fisted himself to fill his hole, but seeing his brother impaled
on Zeke's meaty forearm and bicep, he knew it wasn't enough. Zeke looked
into the begging Eddy's eyes as he worked his brother's sloppy hole. "Are
you going to join your brother in our work? Match every dollar he provides
with two of your own?"


Eddy just moaned, gibbering and drooling, but finally managed,
"Yes. Anything. Everything. It's yours." With that, Zeke yanked out his
arm, now coated with one brother's slime and shit, and plunged up to his
shoulder in the other. The two screamed in ecstasy and agony, one full; one
empty, only for Zeke to repeat the process in reverse. His arm was a blur,
punching back and forth down to his now shit-encrusted armpit in each
timber baron's ruin's cunt.


Meanwhile the Aston twins were plying their young, shitty companions with
deep draws of hashish from the water pipes. The fragrant smoked wafted
through the rest of the "Bedouin camp," that echoed with the sounds of
squishing guts and moaning men. Charlie grabbed an urn brimming with olive
oil and dumped it over them all. The quartet ground and writhed in a mass
of slippery limbs as they smoked more hashish, the little boys' shit
smearing across any surface of flesh they encountered. The Ivy League jocks
and the tiny street urchins slid and glided in endless combinations as they
part wrestled, part fucked, cocks easily sliding into any oil-slick hole it
encountered. Piss flowed freely in the moaning, increasingly filthy mass,
followed by both men and boys emptying their bowels into the churning viper
pit of flesh and sewage. The rest of the room groaned appreciatively as the
stench filled the space, riding on the scorching air being pumped out of
the roaring fireplaces, soaking them all in stink-wet sweat. Every inch of
the foursome was now coated in a slick slime of oil and shit, humping and
fucking into every available hole between them.


Throughout it all Jacob and Harlin divided their attention between all the
wonderful sights, sounds, and smells between them. Harlin had grabbed a
whiskey bottle on the way up the stairs. As the two men reclined in a sea
of silk cushions, ornate rugs, and plump pillows, they drank, and kissed,
and took leisurely sucks on each other's cocks. It was a languid, unhurried
affair, as they rubbed their hands over each other watching the writhing
pile propelled by the Aston twins, and the ferocious fisting session
engineered by Zeke on the two huge bull daddies.


But mostly they watched little Andy playing amid the tents and other props
of their Arabian Nights. His childlike enthusiasm and carnal nature were a
sight to behold -- one minute playing with a painted wooden scimitar as if
he were fighting a dragon; the next sliding a wooden plug deep into his
puckered pink hole. His boyish giggles mixed with guttural moans and a
sailor's vocabulary. His smooth, hairless body glistened with sweat and
dripped off his walnut-sized balls and quivering cocklet.


"You must be proud," Jacob ventured, noting the adoring look on Harlin's
face as they watched the angelic ten-year-old. He leaned over and sucked
the cowboy's balls deep into his warm mouth, suckling and nursing them as
Harlin considered his answer.


"He's perfect," the cattleman finally said with a contented sigh. "I wish
there were more like him." Jacob started to pull off to answer, but Harlin
pushed him back down to continue his expert service. "No, I know
already...the ideas you and Zeke have. I think you are on to something. I
think you are right. You don't have to sell me on the plan. I'm in. `Was
even before we got here, but especially now. Every father should enjoy
nights like this with their sons."  Jacob moaned happily around the
slobber-drenched balls in his mouth, giving them a hard pull with his teeth
in appreciation for the good news. Harlin moaned in pleasure. Jacob used
his mouth to yank the hot globes further and further from the proud
father's body, with Harlin encouraging more and harder. They were a
beautiful scene, the weathered and handsome man leaning back while Jacob
pulled like a dog with a bone on his massive balls. Eventually Harlin
tapped Jacob to come up for air, panting with lust as he growled, "Let's
feed my boy."


He called Andy over and situated him between the two men. They ran their
big hands over his tiny body, probing every inch of his smooth
skin. Without prompting, the boy started pissing so that the pervy massage
he was receiving was warm and wet with kiddie pee. His cherubic mouth
spouted filthy moans of "yeah, rub me down in piss," and "I'm a fucking
piss pig little boy daddy, just like you want." Harlin just nodded in open
mouthed passion, drool leaking out over his face and chin. Again without
prompted, the ten-year-old grabbed the whiskey bottle and drank heavily,
happily getting fucked up between the two grown men molesting him.


Harlin let out a loud, ripping fart that filled the air. "You smell my
stink, boy?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.


"Smells good, daddy. Smells like a nasty, filthy man, just like we all
should be." Here he added his own little boy farts, an obscene echo of his
father's. Jacob joined in until they were immersed in an almost-visible
cloud of stink and putrid ass funk. "Ahhh, fuck daddy, it smells so good,"
Andy moaned. "I fucking love the stink that comes out of men's fuckin'
dirty holes. I want every hand back on the ranch to coat me in clouds of
shitcunt stink like this." Jacob marveled at the boy's inherent
nastiness. It was just like Zeke had been saying for years -- THIS was a
man's true nature. Harlin has brought it out in his son before it could be
squashed and suppressed. It was a beautiful thing to see.


The cowboy father beamed at his pig son. "Yeah, little boy. Tonight you're
gonna get a lot more than clouds of stink. Tonight you're gonna be a real
pig and learn what real men do with hot, fresh shit." Andy just trembled
with lust and excitement. He'd been wanting this since he was able to walk
and talk. At last his father deemed him ready. Harlin hoisted his legs up
in the air, even as his still-farting hole was blossoming out. A thick,
hard, solid snake of Texan turd flowed out, plopping into his hand with a
loud squish. It was a beautiful, glistening log, at least ten inches
long. Harlin hauled it up and held it in front of Andy's panting face,
"Suck on this fuckin piece of prime man shit, boy. Suck it down like all
the cocks you suck on the ranch. Daddy's pig shit is going down your
throat, just like you've been begging to have for months."


Andy just nodded eagerly, opening his little mouth as wide as it could go
as his father inserted his loaf of man sludge into it. Harlin held one end,
while Andy made love to the turd with his mouth, sucking and slobbering
over it like a cock. The little boy deep throated several inches, moaning
and groaning around the shit phallus, before pulling to the end and sucking
hard around the edges. He ran his pink, little tongue over it, and ran it
along his soft cheeks, leaving smears of brown on each side of his angelic
face. His lips were dripping in liquid filth as his work softened the
outside of the pile.


Jacob watched the entire scene with ever-growing, unbridled lust. He
crawled over to Harlin, looking longingly up into the cowboy father's
eyes. The Texas just nodded and released his grip on his end of the turd so
that it was lewdly and entirely hanging out of little Andy's stretched boy
mouth. Jacob admired the moment, and then dove down on the exposed end,
matching the child's deepthroat technique until the log disappeared
entirely between them. Together they bobbed back and forth, taking turns
for who had the majority of the massive dump down their gullets. As it got
slicker and sloppier under their constant sucking and slobber, brown drool
ran down their chins and over their bodies in an ever-expanding
river. Finally, the moment came when it broke off in the middle, and each
pig -- boy and man -- was left with a mouthful of sludgy sewage. Together
they chewed and kissed and spat, passing the mixture back and forth until
it was nothing but a slurry of shit, at which point they swallowed the
delicious meal like the feast it was.


Andy sat smiling, his teeth and lips brown and coated. "Fuck, daddy, I want
to eat your shit every fuckin day. I want my belly full of hot, stinking
man shit from your nasty, raunchy pig cunt. Can I daddy? Can I eat your
shit every day from now on?" As an answer, Harlin simply pounced at his
boy's shit-coated mouth and began to devour it in drooling, open mouth
kisses and jousting tongues. The force of his father's lunge sent Andy
sprawling back, his legs flying into the air. Without a second's
hesitation, his father found his son's exposed hole and plunged his thick
cock into it, his hips flying like a locomotive in and out of his son's
tiny cunt. Jacob spit into his hand a brown sludge and began jacking his
cock, watching the lust-overcome father pounding away at his boy as the two
made out.


"Fuck yeah, you little whore," Harlin growled when he wasn't swabbing
Andy's mouth, "you're a real pig now, just like your old man. We're going
live in filth boy. Eat shit all day. Drink piss. Puke it up and eat it all
again. Living in stink on the ranch, Andy -- you and me and the
hands. Wallow in our filth." He was pumping fast and faster, his own face
now a shit- and slobber coated mess just like his little boy's. Jacob was
standing now, jacking his cock over the rutting father-son pigs below
him. Pounding harder and harder, Harlin bottomed out deep in his child's
ravaged hole. "FUCCKKKK. Shooting my baby seed in my pig boy's cunt. FUCK
YEAH. Stink hole full of cum. Take it Andy. Take daddy's pig cum." Judging
from the shuttering spasms as he sank deep inside his boy's guts, it
appeared that the Texan cattleman had just deposited a few thousand gallons
of jizz in his son's stretched boipussy.


"FUCK," Jacob bellowed as he shot a volcano of creamy ropes over the pair,
splattering them in a dozen volleys of boiling hot cum. Too young to have a
real orgasm, Andy simply shook and spasmed in the throws of an ecstatic
seizure, his little body heaving with a dry cum. The three collapsed into
each other amid the sweat-soaked pillows and cushions. Around them the pig
orgy continued, but they snuggled in quiet contentment, as if they really
were under a canopy of desert stars in a distant Arabian oasis.


As they drifted off to sleep, Harlin murmured one final thought. "Jacob,
you and Zeke will never want for anything to make your plan a
reality. We're going to change the world..."