Date: Sun, 18 Dec 2022 15:29:47 +0100
From: "Piggysleaze@mail.com" <piggysleaze@mail.com>
Subject: The Bull, Bear, and Boar - 5

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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


1960

Duro Marron sat behind his desk, a cut glass tumbler of scotch beside him,
and a lit cigarette in his hand. The sound of telephones and typewriters
wafted in through the half-open door, competing with the faint drum of
traffic that drifted from the street to the executive floor on the 20th
level. The refrain of male voices saying "BBB International, how may I help
you," was repeated every so often, as calls were answered and transferred
around to the various divisions of the multi-national corporation.


Anyone casually walking past his light-colored office door would have
likely seen what they expected -- an incredibly handsome 44-year-old man in
an impeccable suit. Duro's clean-shaven face extenuated his square jaw,
slightly-dimpled chin, and Latino honey-brown skin. His dark hair was
smartly parted on the side, and even from behind the desk, it was obvious
the man still had the body of a linebacker, even in his 40s.


But look closer, and it was clear this not the typical New York
executive. Both the crotch and ass of his gray suit were torn open,
revealing -- should Duro stand up -- a beautiful fat cock and puffy mancunt
of unwashed floppy meat. Under his jacket and on either side of his skinny
black tie, two holes were cut into his starched white shirt, revealing
nipples at least two and a half inches long -- the result of a lifetime of
pumping and suction. Those lucky enough to suck on his lewd udders
discovered they secreted delicious precum-like milk.


Duro glanced at his Rolex watch to confirm he still had a bit of time
before the partner's meeting. He walked over to the stainless steel drink
cart and poured himself another scotch, his dwindling cigarette hanging
from his mouth as he blew jets of smoke from his nostrils. "Donovan, we're
running low on ice," he called out to his assistant. Within a minute the
naked twenty-something was pouring fresh ice into the bucket, his cock hard
and dripping like it always was around Duro. "What would I do without you,"
the older man purred in his smoky, gravelly voice, grabbing a pair of ice
cubes in his hand, which he then used to stroke his assistant's quivering
cock. He knew from their countless hours of working together that Donovan
was a quick cum, and sure enough, it only took a handful of sensuous turns
up and down his ten inches of meat before the lad was spurting hot jizz all
over Duro's pantleg. Donovan simply moaned at the release, too tongue-tied
around his boss to attempt much else, before he returned to his desk to
continue his typing duties.


Duro chuckled as he looked out the window, knowing how much of a crush
Donovan had on him. Of course, Duro had fucked all of the assistants on the
20th floor at one time or another, but Donovan was such a sweet, doe-eyed
young man. He made a mental note to give his assistant a raise and full
access to his next monster dump of shit. He stubbed out his cigarette and
pulled out another from the pack in his shirt pocket, firing it up with his
gold Zippo. Exhaling, he thought about how much things had advanced and
changed.


Of course, Uncle Roy Truescat had been right all those years ago. Members
of the Bull, Bear, and Boar club had shored up their finances and
investments well before the October 1929 crash. During the ensuing Great
Depression, various pig families throughout the country had snapped up
everything from banks to farms to corporations for pennies on the
dollar. Recognizing their growth and increased complexity, the club had
built a 20-story art deco skyscraper over the old building, encasing it
behind a gleaming steel structure in the streamlined moderne style that
rivaled the Empire State Building and Chrysler Building.


The old Bull, Bear, and Boar clubhouse still served many of its old
purposes, particularly the library and greenhouse; but the Great Hall was
largely a ceremonial space these days. Instead, floor after floor rose
above the old structure buzzing with the work of BBB International. Quietly
and mysteriously one of the richest and most diverse companies in the
world, the work of BBB International was the same as it always was --
spreading filth and raunch to every male on the planet. Duro Marron and his
brother Pedro were co-chairs of the entire sprawling operation, with Duro
taking the lead on the crown jewel in their master plan. According to the
latest reports, the entire food industry would be consolidated into ten
companies sometime in the 2000s. By then their additives would be ready,
and the testing could begin. It was still decades away, but completely
within reach.


Duro took a final swig of his scotch and headed down the long hall to his
brother's office. All around him, men in various states of dress and nudity
typed, filed, and clustered around reports and documents; while others
fucked, fisted, shit, and pissed. It was a the natural way at BBB, where
raunchy man-sex mixed freely and seamlessly with the important office work
at hand.  He paused a couple times along the way to snog with one employee
or another, who groped his generous cock and heavy balls as he went.


He walked into Pedro's office to find his younger brother bent over a table
being fucked. The room reeked of unwashed flesh and piss, and he recognized
the man plowing his brother as the drunk bum who lived in the alley behind
the BBB building. He resisted rolling his eyes, knowing his own weakness
for filthy cock, and instead simply cleared his throat and announced, "The
partners' meeting is in ten minutes."


Pedro looked up at him, glassy-eyed and drooling as the hung homeless guy
pounded him in front of his favorite Rothko painting. He focused long
enough to retort, "Well, you better help him along then," before lolling
his head back and groaning appreciatively. Duro walked around to the pair
and dropped to the floor, scooting underneath the action, his legs sprawled
out beneath the standing fuckers. The bum's filthy, unwashed balls were
low-hanging and hairy, swinging back and forth as he fucked. Duro opened
his mouth and drew them in, his nose pressing into a trench of shitty
taint. The stench of the guy was overpowering, and as Duro ran his hands up
and down his filthy thighs, he could feel the man's sores and grime. Like
his brother, he was getting off on the filth and depravity of the unwashed
stink. Running his hand through Donovan's cum still on his pantleg, he
lubed up his hard cock and started stroking as he sucked hard on the
massive balls in his mouth.


The drunk moaned and picked up his pace, slamming into Pedro's cunt hard
enough that bits of shit were flying out and onto Duro's white shirt. "Fuck
my shitty ass you stinking pig," Pedro groaned, "Fill my cunt with your
dirty, rancid cum. Pump it in me while my brother sucks your nasty,
vermin-ridden balls." The guy slammed into Pedro one final time as he
unloaded into the moaning executive. Duro could feel the balls in his mouth
churning out what must have been a river of cum, filling his little
brother's hungry cunt. Without a word, the bum pulled up his piss-reeking
pants and walked out, leaving the two Marron men stroking their cocks in
Pedro's massive office. Duro shoved his face into his brother's
freshly-fucked trench, his tongued digging for the homeless pig's huge load
to drain into his mouth. "Yeah, big brother, chew on my shitty ass!  Drink
all that cum out of my fuckin' nasty pig cunt. Fuck, he smelled so fucking
good. Still feel his homeless stink all over my backside. That's it
brother. FUCKIN EAT HIS LOAD FROM MY CUNT. FUCKKK...." Pedro shot his load
all over the table, coating it in creamy streams of white.


"FUCCCKKKK," Duro moaned into the caverns of Pedro's floppy cunt as he
jizzed all over his shirt, volleys of cum mixing with flecks of brown that
had splattered from his brother's ass minutes earlier. As he pulled his
face out of his brother's trench, he tasted and smelled the cum and ass
slime that coated his lips, nose, and chin. "Time to go," he announced,
hauling himself up and already heading for the door, not bothering to clean
his face or shirt. Pedro pulled up his navy blue pants, letting his
still-dripping cock hang out as he followed behind.


The pair entered the conference room, with Duro taking a mental tally of
the attendees. With the two of them, the room now held six men -- the
partners who oversaw all of BBB International's work. "Sorry we are late,
gentleman," Duro said smoothly as slid into the chair at the end of the
table while striking up a fresh cigarette from his pack. "We had to wrap up
a quick threeway with a homeless bum first." No one around the table seemed
surprised at the admission, and a few adjusted their cocks at the sight of
their leaders fresh off such a nasty fuck. Like the Marron brothers, the
four other men tended to wear suits to the office, although it was not
required. They simply liked the look and feel of silk, wool, and cotton
mixed with shit, piss, puke, and cum. "I think we can make this
quick. Let's go around the room and give our updates. Hank, why don't you
go first."


Hank Armstrong oversaw the pornography division. His legs were sprawled up
on the table, his shiny black leather shoes resting on the polished
beechwood surface. He was slowly and casually fucking himself with a
16-inch fleshy dildo through a wide slit in his silk pants. While working
the massive rubber cock in and out of his hole with his left hand, he
calmly ran his finger down the papers in front of him. "Obviously, our goal
remains to get as much porn into the hands of boys and men as
possible. We've made excellent progress here with Times Square, filling it
with bookstores and theaters where men can get off. Porno theaters are also
spreading to other cities. We are also targeting major trucking routes for
bookstores, so that men can hook up with hot, nasty
truckers. Unfortunately, it is still difficult to get kids into these
places." This elicited a round of commiserate moans at the injustice of not
allowing little boys in porno bookstores and theaters. What a fucking
shame.  "So we have to have fathers buy as many books and magazines as
possible to take home."


Here, he paused his report while he more aggressively fucked his ass with
the massive dildo. "Yeah," he moaned, "nothin' better than a boy finding
his dad's porn stash, jacking off to the hot guys on the pages, and then
having his father walk in and join him." The men around the table nodded
appreciatively, imagining such encounters taking place across America.


"Fuckin' beautiful," Pedro concurred, "fathers and sons jacking their cocks
together while they flip through pages of porn." Even though he had cum
minutes before, his dick was already stiffening up through the hole in his
pants, as were cocks all around the table.


Hank continued, "Of course, what we want is for more and more porn to be
viewable in the home as well as in sleazy bookstores, arcades, and
theaters, although we all love those too. So we're bankrolling the
development of something called a video cassette. Essentially, porno movies
can be recorded and played back on a cartridge that can fit in your hand,
and also played off a machine connected to any tv in any living
room. Imagine it, gentlemen, porn playing non-stop right there in the
house, sons sprawled out on the floor naked, seeing men fuck and suck on
their father's massive tv whenever they want."


"Fathers showing them nastier and nastier movies," offered Doug, head of
advertising, as he stroked his big black cock. "Start out with fucking and
sucking, but then get into pissing and shitting. Canine and horse
fucking. And lots of kiddie porn. All playing right there in house. Hank,
that's fucking amazing, man."


"Agree," said Duro, "Hank, that is a brilliant plan. Take whatever funds
you need. Excellent work. Doug, Hank here deserves some reward for
this. Why don't you slide your beautiful cock in along side that big dildo
of his while you give your report."  Doug Highball pulled off his pants
before grabbing his papers standing up in order to walk behind Hank. The
former NBA basketball player's hard cock stuck out a foot and more ahead of
him, oozing precum, already slicking it up as he stroked and walked. At
6'10 he towered over Hank, who had also stood up and was bent over the
table, never once letting up on plowing the dildo in and out of his
cunt. He only paused long enough to give Doug a chance to line up his
anaconda with his gaping hole, letting out a long moan as he adjusted to
being double dicked by two massive cocks -- one flesh, the other rubber.


Once Doug settled into his fucking rhythm in and out of his fellow
partner's stuffed cunt, he began his report. "So, we all know there is
nothing sexier than a little boy smoking. I love coming home and seeing my
son stroking his cock and blowing jets out of his nose, with a red hanging
out of his little mouth." The men nodded and stroked their cocks in
agreement. "That's why we are going start marketing cigarettes to kids."
The statement got more than a few utterances of surprise, but Doug
continued, "Of course, it won't be as obvious as all that, but we're
developing a cartoon character to take over a brand, ensuring that little
boys light up. As soon as they start feeling that sexy rush of smoking,
they'll begin experimenting with other boys, and we build from there." He
paused his report, but not his assault on Hank, who was sprawled on the
table moaning in pleasure as his cunt was stretched and pounded. The other
partners watched in appreciation, thinking of younger and younger boys
smoking and playing with their little cocklets.


"We've also been running experiments in subliminal advertising. Right now
about half of all beer ads running during football games have subliminal
messages, unknown to everyone but us, of course. They are messages like
`suck your buddy's cock' or `jack off together" or `fuck him up the ass.'
As men gather to watch football together, they are getting increasingly
horny and turned on by the idea of man-on-man sex with their best friend,
co-workers, golf buddies, and so on." As Doug talked they could all imagine
the scenarios: It's hot in here, right? Men stripping off shirts down to
their wifebeaters. Then pants...hey it's just us guys, you know. More beer,
more football, more ads. Buddy, are you strokin' your cock? Yeah, me
too. Wow, nice meat. You want another beer? Fuck yeah. Fuck that looks
good. Can I touch it? Can I suck it?  Fuck, this is hot. Man, will you fuck
me? I really need it. Just do it. Our secret. Ohhh fuck if feels good. Fuck
me. FUCK ME. YEAHHHH.


"Excellent," Duro exclaimed, lighting another cigarette, as did several
other men, as Doug finished up his presentation. Their cocks were hard and
leaking, with many of the partners now sitting with open shirts and
bare-assed in their chairs, stroking away. "Thank you, Doug. And it looks
like you've got some staying power, so you just keep fucking Hank, and
we'll move on to Allen." Doug did exactly as instructed, pistoning in and
out of Hank's ass, feeling his slick black cock glide up against the
slippery rubber of Hank's enormous sex toy. Now that his presentation was
over, he allowed himself to moan softly, the sound of slapping bodies
filling the conference room.


Allen Huimann, who headed up gyms and fitness, looked the part. His massive
bodybuilder frame barely fit in the chair, and his enormous, veiny pecs
were on fully display, already oiled and glistening. Pedro to his right had
reached over and was rubbing them, massaging the slick sheen into his
flesh, and tweaking his big nipples. The bald-headed, fifty-year-old daddy
hulk began: "Our networks in Germany and Russia continue to perfect
steroids and enhanced testosterone," he began before his report was
interrupted by the giant rip of a wet fart from his enormous ass. Allen
continued, "and we are ensuring every gym has a steady supply of steroids
for men to make themselves as huge as they want." Another ripping fart, and
the room was filled with the raw stench of ass. The men breathed deeply,
savoring the stink of masculine funk and filth.


The huge bodybuilder reached down and absently rubbed his expanding and
contracting cuntlips as he talked, "Also, we're in the middle of a huge
building boom for gyms. And we are making sure each one has musky locker
rooms, open showers, steamrooms, and saunas, so that men can gather for
sweaty sex before or after their workouts."


His farting continued and accelerated, and he could feel his cunt opening
up to give birth to a massive dump. Without missing a beat of his report
delivery, Allen climbed up on the table and settled in a squat, his huge
meaty ass hanging out of the ripped open seat of his pants. "We've also
been working to synthesize the unique stink of locker rooms, mixing sweat,
testosterone, ripe jocks, and filthy socks with pheromones and the natural
smells of cum, piss, and sweat." At this point a full eight inches of a
huge turd was dangling from his distended hole, as big in diameter as one
of Allen's own impressive forearms. "We've been pumping that smell into
every locker room in America, but especially schools. We know the brain's
pleasure centers are stimulated by that distinctive smell that every good
locker room shares. Boys start getting horny and associating it with sweat
and stink." The turd had grown to a foot or more in length, and was curling
on the conference table as Allen continued, "We've seen an uptick for
circle jerks in the showers, visits to coach's office after hours,
celebratory gangbangs after a big game. Nothing beats the stink of a good
locker room," he virtually moaned as he pushed and another several inches
of the massive log emerged before his cunt finally closed off and it
settled in coils where he'd been squatting.


Having concluded his report, Allen stood upright and hopped down back to
the floor, leaving behind a two-foot spiral of steaming, stinking
bodybuilder shit in the middle of the conference room table.  Since Hank
was already being fucked over the same table, he was closest and grabbed a
handful of the filthy mess, shoving it into his face and open mouth. He
went back again, but this time reached behind him so that Doug could do the
same. The two then proceeded to shitkiss and make out as they fucked. The
rest watched the beautiful spectacle, obviously eager to join in and begin
devouring the stinking shit before them, but Lorenzo di Cazzo spoke up,
"Before we share Allen's generous gift, I believe it might be good for me
to give my report first. I think you'll see why in a minute." They looked
enviously at Hank and Doug, who in turn looked sheepish for jumping the
gun, but everyone nodded their ascent.


Lorenzo, every bit as suave and debonair as his ancestors -- even shirtless
and with ripped apart Italian silk dress slacks -- opened his
briefcase. First he passed out several brown bottles, instructing the men
to inhale deeply up each nostril. He watched with pleasure at the result,
huffing from his own little container. "We're calling them poppers. Amyl
nitrite. Fantastic during sex. Please, keep those close at hand. But now
try this," he said, pulling out a glass pipe for each man packed with
crystalline rocks, followed by a small torch lighter. Demonstrating the
technique, he blew out swirling white clouds with a long, "fuuucckkkk,
that's so good."  He was joined by a chorus of similar utterances as the
room filled with smoke and the groans of pigs feeling it hit. "Crystal
meth," Lorenzo said hazily. "This and poppers will take man-on-man sex to
whole new levels. It will open up the doors to male instinct and release
the pigs in all of us. And now, gentlemen, let's fuck."


He reached for a pile of the still-warm shit resting on the table in front
of them, and coated his cock thoroughly, painting it in filth until it was
completely covered. Duro came over and dropped to his knees in front of the
Italian drug genius before inhaling Lorenzo's shit-coated meat down his
throat. Lorenzo leaned back in his leather chair, taking deep huffs of his
poppers while his boss sucked him. Meanwhile Allen and Pedro had climbed
back on the table alongside the massive pile of Allen's waste. Just as
Lorenzo had coated his cock from the stinking mess, Pedro began slathering
his whole arm in the thick shit. Allen meanwhile was rubbing his bald head
and face with his dump, savoring the feel of shit across his hairless,
smooth skull. Lost in the feel of massaging his head in shit, Allen shouted
in surprised ecstasy when Pedro punched into his entire shit-covered arm
into the bodybuilder's cunt, plowing past both rings until his entire arm
was up to the shoulder inside the older man's emptied-out guts. Both were
huffing deeply from their poppers bottles, barely taking a breath as they
moved the opening back and forth to each nostril over and over.


Hank and Doug had resumed their double fucking up Hank's insatiable cunt,
adding handfuls of shit as well to their raw pig sex, smearing it over
their shirts, ties, jackets, and pants, and allowing it to plop in heavy
splatters over their expensive black dress shoes. The sound of their
smacking bodies became wetter and sloppier as their standing fuck in the
middle of the meeting room became increasingly a wallow in Allen's sewage.


Duro and Lorenzo saw that as copious as Allen's dump had been, the
impressive shit -- when spread out over six men -- was starting to
disappear. By mutual, unspoken consent, they broke off their scatological
blowjob and climbed atop the long, expensive conference table as well. Just
as Allen had done, they settled into a pair lewd squats at opposite ends,
allowing their pig cunts to squelch obscenely with farts and gaseous
explosions. Then the two BBB International executives began shitting as
well, dumping their guts onto the expensive wooden surface in stinking,
rank piles. Like everyone in the room, they were completely fucked up and
spun by the meth. Both were gooning their cocks, allowing their mouths to
hang open, drool pouring out. They uttered groans and animal noises as they
shat, no longer bothering to form real words, but instead letting primal,
primate-level instincts take over. Even as he jacked his shitty wet cock,
Lorenzo grabbed a pile of his own shit and threw it across the table at
Duro were it smacked with a loud, wet plop into the man face, contorted
with primate-level animalness. Duro responded in kind, even as his own dump
was still pouring out of his guts. Picking up a handful, he too threw it,
growling in primate lust as it landed over Lorenzo's thick cock and heavy,
hairy balls.


Shit splattered the other men too, who moaned in meth-enhanced pleasure and
also allowed their human conditioning to breakdown into animialistic
rutting. Pedro emptied his ass even has he punched harder and harder into
Allen's ravaged hole. Doug and Hank did the same, releasing shit as they
fucked. Shit was everywhere, in smears and piles, splatters and
mounds. They ran their hands through it and scooped it up. Soon shit was
flying between all of them, coating them in more filth, as well as every
wall, chair, and inch of tablespace in the conference room. Shit hit the
ceiling only to later drop back off on their sweaty heads and faces and
flush, sweat-soaked bodies. They all pressed closer together atop the
conference room surface, bringing their fucking, fisting, and shit-jacking
into a tight and tighter cluster of pigs. Urine flowed at regular intervals
as their hard cocks shot streams of steaming piss in random directions and
across every surface. What remained of their expensive suits where
smothered in filth and ripped to hanging shreds.


There were no words anymore, just grunts, howls, moans, and growls. They
simply rutted and wallowed in the shit-coated room, inhaling the stink
through more and more hits from the bottles of poppers. Did it last for
minutes, hours, days? They didn't know. All they knew was primal shit and
sex. And when they started to cum, it was both simultaneous and
explosive. Ropes of spunk splattered in every direction, spreading their
piggish seed in geysers of cum. The sharp smell of pig jizz mixed with the
stink of shit and musk of sweat-drenched bodies.  They collapsed atop each
other, a pile of flesh, filth, and ruined suits.


A couple hours later they were still asleep atop the conference table,
exhausted and dripping in filth. Donovan opened the meeting room door and
quietly whistled with appreciation at the trashed space. He spotted his
boss Duro at one end, his peaceful face peeking out from under someone's
hairy ass. Boned up the second he smelled the stench of the room, Donovan
wanked his cock hard and fast. Like everyone knew, he was a quick cum, and
almost immediately he began spunking all over Duro's handsome face and
still-perfectly parted black hair. Satisfied with the facial he delivered,
he left a newly-arrived memo and report next to Duro's sleeping body. He'd
read it when he woke up. Donovan glanced over the summary at the top: "New
concept called World Wide Web being developed. Could one day connect pigs
through porn, chats, pictures, movies, stories and more. Could be the next
frontier." Donovan smiled at the idea. The work of BBB International was
never done...