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.