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Disclaimer and background: This series combines light science fiction and heavy raunch, along with a few other delicious depravities. It is extrapolated out from some of my other stories, but should stand on its own if you haven't read those. As always, do not read if younger than 18 and this work of fiction does not represent any real people (duh...it is set in the future!). Email is always welcome: piggysleaze@mail.com and especially in this case. I'd love ideas on what young Jared encounters in the Hall of Pigs!
There were two more spaces left to explore on this level. Jared already knew where on this museum floor he wanted to end, so he selected the other entrance next. The gallery was marked "The Stinktorium" and featured a sliding door that whooshed open as Jared approached. It was a small space, smaller than Jared was expecting. But then he realized what he had entered: a walk-in humidor. The walls were lined with cigars, cigarettes, blunts, pipes, and assorted other smoking products. There was another set of sliding doors opposite the one he entered, but they remained closed. Both were signed with large print: "SMOKING REQUIRED." Apparently the Stinktorium was automated, because the museum's narrator came on without pushing any buttons. Jared suspected the other doors would open when after the history lesson was finished.
"The history of manstink is sadly a history filled with DE-evolution, rather than progress and evolution, at least until recent decades. Over the centuries and millennia, as society became more and more supposedly civilized, men were increasingly required to mask the very things that made them men. Washing away one's natural stink became the norm as a ceaseless tidal wave of products were manufactured to clean away the pheromone-rich smells that brought men together. Society turned its back on anything that seemed to reek of raw masculinity, like cigars, sweat, and pubes. However, once these trends were reversed, men forced their rightful stink back into the public space. Today we celebrate what are often called the Five Cardinal Stinks: Smoke, Sweat, Crotch, Ass, and Feet. Please select your favorite smoke product and proceed through the doors of the Stinktorium, where all these masculine scents are proudly celebrated."
Jared wandered around the humidor to find some of his favorite brands. Like most boys he knew, he'd been smoking since he was about four years old, indulging with the adults in the warm, sensuous joys of a good, pungent cigar or joint. Knowing he had limited time, he selected a short 4" Cuban cigar with dark wrapper and decent-sized ring, not too thick or too slim. The shelves must have been weighted, because the doors slid open as soon as he'd made his selection. He fired up the Cuban with one of the lighters on the shelves, and walked in.
The Stinktorium was a pleasurable assault on his senses and a lot to take in all at once as the doors closed behind him. The first thing Jared noticed was the heat, which had been cranked up to at least 100 or more degrees. The hot air had the desired effect, and a musky sweat immediately broke out over the 12-year-old's body, particularly streaming down off his pubescent pits. Next he noticed the smells: dank and rich, humid and thick. His nose detected all the "Cardinal Stinks" the introduction had mentioned, like the nastiest locker room magnified tenfold. Finally, he took in the rolling clouds of smoke. It was like a thick fog in the room, obscuring so much that from the door Jared wasn't even sure what the room was or what it contained.
But moving inward, he felt the bare concrete floor give way to soft piles of fabric as well as larger, more solid objects. Reaching down through the smoke, he scooped some of the mystery contents. Bringing his hands up close his face in order to see, he also smelled the rankness of what he held: several stained, used jockstraps as well as multiple pairs of skidmarked white briefs. A couple steps more, and the piles were up to his knees, and beyond that they were even higher. That's when Jared realized the room was filled with nasty and crusty jockstraps, cups, underwear, and socks, piled high across the entire floor. And the harder objects he'd felt? Mixed into the sea of used stink-clothes were ripe and rank sneakers, work boots, waders, rubber galoshes, and cowboy boots. Jared was reminded of the ball-filled play rooms that some fast food restaurants had, except now instead of rubber balls it was filled entirely with mountains of stink-filled man stuff. One could quite literally dive head first and bury themselves in the piles of raunchy, stained, and soaked gear that the Hall of Pigs had obviously been collecting for years.
At the moment, Jared appeared to be alone in the room. Now that he had his bearings through the thick clouds of smoke, he realized the space was quite small -- about 15' x 15' square. The tight quarters and dense, pulsing heat amplified the stink. Clutching his cigar in his young teeth, he allowed himself to fall backwards into an enormous pile of used jocks and underwear. He grabbed a pair of briefs at random, thick with skidmarks that could have been days or weeks or years old, but still kept slightly damp and rank by the humidity of the sweatbox. Jared placed the underwear over the top half of his face, breathing in the scent of the shit stains, while he huffed out clouds of gar stink as he smoked down his Cuban. With his hands he grabbed piles of used jocks and socks and underwear, rubbing them over himself to spread their raunchy smells over his sweaty body. He was practically making snow angels (stink angels?) in the piles of reeking man stuff. His hand bumped against a rubber boot, covered in farm muck and manure. He used his cigar to draw in the biggest lung-fuck of smoke he could muster and then blew it into the boot, only to dive headfirst into the opening to breath back in the heady mixture of smoke and stink.
Lost in his filthy play, it wasn't until he heard voices that he realized others had come into the Stinktorium. "Hey, look fellas, we got a little bro," said someone. Jared pulled off the shit-stained underwear over his eyes and saw three college-age guys. They were naked from the waist down, dressed solely in stained wifebeaters and baseball caps, all worn backwards. They were each tall and handsome, if a bit doughy in a classic fratboi way, the result of too many keggers. Each had a big stogie clinched in the teeth. "Lookin' good," complimented the tallest and best hung of the three to Jared.
"Hey guys," Jared said, a bit star-struck that they were being so nice to a kid like him. His oldest brother was about their age, and while Brad was happy to fuck his little brother, he tended to ignore Jared otherwise. "Thanks."
The hung blond plopped down next to Jared, sinking into the deep pile of jocks and gear. He pulled his cigar out of his mouth so that he could lean in and give Jared a warm, wet kiss, which the young sixth-grader happily reciprocated. "I'm Victor," he said as he went back to his fine-smelling gar. "That's Andy and Jake," he pointed as each guy nodded to Jared. "We just dropped in for a study break, if you want to hang with us."
"Sure," Jared stammered, again surprised and flattered that they were inviting him to stay and enjoy the stink with them. "I'm Jared," he managed to get out as Andy and Jake settled into the mounds of reeking gear as well. "Are you guys from the college?"
"Guilty as charged," Victor sighed, as he settled further back into the pile of dirty clothes and boots. "We're all Sigma Alpha Upsilon brothers. Love the frat house, but sometimes we like to sneak away and recharge here, especially during finals week. I guess this is our not-so-secret secret hideaway." As he talked, Andy and Jake also settled into the deep piles of filthy gear. They had flopped their thick-set legs over each other while they grabbed various jocks and briefs to sniff and suck. Both were boned, and they crossed arms to slowly and sensuously jack each other off.
Jared wasn't sure what to say next, so he just lay back, smoking his cigar, which seemed to suit the frat boys fine. They settled into a deep, quiet, manly comradery, as they all just lay deep in the piles of stinky clothes, sending pungent gar smoke into the room and slowly jacking their cocks. Given the smallness of the room, they were all touching flesh at some point or another -- a leg flopped over another leg here, two shoulders pressed together there. Under the pulsing heat being pumped into the space, their rank pits were all freely streaming. Occasionally Jared or a fraternity brother would wipe their leaking pit juice over other parts of their body or the body of someone nearby.
As the mood struck, they'd fish their hands into the piles, pulling out a particularly shit-smeared pair of briefs or a jock with untold gallons of cum soaked into it. At one point Victor started to casually piss, drenching himself and the pile under him, while his face was buried inside a slimy workboot that he was huffing. Jared naturally followed their lead, doing whatever the older frat boys did. Truthfully, he was still pretty stoned from the previous room's hash incense, and this chilled out, slow sharing of stink and cigars allowed him to enjoy a mellow vibe for a bit. Like the frat bois, he was sweaty and ripe himself, and used assorted stinky jocks and piss-stained socks to rub over his drenched face and chest. In a casual, no-big-deal fashion they all eventually pissed freely, the hot streams landing wherever, soaking into the raunchy piles that enveloped them. Occasionally one of them would fart or belch, sending more stink into the confined atmosphere. Jared remembered reading in his history books that men had been brainwashed into thinking this was impolite and would even say "excuse me" when ripping a ripe one or belching into the room. Of course, no one did anything so foolish here. Sweat ran down their ass-cracks and balls, sending a nice manly funk into the air. Jared replayed the Five Cardinal Stinks in his head: Smoke, Sweat, Crotch, Ass, and Feet. All were swirling around him in hot, heady waves of olfactory bliss.
He was sucking on a particularly filthy jockstrap he'd found at the bottom of the pile when he noticed Victor was avidly picking his nose. The blond fraternity brother saw his young companion watching him, and brought his booger and snot-dripping finger over to Jared, running it slowly over the boy's puffy nipple that stuck out from his open-sided school tanktop. Jared moaned with pleasure, as Victor returned to deeply rooting around his nostrils and then rubbing the results over the boy's tits. All the while Victor was deep sucking on his big stogie, inhaling deep lung-fuck huffs until one finally set off a hacking cough that brought up a prodigious loogie. Hocking it fully up into his mouth, the frat boy then spit his mucky gift into Jared's face, rubbing the hacked up phlegm and snot all over the boy's mouth, cheeks, and chin.
Andy and Jake had been watching Jared and their frat brother in their intimate exchanges and were beating their cocks faster and faster. Jared knew they were close and growled, "Cum on my face guys" as they approached their climax. The two hauled themselves through the piles of stink-laden gear until they were kneeling on either side of the reposed boy. Andy moaned first, "Fuck, here it cums..." as a gusher of hot jizz fired like a cannon from his cock. Jared felt the hard smack of the spunk as it slammed across his eyes, nose, and mouth. Seeing his frat brother launch such a massive load sent Jake into overdrive, until he too was smothering Jared's face with volley after volley of 98-degree pig lava. Finally, it was Victor's turn. He stood and pointed his huge cock directly at the boy's open mouth, sending rope after rope over Jared's lips and tongue, while many other spurts just piled up in milky mounds across the youngster's face. By the time the three fraternity brothers were done, Jared's face was buried under rivers of creamy cum. The young pig only wiped away just enough to open his eyes, but left all the other ropes of frat jizz exactly as they had landed. "Thanks guys," he said with a youthful grin, as he pushed himself up out of the musky, drenched pile.
"You gotta go?" asked Victor, twizzling Jared's snot-slick tit.
Jared looked down and saw that a greyish glass gem in his cockring had lit up. "Yeah, I'm heading next door, and I know it is going to be crowded."
Jake spoke up for the first time. "Yeah, the Shit Arena is always one of the busiest rooms in this place." Victor leaned in for another kiss, sweet and tender, with just enough spit that it clung to each of their lips across several inches when they finally pulled away.
"Thanks for hanging with us little bro. See you around."
Jared headed back through the humidor and on out into the atrium. His face was still proudly plastered with three massive loads of SAU frat boy cum. Not for the first time, he wished Mr. Cummingham had given them more time in the Hall of Pigs. Especially as he headed to the Shit Arena, he knew he'd have to be extra mindful of his time. After all, it was the kind of place a young pig could spend forever in...