by Throne
"Honestly," Dora told her husband Pete, "I don't know what you're complaining about. You thought the idea was great when I suggested it. We do a little swapping and both of us get to have sex with someone new. I got Baller and you got his cousin Mavis. What could be simpler?"
"But... I mean... the way it worked out... it's not fair." He was naked on his knees in front of her, in their living room.
"To who? Baller is happy. And I'm more than happy with him and his nightstick of a cock. Mavis's only complaint is that you're taking too long learning to be her good little body slave, but she says you're making progress. So where's the problem?"
"I'm not getting to do anything I want. That woman is only using me for her own pleasure. She makes me do disgusting things and she loves to abuse me."
"So who's fault is that? I mean, she was ready, willing and able to have wild sex with you. Right? But there was your tiny dick, the way you shoot off practically before you get started, and the fact that you have no confidence or know-how in bed. All that together forced her to decide to make you her pet. You failed as a man so she turned you into her little piggy."
"It's not fair!"
"Which part of it?" Dora stood there, naked except for black fishnet stockings. She was a tall shapely blond, with boobs a few sizes too large for her body. As she shook back her long locks, those impressive breasts swayed slightly from side to side. "I mean really, you certainly fit your new role now. So what if you had to get rid off all your body hair? And your gym membership wasn't making you look any less like an underdeveloped wimp, so cancelling that was no big loss. Plus, the way Mavis and I have been overfeeding you is just to remind you that you used to have control over your life, but then you threw that away."
"Please," he whined. "Look at what's happened to me."
She smirked down at her spouse. She had forbidden him to go to the barber and his hair was now past his ears. Since she took away his work-outs, even as limited as they had been, her short husband had lost what little muscle tone he previously possessed. And all the junk the two women make him consume had added pounds. He was softer and slightly rounded everywhere, but the real change was to his belly. It had expanded and gotten stretched out from overlarge meals, until now he had an impressive, taut pot where he used to be flat. It always amused her to see how she and Mavis had taken over not only what he ate, but how he looked. Dora lifted her foot and gave his midsection a gentle prod with her toes.
"Poor Piggy Pete. Sorry, but I don't have any sympathy for you, not after you wasted your big chance with Mavis. Still, when she gets here with Baller, you can talk to her. Or if you want, you can try working it out with him."
"You know I can't. Not with him. He treats me worse than anyone else."
"Which is kind of funny if you think about it. I mean, I know you're always half-crazy about all the sex he has with me. But he has you to frightened to say anything about it. If you tried, Baller would knock you down and rub his foot in your face. Oh wait, he already did that last week, and just because you looked at him funny."
"I was upset. And jealous."
"You should certainly be jealous of that monster he has between his legs. I mean, look at the little nothing you're stuck with." She laughed cruelly. "But like I said, you can try to work something out with Mavis. Maybe she's tired of only having your mouth to get her off. She might be so desperate for a cock that she'll settle for what you have, instead of a real one."
Pete hung his head and sighed. Yet she had ignited a spark of hope, small though it might be. He was so desperate to improve his situation, and to maybe even have intercourse with Mavis, that he was willing to make an effort. Dora sent him to the kitchen to be sure there were enough beer and wine in the fridge, and that the snacks were neatly arranged on several large plates. He had just finished checking everything, and then putting away the batch of dishes he had washed earlier, when the doorbell of their suburban home rang. He knew who it had to be and a chill ran up his back.
Following the latest rule introduced by Mavis, he got down on his hands and knees and started toward the door. It was so awful to have to crawl through his own home to admit the two people who had dragged him this low. Even so, once he was there he obediently got up on his knees and sat back on his heels, just to one side of the door. Pete reached out and turned the knob, then swung the door inward. He hated the idea of being where someone else outside might see him, naked and humbling himself. But he had no choice. There stood Banger, tall and athletic, like a star quarterback. He had on a typical outfit for him -- black T-shirt, leather vest, camo pants, and dark, designer basketball shoes.
"Hey, pig boy. Where's my woman?"
"Your... my wife... I mean Dora... is in the kitchen."
As Banger strode past, the Black man feinted toward Pete, who was so startled and scared that he recoiled, making himself topple over backwards. Mavis came in behind her cousin and sneered at the naked, hairless, sprawled figure.
She said, "Damn, you are off to a bad start this evening. I mean, even before I get inside you are screwing up."
Mavis was tall, her hair worn short and natural. She had on a sleeveless top and a very brief skirt, along with pale stockings and sexy high heels. When she put one foot on either side of him so that she was straddling his head, he saw that she had on no panties. She leered down at him. Her broad face was dominated by dark eyes and high cheekbones, along with overly full lips. And her figure was all dramatically expansive curves: big bust, flaring hips, wide bubble butt, drumstick thighs, large firm calves.
As she stood over him she wanted to know, "Like what you see, loser? Hmm?" Mavis fanned her hand at hemline level. "Take a whiff, lover boy. Can you smell my pussy? I made sure to get it sweaty and not wash it, just the way you like."
The Black woman was carrying a handled shopping bag. She dropped it heedlessly on his smooth narrow chest. He grunted as it landed heavily atop him. Mavis set one foot on his convex midsection and applied just enough pressure to cause discomfort, but not real pain. He whimpered and reflexively tried to squirm out from under.
Making a tsk-tsk sound, she told him, "Now that's two times you messed up. Falling all over yourself and then getting all wriggly just because I step on you. This is going to be one long night for you, piggy-pooh."
As she passed by he hugged the bag protectively against his body, while pushing the door closed with his bare foot. Maybe tonight wouldn't be the best time to try to discuss their relationship with Mavis. With that in mind, he got back onto his hands and knees and crawled along behind her, the handles of the bag in his clenched teeth, dragging it. Following that statuesque female, even though she had already been mean to him and he knew there was plenty more of the same to come, he couldn't stop ogling her rolling backside, which appeared to be trying to escape from under the skirt that was molded to it.
They reached the kitchen and he saw Banger embracing his wife, kissing her passionately, running his dark hands up and down her body, with special attention paid to her big bare bottom. Her lustful lover liked to say that she had a BBB -- Black Bitch Booty. He stroked her blond hair and nibbled hungrily on her pale neck. The contrast of his deep brown hands on her pink-white skin was startling. And to Pete it was agonizing, a sharp reminder that she preferred her ebony bed partner to her lily white spouse. When Banger stepped back from her there was a huge bulge in the front of his camo pants. Dora reached down to hold it lovingly. Her fingers manipulated the surging length of man meat.
She turned her head to look at her husband, naked and on all fours. Dora grinned at him as she sank to her knees. With nimble fingers she unzipped Banger and freed his cock. While she stroked it the rest of the way to a full erection, Pete couldn't help but goggle at its ten thick inches. She lapped the underside of the shaft, from the balls up to the fat head, which she then captured inside her warm wet mouth. As she sucked hard on his knob, she held onto his muscular ass, relishing how solid it was. Pete tried not to mentally compare himself to the superior man, but how could he avoid it? The lesser man had a dick that strained, when it was hard, to reach the four inch mark, but never quite made it. And his organ was slender, too, with undersized balls to match. Since he had been required to shed his body hair, which hadn't been that plentiful to begin with, his bald crotch looked ridiculously immature. It was a source of embarrassment to him every time it was *******.
Dora began to fellate Banger without restraint, lapping his scrotum, kissing his tumescent tool lovingly, and taking him into her accommodating throat. Doing that, wearing only those fishnet stockings, she was the personification of licentiousness. Pete was sick with jealousy and envy. It should be him receiving her oral attentions. However, as she had often pointed out to him, his dick was so laughably small that she wouldn't be able to put it in her mouth without laughing uncontrollably. So her BJs were for Banger only. She used her hands on his pole while sucking the knob. After several minutes of that his back stiffened and his hips gave a single twitch. He groaned with pleasure and Pete knew he was shooting one of his heavy loads. Pete's wife retained it greedily, but even so a few drops escaped the corner of her mouth. She caught them with the tip of one finger.
After Banger was fully drained she got gracefully to her feet. Dora's cheeks were stretched out with Black spunk and her own saliva as she approached her spouse. Pete sniffled and sobbed, knowing that something bad was about to happen to him. She bent over, her heavy breasts bobbing, and cupped his chin in her soft hand. When her fingers and thumb pressed on opposite sides of his jaw, he obediently opened his mouth. His wife positioned her sealed lips above his parted ones. He could hear her breathing through her nostrils. Then she opened her mouth and disgorged its full contents, dropping the entire mess onto his waiting tongue. His throat constricted and his stomach lurched. The slime rolled down his gullet. It's salty tang was thick on his taste buds. He gagged slightly but maintained control of his system. Dora laughed and spat several gobs of spit and semen into his mouth. She laughed as she took what was still on her finger and rubbed it under his nose, to make sure he would have to smell it every time he inhaled through his nostrils.
She went to Banger and took his hand. The two of them headed for the bedroom. That was where, earlier in his marriage, Pete had slept with Dora. He had even had sex with her, though she had never been given a single climax by him. Mavis snorted derisively at Pete as he blinked back tears of regret. If only he had tried harder, he told himself, it might all have worked out differently. That wasn't true, but his bride often suggested that it was, just to add to his torment. She had him convinced that not only was her wanting to swap, along with her continued cheating his fault, but that he could somehow have prevented it.
As the happy couple vanished into the hallway, and then the main bedroom, Mavis snatched the bag from Pete. She said, "I got something new for my pet piggy." She felt around in the bag. "How about this? A nice collar and leash to remind you that you can't run away." She set the bag down and fastened the collar around his neck, making sure it was tightened two notches too much, not enough to choke him, but more than enough to remind him of how subject to her will he was. She clipped the leash to the circle of leather and gave an experimental tug that made him wince. Then she took the bag and walked Pete into the kitchen.
"Feeding time," she announced with malicious glee. "Don't want my porky pet to lose that cute belly. Let's see what Mavis has for you, boy."
What came out in her hand this time was a rectangular, red plastic container, about a foot long, six inches deep, and ten wide, open on top. He recognized it as an inexpensive flower planter. It looked used but there was no soil on it, just a bit of general filth, as if it had been stored in the back of a shed for a long time. She set it on the floor and coaxed him closer with a yank on his leash. When he had his face directly over the planter, she put her foot on the back of his neck.
"Go on, piggy-wiggie. Get your snout down in there so I can see if your feeding trough is big enough. That's a good pig. And look at that. You can reach whatever I put in there, all the way down to the bottom, to the last scrumptious morsel. Mmm, mmm. Bet you can't wait to see what's on your menu."
She reached into the copious bag again and produced several shallow cans with peel-off tops. Pete saw with disgust that they were cat food. She made sure to tell him that it was the stinky fish kind. She also had a tablespoon. Mavis opened the first can, scooped up a generous portion, and held it out to him.
"Open up, pig-boy," she said with a nasty grin. "This will go real good with that serving of Banger's Bull Sauce your wife fed you. It's not just me taking an interest in your welfare. That Dora wants to make sure you get plenty of protein and vitamins." She chortled as she pushed the heaping spoon toward his quivering lips. "Let's go. Got to keep that belly stretched out, so you can be the kind of pig I want you to be."
He didn't know what she meant by that, but he did know that disobeying would cost him dearly. The prospect of her beating his unprotected backside with a wooden kitchen spoon, or maybe the long narrow bread board, was completely intimidating. Though his stomach was turning over, he spread his jaws wide. Mavis shoved the spoon in and he closed his mouth, getting his top lip on the handle of the spoon. As she withdrew the utensil, his upper lip collected all the repulsive pet food on it. The stuff was soft, but not soft enough to just swallow quickly, so he had to chew it up before he could make himself get it down.
As he finished that awful action, she started emptying the remainder of the can into his makeshift trough. That was followed by the other two cans. Then she took a plastic bag from where she'd gotten the cans. There was a soggy mass of something black inside. She undid the tie holding it closed and held it under his nose, letting him take in the odor of... coffee grounds?
"Saved these from my coffee maker, just for you. Three days worth." She shook out the damp dregs of the brewing process, on top of the odiferous kitty meals. "That'll help you stay awake, so we can go all night, if I want to."
"Please," he said, gagging. "Can't we just... you know... have me use my mouth on you?"
"Nah, piglet. Thing is, I don't want you starting to enjoy it none. I know you don't like it, especially because I don't wash down there, and I sweat a lot. And you don't like it even more if I got boned, like the night before, and my man Deon's mess is laying in there, getting ripe, until you do your clean-up thing. But I still noticed that your little pecker gets hard. So what I have to do here, is to make it so you don't have no fun when it's time to snack on my snatch. See? And the easy way to do that is to feed my piggy some piggy slops. Plus, this'll help you to keep your piggy shape in your belly button area."
He had been hoping that the feedings would stop. But now, instead of the usual mixed collection of unappetizing leftovers and discards -- pork rinds, stale chocolates, salsa from the bottom of the jar, pickle juice, spoiled milk, plate scrapings, chewed up gristle -- she was using specific ingredients, selected to nauseate. The last one was in an aluminum can without a label, with foil over the top. She explained that it was greasy drippings from frying bacon and other pork products. She usually saved it to fry other things in but had accumulated this extra supply. As she removed the foil he caught a whiff of a heavy, fatty aroma from the brimming can.
"I hope you don't mind me feeding pig fat to you, a fat pig." She laughed at her wordplay. "But it's good for you. Get that rump roast of a behind even more softened up. Make it even nicer for spanking." She spooned out the sickening mess of congealed fat, on top of the already stomach-turning other two items. Then she worked it all together with the spoon. When that was done she topped the mixture off with several generous gobs of fresh spit. "All ready for you to dig into."
He said, his voice croaking from his rebelling throat, "Please, Mavis. Don't make me eat that."
"Oh, baby, I get it. You wanted to go in the bedroom so you could watch Banger hammering your wife's pussy with his... well... his hammer." She laughed again. Mavis certainly enjoyed her own jokes. "But it's just going to be the same-old-same-old. She's all wet downstairs from sucking him off. He starts jamming that big old tool of his into her tight box. She gets to hollering how she has to have it, and how she'll do anything if he keeps giving it to her, and probably she'll throw in the part about how you're never going to have your sad little dick in there again, ever. Right? And then he slams her for about an hour. She finishes a bunch, like three-four-five times. And in the end he let's go and busts his nut, hosing her pussy with one of his super-big loads, which gets all to running out and making a mess. Which sooner or later you have to lick up. Same stuff every time. So you don't need to see it again. And try not to think about it going on while you're eating. Wouldn't want it to ruin your appetite. Because you have to finish every bite."
She pushed his face downward, until his nose was below the top of the trough and the unsavory smell assailed him. Sobbing and gagging, he got a mouthful of the horrid mush and began to masticate it. Mavis sat on his back and held his ears, twisting them if he dared to slow down. Pete could feel what he was being forced to eat filling his stomach, which was still trying to digest the double-lunch Dora had fed him. Mavis pinched his cheeks until they were sore and dug her nails into his neck, all to keep him eating. As he neared the bottom of the trough he felt dizzy. This was the worst feeding ever. The taste was incredibly bad and the mix of barely edible items was making him endlessly queasy. At last he reached the bottom but that wasn't enough. He had to lick up whatever was stuck to the unclean plastic. Then Mavis helpfully spit into the trough several more times to assist him in licking free the final traces.
At last he was done. Pete worried about how long it would take him to get that mess through his system, and how sick he would be while he did it. But she wasn't done with him. Mavis's mistreatment of the cuckold always got her aroused. Now she used his leash to drag him, again on hands and sore knees, to the spare bedroom. Once there she stripped naked and posed in front of him. Her zaftig figure added to his arousal, despite what he'd just eaten. Excitation and indigestion were getting running together in his mind. Then she turned her back and thrust her double-wide ass at his face. When she barked at him to kiss it, he did. She wasn't satisfied until he thoroughly licked the deep valley between her thick hemispheres, and even made him kiss her tight pucker, keeping his face in her damp, musky crevices until he was half suffocated.
Only then did she sit on the foot of the foot of the bed, spread her legs wide, and display her fleshy nether lips. She told him, "Let's go, Piggy. Here's your reward for gobbling up all that slop. My nice sweaty pussy, that I ain't washed for three days, and that was pumped hard by my man last night. As a special bonus for you, he emptied his balls in me two times. So get to getting, pig face. And make some hungry hog noises while you're eating."
Pete grunted and snuffled as he began the foul task. With his stomach feeling ready to burst, and his throat not cooperating, he had to struggle to keep going, his nose bumping her slippery clitoris and, at times, when she demanded it, buried in her vagina itself. She laid back while he kept licking, lapping, sucking and, as she got increasingly wet, swallowing. He thought he would never get to the end. But after lots of gasping and panting, he had her close to an orgasm. Mavis purred and moaned and squirmed her wide hips. She played with her nipples and spoke in disjointed syllables. When she did climax, it was wetter still, and he had to slurp up and drink all of the additional fluids.
She demanded two more orgasms and poor Pete had to provide them. Somewhere between the first and second, Banger and Dora appeared to witness the finale of his disgrace. They laughed and made jokes at his expense. His wife was especially vicious when mocking his undersized penis, calling it a series of highly insulting terms. Gherkin. Lady finger. Vienna sausage. At last he was done. Or thought he was.
"I got one more surprise in that bag of mine," Mavis announced. "Can you reach in there and get it for me, Dora, honey?"
What Pete's wife discovered in the bottom of the shopping bag made her laugh out loud. She held it out for him to see. It was a butt plug that someone had used super-epoxy to attach a curly, plastic tail to the base of. Dora claimed the honor for herself of inserting it, though a better verb might be cramming. She jammed it home after several attempts that had her spouse howling. When it was in she made him stand up and prance around, showing it off.
He had to recite, "I'm a little piggy, who likes to crawl. My tiny dick is barely there at all. My tummy is round and my tail is curly. This is what you get if always cum too early." His wife had made him memorize and rehearse it at home, but it was so much more humiliating to have to do it in front of her lover and the woman who regularly abused him.
"One last thing," Mavis declared. "I been working real hard to make Pete just the kind of piggy I wanted. And Dora been helping me a lot, giving him so much to eat at home. So the thing is..." She suddenly stopped, looking with concern at a spot below Pete's protruding belly. "Damn, boy. What's that on the end of your baby dick?"
He looked down, craned his neck forward, and kept trying to see what she was talking about. She wanted to know what was wrong. Couldn't he see it?
"I..." He hesitated and got a distressed look on his face. "I can't. I can't see my penis. My... belly..." He sobbed. "You made it so big I can't even see my own penis."
"I made your belly big but your dick was super small right from the start. But yeah, I fixed it so you can't even see your own wiener." She snickered. "Because I wanted you to be my favorite kind of pet pig."
"What are you talking about? Why did you... deform me... this way?"
"Why? Because the kind of pet I wanted was a potbellied pig. And that's what I turned you into, with your corkscrew tail and that sticking-way-out, round tummy. And that's how we're going to keep you. Pete the Pig. Pete the Potbellied Pig. You'll never be able to look at your own itty bitty dick unless it's in a mirror."
As his expression of dismay grew into a mask of utter defeat, his three tormentors laughed wildly. Their only concern was that now they would have to think of something even worse to do to their victim the next time. And the one after that. And all the others to come.
"Honestly," Dora told her husband Pete, "I don't know what you're complaining about. You thought the idea was great when I suggested it. We do a little swapping and both of us get to have sex with someone new. I got Baller and you got his cousin Mavis. What could be simpler?"
"But... I mean... the way it worked out... it's not fair." He was naked on his knees in front of her, in their living room.
"To who? Baller is happy. And I'm more than happy with him and his nightstick of a cock. Mavis's only complaint is that you're taking too long learning to be her good little body slave, but she says you're making progress. So where's the problem?"
"I'm not getting to do anything I want. That woman is only using me for her own pleasure. She makes me do disgusting things and she loves to abuse me."
"So who's fault is that? I mean, she was ready, willing and able to have wild sex with you. Right? But there was your tiny dick, the way you shoot off practically before you get started, and the fact that you have no confidence or know-how in bed. All that together forced her to decide to make you her pet. You failed as a man so she turned you into her little piggy."
"It's not fair!"
"Which part of it?" Dora stood there, naked except for black fishnet stockings. She was a tall shapely blond, with boobs a few sizes too large for her body. As she shook back her long locks, those impressive breasts swayed slightly from side to side. "I mean really, you certainly fit your new role now. So what if you had to get rid off all your body hair? And your gym membership wasn't making you look any less like an underdeveloped wimp, so cancelling that was no big loss. Plus, the way Mavis and I have been overfeeding you is just to remind you that you used to have control over your life, but then you threw that away."
"Please," he whined. "Look at what's happened to me."
She smirked down at her spouse. She had forbidden him to go to the barber and his hair was now past his ears. Since she took away his work-outs, even as limited as they had been, her short husband had lost what little muscle tone he previously possessed. And all the junk the two women make him consume had added pounds. He was softer and slightly rounded everywhere, but the real change was to his belly. It had expanded and gotten stretched out from overlarge meals, until now he had an impressive, taut pot where he used to be flat. It always amused her to see how she and Mavis had taken over not only what he ate, but how he looked. Dora lifted her foot and gave his midsection a gentle prod with her toes.
"Poor Piggy Pete. Sorry, but I don't have any sympathy for you, not after you wasted your big chance with Mavis. Still, when she gets here with Baller, you can talk to her. Or if you want, you can try working it out with him."
"You know I can't. Not with him. He treats me worse than anyone else."
"Which is kind of funny if you think about it. I mean, I know you're always half-crazy about all the sex he has with me. But he has you to frightened to say anything about it. If you tried, Baller would knock you down and rub his foot in your face. Oh wait, he already did that last week, and just because you looked at him funny."
"I was upset. And jealous."
"You should certainly be jealous of that monster he has between his legs. I mean, look at the little nothing you're stuck with." She laughed cruelly. "But like I said, you can try to work something out with Mavis. Maybe she's tired of only having your mouth to get her off. She might be so desperate for a cock that she'll settle for what you have, instead of a real one."
Pete hung his head and sighed. Yet she had ignited a spark of hope, small though it might be. He was so desperate to improve his situation, and to maybe even have intercourse with Mavis, that he was willing to make an effort. Dora sent him to the kitchen to be sure there were enough beer and wine in the fridge, and that the snacks were neatly arranged on several large plates. He had just finished checking everything, and then putting away the batch of dishes he had washed earlier, when the doorbell of their suburban home rang. He knew who it had to be and a chill ran up his back.
Following the latest rule introduced by Mavis, he got down on his hands and knees and started toward the door. It was so awful to have to crawl through his own home to admit the two people who had dragged him this low. Even so, once he was there he obediently got up on his knees and sat back on his heels, just to one side of the door. Pete reached out and turned the knob, then swung the door inward. He hated the idea of being where someone else outside might see him, naked and humbling himself. But he had no choice. There stood Banger, tall and athletic, like a star quarterback. He had on a typical outfit for him -- black T-shirt, leather vest, camo pants, and dark, designer basketball shoes.
"Hey, pig boy. Where's my woman?"
"Your... my wife... I mean Dora... is in the kitchen."
As Banger strode past, the Black man feinted toward Pete, who was so startled and scared that he recoiled, making himself topple over backwards. Mavis came in behind her cousin and sneered at the naked, hairless, sprawled figure.
She said, "Damn, you are off to a bad start this evening. I mean, even before I get inside you are screwing up."
Mavis was tall, her hair worn short and natural. She had on a sleeveless top and a very brief skirt, along with pale stockings and sexy high heels. When she put one foot on either side of him so that she was straddling his head, he saw that she had on no panties. She leered down at him. Her broad face was dominated by dark eyes and high cheekbones, along with overly full lips. And her figure was all dramatically expansive curves: big bust, flaring hips, wide bubble butt, drumstick thighs, large firm calves.
As she stood over him she wanted to know, "Like what you see, loser? Hmm?" Mavis fanned her hand at hemline level. "Take a whiff, lover boy. Can you smell my pussy? I made sure to get it sweaty and not wash it, just the way you like."
The Black woman was carrying a handled shopping bag. She dropped it heedlessly on his smooth narrow chest. He grunted as it landed heavily atop him. Mavis set one foot on his convex midsection and applied just enough pressure to cause discomfort, but not real pain. He whimpered and reflexively tried to squirm out from under.
Making a tsk-tsk sound, she told him, "Now that's two times you messed up. Falling all over yourself and then getting all wriggly just because I step on you. This is going to be one long night for you, piggy-pooh."
As she passed by he hugged the bag protectively against his body, while pushing the door closed with his bare foot. Maybe tonight wouldn't be the best time to try to discuss their relationship with Mavis. With that in mind, he got back onto his hands and knees and crawled along behind her, the handles of the bag in his clenched teeth, dragging it. Following that statuesque female, even though she had already been mean to him and he knew there was plenty more of the same to come, he couldn't stop ogling her rolling backside, which appeared to be trying to escape from under the skirt that was molded to it.
They reached the kitchen and he saw Banger embracing his wife, kissing her passionately, running his dark hands up and down her body, with special attention paid to her big bare bottom. Her lustful lover liked to say that she had a BBB -- Black Bitch Booty. He stroked her blond hair and nibbled hungrily on her pale neck. The contrast of his deep brown hands on her pink-white skin was startling. And to Pete it was agonizing, a sharp reminder that she preferred her ebony bed partner to her lily white spouse. When Banger stepped back from her there was a huge bulge in the front of his camo pants. Dora reached down to hold it lovingly. Her fingers manipulated the surging length of man meat.
She turned her head to look at her husband, naked and on all fours. Dora grinned at him as she sank to her knees. With nimble fingers she unzipped Banger and freed his cock. While she stroked it the rest of the way to a full erection, Pete couldn't help but goggle at its ten thick inches. She lapped the underside of the shaft, from the balls up to the fat head, which she then captured inside her warm wet mouth. As she sucked hard on his knob, she held onto his muscular ass, relishing how solid it was. Pete tried not to mentally compare himself to the superior man, but how could he avoid it? The lesser man had a dick that strained, when it was hard, to reach the four inch mark, but never quite made it. And his organ was slender, too, with undersized balls to match. Since he had been required to shed his body hair, which hadn't been that plentiful to begin with, his bald crotch looked ridiculously immature. It was a source of embarrassment to him every time it was *******.
Dora began to fellate Banger without restraint, lapping his scrotum, kissing his tumescent tool lovingly, and taking him into her accommodating throat. Doing that, wearing only those fishnet stockings, she was the personification of licentiousness. Pete was sick with jealousy and envy. It should be him receiving her oral attentions. However, as she had often pointed out to him, his dick was so laughably small that she wouldn't be able to put it in her mouth without laughing uncontrollably. So her BJs were for Banger only. She used her hands on his pole while sucking the knob. After several minutes of that his back stiffened and his hips gave a single twitch. He groaned with pleasure and Pete knew he was shooting one of his heavy loads. Pete's wife retained it greedily, but even so a few drops escaped the corner of her mouth. She caught them with the tip of one finger.
After Banger was fully drained she got gracefully to her feet. Dora's cheeks were stretched out with Black spunk and her own saliva as she approached her spouse. Pete sniffled and sobbed, knowing that something bad was about to happen to him. She bent over, her heavy breasts bobbing, and cupped his chin in her soft hand. When her fingers and thumb pressed on opposite sides of his jaw, he obediently opened his mouth. His wife positioned her sealed lips above his parted ones. He could hear her breathing through her nostrils. Then she opened her mouth and disgorged its full contents, dropping the entire mess onto his waiting tongue. His throat constricted and his stomach lurched. The slime rolled down his gullet. It's salty tang was thick on his taste buds. He gagged slightly but maintained control of his system. Dora laughed and spat several gobs of spit and semen into his mouth. She laughed as she took what was still on her finger and rubbed it under his nose, to make sure he would have to smell it every time he inhaled through his nostrils.
She went to Banger and took his hand. The two of them headed for the bedroom. That was where, earlier in his marriage, Pete had slept with Dora. He had even had sex with her, though she had never been given a single climax by him. Mavis snorted derisively at Pete as he blinked back tears of regret. If only he had tried harder, he told himself, it might all have worked out differently. That wasn't true, but his bride often suggested that it was, just to add to his torment. She had him convinced that not only was her wanting to swap, along with her continued cheating his fault, but that he could somehow have prevented it.
As the happy couple vanished into the hallway, and then the main bedroom, Mavis snatched the bag from Pete. She said, "I got something new for my pet piggy." She felt around in the bag. "How about this? A nice collar and leash to remind you that you can't run away." She set the bag down and fastened the collar around his neck, making sure it was tightened two notches too much, not enough to choke him, but more than enough to remind him of how subject to her will he was. She clipped the leash to the circle of leather and gave an experimental tug that made him wince. Then she took the bag and walked Pete into the kitchen.
"Feeding time," she announced with malicious glee. "Don't want my porky pet to lose that cute belly. Let's see what Mavis has for you, boy."
What came out in her hand this time was a rectangular, red plastic container, about a foot long, six inches deep, and ten wide, open on top. He recognized it as an inexpensive flower planter. It looked used but there was no soil on it, just a bit of general filth, as if it had been stored in the back of a shed for a long time. She set it on the floor and coaxed him closer with a yank on his leash. When he had his face directly over the planter, she put her foot on the back of his neck.
"Go on, piggy-wiggie. Get your snout down in there so I can see if your feeding trough is big enough. That's a good pig. And look at that. You can reach whatever I put in there, all the way down to the bottom, to the last scrumptious morsel. Mmm, mmm. Bet you can't wait to see what's on your menu."
She reached into the copious bag again and produced several shallow cans with peel-off tops. Pete saw with disgust that they were cat food. She made sure to tell him that it was the stinky fish kind. She also had a tablespoon. Mavis opened the first can, scooped up a generous portion, and held it out to him.
"Open up, pig-boy," she said with a nasty grin. "This will go real good with that serving of Banger's Bull Sauce your wife fed you. It's not just me taking an interest in your welfare. That Dora wants to make sure you get plenty of protein and vitamins." She chortled as she pushed the heaping spoon toward his quivering lips. "Let's go. Got to keep that belly stretched out, so you can be the kind of pig I want you to be."
He didn't know what she meant by that, but he did know that disobeying would cost him dearly. The prospect of her beating his unprotected backside with a wooden kitchen spoon, or maybe the long narrow bread board, was completely intimidating. Though his stomach was turning over, he spread his jaws wide. Mavis shoved the spoon in and he closed his mouth, getting his top lip on the handle of the spoon. As she withdrew the utensil, his upper lip collected all the repulsive pet food on it. The stuff was soft, but not soft enough to just swallow quickly, so he had to chew it up before he could make himself get it down.
As he finished that awful action, she started emptying the remainder of the can into his makeshift trough. That was followed by the other two cans. Then she took a plastic bag from where she'd gotten the cans. There was a soggy mass of something black inside. She undid the tie holding it closed and held it under his nose, letting him take in the odor of... coffee grounds?
"Saved these from my coffee maker, just for you. Three days worth." She shook out the damp dregs of the brewing process, on top of the odiferous kitty meals. "That'll help you stay awake, so we can go all night, if I want to."
"Please," he said, gagging. "Can't we just... you know... have me use my mouth on you?"
"Nah, piglet. Thing is, I don't want you starting to enjoy it none. I know you don't like it, especially because I don't wash down there, and I sweat a lot. And you don't like it even more if I got boned, like the night before, and my man Deon's mess is laying in there, getting ripe, until you do your clean-up thing. But I still noticed that your little pecker gets hard. So what I have to do here, is to make it so you don't have no fun when it's time to snack on my snatch. See? And the easy way to do that is to feed my piggy some piggy slops. Plus, this'll help you to keep your piggy shape in your belly button area."
He had been hoping that the feedings would stop. But now, instead of the usual mixed collection of unappetizing leftovers and discards -- pork rinds, stale chocolates, salsa from the bottom of the jar, pickle juice, spoiled milk, plate scrapings, chewed up gristle -- she was using specific ingredients, selected to nauseate. The last one was in an aluminum can without a label, with foil over the top. She explained that it was greasy drippings from frying bacon and other pork products. She usually saved it to fry other things in but had accumulated this extra supply. As she removed the foil he caught a whiff of a heavy, fatty aroma from the brimming can.
"I hope you don't mind me feeding pig fat to you, a fat pig." She laughed at her wordplay. "But it's good for you. Get that rump roast of a behind even more softened up. Make it even nicer for spanking." She spooned out the sickening mess of congealed fat, on top of the already stomach-turning other two items. Then she worked it all together with the spoon. When that was done she topped the mixture off with several generous gobs of fresh spit. "All ready for you to dig into."
He said, his voice croaking from his rebelling throat, "Please, Mavis. Don't make me eat that."
"Oh, baby, I get it. You wanted to go in the bedroom so you could watch Banger hammering your wife's pussy with his... well... his hammer." She laughed again. Mavis certainly enjoyed her own jokes. "But it's just going to be the same-old-same-old. She's all wet downstairs from sucking him off. He starts jamming that big old tool of his into her tight box. She gets to hollering how she has to have it, and how she'll do anything if he keeps giving it to her, and probably she'll throw in the part about how you're never going to have your sad little dick in there again, ever. Right? And then he slams her for about an hour. She finishes a bunch, like three-four-five times. And in the end he let's go and busts his nut, hosing her pussy with one of his super-big loads, which gets all to running out and making a mess. Which sooner or later you have to lick up. Same stuff every time. So you don't need to see it again. And try not to think about it going on while you're eating. Wouldn't want it to ruin your appetite. Because you have to finish every bite."
She pushed his face downward, until his nose was below the top of the trough and the unsavory smell assailed him. Sobbing and gagging, he got a mouthful of the horrid mush and began to masticate it. Mavis sat on his back and held his ears, twisting them if he dared to slow down. Pete could feel what he was being forced to eat filling his stomach, which was still trying to digest the double-lunch Dora had fed him. Mavis pinched his cheeks until they were sore and dug her nails into his neck, all to keep him eating. As he neared the bottom of the trough he felt dizzy. This was the worst feeding ever. The taste was incredibly bad and the mix of barely edible items was making him endlessly queasy. At last he reached the bottom but that wasn't enough. He had to lick up whatever was stuck to the unclean plastic. Then Mavis helpfully spit into the trough several more times to assist him in licking free the final traces.
At last he was done. Pete worried about how long it would take him to get that mess through his system, and how sick he would be while he did it. But she wasn't done with him. Mavis's mistreatment of the cuckold always got her aroused. Now she used his leash to drag him, again on hands and sore knees, to the spare bedroom. Once there she stripped naked and posed in front of him. Her zaftig figure added to his arousal, despite what he'd just eaten. Excitation and indigestion were getting running together in his mind. Then she turned her back and thrust her double-wide ass at his face. When she barked at him to kiss it, he did. She wasn't satisfied until he thoroughly licked the deep valley between her thick hemispheres, and even made him kiss her tight pucker, keeping his face in her damp, musky crevices until he was half suffocated.
Only then did she sit on the foot of the foot of the bed, spread her legs wide, and display her fleshy nether lips. She told him, "Let's go, Piggy. Here's your reward for gobbling up all that slop. My nice sweaty pussy, that I ain't washed for three days, and that was pumped hard by my man last night. As a special bonus for you, he emptied his balls in me two times. So get to getting, pig face. And make some hungry hog noises while you're eating."
Pete grunted and snuffled as he began the foul task. With his stomach feeling ready to burst, and his throat not cooperating, he had to struggle to keep going, his nose bumping her slippery clitoris and, at times, when she demanded it, buried in her vagina itself. She laid back while he kept licking, lapping, sucking and, as she got increasingly wet, swallowing. He thought he would never get to the end. But after lots of gasping and panting, he had her close to an orgasm. Mavis purred and moaned and squirmed her wide hips. She played with her nipples and spoke in disjointed syllables. When she did climax, it was wetter still, and he had to slurp up and drink all of the additional fluids.
She demanded two more orgasms and poor Pete had to provide them. Somewhere between the first and second, Banger and Dora appeared to witness the finale of his disgrace. They laughed and made jokes at his expense. His wife was especially vicious when mocking his undersized penis, calling it a series of highly insulting terms. Gherkin. Lady finger. Vienna sausage. At last he was done. Or thought he was.
"I got one more surprise in that bag of mine," Mavis announced. "Can you reach in there and get it for me, Dora, honey?"
What Pete's wife discovered in the bottom of the shopping bag made her laugh out loud. She held it out for him to see. It was a butt plug that someone had used super-epoxy to attach a curly, plastic tail to the base of. Dora claimed the honor for herself of inserting it, though a better verb might be cramming. She jammed it home after several attempts that had her spouse howling. When it was in she made him stand up and prance around, showing it off.
He had to recite, "I'm a little piggy, who likes to crawl. My tiny dick is barely there at all. My tummy is round and my tail is curly. This is what you get if always cum too early." His wife had made him memorize and rehearse it at home, but it was so much more humiliating to have to do it in front of her lover and the woman who regularly abused him.
"One last thing," Mavis declared. "I been working real hard to make Pete just the kind of piggy I wanted. And Dora been helping me a lot, giving him so much to eat at home. So the thing is..." She suddenly stopped, looking with concern at a spot below Pete's protruding belly. "Damn, boy. What's that on the end of your baby dick?"
He looked down, craned his neck forward, and kept trying to see what she was talking about. She wanted to know what was wrong. Couldn't he see it?
"I..." He hesitated and got a distressed look on his face. "I can't. I can't see my penis. My... belly..." He sobbed. "You made it so big I can't even see my own penis."
"I made your belly big but your dick was super small right from the start. But yeah, I fixed it so you can't even see your own wiener." She snickered. "Because I wanted you to be my favorite kind of pet pig."
"What are you talking about? Why did you... deform me... this way?"
"Why? Because the kind of pet I wanted was a potbellied pig. And that's what I turned you into, with your corkscrew tail and that sticking-way-out, round tummy. And that's how we're going to keep you. Pete the Pig. Pete the Potbellied Pig. You'll never be able to look at your own itty bitty dick unless it's in a mirror."
As his expression of dismay grew into a mask of utter defeat, his three tormentors laughed wildly. Their only concern was that now they would have to think of something even worse to do to their victim the next time. And the one after that. And all the others to come.
