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Whistling Dixie

“These fucking deadlines man,” San yawned, the boar stretching in his cubical. “I hate that we have so much extra work after last month’s layoffs.”

“It’s just the way the wind blows,” Ruby, the old bulldog lady said while adjusting her glasses on her pearl chain. “I’m just glad they didn’t sack me. I’m up for retirement soon and I’d like my portfolio to do a bit better before handing the reigns over to you youngin’s.”

“Ruby, you think anyone born after the invention of dirt is a ‘youngin’,” San rolled his eyes, cracking his fingers before typing away at his desk, his neighbor telling him how it is. “Though I’m glad we got some fresh blood coming in this month. It fucking blows that they were hired externally and we got to expend the man power to train them.”

“Not like you should care, you’re the one training them,” Ruby shot back. “The rest of us need to pick up your slack and theirs.”

“Don’t worry honey bunch,” San smirked, his tusks gleaming in the fluorescent light. “I’ll be sure to train them as quickly as I can so they can get to digging into the reports like we are.”

“So we’ll expect delays, huh?”

“You bet your ass there will,” San chuckled. “Getting paid to read a power point is my ideal job.”

“Well, can’t blame ya,” Ruby shrugged. “I did the same thing when I trained you.”

“Yeah, and I appreciated every second of it,” San smirked. “Though I’m going to have to make up some fun excuses as to why I go off script.”

“There’s the way we want it done on paper, and then there’s the way we actually get it done.” Ruby’s eyes were blocked by the glow of her screen on her glasses, her acrylic nails clicking away. “Let’s be honest here, San. You first teach them the real way, then tell them to forget everything and teach them the right way. That’s how I made it work for you.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I don’t even need to make any new slides. I’ll just tell them how to really do stuff.” San chuckled. “Ruby, you’re an evil genius.”

“San,” Ruby pulled away from her computer to lower her glasses and look him in the eye. “We work for an insurance company. If I’m finding new ways to suck money out of this company for less, then I’m doing God’s work.” She pushed her glasses back up and rolled back to her desk with a sly grin. “You go whip the fresh blood into shape. I can handle this.”

“You’re a rockstar Ruby!” San chuckled, standing up from his desk after saving his documents. San wasn’t the tallest guy, but he wasn’t the shortest either. When he stood, his head was easily past the cubical dividers, though barely. He wore a simple white shirt and a black tie, very sleek and stylish, though his scruffy hair and sideburns showed the boar’s more relaxed nature, despite how done up his outfit was.

The boar trotted his way to the office rooms where security would have deposited the new recruits and he readied himself with a fresh cup of coffee. The young boar strode down the hall with purpose, steam rolling from his mug as his hips swayed and his thick cheeks shifted in his fitted slacks. He opened the door and spun into the room to close it behind him, expertly handling his coffee so not even a drop spilled.

“Welcome new recruits!” San smiled, setting his mug down and took his first look at the fresh meat. He expected to see a few faces looking back, but instead there was only one. “Huh, I thought there would be more of you. You are the new hires, right?”

The only person in the room was a donkey, his hair long and wavy. The sun damaged brown locks were still well maintained and silky, but kissed by the sun in a way that made the darker undertones more prominent. He wore a new hat that was given out at orientation with the company’s logo blazed across the front. His thick mane of hair barely held back by that cap as it spilled out of it, his eyes shaded by his locks as they swept behind him. The guy had light stubble like he hadn’t shaved for a couple days, the dark hair adding to the cut of his jaw, the powerful muscles of his neck lashed down onto his collarbone, his Adam’s apple on full display as he laid back in his chair. He wore a white button down and tie, but the tie had been loosened to hang limply around his neck, the top few buttons undone to show the man’s thick cleavage and a healthy amount of chest hair. The cuffs on his sleeves had been rolled up to expose his powerful forearms, his hands lost in his mane of hair as he used them as a headrest. The pits of his shirt were clean apart from a small stain of natural moisture, his thick arms threating to pop the seams of his shirt. His hooves were up on the table, the two onyx hooves gleamed in the natural light coming from the windows, the bottoms graced with a little dirt from his walk in.

“The other guy dipped,” the donkey grunted, gently rocking back and forth, his powerful legs flexing in his slacks as he stayed relaxed and cool. “He didn’t seem like he could cut it here anyway.”

“I hardly think that this job is—”

“Yeah, I bet you don’t, tusks,” a sly grin cracked that chiseled jaw as he sat up, his hooves leaving a light scrape on the table. “Can’t believe they got a hog on the line here.”

“Excuse me?” San cocked a brow.

“You heard me,” his grin widened revealing a golden tooth. “Why do they have a pig doin’ work that requires a brain?”

“What the hell did you just say to me?” San set down his coffee, really taking in this new hire. It was hard to tell how old he was, but he was young, his voice was gravellier than he’d expect, but maybe he was a smoker.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be the one teaching me how to do my job here? This isn’t the first office I’ve worked in, but it is the first one with a hog doing more than grunt work.”

San scowled. Who does this guy think he is!

“What’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you know that already if you’re here to teach me?” His smug grin never faltered.

San felt anger brewing deep in his chest, he pulled the folio that was on the table and found the class roster.

“Wesley Reed?” San slapped the folio back on the table.

“Yo,” the donkey lifted a hand and signaled with two fingers that he was present.

“Well, Wesley, if you think I’m going to stand for that kind of talk, I’m going to—”

“What?” Wes stood up abruptly, the chair flying out behind him as he got on his hooves. “You’re gunna fucking do what?”

Despite his tone being even and smooth, San could hear the threat in Wesley’s voice.

“I-I-I’m…” San blinked, that stammer only widening the grin on Wesley’s powerful mug.

“Yeah? W-W-What are you going to do?” Wesley mocked his stutter and stepped forward, San stepped back. The wall came to greet San’s back, and Wesley wasn’t stopping. He moved swiftly and firmly, his arm coming up to rest on the wall above San while glaring down at him. San was cast in the donkey’s shadow, completely eclipsed by the massive bigot. He glared down, the cold and confidant eyes gleamed behind those locks and San felt a fleeting moment of fear. Wesley was tall, very tall and wide.

“I asked you a question, Pig,” Wesley spat the word pig out, spittle spraying San’s face. “What are you going to do about it? Huh?”

“I…I…”

“Gunna call HR? Gunna go to the boss? I doubt that,” Wesley gave a little snort, hot streams of breath shot out his nose and lightly sprayed San below.

“I…” San was frozen, a deer in the headlights. No one had ever been so aggressively disrespectful to him. He knew that some people looked down on pigs, but this was so sudden it shook the little boar to his core.

“That’s right,” Wesley huffed, humor welling up in his throat as a light chuckle. “I ain’t known a hog I couldn’t tame. You’re all the same, but in the end, you just need a little push back into your place.”

San’s nose could smell something coming from Wesley. His musk was powerful, despite how hard his deodorant tried to mask it, his stink was stronger. It was faint, but he could smell more, his sensitive flat nose picking up on tobacco, leather, and...pure testosterone.

Fear and rage boiled up inside San and he pushed Wesley away, or more like he pushed against him and slid out from under his shadow.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Come on,” Wesley smirked. “Don’t even try and tell me you didn’t get a little hard from that. I could see it in your eyes. You’re just like the rest of the little piggys on the farm. You like being pushed back into the dirt beneath a real working man’s hoof.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” San’s jaw dropped. “You’re fucking nuts.”

“Then why don’t you try and prove me wrong, dip stick,” Wesley nodded up and swaggered forward.

“What are you doing? Stay away from me,” San wasn’t afraid, he was just angry. What kind of fucking nutcase did they let past security! Who fucking talks like this?!

Wesley let out a loud whistle, one that was so loud it hurt the pig’s ears and caused him to flinch. In that brief moment, the donkey closed the distance between them, his powerful hand coming to cup his loins. San gave a loud squeal and jumped to the side.

“You’re not hard?” Wesley cocked his head, his hair bouncing like it defied gravity.

“I…you’re…,” San’s face was beat red, his entire body burning with a mix of embarrassment and shock.

“Oh, I see,” Wesley smirked. “You ain’t no fucking boar.”

San’s eyes went wide and he went for the door, half expecting Wesley to stop him. He did something arguably worse.

“Nah uh,” Wesley gripped the handle at the same time as San did, his powerful fingers practically crushing the boar’s hand. “A gentleman opens the door for a lady.”

Wesley’s knuckles flexed, San giving a little squeak of pain.

“But you’re not a lady, now are you?” Wesley leaned into the boar’s ear. “Breeding sows can get the door for themselves.”

Wesley let go, San quickly opened the door and briskly walked away. Tears stung at the boar’s eyes as he made his way to the elevators to submit his complaint to Human Resources immediately. The last thing he heard before he got in the elevator was a high pitched, ear splitting whistle. San looked out of the closing doors to see the big ass smiling at him, holding his coffee.

“Thanks for the fresh cup, teach! Though next time, I take it black!”

The doors closed before San could even form a coherent thought.

***

“What do you mean we can’t get rid of him?!” San shouted.

“Wes has some sort of sway in the company,” Randal shrugged, the coyote manager sighed. “Do you have any proof of the things he was saying to you?”

“I didn’t think I would need to record my conversation with a new hire,” San huffed. “I was just going to teach him the basics and get him ready for data management and calls. How was I supposed to know he’s a bigoted piece of shit?!”

“San, please, inside voice,” Randal put his hands up.

“No! This is absolutely ridiculous! How come he’s not out on his ass right now?!”

“Because he’s the only new hire we have,” Randal shrugged. “Everyone else didn’t pass inspection by the hiring committee, and the other one left as soon as he saw the parking situation.”

“Are you serious?” San glared at his boss. “You’re keeping him on because there is no one else?”

“Listen, I know it sucks, and I believe you, but…”

“Just forget it Randal,” San rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to argue with you if you’ve already made up your mind. Just find someone else to train him.”

“I…actually,” Randal had a sheepish look on his muzzle.

“Don’t you dare say I have to spend another second alone with that man,” San was fuming and huffing.

“I’m not saying that,” Randal put his hands up defensively. “All I’m saying is that…you’re the only one trained right now to train. I’m not going to let you stay alone with him, but I can at least have someone present at all times. Hell, even I can sit in if you want to. Does that sound good?”

“I better be getting a raise for this bull,” San huffed.

“You know raises and compensation are reviewed at the end of the year—”

“Whatever Randy,” San waived him off. “Just make sure someone is in the room with me.”

“Thank you San,” Randy sighed in relief. “You’re a life saver.”

“Damn right I am,” San growled as he got up and left the office, closing the door loudly behind him. “You gaping asshole,” San huffed under his breath.

San wanted to slap Randal sometimes, but he also had bills to pay. He decided it wasn’t worth it at the time and just proceeded to do business as usual. Though, who doesn’t dream of slapping their supervisor from time to time?

The teaching sessions were relatively uneventful going forward, though Wesley insisted on sitting next to the boar. He didn’t do anything inherently disrespectful as he trained the ass, but San wasn’t entirely sure if the thigh to thigh was intentional, or how he would raise his hand so his pit stink would waft over him as he pointed at the screen. He would interrupt him every once in a while, but it was more on a professional level where he was either asking questions or finishing San’s thought for him. San hated to admit it, but Wesley was smart. He picked up on the training quickly, and did so in front of Randal, making him look far more valuable than before.

The training was quicker than San would have hoped, both a blessing and a curse. Sure, he didn’t get as large of a break from his regular crushing workload, but he also was able to get away from Wesley quickly enough. At their next team meeting Randal introduced Wesley to the rest of the team.

“Hey everyone,” Wesley smirked, tipping his hat and giving that sexy smile that sent enraged shivers down San’s spine. “Y’all can call me Wes if you prefer.”

Later that day in the breakroom, San was brewing a new pot of coffee when Wesley came in, closing the door behind him.

“Good work out there, Wes,” San scowled at the donkey. “You got everyone fooled, huh?”

Wesley walked closer to the boar, coming like he was going to grab the fresh pot of coffee, getting closer like San wasn’t there until he was pressed firmly against him, pinning him to the breakroom counter. San froze, his snout pressed up against the donkey’s impressive and exposed cleavage. A tight grip on his thigh pulled him closer, San’s squeal muffled as he was pressed against that chest.

“Show me some god damn respect, pig,” Wesley huffed, his chest puffing out. “Dirty hogs call me Wesley.”

San was shocked. Such a night and day difference was jarring. In public he was the perfect gentleman, but in private, a complete brute. Despite wanting to shove him away, San was frozen. The donkey’s musk was strong, his powerful hand gripped his tie a little harder, rumpling the silk, the smell of sandalwood and cedar pierced through that musk, no doubt the smell of his conditioner.

Then San felt it, a throb, a powerful and distinct twitch against his hip. He couldn’t see it, being pinned as he was, but he could feel it. The burning root of Wesley’s virility. It was big, it was hot, and it was hard. He had no idea how a stud like that kept his dick hidden in those slacks, but San knew a monster cock when he felt one. Sure, he could be a size queen, but that was his life at home, not work. The powerful, rhythmic throb of that dick, the warmth of it burning into his side like an iron was causing the boar to sweat. San gulped, his mouth dry as the sneer on Wesley’s muzzle shifted to be more of a dark grin.

“Oh, I’m going to have you eating out of my ass before the end of the fucking quarter, I just know it, you dirty pig,” Wesley gave another little tug on San’s tie, the boar giving a light squeak.

“Hey, why’s the door closed?” Someone said, the handle of the breakroom door rattling before opening up.

San blinked, thinking he finally had the brute caught in the act, but in a smooth motion the boar’s tie slipped between Wesley’s fingers as his hand went up to the cabinet above, his pit in San’s face as he took a mug from the cabinet and slipped to the side just as their coworker came inside.

“Hey Vic,” Wesley grunted, turning around with the fresh pot of coffee in hand as he poured some for himself. “You coming for a top off?”

“Yeah,” the otter smirked, padding his way in. “Why was the door closed?”

“San was teaching me how to make a pot,” Wesley’s tail flicked behind him, the hairs smacking San like a riding crop and caused the boar to jump with a little tiny squeal. “I guess he just wanted more time with his favorite student.”

“Yeah,” Victor cocked his head, having heard the office gossip, but extended his cup anyway.

“There ya go,” Wesley smirked, pouring the contents into their cup. “Thanks again, teach.” Wesley put the pot back in the machine, the thing still dripping fresh coffee. The donkey took the otter by the shoulder and walked him out of the breakroom, talking about last night’s game or something. San was left standing there, his eyes wide, his jaw on the floor, and a warmth between his legs.

San shook his head and snorted, the fog dissipating from his mind as he refocused. He simply grabbed a cup of coffee and marched his way back to his desk.

***

Over the next few months there was a momentary murmur of San being a cunt-boy. It was something he opted into recently after years of debating the change. He simply felt better as a cunt-boy, and he wasn’t necessarily open about it at work. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but he also didn’t think it was anyone’s business, especially his boss. It wasn’t hard for the boar to figure out who spilled the beans, but what proof did he have that it was him? None. As far as everyone knew, he leaked it himself to someone who couldn’t be trusted. It burned the boar up inside, but it didn’t really change the way anyone looked at him. Maybe some of the girls who thought they had a chance, but they were obliviously desperate to begin with.

So, he figured it was best to avoid Wesley for the foreseeable future. Despite his obvious dislike of the donkey, the giant ass found ways to insert himself into situations with him, but never alone. That was, until late one night.

Wesley was working on a report, his eyes blurry from trying to finish it up. The deadline was for the morrow’s opening hour, so he had to finish it up and move it on for processing. He was the only one in the office working that late, even the janitors had left and told him to just turn out the lights. San didn’t care much, he could use the overtime, but it didn’t make him any less upset about having to stay late.

“God, fuck me,” San grunted, looking over the report, sipping his coffee and running the reports again to make sure everything was in alignment and ready to go to marketing.

“What the hell are you doing here so late?”

San let out a little squeal, his fur standing on end as he spun in his chair. Wesley was standing there, his work outfit a little rumpled from a long day, his overcoat slung over his shoulder as he held onto it with two fingers.

“H-How is that any of your business!” San huffed out. “Why the hell are you still here?”

“Came back for my coat,” Wesley shrugged, his jacket swaying. “Left it behind and I didn’t want it to get any pig grease on it.”

“Har-har,” San rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Just leave me alone. I ain’t got time for your bullshit.”

“You really are a wily little sow, ain’t cha, teach,” Wesley huffed and threw his jacket on the nearest chair. “I know you been avoidin’ me.”

“Who wouldn’t avoid a gaping asshole,” San huffed, turning around in his chair to face his work, before he could say anything else though, that ear splitting, hair raising whistle broke the air. How the hell did he do that so loud!

“Don’t you look away from me when I’m talking to you, pig,” Wesley huffed. San simply rolled his eyes, directing his momentum around to face the donkey.

“What do you want Wesley? Seriously?”

“I don’t take kindly to disrespect from little porkers like you,” Wesley cracked his knuckles. “I think you need to be reminded just where you belong on the ranch.”

Wesley pulled on his belt, the leather cracking as he pulled it off his pants. San didn’t even notice him unbuckle it.

“The fuck?!” San went for his phone, but one crack of that belt and the boar recoiled from the stinging on his wrist.

“Don’t you be callin’ security now, teach. I’m about to learn you something real good,” Wesley came forward, lifted his hoof and put it down on San’s chair, causing the boar to fall back into it, that dusty hoof pressed against his loins as the chair was pushed back against his desk, causing his knickknacks and desk supplies to rattle and spill over.

“The fuck are you doing!” San shouted, but was quieted when Wesley gripped his tie and used it like a leash.

“Breaking in the breeding stock, the fuck does it look like?”

San was frozen, his heart beating out of his chest, this beast of a man had him pinned, his hoof would be poised to crush a man’s nuts if he wanted to, but they both knew that wasn’t a problem. In one hand he held San’s tie, in the other he held his belt, ready to slap him if he needed.

“What—” San started, but Wesley whistled loud, the sound cutting him off.

“No talkin’,” Wesley smirked, his golden tooth gleaming. “Ain’t no one caring what comes out of that dick trap. You’re a pig, so speak like one.”

“What do you even mean—”

Another ear splitting whistle cracked against the boar’s eardrums. San simply glared up at the donkey and snorted out, opting to play along.

“Good girl,” Wesley rumbled before stepping off the chair and planting his hooves on the ground. “Now, undo my pants, like a good pig.”

San wanted to fight back, anger glowing in his eyes, but he had the bad feeling that if he refused, things were about to get a lot worse. So, he looked down, moving his hands up, but another whistle made the boar flinch. He glared back up at the burly ass.

“Eyes up here, oinker,” Wesley smirked, his own eyes gleaming from behind his locks.

San’s brow folded in anger, his eyes burrowing into Wesley’s, but he complied. His hands came up and undid the button and zipper in a fluid motion, those pants falling down in a heap around the donkey’s hooves. The only thing left were his boxers.

“Good, you know how to do that pretty good,” Wesley smirked. “Plenty of practice, teach? Now, you can look.”

San didn’t want to look, he wanted to keep shooting daggers with his eyes, but his curiosity got the better of him and his gaze dipped down. First he was looking at the donkey’s pecs, then the plunging neckline of that unbuttoned shirt, down to where it was still connected, then down to see the hem of those boxers. San’s eyes went wide as he looked at that plaid prison around that monster hog. It was huge! Already the fabric of those boxers were pulled away from his groin, revealing a thick bush of pubic hair and the root of his dick. Thick veins rolled down that shaft and disappeared below. It was only the base of the shaft, but that fucker had to be the width of a beer can!

San couldn’t keep his eyes up anymore, he looked down. Those boxers were pushed tight along that shaft as it pulsed, a little dark spot forming where the blunt head pitched the fabric. It had to be ten inches and it looked to be pulsing to life, a clear dollop of pre welling up from the fabric and rolling down to stain it a darker shade.

“There’s the look we’ve been waiting for,” Wesley snorted out his nostrils. “And I bet you thought you looked all intimidating with your pouty face. Much like putting lipstick on a hog, a brave face doesn’t do much neither.”

San looked up and scowled, but he had been made. That cock haunted his fantasies ever since he first felt it. Sure, many a fantasy over the past few months clouded his pre-nut clarity, but he just kicked himself post nut and just let it go. Though this time, he knew the whole story of the past couple months was written all over his face.

“Fuck off,” San huffed, snorting out of his nostrils. Wesley yanked on his tie, though the grin on his muzzle didn’t falter.

“Now, what did I say about making words?” Wesley.

San glared up at him and gave a couple disgruntled snorts. He didn’t mean to, but it was just a nervous habit of his.

“Good lil’ piggy,” Wesley loosened his grip on that tie. “How about a reward for that. Take um’ off.”

San was furious, his face burning. He wanted to headbutt Wesley’s junk and then gore his nuts on his tusks, but he knew he wouldn’t. Deep down, he knew what he wanted, loath he was to admit it. He gulped back his drool and looked back down to those boxers and finally gripped the hem and started to pull it down.

It was like some fucking time lord underwear where the inside had to be larger than the outside! As San pulled those boxers down, he unveiled the largest, thickest, juiciest, veiny and throbbing monster he had ever seen. That mottled horse cock was slowly released, the thick medial ring being revealed as that shaft only narrowed slightly before coming to that thick, fleshy, flared tip. He pulled the hem down, the tip recoiling and spiting a string of pre at him. That clear strand smacked the corner of his lips and up across his nose.

The powerful smell of a virile man wafted over his muzzle as those balls flopped free, that shaft swaying up and smacking Wesley’s chest. Those massive grapefruit sized balls sloshed in their furry sack, a thick tuft of pubic fur running between them and up into a proud, yet tamed bush. That shaft was thicker than the poor boar’s forearm, and nearly as long. It pulsed, the veins growing thick and angry as the tip gorged itself on the steer’s libido. It had to be at least a foot of intimidating horse cock.

San blinked as he felt those musky pubic hairs grace his nose. Did Wesley lean forward or tug on his tie? No, he simply laid out the bait and the hog fell for it. He wasn’t even holding his tie anymore. The air around that cock was hot and humid, like he hadn’t showered in a day or two and had been stewing in his boxers the whole day. He could practically taste those nuts on the air, how virile and potent.

“Do I even need to tell you want to do next?” Wesley huffed. “Do what pigs do best. Come get your slop.”

San didn’t want to, but when he glared up at Wesley, he was sure his blush was deep on his cheeks. Instead he looked down at that shaft and leaned forward, his nose snorting that heady musk. He tried to be subtle, but a couple little piggy oinks squeaked by and he couldn’t deny how his blush deepened, his eyes getting cloudy with the scent of a young man in his prime. Wesley was how old? Twenty-eight?

San found his nose pressed firmly into those pubes as he came too from his overwhelming sent journey. His lips pressed against the side of that warm, salty sack. His tusks gently brushed and itched those nuts before his maw opened and he slurped one in.

“Fuck yeah, ya fucking oinker, suck a real man’s hairy nuts,” Wesley smirked. He was standing and San was sitting in his chair, his nose buried in the burro’s loins.

It was like San was in a trance. He had no idea how he had gotten that way, his mind felt foggy and his loins warm. His muzzle planted deep on those balls. His maw opened wide, his tongue lulling around that other nut and sucking it in, his cheeks bulging a bit as drool dripped from the hog’s chin as he savored the flavor of a real man’s balls in his muzzle. He gave light little snorts, the thick miasma of those balls filling his senses. He felt drunk, like he had just taken a couple shots and his veins were buzzing. He sounded like a piglet nursing on his mother’s tit, only this was the largest ball sack he had ever seen, and it was filling his cheeks with salty musk.

“That’s right, you dirty fucking pig, show your betters some fucking respect,” Wesley ordered, and San complied. His tongue lulled over those nuts, rolling them in his mouth as he drooled over that sack, sloshing the virile slop inside each orb. A powerful hand came down and threading through his hair, taking a fist full and pulling him back. San let out a few squeals of protest, soft and pleading, but sure enough, those balls plopped out of his maw one at a time, the balls heavily pulling down on that sack again. But then San was presented with that cock tip.

“Now, show this jackass some fucking respect,” Wesley snorted, his own nostrils flaring, and he let go of that hair. San had never dove down on something faster in his life. He felt like a pig starved of anything but scraps, and now he was given the biggest plate of slop. That thick head caused San’s cheeks to flair as he slurped it down to the medial ring. San gave a little gagging squeal, his nose twitching as he snorted some air before pushing further down, his maw going wider as he slurped more of that cock down. San’s throat bulged, that flared, fleshy head getting a nice coat of desperate drool and throat sludge as San forced himself further forward, swallowing that massive ranger tool.

Then he hit those pubes, his nose firmly planted against those musky hairs, He gave a little snort, a feat considering his throat was distended by that thick monster. He couldn’t describe the feeling. He had always known the term thrussy; he thought it was just a dirty word, but now he felt like he truly understood. Any gagging urge was a pleasurable clamp, his lack of air a buzzing beauty in his head, and any air he got was tainted by those messy, musky pubes. Wesley gripped San’s ears and pushed him back, the hog giving little snorts and squeals of protest, only for him to relax his grip and let him plunge back down onto his cock.

“Fuck yeah! Suck that cock you fucking oinker!” Wesley huffed. “Suck that fucking cock!”

They quickly got into a rhythm, his nuts plapping against San’s chin as he snorted and squealed on that dick. Thick strands of drool and throat sludge welled up on his muzzle, dangling strands of it threatening to drip on the floor beneath his desk, other’s connecting him to that absolute stud of a man.

“Fuck yeah! Give me that fucking thrussy you filthy, fucking pig! FUCK!” Wesley snarled, gritting his teeth as he started to beat that face with his hips, those nuts slapping, thick glorking and shlorking was accented by loud snorts and muffled squeals.

San felt like the world was tinted red, his jaw ached in a good way, his throat felt raw as it was raw dogged into next week by that plunging donkey dick.

“Ready for your fucking slop! Fucking take it you dumb, fucking, PORKER! GAHAAA! FUCK YEAH!”

Wesley’s nuts rose up before bouncing, his cock gorged with blood as it slammed home and stayed sunk in that warm, slick pit. San couldn’t breathe as his nose was ground into those pubes as that cum pipe distended. He could feel that thick, chunky cum squelch down that cum pipe and bloom as a thick wad of sloshing warmth right in his gut. Thick rope after rope of burro batter deep in that sow’s stomach. San gaged, a thick wad of cum and throat sludge shooting out of his nostrils as he slowly choked on the horse cock in his throat. His vision blurred, his eyes bloodshot as thick slap of cum kept dumping deep into his gullet and Wesley kept bleating his pleasure out.

San couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to, his panties creamed, his pussy twitching as his entire body buzzed.

Just before the curtain of dark came, Wesley abruptly pulled out, peeling the boar off his cock and causing the porker to squeal on a breath, coughing and wheezing as his grip on reality started to come back to him.

Then that ear splitting whistle hit him and his breathing became more even, his eyes fogged over as his jaw hung open loosely.

“Good girl, we’re gunna break you in nice and deep.” Wesley huffed before slapping his face gently, or maybe the donkey thought it was gently, but it knocked San’s brain cells into each other and he finally started to come out of his trance.

“What the hell?” San gasped, but Wesley was already putting his pants back on.

“See you t’morrow, teach. Plenty more slop where that came from.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving a gummy mess of his face and pants.

***

Over the next few weeks San felt less and less like himself. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but more like he wasn’t chained down by his fears or resentment? It was hard for him to understand, but every time Wesley would call him over, he felt a little less resistant, a little more receptive, more…accepting of his place.

It started out with the jackass dumping some extra work on him. Not that it mattered that much that he was staying later doing Wesley’s work. He was going to stay late anyway to suck him off. Then came the day he was called over on the donkey’s lunch break and ended up blowing him in the bathroom. It was becoming more and more frequent, sometimes three to four times a day. That jackass had the libido of a racehorse, and he certainly wasn’t shooting blanks. Most of the time, San didn’t need to pack a lunch. No, he just needed to come when he was called. When that dinner whistle would blow, he’d come running, his tail hiked and squealing his little piggy heart out.

Despite the extra work and same pay, San felt better. His mind might not be as quick or sharp, but he felt less stressed. It was like a great burden had been taken off his shoulders and now the only thing he needed to remember was to pack a couple changes of clothes in case Wesley got a little rough. He even ended up retracting his complaint saying it was just a misunderstanding. He knew his place now, and Wesley wouldn’t ever let him forget.

Then came the conference.

It was clear across the country, and only a select few people were allowed to go. Some senior members and associates like San were going, and one new recruit to help show them the ropes. Of course, everyone wanted Wesley. He was smart, intelligent, and a fun guy to be around. When they flew out, Wesley became a member of the mile high club, his dick being sucked in the bathroom by a quiet little oinker. Once they landed things started to get interesting. The rest of their coworkers were checking into their rooms, but the room for Wesley and San had been changed.

“Hey Rusty, my guy,” Wesley came up to the front desk, the Doberman behind it wearing an expensive suit and a golden nameplate that showed he was the manager. “Long time no see.”

“So, this the little raunchy, ranch husker you’ve been gushing over?” The Doberman looked down at the boar, his dark eyes piercing. He was so clean cut, his fur silky and well kempt and his haircut expertly styled.

“Yeah, I’m his coworker—”

“The men are talking,” Rusty cut him off in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. He was dismissed…he wasn’t needed in important discussions. “I got the room all set up for us. The presidential suit.”

“Dude, you rock,” Wesley smirked. “Get your ass up there when you’re ready for some nice strange.”

“I’ll help you to your room now if that’s what you want,” Rusty cocked a brow, crossing his arms, showing off his broad shoulders and powerful pecs.

“Nah,” Wesley whistled, that ear splitting, powerful whistle that pierced right through San’s mind. The boar gave a few little snorts signaling he was listening. “Carry our shit and fall in line. We’re going to skip the orientation and head right on to the main event.”

San simply snorted twice, his voice having been lost as soon as that whistle split his mind. He wasn’t San anymore. He was a series of grunts, squeals, and holes. He trotted over to the elevators and brought their things up, Rusty wasn’t far behind. With a swipe of a card, the double doors to the suit were flung open. San hauled in their luggage and as soon as it was set down he felt a hoof to the back of his knees.

San gave a little surprised squeal as his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. He was about to get up when Wesley gripped him by the hair and kept him down. San gave an inquisitive oink as Wesley came into view, unzipping a flap on his luggage and pulling out a little bottle. It had medical information on it, but the label had been torn.

“Open your mouth,” Wesley ordered.

San parted his lips, but paused. That bottle looked familiar. Wesley whistled, his ear splitting demand of obedience.

“Don’t make me ask again, faglet,” Wesley glowered from behind his bangs. San shakily opened his mouth, slowly prying it open and hanging his tongue out. “Good little oinker,” Wesley snorted and flicked the cap off with his thumb. “Bottoms up, pig.”

Wesley poured the contents into San’s mouth. It was pink, but not as opaque as Pepto, and it tasted sugary sweet with a bitter tang hidden behind it, but he gulped it down without gagging. He had plenty of practice not gagging.

“Good,” Wesley tossed the bottle into the trash. “Now strip. I think it’s time I finally crack open that pussy.”

“Oink, Oink!” San gave some excited oinks, continuing to do little snorts as he peeled his shirt off, exposing his hide. San was a curvy guy, a healthy paunch and chub in all the right place, though his hips and ass had gained some extra cushion since the conversion of his dick into a pussy. He hadn’t had anyone inside it yet, so the fact he was going to lose his vaginal virginity sent shivers up the oinker’s spine.

“Aint that cute,” Rusty smiled, a slight drawl pulling at his words. “The little breeding sow has some piglet stripes.” The Doberman had come over, his pants already on the ground and only wearing his dress shirt, his underwear plump and full with his sheath. He lifted his foot and moved his paw over the tan and pink stripes on San’s hide that never went away from his youth.

“Yeah, and he thought he was a man before,” Wesley huffed. “And look at this,” Wesley moved his hoof down between San’s legs, the onyx clopper pressing against the pig’s truffle. San gave a little squeal, his pussy dribbling as he kept looking up at them awaiting orders. “She’s already sopping.”

“How long before the drug takes effect?” Rusty asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Who knows. I just know that the little oinker never turned on the breeding portion of his transition. Though, judging on how easily his pussy is just oozing, I think we don’t have long before our piglet here is ready to be our good little nut bucket breeding sow.”

“Good, You can have that pussy, but I need to try out that mouth you’ve been bragging about.”

“You know what to do, just like the other fat fuckers on the farm.”

“Oh, I remember,” Rusty looked down at the boar kneeling before them and gave his own ear splitting whistle. San’s ears twitched, his eyes going wide as his maw drooled. “Suck it you filthy pig.”

San’s eyes darted down, then back up at Rusty, the Doberman glaring down at him with the same distain that Wesley did. He shuddered and crawled forward, his hands coming up to grip the hem of the Doberman’s briefs and pulled them down. That fat sheath flopping forward and smacking the boar in the face. He gave a little snort.

“Squeeeeiii…” San squealed in perverse delight.

Rusty hadn’t showered yet today, and those nuts were ripe. That sheath was warm and swollen, heavy with virility. San opened his muzzle and sucked those nuts into his maw like he were hoovering down slop, his muzzle glorping and drooling over those manly balls.

“Holy shit! You weren’t kidding. Fucker want’s to suck my nut from the source.” Rusty chuckled.

“Wha’d I tell ya?” Wesley chuckled, peeling off his shirt and leaving only his hat on, his own horse cock flopping around his knees and rising to the occasion.

San watched as he suckled on those hairy nuts as that sheath plumped. He moved his hands up to grip that sheath and stroke it, the hot tip of that red rocket pulsing out with every slurp of his maw, every reverent pet of his tongue on those pup factories. San’s pussy quivered, his little truffle dripping on the floor as he sucked those nuts and stroked that cock.

“Shit, holy shit,” Rusty gasped, putting his hands behind his back. “You trained your little faggot well. Holy fuck!”

“She’s some pig, ain’t she,” Wesley chuckled and flopped his dick down on San’s face, completely blocking his view of Rusty’s red spire in fleshy, musky darkness. “She don’t even need her eyes to suck properly. Show’um what I taught you, piglet.”

San shuddered. He had never had so much cock in his face at one time, and San wasn’t going to disappoint. He opened his maw, letting the Doberman’s nuts roll out and flop into the pig’s waiting hand where he cupped them, his thumb gently messaging them as he opened his muzzle and slurped in that sheath. His maw was wide, his tongue lulling deep into that sheath to slurp at the musky pre trapped inside. He gave a little snort, his nose buried in the neatly trimmed pubes of that Doberman.

As San’s tongue sopped up any slop trapped in that sheath, that cock swelled. That thick red beast sank further and further down as San continued to slurp on it like some warm, fuzzy, foreskin. He swayed back and forth, Wesley’s cock starting to rise off his face and bounced on his brow with its swelling virility. San gave an excited oink at seeing that cock, his head bobbing faster, his pussy lips getting puffy, his juices matting the fur around them and revealed how his petals were swollen.

“Well Shiiiiiiiit,” Rusty groaned, rocking his hips into that hungry maw.

“Yeah, he gets excited when he sees his owner’s cock. Don’t you, you little dick licker,” Wesley griped the base of his cock and smacked San in the face with it. It was heavy and hot, and stung. San couldn’t help but oink his approval around that cock, snorting as his mouth bobbed on that shaft, slurping around the knot inside that sheath before pulling back, pursing his lips, and rolling forward. In one solid motion, Rusty’s sheath was peeled back off his cock and his entire shaft was engulfed in warm, eager muzzle. San’s tongue writhed on the underside of that shaft while he milked the tip around his tonsils, gulping and squealing like an oinker spanked by a red-hot poker.

San didn’t understand why he was so eager, why he was so desperate for that cock, but he wanted it. Deep in his loins a warmth oozed out of his petals, his walls twitching, his clit a hard little bullet that pulled back its own hood as he sucked the canine’s cock. Maybe, if he did a good enough job of being a slut, he might just get that dick between his legs. Nothing sounded better than having that jackass’s fuck log tear him apart and spit on his cervix.

San felt the desperation well up inside of him, even more so than usual. It was like it was a hand made of lava had gripped his brain and was frying it, cooking it into bacon gristle as he continued to suck, please, and honor the pillar of man-flesh before him.

“Fuck, I’m getting close! How the hell do you turn off your fucking suck machine!”

Wesley simply smirked before letting loose one of those ear splitting whistles.

“Oink…snork snork,” San deflated defeated. He knew he could make Rusty cum, he could feel it in the way those balls drew up, how the knot swelled and threatened to lock behind his lips, but Wesley had other plans. That whistle split his ears, his mind going blank as his jaw went slack. Drool, pre, and throat sludge dribbling from the corner of his muzzle.

“Good girl,” Wesley grunted. “And shit Rust, did you seriously forget the stop and go sound are the same?”

“Holy shit, he was sucking the smarts right out of my dick.”

“Yeah, she’s a good sucking sow, but I think it’s finally time we work that pussy open.”

“So long as I get to feed ‘er slop from the front, I don’t care if you douse her heat yourself.”

Heat? San knew that word, but he didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t an order or an insult, so he didn’t pay it any mind. He was just a good cock sleeve. An obedient little cock sucking, dick licking, cum guzzling…

A whistle snapped him out of it. Wesley snapped his fingers and pointed to the bed and gave a few little whistles. San got what he was being told and hopped up on the bed, being sure to stay on all fours.

“Damn, such an obedient little cunt boy,” Wesley smirked, his gold tooth glinting in the hotel lamps. “Roll over on your back now. I ain’t going to be waiting anymore for your heat to kick in. I’m just going to have to fuck you all weekend to make sure my bastards take.”

San knew there was something wrong with that statement, his brow furrowing, but another whistle from both Rusty and Wesley filled his ears, his spine tingling, his tail twitching, his pussy dripping. He rolled onto his back like a pig rolling in mud, oinking his appreciation.

“That’s better,” Wesley slapped his big, powerful hands on San’s thick thighs. “I’m going to break in these hams.”

A triplet of whistles came from above San, the Doberman snapping to get his attention.

“Lay back fagtard,” Rusty smirked. “That muzzle should be pointing one way, and only one way.”

San’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he leaned back, his maw coming open.

“Ho, shit! Just like old times on the ranch, huh Rusty,” Wesley smirked, sliding his cock forward, the hot underside of his shaft sliding up against those petals, smearing the squealer’s slick on his shaft and making it glisten.

“Just like the BBQ’s in June, Wes,” Rusty smirked. “An ol’ fashioned spit-roast.”

“Damn right it is,” Wesley reared his hips back, his flared tip coming to press against San’s virgin pussy. San squealed, snorting and oinking as his pussy felt the hot tip of a cock primed and ready to take him into brood-motherhood.

“Oink Oink! Squeeiii! Squeeeiiiirk Squirk squirk!” San was squealing loud, his legs spread wide, his thighs quivering in anticipation, but his voice was cut off as Rusty gripped his throat.

“Ain’t no one give a shit what sounds that dick holster makes,” Rusty rumbled. “Now, open your maw for ol’ Rusty.”

It was such an odd mix of formal and barnyard banter, their clothes clean cut, yet their brutish roots styling their words. It was intoxicating. San couldn’t help but hang open his maw. Rusty didn’t waste any time swinging his hips forward, his cock finding it’s mark and plugging up that squealing hole.

“Fuck, so fucking warm-Oh shiiiiiiit yeah! Suck that dick you dirty, fucking pig!” Rusty groaned, his hips lightly bucking, but he needn’t have. San was already bobbing as best he could, his throat bulging with that tapered tip as he gulped and slurped, oinking and snorting as he slobbed on that red knob.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wesley huffed, leaning in, San’s pussy puffy and wet, dripping over that drooling cockhead before it finally slipped in. San gagged on a squeal, his pussy having been pried open by his office jackass. “Shit, you got that gorilla grip. You pay for the premium package when you switched to a pussy? Well, too bad I’m about to bust it around so bad you’ll lose your fucking warranty.”

Wesley thrusted forward, forcing more of his dick into that squealing, gagging sow.

“Fuck yeah! Gag on that fucking cock, cunt boy! Fuck yeah!” Rusty growled, putting a foot paw on the bed and rocking down into that incredibly receptive maw. San slurped, glorked, and slobbed all over that cock. A particularly deep thrust from Rusty caused precum and throat sludge to shoot out of the pig’s nose, only to warm Rusty’s heavy balls as they swung forward and slapped his face.

Wesley rocked his hips slowly at first, working his way in, but it was like he was fucking a vacuumed sealed slut, the walls impossibly silky, softer than the inside of his cheek, and yet still vice tight. He thrusted forward, digging deeper and deeper into that hot sexy silk, but there didn’t seem to be a bottom. It was tight and fresh, yet he felt more of his dick slip in with every thrust and rock of his hips until with a final thrust his hips and balls smacked against that boar’s thick cake. At the same time, Wesley felt a tight ring kiss his cock head and San gave a wet, glorking squeal. He had found his cervix. It was hot, it was inviting, and he swore it was twitching, slurping on his dick for his essence to douse San’s growing heat.

Rusty leaned in, his hand coming down to grip on San’s throat. He gripped down hard, making it almost impossible for the boar to breathe without snorting on cock snot and drool. He thrusted, feeling his own shaft push that thrussy apart and widen his fingers.

Wesley slammed forward, his hips rocking back and forth, smacking against his little hot-to-trot piggy with all his strength. His powerful thighs flexed, his hooves dug into the carpet as he gripped those legs at the knee and pushed them back, making sure he was in a matting press position.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking close!” Rusty grunted.

“Fuck yeah! Feed that fucker his dinner!”

“Shit! Yes! Take that slop you dirty fucker!”

“Take my fucking bastards you fucking cum bucket!” Wesley shouted, his hips flying, the bed rocking as he slammed away, refusing to let up as he raced to his orgasm. Rusty’s knot swelled, locking behind San’s lips and locking his jaw into place as those balls bounced against his muzzle. Those Doberman factories bounced, those nuts audibly churning as thick wads of dog cum was injected directly into the boar’s stomach.

Wes gave a final bleat, his teeth gritting together as sweat flung off him, his hair matting as he slammed home. His balls drew hip, his cum pipe swelled, and his head flared, prying that cervix open just wide enough for his piss slit to yawn into that warm, and unguarded garden. Thick jets slapped into that womb as Wesley roared his triumph, his balls bouncing and dumping their bastards right where the good lord intended.

“Squeeiiii glirk squirk squiiiiiIIIIIGK!” San squealed, his pussy popping off, squirting his bitch slick and heat stink all over Wesley’s chest as he came deep inside him. He felt his throat was being flooded by dog cum while his womb and cervix were warmed with life giving seed.

The rest of that weekend San was stuck to Wesley by the hip, metaphorically and literally sometimes. The trio fucking in every room the Doberman had access to. San wasn’t coming to until they were getting off the plane to go home.

Good thing his job had a wonderful maternity plan.

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