Pride Story

Jim could swear he passed that fork in the road twenty minutes ago. As a dense fog creeps in, his heart starts pounding in his chest like a fucking jackhammer. He’s lost, really lost in a creepy backwoods maze of trees, unpaved roads and abandoned houses. There's not a soul around as he pulls his sputtering car to a sudden halt in front of a crumbling farmhouse.

Jim’s got to get some sense of direction and get the hell out of here, he quickly realizes. There could be anything, anyone lurking out in the darkness. Exasperated he rests his head on the steering wheel and closes his eyes. Just as his head starts to clear, there's a loud crunch of gravel in the driveway behind the car and a ribbon of light slices across the interior of his car. It's another car, pulling up behind his, a swirl of blue and red lights and the whoop of a siren. Shit, it's a fucking cop car.

A figure emerges from the police car and makes its way to his door. Jim rolls down the window and squints up into the glaring beam of a flashlight.

"Hey officer," he stammers, "am I glad to see you."

"Yeah?" the cop grunts, all swagger and attitude.

"Yeah, I can't get back to the main road, and...do you know the way?" he asks.

Jim’s met with a stony silence, which causes weird alarm within him. After a pause, the cop tells him to get out of the car. Obediently, he does so and stands in the cold night, trying to get a good look at the officer. Shaved head, goatee, mean eyes, squared jaw. The pig’s lips are in a nasty sneer. One of those asshole cops who gets off on intimidating innocent civilians, most likely.

He grabs the collar of Jim’s shirt and pulls him to his face. "Yeah, I fucking know the way, only, you gotta want to get back bad enough," he snarls and pushes Jim back against the frame of his car.

"Well?" he spits.

Numerous jugs are crammed in the backseat of the cop car, a carton of eggs is on the front seat and a big bag of white chicken feathers is on the front seat floor. A jumble of Polaroid's is carelessly thrown on the backseat, depicting dudes covered in grunge and grease, some shackled to the bumper of the cop car, some with nightsticks stuffed in their mouths and assholes. Jim’s heart almost leaped from his chest. A 100% fuckin' pervert with a badge, and he’s completely at his mercy...if he wants it bad enough.

Minutes later, Jim finds himself in the back shrubs of the farmhouse, on his belly in the soft cool mud that lies between the house and the barn. The pig pulled his car around and left the beams on for illumination. Caught in the headlights like a deer, Jim’s wrists have been cuffed behind his back, and most of his clothes have been ripped from his body. The cop left him in his jockeys and pushed him face first into the gooey mud. The cop sat up on the porch, watching his little skel crawl in the filth for a while, slowly finishing a cigarette. The pig rubbed his bulging dick through his pants and muttered to himself, loving the picture before him.

"Crawl over here, you filthy fucker," he says, and Jim does so; albeit messily and slowly. The cop steps down from the porch and stands over Jim. He flicks his cigarette into the mud next to his head where it fizzles out. Kneeling down, he pulls Jim’s hair, bring his muddy face to his swollen groin.

"Lick my fuckin' balls," he moans, and Jim does, knowing that if he follows each and every instruction, it can only get filthier.

Jim get his groin good and soaked with mud and spit, the outline of his thick, fat dick shoved up against the tight basket of the pants.

"I got some shit I think you’re gonna really like,” the cop grunts, “and if you don’t, that’s too fucking bad.”

He sets down a huge plastic drum next to Jim and pries the top off with a grunt. The tub's filled to the rim with thick, disgusting black grease, chunky and viscous.

"Gonna grease my piglet up real nice," he says and hauls Jim up to his knees, his wrists still bound behind his back. There's not a thing he can do but take it all.

He scoops out a dripping handful of the sludge and starts to smear it across Jim’s face, across his shoulders, chest, belly and stuffs handfuls down into his jockeys, packing 'em full of the slop. It feels fucking incredible. Finally, he picks up the whole drum and just dumps it out over his head, a thick sludge wave of glistening grime coating his whole body from head to toe. Jim’s dick is hard as hell in his slimed underwear, tenting out in front of him.

The cop wanders back to the car, leaving Jim in the glare of the head lights, dripping and shivering andcomes back with another big jug and a grocery bag. From the bag comes a bunch of bananas and a couple of bags of marshmallows. The pig forcefully bends Jim over at the waist, his ass sticking up in the air. Bananas are peeled and stuffed up his asshole, as well as each and every marshmallow...he’s squealing now, and the more he squeals, the more it goads the sadistic fucker on. Jim’s ass is packed now, full of sticky, mushy mess. Just when it seems like he can't take anymore, he stuffs another marshmallow or banana in with his fingers, laughing. He pulls his greasy jockeys back up and tells he to keep it all in.

The bag of feathers comes next, ripped open and dumped out all over Jim’s sticky body. The look of pure, disgusting satisfaction on the cop’s face tells all Jim needs to know.

Another drum is brought forth, oatmeal with chocolate cream pie filling mixed through it. Jim’s force-fed this, handfuls of the slop shoved into his mouth, faster and faster, 'til he can't take anymore. Gagging on it, but still, he feeds he more and more. A thick river of pig slop is oozing from his mouth and down onto his belly and his briefs. The dozen eggs are smashed all over his humiliated face and over his head, slimy yolks streaking down the shiny black grease coating. Finally, he can't hold it in any longer.

The contents of his dirt chute gush out into his greasy shorts, a thick pudding of melted marshmallows and slimed bananas flooding a beautiful mess that makes the once-white jockeys swell with more filth. The cop lies under his bulging jockeys, and tells Jim to let it all out. The shorts bust open, and the cop's head is drenched with an avalanche of grungy goop. He crawls out from under he and gets on his knees in the pile of sludge, his uniform just splattered with the previous contents of Jim’s ass. He holds the back of Jim’s head and stuffs his tongue down his throat, feeding it all back to he now.

The filthy pig now drags Jim over the edge of a vast vegetable garden a few feet away. He pulls monstrous zucchinis from the overgrown plot and stuffs a couple into Jim’s sloppy asshole, fucking him hard with 'em. Now the cop rises to his feet over Jim’s face, rips his pants open and slams his huge dick down Jim’s throat, filling his mouth with meat. As he gives his face the hardest fuck it's ever gotten, he pushes him back onto his haunches, driving the zucchinis deeper into his raging fuckhole. After a brutal mouth fuck, he pulls his cock out and heaves a thick, sloppy load of cum down his gasping face. Jim’s own prick explodes in his grunge-packed jockeys, white-hot cum spewing from his cock and filling the shorts.

As a final gesture of filth, the cop snaps a quick Polaroid of Jim, humiliated and strewn with grunge on his knees. He takes off the cuffs, pulls a barely-readable roadmap from his shirt pocket and drops it onto his head. As he gets back into his car, he calls out to Jim.

"Drive safely, fucker," he yells and pulls back onto the road and drives off. Jim crawls back to his car as the sun begins to break through the morning. He leaves the map in the mud, thinking...if this is what getting lost is like, he knows he won't be wanting a fucking map ever again.