Utter Rot

Marv pushed another button and the image came to life, sound filling the room from hidden speakers as, with a growl of triumph, the hunchback on the screen bore down on the girl in front of him. His buttocks tensed as his slimy member disappeared into her, first the head, then the shaft, all the way to the base. The expression on Natasha's face shifted from shocked surprise to horror as Less pulled out nearly to the tip, then drove his cock back in. He began to fuck her ass slowly, with long, lugubrious strokes. One arm went around her waist and he toppled to the side, pulling her down with him so that they were both lying prone on the Lexus' rear seat, his body bent around hers in a grotesque parody of a lover's embrace. His hands moved to her hips and he began to fuck her spasmodically, with great, lunging thrusts, filling the Playroom with a chorus of wet, sucking slaps. Below these came the garbled, nearly incoherent hiss of Les' voice ("you'll like it here slut gonna keep you here fuck you every day you can trust ol'Lessy trust Daddy baby believe me you're gonna love it") rasping threats and promises.

Marv watched for a moment, drooling slightly, pumping his cock in in time with Les' exertions. Then he seemed to return to himself, or whatever it was he had momentarily become. He strode across the room and threw open the cabinet's door.

Inside was a stockpile of bondage gear, whips and flails, ball gags, chains, corsets, costumes of latex and leather. A black lycra mask with a zipper over the mouth hung against the back wall. That was for him; that, and the belt and harnesses that went with it. The rest was for her...except, of course, for his special box.

He reached into the top shelf and pulled out a long tube, "K-Y Jelly" written in lavender block letters along its body. It was half empty, the drained bottom rolled up to keep pressure on what remained.

He squeezed a generous glob out onto his palm, considered it, and then squeezed out more. He would need plenty of lubrication where he was going.

Carefully, he began to smear the stuff along the length of his cock, coating it in a thick, translucent layer. Stroking his cock methodically, he let himself take in the scene playing out on the wall. The hunchback really was more mutant than human, he reflected, watching the thing wrench and paw at the woman he loved, it's cock plunging in and out of her perfect ass. Maybe someday, he thought, when the little freak finally kicks the bucket, I'll pry him open and see if his insides are as misshapen as his outsides.

Finally, satisfied that he was ready, he turned back to the cabinet.

The box -- his box -- lay at bottom, a battered cardboard thing, dark-stained and encrusted with flaking maroon gunk. As Marv stood gazing down at it a single fly, perhaps woken by the opening of the cabinet door, crawled sluggishly out from under the lid and buzzed off into the room.

He reached down and slid off the lid. The smell that hit him was stomach-churning, but in his altered state he barely noticed. What was inside the box looked, at first glance, like a pile of stained rags, weirdly contorted. A closer look, though, revealed pores, bristles, the flayed edges of lifted skin. Marv pulled the thing out, letting it hang open for a moment in his hands, and then drew it down over his face and head.

He turned around. Natasha saw his face, and screamed

"PIGGSY HUUNGRY!!" the man in the flayed pig-face gibbered, and began to weave towards the dangling girl like a drunk on a pitching ship, hands reaching forward, fingers wriggling.

Natasha screamed again and tried to twist away, but the cuffs held fast. On the screen behind her Les gave a guttural cry and went rigid, his fingers digging brutally into her soft flesh (Marv's voice from off-camera: "Goddamit, I said pull out this time, what the fucks'amatter with you?) as his crooked cock jumped and jerked, vomiting ooze. Then the hunchback did pull out, knotted fist pumping his cock feverishly, and the swollen thing jerked again as a second load of slime shot up Natasha's supine back.

"Spectacular!" crowed Marv from behind the camera. "Money, baby! It's money!"

But the Marv-that-was-Piggsy was paying no attention. He was hopping around Natasha in a kind of grotesque, shuffling dance, reaching out a finger now and then to touch her, giggling like a lunatic when she jerked away. His fat bulk jiggled and shifted hideously as he moved. The flayed pig's face covered his own, eye-holes sagging, it's limp lower jaw hanging open in an expression that could have been either surprise or death-hilarity. The skin was old and leathery, still crusted with blood at the edges.

"Get away from me you FUCKING MONSTER!" Natasha screamed, and her hate for him was there, magnified, but there was real terror in her voice, too. That Rot was evil to the core she had no doubt, but she was swiftly coming to realize that he might actually be insane, too. She gathered herself for a moment, and when he drew close again she lashed out with one foot.

Though he had stripped her of her neglige, Rot had not bothered to remove Natasha's high-heeled black pumps, and one of these now connected sickeningly with the pig-man's swollen scrotum.

The kick would have dropped a marine, but if Marv felt anything he gave no sign. Instead he sprang forward and seized hold of her, spinning her around so that her back was once again pressed against the vast flabby expanse of his belly. He held her to him tightly and she could feel the horrible heat and slickening pressure of his rigid cock pressing against her lower back.

The pig face dropped down next to her own, and from the corner of her eye she could see a few crooked and yellowing molars still clawing through the rotting skin of its jaw. "LITTLE PIG LITTLE PIG," the thing slurred, "LET ME COME IN."

With one arm he held her tight, while his other hand fell to her ass and began to knead greedily. "I WANNA COME IN, LITTLE PIG. PIGGSY WANTS IN!" he chortled. "OR I'LL HUFF AND I'LL PUFF AND I'LL MAKE YOU SCREAM, I'LL MAKE YOU SCREAM AND SCREAM AND SCREAM...!!"

Natasha did scream then, and as she did he drove his slimy, engorged cock into her ass all the way to its base, his scrotum slapping against her thighs. Seizing her hips, he drew out and then pushed back in, heedless of the tightness, once, twice. Then he began to pound away with abandon, making her breast jump to the wild barrage of his thrusts. Thick spittle rolled out of the pig's mouth and down his chest. The mask flapped grotesquely, like a skin demon head-banging to a rock opera in hell.

On the wall in front of them the scene had shifted from the lexus to the filthy mattress, where Merl was attempting to force his thick meat down Natasha's throat. She had lost conscious that night, she remembered dimly. She could feel herself slipping away again now, retreating from this mad and macabre carnival of horrors.

If Marv noticed he was losing his quarry, he gave no sign. The man was gone, eclipsed entirely by the Pig-thing and it's mad lust. The sounds coming from the mask's gaping mouth were beastial, inhuman, bellows and grunts and squeals of aggression and excitement and mindless fury. His orgasm was building to a fever pitch, his cock swelling and stiffening, veins popping out all over his lunging bulk. Sweat poured off him in sheets, stinking with animal musk. Somewhere in the roiling, unhinged chaos of his mind a crack was widening, and through it Marv -- what little of him remained -- glimpsed a vision sent up from the very mouth of Hell: the real Piggsy, a thing of night and corruption and mindless decay that chased maidens through slimy, subterranean corridors, dragged them down into pits choked with corpses and effluent and living, wriggling things and defiled them there, claiming their bodies and souls with its own polluted essence. It was beautiful.

He came.

The force of the orgasm shot hot ooze deep inside her, filling her lower passages, spurting out around the base of his cock in boiling jets that splattered against back and stomach and thighs. Again and again he drove his cock home, again and again it vomited a seemingly impossible torrent of cum. How this was possible, where in his anatomy this vile load had gestated, Marv did not care or think to care. This was the power of Piggsy. It was Piggsy's orgasm, and he was but the willing vessel. And oh, so willing.

At last, shuddering, his hands released their vice-like grip on her hips and he slumped forward, arms encircling her waist. The aftermath of the mad coupling squelched and pooled on the floor under foot, as gradually he felt his cock soften inside of her.

Natasha was gone. The beastial fuck had driven her halfway unconscious; the torrential burst of cum had finished the job. She hung limply by her wrists, long lashes fluttering, eyes white and unseeing behind them.

Marv found himself thinking, whimsically almost, that he could keep her now -- no-one knew she were here except the two of them, and there were no records of their past dealings that weren't stowed safely in his own maze of files. He found his mind, the part that was still functioning, at least, examining the details: This room had only one door and the drain in the corner, and both could be secured easily enough. He could install a shower head, a toilet over the drain. Perhaps even expand the space; he had a tidy sum set aside from his months extorting her, and could recruit the brothers for labor -- what they would ask in payment he could guess easily enough. And he liked the idea of those ugly, gibbering freaks being in on the scheme -- she would be his pet, but he didn't mind sharing. He liked to watch.

He released Natasha and stepped back, his cock -- degorged now and slumbering -- pulling free with a wet, sucking *pop*. He looked past her vacantly. On the screen the brothers were a tangle of rutting, twisted limbs, Natasha twisting between them, a glimmer of fair skin between hills of sloughing fat and slimy flesh.

Marv reached up and unfastened the cuffs. He caught her as she slipped towards the ground, laying her gently, almost tenderly, on the concrete floor.

He looked down at her for a moment, feeling an odd mix of fondness, triumph and contempt. Suddenly he realized he was still wearing the mask, and the thought of Piggsy, of the thing that had posessed him, filled his mind. His breath grew rapid, excited, hitched. He went to the cabinet, pulled out a set of restraints, and returned with them to the prone girl. He wasn't done with her tonight -- not by a long shot -- but before they started in again, he was going to get good and fucked. Let's see what Piggsy does riddled with uppers and booze, he thought, and the pig grinned.

Natasha awoke, swimming up from a pool of twisting shapes and vague dread, and for a moment could not place where she was. Then she felt the leather manacles binding her wrists behind her and icy horror washed over her. Marv, the office, the pornographic monstrosity he'd subjected her to... her terror deepened as she remembered the mask. In the months of humiliation Marv had visited on her, all his twisted and demented games, the mask was somehow worse. She had actually seen the sanity leave him. Whatever had been behind those eyes had not been human.

For the first time she could remember, her career, her company, the climb to power meant nothing to her. She had to get out of here, away from that thing with the clutching hands and flayed-skin face, and damn the consequences. She had to escape.

She rolled over and raised herself to her knees. The room was lit only by the image from the projector -- the tape had run its length and now showed only a silent, blue screen. She could feel cold, thick ooze puddled under her folded legs, and she shuddered at its cloying touch.

Moving carefully, she slipped her cuffed wrists underneath her and drew her legs through. With her hands in front of her now, she stood up and stepped gingerly towards the door.

Outside it she paused to listen -- no sound came from the office on the other side. Marv was still gone, or else he was passed out drunk in a pile of his own filth; it had happened before. He always drank heavily on his "dates" with Natasha, though he had the constitution of a demon.

She gripped the door's handle and gave a gentle tug. Nothing. She pulled harder. No budge. He'd locked her in, the son of a bitch. Anger flared, mingling with her terror, and she threw her weight against the door in a vain effort to dislodge it. To no avail -- the door was locked fast.

She fell back, panting, and swung around, casting about the room. There was the cabinet full of his "toys" -- perhaps she could use something in there as a weapon, one of the flails or... her eyes fell on the iron grate to the left of the cabinet.

The drain. It was as wide as a manhole cover, plenty of room to slip through. She approached carefully, kneeling down beside it. It didn't appear to be fastened, only set in the floor by its own weight.

She slipped her fingers through the perforations and tugged. It moved.

Suddenly Natasha shot upright. "HOOONEY," a guttural, gurgling voice called from outside. "I'm HOOOOOOME!" It sounded a ways away, in the hall outside the office maybe, or coming up the stairs. It was slurring, bellowing, coming closer. She hesitated only a moment, casting one last glance at the cabinet of horrors. Then she wrenched the grate out of the floor and slid it aside.

A dark tunnel stretched down below her. The smell coming out of it was foul, the stink of a sewer, and for a moment Natasha recoiled. But then the voice came again, much closer now: "LITTLE PIG, LITTLE PIG, LET ME COME IN! Time to WAKEY PRETTY PRETTY, cuz PIGGSY wants to PLAY!!"

Without thinking, Natasha dropped her legs down the pipe and slid in, just as the door was thrown open.

She fell, slithering and sliding, down the pipe and into a squelching morass. Stinking effluent cushioned her fall and she flailed in it for a moment, trying to gain her feet. She pulled herself to her hands and knees and looked up at the circle of light above her.

The pig's head filled the mouth of the drain. "OOOOooooOOOOO!" it gibbered "BAD bad bad BAD! PIGSY'S gonna have to PUNISH you now!"

Natasha forced herself to breathe despite the stench. She had slipped through easily enough, but Marv was more than twice her size -- if he tried to follow her down here he would stick in the pipe like a cork. Wherever she was, she was safe from him... at least for the moment.

She looked away from the drooling lunatic in the mask and took in her surroundings. It was another pipe she was standing in, this one wide enough that she could walk along it without stooping. She must be in sewer, she thought, or a tributary. She turned and began to move down the pipe, the pig-thing's voice trailing after her: "CAN'T HIDE FROM PIGGSY, NOOOO NO NO! NOT BY THE HAIRS OF MY CHINNY-CHIN-CHIN!! I'M COMING FOR YOU LITTLE PIG! I'M COOOOMMMING..."

She kept walking, turning with the bends in the pipe, until she could hear the voice no longer. Rotten debris squelched underfoot, rising to her shins at times, bringing waves of nausea, but she fought them back. There was only one thought in her head. Once she was out of here, once she was back in her suite, in her seat of power, she was going to make a call. She was going to kill Marvin Marcus.

Not quickly, though. No, not by half. Once they had him, those stone-faced men who only money could buy, she'd have them do it slow; take him apart an inch at a time, piece by piece. The last piece of him to get shredded, after his body was a mound of bleeding stumps, after his eyes, ears, nose and lips were nothing but ragged holes, would be that hateful slug between his legs. That, she'd deal with herself.

Natasha barred her teeth in the dark, a surge of savage satisfaction passing through her. Her fear had taken her to it's limit, and she had broken out the other side. To hell with his secret file. It would be worth the destruction of an empire to hear him beg for his life, and to laugh as she took it from him.

The voice of Piggsy came floating out of the dark, reverberating through the sewer tunnels. "THIS LITTLE PIGGY WENT TO MARKET," it was chanting. "THIS LITTLE PIGGY STAYED HOME..."

Natasha froze. There was no way he could have found her down here. She didn't even know where she was herself. But it was him, unmistakeable, the voice distant but growing stronger.

"THIS LITTLE PIGGY ATE ROAST BEEF," it thrummed.

Natasha turned and ran, splashing blindly away from the voice. She collided with a wall, ricocheted off and kept going. Behind her, the voice chanted on: "THIS LITTLE PIGGY HAD NONE. AND THIS LITTLE PIGGY..."

There was light up ahead. At first she thought it a trick of her eyes, but it was growing stronger, grey and pulsing. She fumbled towards it, feeling a desperate hope rising in her throat.

Suddenly her footing was gone and Natasha fell headlong into a circular chamber, splashed down into sewage that rose to her elbows. She looked around frantically. The room was circular, like the inside of a standpipe, curving upward to a round hole in the ceiling some twenty feet above her. A grate, like the one she had moved aside lay across the opening, and it was from here that the grey light filtered down.

There were no other entrances save the one she had come through.

She whirled, eyes searching the gloom. It seemed she could hear him coming, hear his bellowing squelching charge, but sound was distorted by the pipes. He might still miss her, might go another way...

Natasha's terror burst to the surface and she screamed. "HELP ME!" She screamed, wheeling towards the vent in the ceiling. "I'm trapped down here with a lunatic and he's COMING, oh my god I can hear him PLEASE, HE'S..."

Piggsy barrelled through the doorway and threw himself towards her. "THIS LITTLE PIGGY WENT WEEE WEEE WEEE!!!" it chortled.

She lunged sideways but it moved with lightning speed, seizing her around the waist and tossing her against the wall. She slid down, momentarily stunned, and it was on her. Before she could move its meaty hands had wrapped themselves around her head and its hot, thick cock was forcing its way down her throat.

She gagged and choked, tried to drive her teeth into it, but the pig-thing only gibbered and squealed as it drove itself deeper into her gorge. Her back was to the wall, the sewage swimming around her waist, and though she struggled with all her might he held her fast. He started to fuck her throat with brutal strokes, his moans of pleasure drowning out her gagging sounds of protest.

Just as her vision began to darken, the pig-thing wrenched backward and her windpipe was free again. She fell against the wall and gulped one huge, ragged breath before its load exploded over her.

Gouts of cum slapped against the walls, splattered against her breasts, her neck, her face. Oinking and squealing, the pig-thing yanked feverishly at its engorged member, it's whole body seeming to convulse as it came again and again.

Finally, it's beastial squeals quieted. Something squelched in the mire; then the room was silent.

She lay still, back to the wall, breathing shallowly, waiting to see if it was over. Surely it couldn't have more. Surely something vital had shaken loose inside the madman -- nothing could come like that and live. After a time she opened one eyelid a crack, blinking away droplets of slime. The room seemed empty. She stood shakily, leaning against the wall for support. In the grey light from above the fan still clicked; nothing else moved. She didn't know where he had gone and didn't care to know. She took one faltering step towards the doorway, then another.

Piggsy let her come within reach of the hatch, then came for her, surging up from his wallow of rank rotting sewage like some kind of bog-risen nightmare. She had just a moment to register his coming, had half-turned towards him, one wide and frightened eye catching him in its sphere before he enveloped her, dragging her down with him into the squelching muck.