Chocolate Squirrel
Kooshmeister recently produced a Rockwell fan story "Out of Order" (https://www.sofurry.com/view/1155263) and in return I put this one together for him. The squirrel Edwin Grimaldi is his character and he supplied the title for this story as well.
The janitors in the break room were saying the sauna was a bitch to keep clean--at least, in the past month since the pig had joined the gym and made it his favorite room.
It wasn't so much that he was doing anything worse than the other patrons of the gym, which was known by many as a hangout for gay sex, and by rather fewer as a hangout for the voracious--no, the problem was one of quantity rather than quality.
Mr. Arthur was a heavy cummer, they said.
Edwin didn't really see what the big deal was. "Well, you kind of expect that, don't you? He's a pig, after all. Don't they cum for, like, ages?"
"Sure," one of them said, a tubby gray rat. "Now think about how much more a guy cums after swallowing someone down his cock. Now think about how many of the crew the greedy bastard swallows down over the course of the day. He even goes after the cleaning crew, even though we're supposed to be off limits. And he keeps...hiding our cleaning equipment."
The squirrel sighed. "Did you report all that to Mr. Chad?"
"He doesn't care. Sounds like the guy pays well above the usual fee to be left to do his thing. I mean, he must be loaded--not like you ever see him go to work or anything."
Despite how much Mr. Arthur figured into the complaints of the rest of the crew, it was still another week before Edwin was ordered down to work with him himself.
"Why can't he just come up to the massage parlor," he grumbled, the slender squirrel struggling to balance himself with the collapsible massage table under one arm and a sack of massage oils and other implements in his other hand. "And who on earth thought to give him my name..."
A rank, almost barnyard smell of musk filled the entire basement level where the sauna was. "And of course the cleaning crew gave up."
He started to have trouble breathing as he got to the sauna door--the thick male scent was almost stifling. Well, no sense in putting off the inevitable, he thought, knocked twice on the door, and went in.
Mr. Arthur was there, leaning back on his bench and enjoying the pervasive heat in the nude. Though he was on the large side, as pigs tend to be, there was definitely a strength to him; his relative hairlessness highlighted every curve of muscle in his arms. The softness he did have gave him something of a babyface, though he was probably on the upper end of middle age. He was nude, of course, his thick corkscrew cock at full arousal and hanging over his massive porcine balls.
But the real sight was the room itself--thick layers of dried cum covered nearly every surface. It would be disgusting if it wasn't so...impressive, Edwin thought. The full smell of it got into the squirrel's head, inducing arousal by sheer pheromone chemistry alone.
"Nothing like a good testosterone bath, I always say," said Mr. Arthur, giving his dick an idle stroke. "You must be the great Grimaldi that your coworkers keep telling me about."
Oh great, Edwin thought. What have they been telling him? "Just 'Edwin,' please, Mr. Arthur." He started setting up his table.
"Fair enough, fair enough. Edwin, I've been having a good long bake down here but it is easy to get a little too dried out. I've been looking forward to this all day."
The squirrel pulled a couple of bottles of massage oil out of his bag and handed them to the pig. "Give these a smell, um, if you can--I know it's a little thick in here--and let me know if you have a preference."
He turned his back to put the bag away under the table and made sure the setup was secure, then turned to take the bottle Mr. Arthur was offering, something in orange and vanilla. "Good choice, sir." The politeness was purely a professional reflex by now; in fact, Edwin was still so thrown off his game by the pervasive musk that he didn't even think of taking the second bottle back--much less notice that it was gone altogether. "Go ahead and lie down on the table, face down, and we'll get started."
The big pig got up slowly and took his place. The flimsy portable table creaked under his weight like it was liable to explode, and Edwin wished again that Mr. Arthur would have just come up to the massage parlor to be served like everyone else did--though he couldn't deny that the pig's round ass was a sight anyone would go out of their way for.
He sighed inwardly, trying to stay professional, but hit a roadblock almost immediately after squeezing some of the massage oil out onto his paw.
There was no place to put the bottle down.
Mr. Arthur covered the entirety of the tiny table, and the residue of his cum covered everything else. "Um," Edwin said. "Can I ask you to hold on to this for me?"
The pig took hold of the bottle and Edwin went to work, the slender squirrel kneading on the bigger male's doughy shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath...working?
"Sir, just relax, no need for you to--"
He saw what his client was doing.
"Sir!"
Some clients would stroke themselves as they worked--that was only natural in a place like this. Mr. Arthur, however, had reached back and was easily pushing the industrial-sized bottle of massage oil between the soft globes of his rump. "Just putting it away for safekeeping," he said, as it disappeared into his hole. "You can reach in for it if you need it."
Edwin scrambled to reach the other side of the pig, pulling his rumpcheeks apart and hoping there was something like a five-second rule for asses. A client's fun was one thing, but that bottle was supposed to be for everyone.
The squirrel leaned on a thigh that was thicker than his waist and plunged an oil-covered paw into a hole that took it in with no resistance whatever. Despite everything, he was impressed--until he realized he was almost elbow-deep in the pig and the bottle was nowhere to be found.
He could feel Mr. Arthur's chuckle from inside. "Things do tend to slide in quickly. You may need to reach deeper. Let me help--"
Edwin yelped as the pig's hole clamped down on his arm and started pulling it in deeper with a strange sucking motion.
He tried to pull back, but it was no use--the ass was too strong for him, and before he knew it he was in up to his shoulder, the pig's enormous buttocks surrounding his head and muffling his protests.
With a weird squishing noise, Mr. Arthur's hole pushed out, opening up to engulf Edwin's head into musky darkness, and he knew any chance of escape was lost.
From the narrow tunnel he could hear the pig's laughter resonating through his body. At least it's nice and snug in here, Edwin thought, as his shoulders were pulled in and he felt that hole working inch by inch over his torso, finally swallowing his groin.
He reached into his shorts--now that he could technically do so in private--and started stroking himself lazily, a little light-headed feeling coming over him as the lack of good oxygen took effect. As his legs and tail were pulled in and he was no longer in the grip of Mr. Arthur's hole, he felt himself slide down quickly to a deep corner of the pig's innards.
As he realized how deep inside he must be now, the squirrel started jerking himself harder, hoping to reach his climax before he lost consciousness in the bad air. It was so warm and tight around him, the muscles of the pig's intestines working him over in a massage almost as good as the one he should have been giving him right now--and it wasn't long before he was close, breathing hard with deep gasps that didn't help at all, finally reaching a weak climax as he passed out altogether.
Mr. Arthur rolled himself off the flimsy table and took his seat on the sauna bench again. A massage really would have been nice, but his ass had been insatiable lately and if the squirrel had been so eager to get inside, who was he to judge?
He worked his hand over his corkscrew length, feeling his body breaking the squirrel down. He'd get a good load of cum out of this one--and maybe break another of the toilets down here as well. There was just that little thrill of leaving his mark--of taking everything and leaving an unmistakable mark behind.
He looked over the masseur's equipment, the little bag and the little table, and his ass made a hungry twinge. "All right, all right," he said, and bent down to pick up the bag. One by one Edwin's bottles disappeared into the pig's ass as he stroked himself harder and harder.
He grunted deep as the stuffing brought him close, and he leaned forward over his dick, panting desperately as he worked his screw harder.
The first blasts scattered across the far wall, adding yet another layer of scum to what had been accumulating over the past month. With the next blasts the pig coated his own body, drenching himself head to toe in a bath that would do him a lot more good than any random massage oil.
The rest were left to spurt out as they wished, streams of thick cum spilling out across the floor as Mr. Arthur leaned back, hands on his head, and watched the show. A pig's orgasm lasts a good long time; he loved the patterns his seed made as it splattered everywhere.
He was stroking himself idly, several minutes into his release, when he was struck by an urgent call of nature.
He grumbled and struggled to get up, leaving a trail of thick, sticky cum behind him as he made his way to the toilets and took a seat, letting his balls hang over the front of the pot as his continuing climax spilled out over them.
There was an explosive noise from the pig's ass as it began releasing the digested remains of everything he'd been filling it with. Even though this was one of the toilets specially sized for this kind of abuse, it still wasn't big enough for Mr. Arthur's capacity, and it was only a few moments before the stinking semisolid mess had reached the rim and was warming his rump.
He lifted himself off the seat a bit and leaned his weight on an accessibility rail as he pushed harder, a spattering of scat covering the whole front of the toilet before it was momentarily blocked--the pig's heavy grunting could be heard from rooms away as he forced out the unconscious squirrel, who fell across the toilet with a squelch before the liquid mess that had been backing up behind him sprayed over him in a noisy rush.
Mr. Arthur stood up and caught his breath for a few moments after everything had passed, and turned to make sure Edwin was still breathing himself. The squirrel's clothes had been digested away, but otherwise he still seemed to be in one piece--that was good. Money may have gone a long way towards extending his welcome here, but some kinds of abuse were still trouble no matter how generous one was.
The pig followed his trail of cum back to the sauna and returned to stroking himself off, noticing the hunger in his ass was already returning. He started planning his next acquisition as he drank in the deepening smell of his musk.
Pool boys were supposed to be nice, weren't they?