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Not a single head turned in response to the club's restroom door being kicked open. People kept to their business even as the group of men came marching in, dragging with them a grey stallion. The horse's jockstrap had already been torn off. A leather chest harness and a chastity cage were all he was permitted to wear. There was no effort at protest as he was brought over to the trough urinal and forced onto all fours; he remained motionless even when piss began to soak into the black featherings of his forearms.

"This is Martyn." The rhino who had been leading the group announced.

A handcuff snapped around Martyn's wrist. It was then looped around the pipe under the urinal and locked onto the other wrist to trap him in a position where his face was just inches from the piss filled basin. The jockstrap he'd been wearing had been stuffed into the drain to prevent it from emptying too quickly. No one at the urinal bothered to stop adding to the overflow.

"This pig has got the loosest cunt around. Watch."

The rhino took a hold of the XL butt plug lodged in Martyn's tailhole. Simultaneously a potbellied polar bear grabbed Martyn by the hair and shoved his head down into the reservoir of dark yellow piss. The plug was yanked out the second his head was submerged. Bubbles rose and popped around Martyn's head; produced by the single gasp that escaped as his hole flexed to beg for the toy's return. He was only under the surface for a few seconds, but the scent of stale piss had already stained the fur around his nose and tainted his tongue.

"Look at that!"

"It sounds so loose."

"What a cunt!"

What they saw was a hole with a puffy, aggravated rim that stuck out ever so slightly. Lube leaked out of the bottom of the wide gape to ooze down over his guiche piercing. Two sets of fingers hooked either side of his hole to stretch it and allowed them to stare down into that slightly pink abyss. Suddenly, the attention of the room's men was on Martyn, or rather, his hole. They descended all at once.

The fingers holding him open moved to prise apart his ass cheeks. They were replaced a moment later by even thicker fingers. Arms subdued his legs. One man laughed as he reached out to play with Martyn's caged cock whilst another tugged at his swinging balls. He winced at the sudden tug, but did not complain.

When he next opened his eyes a komodo dragon was grinning down at him. The man was dressed in nothing but elbow length, latex gloves. Sweat glistened on his scales.

Martyn was treated to a brief stroke of lube-coated fingers over his chin before his mouth was wrenched open. Grabbing the horse's tongue with two slimy fingers, the lizard positioned it to hang outside the mouth and then purred:

"Relax..."

Martyn was trying to do just that, but it didn't help that a copious amount of thick, sloppy lube was being slathered into his tailhole.

Synchronised with the ones in Martyn's ass, the lizard's fingers slid inwards whilst the latex palm laboured over his tongue. Martyn's jaw strained and threatened to pop as it stretched, but the lizard made it work. The fingers curled into a fist as they tapped the back of Martyn's throat then began the descent. All Martyn could do was gag and retch as both sides of him were plundered by stranger's fists. Every reflexive swallow or stolen bit of air forced Martyn's cock to spurt precum as it throbbed. His eyes rolled back, his balls tightened and the rest of him froze as everything up to the elbow found a tight place to stop in Martyn's throat.

"Poppers?" The komodo dragon asked without sparing Martyn so much as a glance; the way he casually looked away reminded the onlookers of reaching down the back of a sofa for small change.

"Aye."

A small, glass bottle was held beneath Martyn's nose. The familiar rush inducing aroma of poppers overwhelmed the lingering scent of piss to quickly become the only thing Martyn could smell. With his throat occupied, he had no choice to huff dose after dose.

All tension drained from his body as that floaty feeling washed over his head and hole. The fister at his ass took the opportunity to push his massive, clenched fist in deep. It was swallowed with no pushback and quickly reached depths that the plug hadn't touched.

Determined not to relinquish his stake in Martyn's throat just yet, the Komodo dragon stroked the horse's throat to watch it spasm before tugging on Martyn's harness to make him swallow more.

Back at his rear, the fist there twisted and turned as it went; drilling deeper to mine away what little resistance was left. Each time it delved into his guts, Martyn was pushed a little further into the carefree, subservient headspace of a proper fist pig. He was almost unaware of the abuse his body was enduring and the straining of his cock against the chastity cage.

The fister at his ass would only stop to scoop up some of the lube that had built up around Martyn's hole. He would withdraw his fist until the curve of his fingers was teasing the abused rim and then would take a moment to use his other hand to smear it over his fist. After that he'd push right back in and wipe off any excess into Martyn's fur.

More lube would come to cake Martyn's fur. It ran down his taint to his balls, dripped to the tiles below and even found a way to coat his inner thighs. Each punch made his hole sloppier and looser until those knuckles found his inner rim.

There was a pregnant pause as Martyn anticipated the fist battering down the door to his second hole. Instead, the fist was removed with a squelch as all of the lube that had been shoved into Martyn's depths came flooding out in a torrent of ugly, opaque slime.

The fister at his mouth took that as a cue to move on as well, withdrawing his arm and stepping away. His arm came out dripping with lube, drool and spittle. Both of them took a moment to use Martyn as a towel before walking away.

Martyn remained there spluttering up various slimes from his throat as his gaping hole spat out dregs of lube. Despite feeling like a used and abused pig-mare, he managed to find the strength to look up at the reflective metal of the urinal.

The bathroom was packed. Dozens of men had squeezed into the space to watch with their cocks in hand. Judging by the jets of cum streaking across the tiles and the bathroom mirror some had already 'come and gone' so to speak.

Next to the plate was a middle-aged elephant who loomed over Martyn with a tusky grin. This man had not bothered to undress or squeeze into latex gloves and instead wore the usual casual get-up men his age wore to the club. His arms were decorated with dozens of rose tattoos. IIt was clear what this man wanted out of Martyn. The horse bowed his head and only had to wait a second more before he felt lube being poured into the chasm that was his hole.

A fat balled up fist punched in a moment later. It ran straight forwards to slam against the entrance to Martyn's colon before being torn back. It popped out with an awfully lewd sound, then hovered a few inches away so that the other fist could take a shot. In just a few punches the elephant's meaty hands became coated with a thick slime.

The barrage of punches grew faster and faster with each blow. Each one slammed against the target, but went no further, before being yanked free to blow Martyn's rim out even more. His hole was remodelled into a lube covered, gaping crater that bloomed during the brief flash between each punch.

Those punches began to twist and turn as they struck, sliding inside of him with an incredible amount of ease. Sometimes the man would stroke or tap against Martyn's deepest parts with the tips of his fingers and other times he would slam all four knuckles against the door. It was the latter technique that eventually did the trick.

Martyn had been entranced by the rhythm of punches for a while now. He'd lost track of time and all of his focus had coalesced on the electric feelings shooting through his ass. The elephant had found Martyn's g-spot and had ensured that each punch danced over it. For a moment, it looked as if Martyn might be allowed to cum in peace. But it wasn't that kind of fist fuck.

The elephant shoved his arm in deep only to meet a stubborn resistance. Instead of stopping, he continued to push. There was stagnation and tension before he felt it slipping in deeper. The thumb tucked itself in further as the fingers made their way forwards. Martyn's colon swallowed the knuckle; less than a minute more and he would become a sleeve for this man.

Martyn could feel the elephant's arm trembling inside of him, or perhaps that was his own shaking. A half-pained, half-orgasmic bray escaped him. This coaxed a roar of determination from the elephant who threw more effort into the assault. Those knuckles tilted to press down harder and then, just as the pressure reached a breaking point, the fist pulled back.

Martyn was about to lift his head and see what was happening when he felt the elephant's second fist pushing in alongside the first. His rectum was so utterly destroyed that two fists at once presented little challenge. At first the second slipped in flat with fingers close together, but then it curled up and began to truly test Martyn's limits. Excess lube was squeezed out to run down over his buttocks and thighs. Rude squelches filled the air, underscored by the elephant's grunting. It was no surprise that it was only a few minutes before the two fists were poised to push their way into Martyn's colon.

However, the elephant still wasn't finished teasing. He backed away so that he could pull his forearms free whilst keeping them straight. He stopped when his fists were just barely inside and then uncurled his fingers as he twisted so that his palms were flat against one another to form a spearhead. Taking his thumbs out and pressing them into the sloppy cream coating Martyn's rim, he moved his hands apart to stretch the horse's hole like a baker stretching out dough.

From in between the elephant's hands, Martyn's rose began to show. It spilled out each time Martyn exhaled. The only thing stopping it from fully blooming were the elephant's hands. The crowd watched with glee, excited by the way it peeked out from the depths.

When the elephant grew bored, he sat his fists side-by-side in Martyn's hole. They advanced together as the elephant straightened his forearms and brought himself closer to Martyn. Upon being met with tension they repositioned, half-stacking on top of one another to squeeze in deeper until they were pushing against the entrance to his colon once again.

This time they didn't stop, even when Martyn's body protested. All the elephant did was press down and refuse to back away. Martyn was much too exhausted to push him out and the elephant had no intention to let up. The result was inevitable.

A minute of pushing and the knuckles were in once more. In the blink of an eye the elephant stretched his fingers out to flatten his hands together and suddenly both forearms were through with that tell-tale pop. Time seemed to stop as Martyn became hyper aware of the sensations he was feeling; the fingers writhing in his deepest reaches, the man's elbows that had just been swallowed, how his stomach felt stuffed yet his ass felt empty and the way his deepest walls squeezed around the man's wrists.

His heart was racing as his cock tried, and failed, to get hard. It throbbed once. Twice. On the third the elephant's arms lurched in deeper to push Martyn over an edge he'd been teetering on for over an hour.

Cum spilled forwards from his cock, escaping through the gaps in the chastity cage in a thin, drawn-out stream like water from a tap. Each clench of his hole forced more cum out which in turn caused his body to spasm and squeeze. The men watching took more pleasure in Martyn's orgasm than he did, whooping and cheering over it as they began to masturbate with more vigour. All Martyn could do was drool as his body and mind shutdown from the dribbled yet potent, full body orgasm.

Everything from that point on was a blur; he wasn't even aware of when the elephant's fists left him. Strangers united by their desire to utterly ruin this pig had their way with every part of him. Martyn was subjected to everything they had to offer: fists, fingers, cocks, toys, arms.... His body gave all it could too. No one could count the amount of times Martyn orgasmed nor could they count how many times his bladder had emptied itself in response to a deep intrusion.

By the time last calls rang out, he had been transformed into a shaking, thoroughly-used fuck toy with a hole so sloppy you could hardly see the red of his prolapse. He had collapsed into a puddle made of his own urine and cum with other men's mixed in. His fur had become so sullied it would take weeks to wash the scent out. At some point his piss soaked jockstrap had been freed from the drain only to be wanked into and then pulled over his head for him to huff.

The announcement for last orders blaring over the speakers was what jolted Martyn back to awareness, just in time for him to feel an arm sliding itself into his hollowed-out cunt.

He weakly turned his head to see a leather daddy stallion with a latex glove that stretched over his forearm, past his elbow, over his bicep and up to the shoulder. Every inch of it was lubed up and every inch of it was going inside of Martyn. Martyn's cock, still trapped within its cage, gave a weak throb of anticipation.

Fingers swirled around Martyn's puffy rim, scooping up the mess to smear it over the last visible bits of the horse's prolapse. That was all the foreplay he was afforded. The fist pushed against his prolapse to force it back inside. There was a strength behind the stallion's fist; it was backed by determination, experience and the distinct touch of a sadist.

Martyn's ass gulped and swallowed at the fist to invite it deeper, though such words are misleading. Martyn didn't actively do anything, he couldn't. He and his body were too exhausted to be anything more than a ragdoll. It was the stallion and his fist who burrowed into Martyn's depths to claim every inch.

The inner ring presented no challenge. It was so pliable that the slightest push from the horse caused it to open right up. Martyn began to really register just how deep this fist was going.

Grimacing as the wrist slipped into his colon and knuckles drove through his guts, Martyn bowed his head just in time to watch his cock dribble a thick gossamer of cum. It dangled from a bar of the cage; a white flag, the pig's surrender.

He could feel the bumps of the stallion's knuckles, the slight ridge that separated the hand from the arm and the pulses running across the man's arm each time he clenched his fist. Martyn felt the elbow and the crook of the arm when they flexed or flattened to straighten out for a smoother glide.

The man was impossibly deep. His fist twisted and curved to carve a path through a labyrinth of guts. To Martyn, they felt as if they were reshaping themselves willingly in order to avoid being punched out by the stallion.

The stallion had trudged through a body temperature slop of lube to stake a claim in the deepest reaches of the horse's guts. Martyn could see that claim when he looked down at his belly; the obscene shape of the limb inside of him was so pronounced it was almost comical. It made him feel woozy thinking that there was still more to come.

As the stallion continued to push forwards, a sudden spark of energy returned to Martyn causing him to writhe and squirm against the feeling of a fist in his colon. All this did was spur the man's interest in Martyn's displeasure. He forced the bulging muscles of his latex wrapped bicep in further.

Martyn's second rim uncomfortably stretched just that extra bit further as tears welled in his eyes. Pleasure drowned in discomfort as every inch of his guts cried for mercy. His cock twitched pathetically as it tried to produce anything more than a squirt of piss or a drip of cum.

An age of pushing passed. It was a slow, agonising process punctuated by inhuman sounds that Martyn bleated out. When the bicep slipped inside there was no pop or orgasm to signal success; there was simply no further movement.

The tickle of the stallion's armpit hair registered and the shoulder pressed to his rump entered his awareness. A whole limb was inside of him. The whole of the stallion's right arm was buried inside of him. All Martyn could do was pant and groan as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him as a wonderful shock overcame him. Every part of him from rim to stomach felt so incredibly full.

The stallion was happy to leave his arm there for a good few minutes, delighting in how Martyn's body spasmed. They slowed and eventually stopped as Martyn's guts adjusted to being stretched open. The tears stopped and the pain gave way to an indescribable feeling. Martyn was a mess of shaking shoulders, gibberish sounds and breathy pants. The stallion didn't let that last long.

Without warning, he began to twist and recoil his arm part way before driving it back into Martyn's plumbing. Each churn brought more speed like a steam train accelerating until the stallion was ramming his arm in and out of the smaller horse. It quickly reached a point where the stallion's bicep slipped free, allowing his forearm and fist to reach brutal speeds.

A wail rang out from Martyn. The man growled through gritted teeth with his eyes locked on the horse's blown out rim. As the tension peaked, the stallion ripped his fist free causing flesh to drag along with it as Martyn's walls folded out to explode into a beautiful rosebud.

Martyn was left shuddering and twitching as the feeling of three or four inches of his own guts blossoming out of him rocked his mind. His cock was jumping uncontrollably in some imitation of an orgasm and his head was filled with white noise. Through it, he felt the horse's thick digits sculpting the rosebud, teasing more to spill forth.

Then his other hand joined in and together they squished and pushed the walls apart to create as much room as possible.

"Let's christen your new pig tail."

The stallion slipped Martyn's prolapse over the end of his cock like putting on a condom and then slid it down to his medial ring. There was enough stretched over his cock for him to grip as he began to jack himself off with Martyn's prolapse wrapped around his member. He bucked his hips back and forth only slightly, leaving his hands to do all of the work as if Martyn were a fleshlight.

Even as the pace increased and the stallion devolved into moans and huffed expletives of pleasure, Martyn wasn't sure what it was he was feeling. All he could do was remain face down, ass up as the door to the bathroom opened and the stallion's orgasm began.

Martyn met the eyes of a bouncer as he looked up into the metal of the urinal. The orca strode across the room as cum flooded Martyn's guts to provide that familiar feeling of being thoroughly filled, although having those guts hanging out of him created the strangest sensation not unlike what a cum sock might feel.

The stallion's cock flexed once, twice and then was pulled free only to be quickly replaced by an equally fat cock. Martyn babbled incoherently to the tiles as more staff members began to enter the restroom.

Although the club had closed and all the men who had made Martyn into a plaything for their curiosities had vanished, Martyn's night was far from over.