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PULLED PORK
By Zolnitzski

It was morning. The sleepy young man with dark hair and dark eyes slowly opened one eye, then the other. The sun was shining in the window. The twenty year old flight student was waking up horny as usual, bare-chested in his boxers, soaked from a three AM wet dream. He lay in bed not quite awake, groaning and making low soft moans, ummm, umm oom umm. The testosterone was surging through his virile young body as he fingered his belly button, rubbed his chest, nipples and engorged penis. At first, he couldn’t think what day it was. Was it a work day? Oh yeah, he had been out late with his buds last night, partying a little too much.
The bar-scene was new to him. He had barely tasted alcohol before coming to the city.
Oh yeah, he had been line dancing with that one girl at the “SMITTY’S DOWNTOWN BAR” Man, was she hot or what? He was thinking to himself, “Oh yeah Man, I think I’m in love. This must be Saturday. I don’t have to get up.”
It was all coming back to him now. He had been with Steve, one of his new buds. He had stayed overnight at Steve’s place a while back after too much partying.
After a few more drinks he had crashed into bed with him.
Sometime in the middle of the night Peter had awakened with Steve’s hand on his chest.
It gradually worked its way down to his belly where it rested for a while. Then he felt a finger rimming his belly button and then it followed the line of soft black hair trailing down to his pubes. The hand progressed to his penis and slowly began stroking. Peter found himself in total ecstasy as he shot a wad of cum, but he made himself lie perfectly still pretending to be asleep. He knew that he should have been outraged at Steve and hit him but he didn’t. It was too pleasurable.
Then last night Steve had suggested that he come over to stay the night with him again. He had no doubt what Steve had in mind. Now he was thinking that perhaps he should have gone with him. Peter hadn’t had any action for weeks and now even a warm hand job from Steve would have been awesome.
His dick was erect and hard. His hand began gently stroking it. It seems that he was aroused and hard all the time lately. His dick was long, hard, thick and meaty. He tickled the little dimple under the tip of the pink dick head that was poking its way through the end of his long uncut foreskin. He lay there stroking and massaging his engorged member up and down. He wished it were even longer and bigger. He wanted to postpone the ejaculation as long as he could. He would stroke it for a while and then stop before it would cum. He would stroke a few more times, then wait and delay. He did this for perhaps an hour. He thought how he had to have sex soon or he would surely erupt and blow out his balls. Then there was no holding back any longer. He was going to cum. He pulled off his boxers and threw them on the floor. He lay naked, his body thrusting and quivering in anticipation. He gave his morning wood two more strokes. WOW! His fully engorged meat erupted, shooting white, sweet cum onto his belly and filled his naval cavity.
Cum filled his hand and soaked into his bed sheet. He tasted the cum in the palm of his hand. Then he just lay there for a few moments in exhaustion and waited for his respirations to return to normal.

He reached over to his night stand and picked up his smart phone to check the time. It was almost 10:00 AM. He staggered from his bed naked, looked into his full length bathroom mirror and smiled at what he saw. He thought to himself, “Man am I smokin hot or what?” He turned on the water in the shower and checked to see if it were too hot. He adjusted it to just the right temperature and stepped in. The steamy hot shower felt good as the sweat and cum flushed off his smooth young skin. The shampoo ran down over his body as he washed his hair and worked the bar of soap under his armpits and around his pubes. As he rubbed the bar of soap over his penis it began to rise again. He masturbated one more time before he finished his shower. He stepped out of the shower all squeaky clean and reached for his towel. He wrapped the towel around his waist as a Polynesian warrior would have worn his loin cloth. Soon he was all shaved, had his teeth brushed, put on his under arm deodorant spray and shot some deodorant on his chest, belly and pubes. He was ready to get dressed. He put on his baggy new camo cargo shorts, a black tee shirt that said “BORN TO BE WILD” in big yellow letters and black high-top sneakers with white laces.
He checked himself out in the mirror again, flexed his chest and triceps, smiled to himself and thought, “By damn, I really am smokin hot.” He realized that he wasn’t a very tall person at only 5 feet seven inches tall with a slight build. He was just cocky; all horned up and had a good opinion of himself. In fact he almost believed that he was God’s personal gift to the world. He moved a little closer to the mirror and stroked the fine short hairs on his chin, wishing there were more of them.
What he really wanted then was a big breakfast. Good food was probably the only thing he liked more than flying. Yeah, he was hungry and had to carb up before going to the airport to hang with his buds. He thought he would try out that little eating place he passed every day on his way to work. He checked himself in the mirror one more time and gave himself a thumb up. He looked sexy and he knew it. “By damn I’m smokin hot.” For some strange reason, people were attracted to this good humored, cocky young man with his charming good looks. He knew how to use his eyes to wink, smile, and win over a crowd instantly. He was used to being the life of the party; his friends loved him and he never doubted it.
The Wolf’s Lair is a popular eating place on the corner lot of a busy intersection he passed by every day. Fritz Harper is the owner and proprietor who goes in promptly at 5:00 every morning to get the food preparations started for the customers who will be flooding in for breakfast starting at 6:00. Fritz is a giant of a man in his late 40s or early 50s with a little gray hair at the temples and his business has been on this corner for nearly 10 years now. His customers are anybody from business men to construction workers, factory workers and students who come in for the camaraderie as well as the food.
The establishment is arranged in an old rail road car from the 40s or 50s. There is a counter down the center with stools for the hungry customers. Behind and under the counter are shelves to hold dishes, silver, linens and whatever else is necessary for his business. Along the back wall is a grill, a stove, a sink, refrigerator and work table.
It gets to be pretty crowded during the rush hour but people don’t seem to mind. In fact there is something about the closeness to their fellow diners that seems to appeal to the clientele. On the wall above the grill is the business logo, “THE WOLF’S LAIR” and a picture of a smiling Big Bad Wolf preparing Three Little Pigs for roasting.

Fritz is a powerfully built man with large hands and hairy arms. His gregarious nature, friendly banter and humor set his customers at ease. His establishment has a scrubbed look of cleanliness. Fritz’s personal grooming, immaculate white shirt with his logo, white pants and white plastic apron suit his profession. He sells lots of coffee and sweet rolls at opening time but what really draws his customers in is his breakfast of pancakes, fresh ground hot spicy sausages and hash browns. Part of the customer’s fascination is sitting and watching him flip his pan of hash browns about 18 inches in the air every couple of minutes, then catch them with never losing one on the floor. Then his noon special is a pulled pork sandwich served with his famous hash browns.
Fritz chooses and buys his pigs and processes them personally. He keeps meticulous records and is particular with regard to the appearance of the animals. He grinds his own sausage as well as preparing roasts for his pulled pork sandwiches. One of his secret ingredients is a small fiery hot pepper he grows himself. He came across the seed on a chat line one time while chatting with a man from India. Some of the pepper goes into his sausages and barbeque sauce for the pulled pork.
The mid day rush was about to begin so He rolled up his sleeves revealing the tattoo of a wolf along with the words, “Alpha Wolf.” He couldn’t help noticing the cocky young man walking jauntily in, wearing baggy camo cargo shorts, and a flight jacket with a flight school’s logo on the back. His sunglasses were pushed up over the bill of his ball cap and he had an I-pod plugged into his ear. The legs of his 5-7 slight framed body straddled the stool as he sat down, revealing thick muscular thighs and the well rounded bubble butt of an athlete. His boxer shorts were pulled up 3 inches above the back of his beltless cargos. Fritz couldn’t help letting out a muted gasp as he struggled for composure, thinking to himself, “And where has this little piggy been?”
Fritz set a glass of water down before the young man and asked, “What can I do for you my boy?” The young man smiled and told Fritz he had heard about his famous pork sausage sandwiches and hash browns so he thought he would stop by and try them out. Fritz commented that he hadn’t seen him in there before and hoped he would be satisfied with the service. He made sure the plate was piled high with the potatoes and made sure there was a big sausage on the bun. When he brought the generously proportioned meal to the counter, he queried, “Might I ask you name son?” The reply came back with a confident, proud and eager smile, “Peter Sir, Peter James Parchevich, my buds just call me Peetie.” He cocked his head and grinned his cocky grin and said, “Some of my friends call me PJ; sometimes they call me Fly Boy and sometimes the just call me Bull Hockey.”
By the time he was finishing up his plate of food the crowd was breaking up so Fritz took the opportunity to talk to him some more. The huge breakfast had filled Peter’s belly to its fullest capacity. A comfortably overfull belly always seemed to make him hard. His bulging member was uncomfortably pressing against the fly of his shorts so he had to stop and readjust the crotch of his pants. Fritz didn’t fail to notice. “Where you from Son?” Duluth, Minnesota was the confident reply. I had to get away from my family. They want to run my life. “So how’s that,” Fritz asked. “Well, my grandpa and grandma on my dad’s side started their paint business back in the 60s when they came to this country from Serbia. Then my dad took over the business and now he and my mom want me to work there too. My mom’s family is from Ukraine so she has old fashioned ideas too. I don’t want to sell their frickin paint. Flying isn’t a big thing to them like it is to me. I gotta run now.”
Fritz smiled, “Well Peetie, I hope you’ll come see me again soon.” He watched the young man going out the door, walking with long strides, as if he were keeping an important appointment. Fritz’s eyes were drawn once again to the thighs and bubble butt shifting under the seat of Peter’s baggy shorts. He turned and shouted back,”Yeah, it was good, I’ll probably come back again tomorrow.”
Sure enough the next day at noon the extroverted youth appeared again wearing the same jacket, blue jeans and high top sneakers with the pants legs tucked in loosely behind white laces. He seemed to be a little more cocky than the day before, never doubting that the whole world was in love with him. He just naturally assumed that everyone thought he was “smokin hot.” At least that was the impression he made on Frits who loved it. A primal arousal and desire grew warm and tingly down in Fritz’s loins causing an erection. Peter made his way through the crowd and found a vacant stool at the counter.
Fritz came up and asked, “How’s our hero today?” The cocky reply came back, “I’m always the hero and I’m always the star player.” He smiled but it was obviously true.
He loved being the center of attention as several of the patrons close by looked his way and smiled their approval. He knew how to wink, smile and lower his eyes, causing his watchers to break out into spasms of laughter. The crowd was mightily amused and obviously liked him so he unzipped the front of his jacket and pulled it open in order to show his torso inside his trim fitting tee shirt.
Fritz took his order for the usual pulled pork sandwich, hash-browns and a Coke.
The gentleman next to him commented that “This place has the best pork sandwich in town.” One of the customers close by said, “Yeah and Fritz butchers his own pork so it is always fresh. Fritz smiled, “Nothing but the best for my customers. I buy my pigs from a farmer who only has the best quality stock.”
The next question to come up was the ingredients for the sausage. Well Fritz wasn’t about to divulge his secret recipe, especially the source of his fiery hot peppers but he did admit to using a little garlic powder. The rest of the lunch hour went by quickly and the diners left one or two at a time and headed back to work or whatever was on their agenda for the afternoon.
The next day Peter didn’t come in and Fritz couldn’t help thinking about the cocky, self-assured young man he had come to look forward to seeing each day. In fact he didn’t come in for almost a week and then one day, sure enough he showed up for the noon special, his head held high, his shoulders and arms swinging back and forth and his chest up. He came walking in with the long rhythmic strides of a dance master on his heels, bobbing his shoulders left and right. An erotic emotion swept through Fritz. “I was afraid that you didn’t like the food here and forgot me.” Nah, hey Man, I just been doin other things, but I didn’t forget ya. I been down at the airport a lot lately.” The gentleman next to him asked, “How long you been flying?” “Well since third grade when a neighbor guy took me up. I like skiing, snowboarding, hockey and figure skating too. Hockey is my backup. You could be talking to a future Winter Olympian, I hope.”
He was obviously taking great pride in his accomplishments. I’ll be skating with the local Ice Hawks team next season.”

As soon as the crowd was gone, Fritz walked out from behind the lunch counter with a wet towel in his hand in the pretense of needing to wash the finger rints off the glass door. He wiped the glass then went up behind Peter, placed a hand on his shoulder and felt the short hair on the nape of his neck. His neck was warm and the skin was soft. A mixture of hunger, lust and affection swept through the older man. He reached his hand down and touched the butt of Peter’s pants. Peter pulled back, “Hey Man, are you queer for my meat?” The answer came back, “No you had something sticking to the seat of your pants.” Peter pulled away and headed for the door. He hesitated a bit then looked back and said, “It’s ok, I’ve been hit on before, I can’t blame Ya Man, I’m damn smokin hot. You can’t buy crack like that out on the street.” He smiled and held out his hand. They bumped knuckles and had a laugh.
A few days later, after closing time, Peter came in sporting a pair of brand new blue and white Converse All Star Chuck Taylor sneakers. Fritz eyed them and told the proud owner, “Say Buddy, those shoes are pretty sexy.” The reply came back, “Yeah, I thought so too. I didn’t need them but I saw them in the window of Brown’s Shoe Fit store at the mall. They were the last pair they had and they were just my size.”
Let me see one of them, you have small feet, did you know that? The older man held out his hand as Peter sat down on a stool, took of his right shoe and handed it to Fritz. “Yes siree Buddy, these are good looking shoes you have.” “Yeah and I put some good smelling shoe freshener in them, take a whiff, they smell good Man.” Peter took pride in the attention; thinking, “Man, I’m so sexy this guy is getting queer for me.”
Peter began telling Fritz all the gay jokes he had heard.
“A man ran up to the boat dock and asked a stranger, is this where I’ll catch the 12th st. ferry?” The stranger replied, “Speaking Sir.”
“What do you call a gay cowboy?” “A jolly rancher.”
“What happened to the gay airplane pilot?” “He got sucked out of the cockpit.”
“What do you call a gay fly?” “A fruit fly.”
“Have you met the gay Chinese guy? If you ask him his name, he’ll tell you it’s “Chew my wang.”
Fritz shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know about you Boy.”
One evening during the supper hour Fritz turned on some music for the listening pleasure of his clients and shortly one of them said, “Hey that’s Michael Jackson’s moon-dance music. Then he looked at Peter and asked, “Can you moon dance Bud?” “Sure can,” came back the reply with pride. Well then let’s see it came the challenge. Now our boy wasn’t about to let a chance to show off his dancing ability to just go by. He took great pride in his grace and agility. He moon danced the length of the diner several times, then changed the music and went into a break dance and the delighted crowd loved him. He ended his performance by doing 3 back flips as his audience cheered and applauded.
Fritz was overwhelmed and felt an affectionate and lustful attraction to the boy such as he had never felt before. He was instantly obsessed with an insatiable desire to completely possess this strutting young dancer. One of these days he would teach him to strut and flaunt his stuff in front of him. Fritz thought how every time he sees the young lad he looks more and more desirable. He had to take a deep breath and swallow in order to regain his composure. His engorged cock was bulging behind his white uniform pants and apron.
One fall evening as the temperature was dropping Peter came in proudly wearing his flight jacket with a 6ft. long white silk aviator’s scarf trailing like Snoopy on his dog house, dog fighting the Red Barron. He sat down and ordered his usual pulled pork sandwich, hash browns and a Coke. Fritz gave him such a large portion that he could barely consume it. When he was finished and the crowd was gone, he leaned back, loosened his jeans and patted his round full belly. “Dang it Fritz, you’re getting me fattened up like one of your fancy pigs.” “That’s good,” came back the reply, “Let me feel that porky belly.” Fritz placed a large hairy hand on the soft full belly and gave a little squeeze. “Yes, my boy, you’re about ready for the butcher shop.” Peter winked good naturedly, patted his belly again and laughed, watching Fritz’s salivating smile.
The next night Peter and his friends were planning a night on the town. They were going to the best country western bar in town that was famous for having hot country western bands and dancing entertainment. He wanted to look particularly hot that night because there were lots of girls that frequented that bar and he wanted to hook up with one in particular.
He showered, shampooed and shaved himself squeaky clean as usual. He used his favorite expensive deodorant spray on his underarms, chest belly and pubes. He spiked his hair to give it the tossed casual look along with some mousse to hold it in place. He continued to primp in front of the mirror. He raised his arm up above his head to see his well muscled biceps and triceps. He had to have exactly the right look that night. He would wear his stylish black leather pants and black leather hiking boots with his pants tucked in behind the tongue of the boots. He put them on and admired himself in the mirror. He reached inside his leather pants to feel his cock pressing and bulging. He put on his red satin shirt unbuttoned almost to his naval along with a tight black vest. He looked into the mirror again and placed a sporty fedora on his head. He looked good by damn and he knew it.
He put on his jacket and just as he was about to leave he found a message on his phone. It was from Frits. “Do you have time to come have a drink with me?” Well, what the heck, it was early and he could go meet Fritz for a drink and then show up to meet his friends later. He messaged back, “Meet you at the Wolf’s Lair in 20 minutes to party.” He arrived at the Wolf’s Lair just as Fritz was locking up. “What we going to do Fritz?”
“Well my boy,” came the reply. “I thought we might go out to my place for a drink, and little relaxation then I’ll give you a tour of my facility.”Peter thought a bit then came up with a solution. “Yeah, sure that will work. I’m going to Smitty’s Down Town bar in a while to meet up with some buds but the night is young. We can go to your place first and then I’ll go meet my friends.”
Fritz looked at Peter and complimented him on his sexy outfit. “Say Bud, you look pretty fancy in that red satin shirt, vest and leather pants; you’re one sharp dresser.” Peter loved being complimented and was delighted to hear how great he looked. He knew that Fritz was totally blown away by his good looks and charm, as were most of the other people he met. Frits gave another approving look at his young guest and asked, “So Boy, do your friends know that you’re going with me before you meet them at the bar?” “Uhh, no, I just told them I would meet them later.” Fritz smiled, “So nobody knows where you are then?” “Nope,” came the cocky self assured reply, “Let’s go, I’ll follow you.” Peter climbed into his Jeep Wrangler, turned on his lights and waited for Fritz to pull out into the street, then pulled out into the traffic behind him.
After about 20 minutes they reached a neatly kept country place, well lighted with security lights shining on a house, a yard and a few well kept out buildings. Peter stepped out of his Jeep and went over to meet Fritz. Fritz wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulder and said, “Come my boy and I’ll give you the grand tour of my place.”
The youth was ushered into a clean well maintained shed containing 6 award winning blue ribbon pigs. “WOW! They’re beautiful,” was all he could say. He was curious and asked where Fritz got his pigs and were they a special breed? Fritz assured him that though they were no special breed, in fact they were mostly cross bred, that he personally selected for body type, fat ratio, health and all around appearance. Peter was thrilled. He jumped at the chance to learn all he could. He had never been in a hog confinement or a butcher shop.
Fritz explained the various breeds that had been crossed to produce such splendid meat animals. There were pictures on the wall of other hogs that had been blue ribbon winners at the state fair as well as national show winners. They were all displayed with pride, each under its own plaque labeled “Best of Class” with their stats. He finished the tour of the room saying, “Here, let me snap your picture. Stand next to my trophy case, now smile you best winning smile.. Here see how good you look. The younger man looked into the face of the older man and said, “Yes Sir, You’re the greatest.”
Next Peter was ushered into the glistening clean all white slaughter room. He guessed it was probably typical of most small operation slaughter rooms. There was a hoist with a chain hanging from the ceiling over a floor drain. There was a heavy wooden butcher block on one side of the room and a steel table on the other side of the room. He could see a brown rubber butcher apron hanging on the wall and a pair of yellow rubber boots under it. There was a board on the wall with various sizes of butcher knives, skinning knives, saws and a meat cleaver hanging on it. He marveled, “This is some kind of operation.”
Fritz smiled again and placed an arm around the shoulder of his young guest. He fingered the collar of Peter’s flight jacket and the soft white silk scarf around Peter’s neck. The young man could see his host’s cock bulging against his white pants again. Now he had no doubts that Fritz was queer for him. Well, maybe he should just let the old guy take a few liberties and have his jollies, provided they were just small liberties of course. He lived for the adulation of his friends and wasn’t above a little flirtation. He knew how to use his eyes alluringly as he pulled open his jacket to reveal his bare pecs behind the stylish vest and red satin shirt.
Fritz almost gasped for breath as he beheld the naughty, but tantalizing young man standing before him. He could barely control himself. He wanted to possess and ravage that beautiful young body. The front of his pants were rapidly wetting with pre-cum. He wrapped his hands around Peter’s warm soft skinned neck, squeezed and said, “I want to choke ya. I want to whup ya, I want to wrestle ya down and teach you manners.” Peter pulled the powerful hands away, amazed at their vice like strength. He said, “Ah Fritz, an old guy like you can’t take a future Olympian like me” and smiled his most provocative smile. “Hey when you gona give me that drink you promised me?”
Fritz cocked a wise eye and said, “Hold on Boy, I have one right here.” He went over to a cabinet containing several bottles and pulled one out. He poured 2 glasses which he held next to himself and emptied some tranquilizing powder for quieting an unruly pig into one of them and handed it to his guest. “Here my boy, try some of this.” “Thank you” came the reply, “Hey Man, this is really good stuff.” He had another sip. “Real good stuff Man.” Fritz smiled back with pleasure, “Here have another one, the night is young. There’s more where that came from.”
After about 3 more drinks Peter slumped back in his chair, “Don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m getting so sleepy and I still have to go meet my buds at the bar.” Fritz chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. They don’t even know where you are, do they? They’re not missing you yet.” Peter started to get up, “Probably not but I need to get going Dude, see you tomorrow.” He stumbled forward a couple steps, “WOW! I’m dizzy, don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I was good when I got here.” He stumbled 3 more steps and said, “I gotta go now.”
Fritz demeanor suddenly changed. He became harsh. His face took on the expression of a hungry, ravening, blood lusting wolf about to devour an innocent lamb. The helpless lamb-like prey shrank back from the predatory wolf in unbelief. “Dude, what are you thinkin?” But the wolf-like predator that he was, wasn’t about to let this prize state fair blue ribbon winning pig get out the door. Fritz was twice the size of his prey and had the strength of three ordinary men. In an instant he was behind his prey grabbing the white silk scarf, pulling it tight around Peter’s neck, shutting off the wind with the powerful hands of a Titan. The more the victim struggled the tighter the scarf became around his neck. The prey fought for breath with all his might. He kicked back in terror at his attacker. He fought to pull the cruel hands from his throat. In spite of the drugs , he knew he was fighting for his life. Fear is a powerful stimulant. The desperate struggling, thrashing, panic and fear of the prey were all working on the attacker like a primal aphrodisiac. They both fell to the floor with a crash, knocking over tables, chairs and equipment. The arms of the youth were flailing, his legs were thrashing in space and his hips were thrusting up and down. His lungs were about to explode for want of oxygen. Things began to grow dark. He could not see; still he struggled under the chokehold until his strength was gone. Then he lay still on the floor with his eyes bulging out of their sockets; his complexion was blue.
Frits looked at his prize boy pork lying on the floor. He was gasping for air himself. He was amazed at the fight the smaller man had put up in spite of the powerful drugs. As soon as he had caught his breath, he picked up his prey and laid him on his back on the steel table. He was so beautiful, so perfectly formed, a true Olympic winner. Fritz felt his face and kissed his neck and nibbled his ears. Then he lifted him into a partial sitting position, unzipped his jacket and pulled an arm out of its sleeve. He pulled the other arm out of its sleeve and proceeded to unbutton the vest and red satin shirt, exposing a well developed chest and abs with a little layer of belly fat under a wrinkle of sun tanned bacon rind skin. His penis was throbbing as he pulled the boots from their feet and smelled each boot as though it were a fine costly wine. He stuck his nose deep into the boot, closed his eyes, breathed in deeply as though preparing his brain for the heady aroma of the finest French wine. The aroma of sweaty stocking feet and shoe freshener lingered before him. He was overwhelmed by an obsessive, compulsive, erotic madness and hunger that consumed him body and soul. He had to taste this superb quality flesh that lay before him. He felt an insatiable hunger and a strange drive of sexual ecstasy, love and desire sweeping over him. He reached down and pressed on the soft, warm belly and stuck a finger into the belly button. The brown, tanned, satiny, smooth skin felt so good to him. He examined the meaty pecs and ribs. He imagined the ribs barbequed with his own sauce. He lifted an arm and grasped the well developed biceps and triceps, imagining it as an arm roast. The lascivious Fritz picked up a razor sharp butcher knife and stood over his cocky young friend that he loved yet craved to butcher and roast.
Peter stirred again, and vaguely arousing looked up at his seductor and betrayer standing over him with the knife. He saw dimly through the fog in total confusion, bewilderment and disbelief. Then suddenly in his total disbelief the words came flooding out of his mouth again. “Dude what are you thinkin?” The enormity of his fate was slowly sinking into his desperate understanding. So filled with desperation, he began to beg for mercy.
It was then Peter realized that his hands and feet were shackled to the table with leather cuffs. Fritz ran his hands up and down his victim’s chest and belly always playing with the belly button. He began to tickle, “Are you ticklish my boy?” He began ticking around the belly button and Peter squealed like a pig. Fritz’s cock was hot and throbbing. He tickled the hams and groin of his thrashing boy pork. He tickled the feet and neck to see how wildly his boy could laugh and thrash. He tickled the ribs and flanks. The tender flesh kicked and bucked against the shackles. As he tickled Peter’s flank with one hand he seized his dick with the other. It was limp and flaccid. “What have we here? That will never do. We can’t have that.” He began to stroke the limp body member until it began to swell. The large hairy hand began to pump up and down until the dick was fully erect. One large hairy hand continued to pump while the other tickled. Peter screamed, “Stop, stop, please stop, I can’t stand it.” The pumping and stroking continued until the large hand was wet with precum. Still the pumping and stroking continued until a massive orgasm filled the huge hand of the giant man. The pulsing organ was spurting cum that was surging high into the air. Fritz continued pumping and tickling until the surging and pulsing stopped. He licked the sweet cum from his hand and off Peter’s belly and dick. Peter lay limp and exhausted, shackled to the table.
The enormity of his fate was becoming clear in his mind now. “Let me go Fritz, I’ll do anything you say. Let me go please. Why are you doing this Fritz? Let me go Man.” Tears began to streak down his young face. His lips trembled, “I’ve been your friend Fritz.”
Fritz spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. “I’m going to butcher you, my fine meaty friend. You’re perfect boy pork, the finest pork I’ve ever had. You’ve been designed by nature to be perfect meat. You’ve been perfectly bred to be eaten. It’s likely something that’s been bred into your Slavic mix background. I’ve never done boy pork before and probably never will again. There will never be another as perfect as you. You’ll make succulent pulled pork sandwiches and peppery hot natural casing sausages. You’re such fine quality boy pork.” “ Your cockiness and teasing have driven me mad since the day you first walked into my diner. It has really been your own fault for driving me to this madness. You see, I’ve wanted you from the first. I think you really knew this all the time and just led me on by teasing me. Do you believe in God? If you do then you probably should pray. Do boy porks pray?”
The boy pork began sobbing and shaking as he cried, “Oh sweet Jesus help me, I want my mom, I want my dad, I want my brother. Oh Jesus I want to get married to the girl at the Down Town Bar and make babies. I don’t wanna die. Fritz, you don’t have to do this. I’m not a pig, I’m a man.”
The smell of sweat, tears, fear and cum rising from his body worked as an intoxicating drug on the butcher. The boy was struggling hopelessly against his bonds. The total vulnerability of his victim writhing and begging for mercy caused such an arousal in Frits that all his adrenaline, sexual juices and drives were causing him to pant with lust. He had to have this youth for total consumption. He was all top grade pork. He could never let him go.
Fritz clamped a powerful hand over Peter’s nose and mouth. His boy pig was now too weak to struggle on further. His hands feebly tried to restrain the hands of the butcher; his legs shot forward in spasms. The youthful handsome body quivered gasping for breath. Then all was quiet as the cocky fun filled life that had been filled with the love of family and friends, games and good times was gone.
He peed in his leather pants and oozed some brown, watery mucus from a tight virginal anus as all his organs and bladder relaxed. Fritz stooped to sniff the wet pants and unzipped the urine saturated fly. He smelled again, touched it and put his finger to his lips. His hand felt the warm, wet cock and groin. Nobody knew where Peter had gone that night. He would be missed the next day at flight school and at work. Nobody knew he had been with Fritz. His picture would appear in the news, on TV, in flyers and on milk cartons.
Fritz thought to himself, “Well I had better get on with this.” He pulled off Peter’s socks and smelled them. They smelled so good. He pulled off the black leather fashion jeans revealing black nylon stretch bikini briefs over a well shaped cock and low hanging balls. The removal of the underwear revealed white skin where the sun had never shone. The naked meat of the youthful Peter Parchevich lying on the table before him was so beautiful. He smelled the briefs, closing his eyes in total ecstasy, much as he had the boots, sticking his nose deep into the crotch, closing his eyes, breathing in and smelling the saturated urine, cum and deodorant over and over again. The boy pork looked so delicious, so succulent, so scrumptious, so mouth wateringly tender.
The salivating Fritz leaned forward and kissed the neck and sucked on a small star tattoo. His lips moved down to the nipples, kissing them while squeezing the pectorals with his fingers. His tongue lingered for some time in the naval cavity where there was the taste of sweat, cum and the smell of his musk deodorant. The oils inside of the dark haired boy’s belly button tasted so good. The dick was good size and uncut. He lifted it up and tasted the sausage sized member with the acrid taste of urine. It was so delightful he had to give it a chew. He fingered the round pink head protruding from an ample, long foreskin. He fingered the pink dimple under the dickhead. He stroked it briskly and to his utter amazement there was still some virility. The flaccid penis began to swell and rise to a full 6 inch erection. He sucked it entirely into his hungry mouth and rolled his tongue around the head again and again. The ball sack was well shaped, round and full. The balls themselves were meaty and egg size. Who would have ever guessed that the penis was still capable of such a powerful ejaculation as exploded into the mouth of the butcher? Fritz could only imagine the previous virility of the exquisitely formed, highly sexed young man. Peter’s good time tool then ceased to pulse and throb forever. He rolled his boy over to check his round white, fleshy gluts never touched by the sun. He could not help himself as he stooped to sniff, kiss and lick the meaty cheeks that seemed calling out to be violated.
Behind the left shoulder was the tattoo of a dove. It immediately attracted the attention of Fritz. He caressed it tenderly as though it were an object of peace. He would save that patch of skin to be tanned for a wall hanging in his man cave. Next he moved up to the ear decorated with a tiny diamond stud and pinched the perfectly pierced lobe. Once his tongue entered the inside of the ear he could taste the wax and body oils.
But Fritz was a task oriented man with much to do before morning and the night was getting on. He picked up the limp warm body and carried it to a hook hanging from the ceiling. He bound the ankles with restraints and suspended the lifeless carcass head down from the hook. Even in death the boy pig looked, sexy, cocky and handsome. It seemed a shame to desecrate such a body by butchering it. Should he just cut the bung hole larger and simply reach his hands inside for gutting it? Then he could feel the rib cage from the inside and press his hand into the soft underside of the beautiful belly. But this wasn’t a practical procedure. The well experienced butcher took a knife, deftly and carefully cut the throat from ear to ear. The blood came gushing out into a tub. When the blood flow slowed down he pressed the arms, legs and belly to squeeze the excess flow from the hanging meat. When the blood stopped dripping he took another knife and cut the nearly hairless belly open from the sternum down along a thin line of hair from the belly button to the soft pubic hair. He thought to himself, “One must be so careful so as not to cut into the entrails and contaminate the meat.” The entrails were white, pink and blue, all slippery, wet and warm with a slight smell of sweetness. He liked the feel of the warm guts and the sensation he felt as they slipped and slid so easily through his fingers. The site of the same guts that had been moving inside Peter’s belly just moments before brought on another massive orgasm under the brown rubber apron. The entrails were dumped into another tub to be cleaned and used for natural casing sausages. The liver and heart were saved and placed into a large white pan on the butcher table. The butcher then took a saw and cut the carcass down the middle of the spine from the groin to the neck. The loin was divided from the ribcage leaving 6 inch rib stubs that were cut into chops, very much resembling lamb chops. The remaining ribcage was divided into slabs of short ribs and spare ribs for the barbeque grill. Bone in round steaks were cut from the thighs while the rump roast was to enjoy oven roasted with vegetables. Perhaps there would be fried liver and onions on the menu at the Wolf’s Lair. The heart would definitely go into the sausage. The process of butchering the longpig wasn’t really very much different from butchering the many prize pigs he had done over the years. The prize red meat would definitely make excellent pulled pork sandwiches. The customers of the Wolf’s Lair would never know the source of the delectable pulled pork. He was nearly finished. The penis would be saved along with the scrotum to be battered and breaded with cracker crumbs, onions, garlic and peppers then sautéed.

Fritz kept meticulous records concerning his butcher animals. He took down a spiral notebook from the shelf and wrote carefully on the line, filling in the date and data.

1-17-18 Hog breed-Yorkshire/landrace cross, drug and chemical free, 250 lbs live weight, less28% inedible, 180 lbs dressed, 20% weight lost in cooler, Yield 144 lbs retail cuts with fat.

1-28-18 Hog breed- Landrace/Hampshire cross, drug and chemical free 255 lbs live weight, less 27% inedible, 185 lbs dressed, 20% weight loss in cooler, Yield 148 lbs retail cuts with fat.

Next day there was a portrait of a smiling Peter in a red satin shirt and black vest displayed on the office wall with the inscription, “Boy pork, best of breed, Slavic mix, longpig Peter Jacob Parchevich, 5-7 tall, drug and chemical free, olive complexion, good eye appeal, some dark body hair, live weight 140 lbs, less waste, head, hands, feet, blood, bones 45lbs, yield 80 lbs retail cuts, usable fat 15 lbs. Best top grade +++ most excellent quality premium boy pork.

A couple days later the customers of the Wolf’s Lair Diner all agreed, Fritz had outdone himself that time. It was the best world class, pulled pork sandwiches and sausages he had ever made.

One of the customers commented to Fritz, this is the best hot peppery sausage he had ever tasted. Frits smiled and winked, “Yes siree this pork is “Smokin Hot.”