#pig farmer

[stinkytradies]

Yud be better off in the pen piggy

[thegoodmorningman]

Reckon someday folks'll be looking back on this day and telling each other all our sayings. Good Morning, I'd say.

[pookinator5000]

Doodles

[47witchyneurons]

Everyone says I live the cottagecore homesteaders dream and you know. I also just had to feed my pigs in the dark and forgot my bug net and had a very enthusiastic insect fly into my nostril and down my throat. like satan's own netti pot.

[460media]

To foil the hordes of starving mice that had begun to eat the swine alive

[stinkytradies]

The trailer reeked like a slaughterhouse in July, pig shit baked into every fiber, motor oil seeping from the walls. Zeke Harlan sprawled in his sagging armchair, mechanical left arm glinting under the single bare bulb. His right hand scratched lazily at the thick pelt of hair spilling from his open overalls, fingers greasy from the half-eaten bologna sandwich balanced on his gut. His broad, wet snout glistened, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air and grinned.

Elliot Park stepped inside and gagged, clipboard clutched to his chest like a hymnal. City boy, spotless khakis, boots so new they squeaked. His eyes watered from the stench, but his cock twitched traitorously in his briefs. He hated that he loved it.

“Elbow joint’s seized,” Zeke rumbled, voice thick with chew and bourbon. He flexed the prosthetic, gears whining. “Fix it, tech. Or stand there starin’ at my tits like a bitch in heat.”

Elliot knelt in the filth, knees sinking into something warm and sticky. He popped the arm’s panel, revealing pistons caked in axle grease and dried blood. His hands shook as he worked. Zeke watched, snout twitching, crooked tusks catching the light.

“You’re hard already,” Zeke said, matter-of-fact. “I can smell it under all this hog stink. Bet you jerked off thinkin’ about my snout last night, didn’t you? Bet you came buckets imagining it smeared in mud and cum.”

Elliot’s wrench slipped, clattering against Zeke’s muddy boot. The farmer’s mechanical hand shot out, clamping around Elliot’s throat, metal fingers cold and unyielding.

“Pick it up with your mouth.”

Elliot hesitated. Zeke’s grip tightened, thumb pressing into the hollow beneath his jaw.

“Now.”

Elliot bent, lips brushing the crusted leather. The taste was rancid, earth and piss and something metallic. His tongue darted out, tracing the boot’s seam. Zeke groaned, low and filthy, the sound vibrating through Elliot’s spine.

“Good little pig-fucker,” Zeke murmured. “Say it. Say you get off on my stinking, deformed body. Say you want to bury your face in my greasy armpit and lick the sweat till you choke.”

Elliot’s voice cracked, muffled against the boot. “I—I want it. Your filth. Your snout. The way your gut hangs, the scars, the grease. I want to taste every inch of you. I’m hard because you’re disgusting and perfect.”

Zeke released his throat, but only to shove Elliot’s face into the crook of his mechanical arm. The metal was warm from the servos, slick with oil. Elliot’s tongue dragged over the joints, lapping at the grime. Zeke’s flesh hand slid down, popping the buttons on his overalls one by one. His cock sprang free, thick and unwashed, foreskin peeled back to reveal a head smeared with yesterday’s leavings. The smell hit Elliot like a slap, musky, sour, alive.

“Suck it,” Zeke ordered. “Suck the farmer’s dirty dick while you hump my boot like the desperate slut you are.”

Elliot’s mouth closed around the head, gagging at the taste, salt and piss and old cum. Zeke’s mechanical fingers tangled in his hair, forcing him down until his nose mashed against the coarse pubes, inhaling the rank heat. Tears streamed down Elliot’s face, but his hips rocked shamelessly, grinding his clothed erection against Zeke’s boot.

“That’s it,” Zeke growled, hips bucking. “Choke on it. Swallow every drop when I blow. Then I’ll let you rim my hairy ass till you’re drowning in pig shit and begging for more.”

Elliot moaned around the cock, the vibration making Zeke’s thighs tremble. The trailer shook with the farmer’s grunts, the wet slap of flesh on metal, the obscene squelch of Elliot’s throat taking every inch. When Zeke came, it was with a bellow that rattled the windows, flooding Elliot’s mouth with thick, bitter ropes. Elliot swallowed greedily, choking, drooling, his own orgasm spurting untouched into his ruined khakis.

Zeke pulled him off with a wet pop, smearing the mess across Elliot’s cheek like war paint.

“Next appointment’s tomorrow,” he said, voice lazy. “Bring a bigger wrench. And leave the clipboard. You won’t need it when you’re on your knees cleaning my balls with your tongue.”

[47witchyneurons]

Me after Stubby bites my knee:

Now listen, one of us here is correct and the other one is squishing her newborns to death, so you're welcome to be upset that I'm moving you mid-labor but they are SCREAMING ma'am, I cannot solve the fact that you're a useless mother who rolls onto her babies but I CAN fish them out from between you and the stall wall before they suffocate, put your tusks AWAY

Anyway saved 2 little lives but who knows for how long (cue my furious side eye at This Dumb Bitch)

[47witchyneurons]

Can we see the baby pigglies 👉👈

OF COURSE! I'll also post my summer squash apology video lol. But for now, 7 piglets! There might be placenta in these pictures I tried to avoid it tho