The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast Bonus - Feed the Pig II

Episode Date: April 1, 2017

By popular demand, a follow-up to Elias Witherow's epic story, "Feed the Pig". Written by Kit Duncan. "Feed the Pig II" written by Kit Duncan and performed by David Cummings and Nichole Goodnight. Audio program ©2017 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

And then something squealed directly in front of me. I felt my bladder go. I was standing before the pig. It was the source of darkness in my obscured vision. A fat, titanic creature that filled my senses with every breath. It blew into my face. Danny raised my hands and suddenly I was touching the pig's snout. I recoiled immediately, but Danny forced me.

my hands back. Feed the pig. Everyone talks about feed the pig. Oh, it's so good. It's so freaky. Yeah, I guess it's okay. But I know I can write a better story. Maybe like a sequel to feed the pig.

I mean, if dumb old Elias Witherow can write a scary story about a pig, then I, Kit Duncan, can write an even better one. I have experience with pigs. I know them. Let me think. How about a tale which involves a young farmhand who learns the hard way that while sometimes we might toot our own horn, other times our horn toots us? Yeah, that's it.

I wonder what a story like that would be like. My name is Kit Duncan. From an early age, I've always been a guy who thinks beg. So I guess it was only fitting that at the age of 16, I took a job as a professional farm boy at the biggest pig farm in Pennsylvania. My first day at work was eye-opening. You probably think all your sausages just magically appear at the grocery store. But the truth is nothing short of different, and it was sobering to get a first ham look at the effort it takes to bring America's steady supply of pork sizzlers from the farm to the table. and from the table to the toilet.

The job wasn't as glamorous as you'd expect. The morning hours were grueling, and when my lunch break finally arrived, the only thing on the menu was gruel. Still, I found that I enjoyed the work, if only because of the wondrous nature of pigs. Don't misunderstand me. I already knew that pigs were highly intelligent.

Anyone with access to Pigs.com could tell you that. But what I didn't expect was their seemingly endless capacity for empathy and warm, human-like fellowship. Thanks to my patient efforts to establish myself as a veritable mainstay, over time the hogs came to accept me as one of their own, letting me participate in their playful mud antics and even granting me my own space at the hallowed drinking trough. Hell, I was eventually bestowed with the honor of being able to sleep among them. Long story, snort. I had become an honorary pig, and I couldn't have been happier. You've heard of living in hog heaven, right? Well, this was more like being on cloud swine.

It all seemed too good to be true, and looking back, I guess it was, because that's when this particular pig tail took a decidedly curly turn. One night, around an hour after I'd fallen asleep in the pig pen, I was awoken by a stranger's voice. What's wrong? Your parents kick you out for the night or something? I bolted up, rubbed my eyes, and suddenly found myself face to face with the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Uh, no. I'd... I just, well, I got off work, and I guess I didn't feel like going home, so I just...

And do you always spend your off hours in such a dignified company? I'm sorry, but who are you? She laughed again as she sat down and revealed that she, too, was employed by the hoggery. I was intrigued because in those days it was unheard of for a girl to land a job as a farm boy. Despite her stunning beauty, she did me the courtesy of pretending to be unremarkable, if only to put me at ease. And while she did have a small birthmark under her left eye, that only served to accentuate her otherwise flawless features. God knows I was inexperienced with women, but I did my best to flirt with her in my own awkward way. Uh, that's a lovely old blouse.

I felt instant regret. She returned my clumsy attempted courtship with a merciful smile. Well, well, I don't know what's fresher. You or all this warm hog manure. It would be wrong for me to go into intimate detail about what happened next. I won't give you the perverse satisfaction of visualizing our two perfect young bodies thrusting wildly against each other in animalistic ecstasy. for hour after hour, heaving and huffing and puffing while a chorus of pigs cheered us on

with encouraging oinks. I'll simply say that it was an exercise in passionate love-making destined to rival that of the gods. When I awoke at dawn, she was nowhere to be seen. Fair enough, I thought. Being a girl, she was probably just trying to maintain the appearance of propriety by rising early and sweeping out the soiled straw from the adjoining pigsty. But as the sunlight poured in, my post-coital smile went flaccid when I realized I was lying uncomfortably close to a giant sleeping hog. A snoring while casually shitting, 600-pound hog that just happened to have a small birth mark below its left eye. Yeah. Maybe it's not so easy to write a sequel to feed the pig.

Maybe Elias Witherow is okay after all. But I've started, so I'll keep writing. And just you wait and see what comes out the other end.