“That’s it, yes, don’t stop,” Colette clucked. “Like that, but harder! Stuff me like I’ve never been stuffed!”
Elvis didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been wanting to shove his porcine pork-sword into Colette since the day they first met, but with that lunatic chef demanding that they all hold up signs for him, he’d never really had the opportunity. But today, Maurice had just finished off an entire bottle of cognac, and was passed out naked in front of the TV… but no, he’s thinking about that chef again, and Colette is right in front of him, begging for it. “Yes! Take it. Take all my meat!”
“Yes! Yes! Harder!”
On the opposite side of the kitchen, Carlton had just finished shoving Maurice’s favorite rolling pin up his own ass and chopping several lines of coke. He snorted one, and then handed the straw to Lola. “Wanna have a line before you suck my dick?”
“Oh, yes please!” she squeaked, and after a quick snort, she was gobbling Carlton’s cock like an especially messy turkey dinner and wrestling with the other end of the rolling pin. Before long, she had pulled away from Carlton’s cock and was maneuvering the other end of the rolling pin into her pussy, working it and Carlton’s ass with her legs.
“Lola!” Elvis yelled.
“Busy right now,” Lola screamed.
“You got any of that coke left?”
“Yeah, come and get it!”
Elvis picked up Colette and walked over, his cock still inside Colette’s cloaca, and held up two straws to his nostrils. In a moment, two of the lines were gone. Once his nose stopped burning, he noticed that Carlton was having a good time, but while his cock was very obviously erect, it was being ignored. “Want a hand with that?” he asked.
“Oh god, yes, jerk me off!”
As Elvis took Carlton’s cock roughly in hand, Colette pulled herself off the pork. In minutes, she had filled Maurice’s favorite pastry bag with warm soapy water, and his favorite marinade injector with olive oil, in preparation for all the things she wanted to do to Elvis’s ass. After placing her cloaca gingerly on top of Lola’s face, she lifted Elvis’s tail, holding the pastry bag up to his asshole, ready to shove it in and squeeze…
…and then she saw Maurice. He was still naked, very drunk, and holding a knife.
Ten very bloody minutes later, Maurice was surrounded by carnage, covered in blood, and very horny. “How dare these animals have an orgy without me,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe I would have liked to join in, but they didn’t think of that, nooooooo!” He looked around at his kitchen. “Now what am I going to do with all these dead animals?”
Colette (and a bit of Elvis) ended up becoming the horniest breaded chicken recipe in the history of breaded chicken recipes.
Lola appears briefly here, hidden among deep fried chili peppers.
Carlton ended up getting sold to a lovesick landlord who was having trouble with her meat pie shop and was thinking of using pussy-cats and toast… but since a pussy’s good for maybe six or seven at the most, she ended up abandoning her idea of using cats in meat pies and made… ahem, other arrangements for obtaining meat. Fortunately for her, her tenant had just developed a taste for murder and seemed to return her affections.