Money was hard to come by.  Well, it was for Victor at least.  Hardly anybody was hiring nearby, and the ones that were still haven’t called back.  To his great dismay, the owl would do almost anything for money at this point. That’s where the Housekeeping Company comes in.  They specialize in, well, maid work.  Hiring just about anyone, they work on commissions for whoever needs their home cleaned, garden done, and just about anything needed around the house.  Now that wasn’t what makes the job a last resort, not in the slightest.  The main caveat is the ‘request’ feature.  Customers are allowed to, for a fee, request certain things of their hires.  As you can guess, this is used in the most obvious of ways.  Employees could opt out of these, but those who do miss out on a hefty bonus proportional to the amount of requests.

All that said, his need for the sweet green is what led to him standing outside a house, completely dressed in a classic french maid outfit.  Face red, he tugs his frilly skirt down in hopes of hiding his exposed legs.  As requested, he was only allowed a (very skimpy) pair of panties beneath.  Due to his avian figure, the typical high heels were forgone, one of the few blessings.  There were other requests; the client was apparently loaded, but he paid the “secret fee”, as it’s known to the maids, to keep it hidden from him.  That was a bit rare, but some of the more wealthy clientele seemed to enjoy making their temporary servants squirm as the details are revealed.  

Strangely, despite the client’s obvious wealth, the home is quite average.  Well, aside from the fairly remote location.  While not in the distant country, it’s at least a couple miles from the nearest neighbor.  Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door, ringing the doorbell afterwards.  His body shakes with each passing second, anxiety running rampant through his head.  Victor only had one call before, and it was from some millionaire’s son.  Nothing too lewd happened, and it seemed more like he was getting off on lording his status and money over him.  If anything, he was a bit irritated during the whole session.  Luckily, as expected, the bonus pay was incredible.  His thoughts are interrupted as the door creaks open.  He goes into his regular spiel,

“Hello, sir, I am from Lovely Homes Housekeeping.  My name is Victor and I will be—” he starts, only to be cut off.

“I know who ya are, kid.  Come in.”  The voice is thick with a southern drawl, not too uncommon given the area.  The owner, however, is nothing like the skinny rich boy.  Hell, he looked almost the exact opposite.  A pig, towering over the owl, and twice as heavy at least.  Again, his money seems to betray his look, as he’s clothed in a very stained white tank top and grey sweatpants.  Judging by the, ahem, lump, he doesn’t seem to be wearing anything else.  The door shuts with a slam, a click sounding as it’s locked shut.

“As I was, uh, saying,” Victor sputters, trying to get his script back on track, “Most of your requests were hidden Mister…”

“Johnson.  But you won’t be calling me that.”  He trudges deeper in, the avian following reluctantly.  The deeper he goes, the dirtier the house seems to get.  While not to the level of some he’s seen on TV, it’s still pretty damn filthy.  Empty bottles, takeout boxes, newspaper, and piles of dirty clothes litter the home as the pig makes his way to what seems like a living room.  Sitting on a couch placed against the back wall, he grins, legs spread wide.  “As I specified, you’re gonna be callin’ me Master.”

The owl freezes.  He’d expected some... lewd intentions, as those came with the territory, but it still came as a surprise.  “Uh, alright M-Master.”

The pig laughs, a dirty grin on his face, “Well?  Get to work, maid.  There’s a lot for you to get done.”  The visible bulge in his pants twitches as the sweatpants fail to hide it.

Gulping, he gets to work.  Setting his supplies down, he pulls out a trash bag and starts to collect the various pieces of trash strewn about.  The pig’s eyes burn into him, the overweight male staring down his ‘catch’.  Not exactly wanting to kneel on the dubiously stained floor, Victor bends over to pick up an empty chinese takeout box, unwittingly exposing his panty-clad rump to the pig.  With a grin and a deep chuckle, he reaches out a large, callused hand and gropes the rear.

The owl lets out a shriek, jumping at the touch, “S-sir!”  He tries to pull away, but is kept in place by the hands on his behind.  “P-please let me go, I-I can’t keep cleaning like this…”

“Oh no,” the pig replies, slipping a finger under the underwear, tugging at it with a laugh, “Another request, you do what I tell you.  And what I’m telling you is underwear is banned.”  With a pull, he yanks the garment down, revealing the bird’s unmentionables.  Thankfully, due to his species, his, front parts, are hidden within a slit. Unable to fight back, both because of the size difference and the threat of losing his pay, he obeys.  The pig slips Victor’s panties off and tosses them aside into one of the clothing piles.  “Now, continue.”

Face now a consistent tint of red, he gets back to his job.  As much as he tries to avoid doing it, bending over seems to be unavoidable.  Each time he bends down, even as he tries to hide himself, the pig lets out a groan.  A couple times Victor manages to catch him in the corner of his eye, seeing him visibly groping himself as he watches.  It’s almost like he wants to be seen.

It takes a bit, even longer with the embarrassment factored in, but he manages to finally finish cleaning up the trash in this room alone.  “Three bags.  Jesus…” he mutters, setting them in the kitchen to be tossed later.  That done, next up is…

“Hey maid, come over here.” the client calls, the bulge in his pants much more pronounced.  Patting his fat leg, he grins, “Have a seat, boy.  Got somethin’ I need you to do.”  He leans back, arms on the back of the tattered sofa.  With no other choice, Victor obeys.  The thigh is soft and, despite the reluctance, is surprisingly comfortable.

“Okay, uh, Master.  Is there something you wanted?”

With no warning, the larger man grabs the male’s head and shoves it into his armpit, clamping down the arm to trap him in there.  “Get to cleaning!” he laughs, the owl squirming as he tries to escape.  His nostrils are assaulted by the dank, musky scent of his unwashed underarm.

“S-sir!  Let me go!” he pleads, starting to panic.  To his dismay, he finds himself hopelessly trapped.

“If you want out, you gotta lick these puppies clean!”

The stench is dense and strong, sweat and musk hitting hard as the male weighs his options.  The pig was clearly loaded, so any sort of resistance would probably result in a lack of pay, or even worse.  Rather hesitantly, he opens his beak, slipping his long thin tongue out and pressing it to the hairy underarm.  It hits just as hard as the scent, salty and thick.  Tears leak out of his face as his eyes burn, despite being squeezed shut.  It’s difficult, but he manages to choke down the musky juices as he unwillingly tongue-bathes the porcine pit.

Mr Johnson, not happy to just torture the poor boy, lets his free hand wander down the maid’s back, flipping his dress up to reveal his brown-feathered rear.  The calloused hand gropes and kneads the plump ass, drawing out whimpers from its owner.  Sliding down more, he slips a finger over the owl’s slit, “Now what’s this then?  You got a pussy, boy?” he laughs, knowing full well he can’t answer.  The thick digit pushes its way in, causing a muffled yelp from the trapped avian.  It doesn’t feel bad per-say, moreso unexpected.  Roughly, he starts fingering the hole as Victor squirms.  It doesn’t go on for long, however, as something starts to emerge, pushing out the invading finger.  His cock, fleshy pink and tapered, stands out and hard.  “Hello there…” he mumbles.  With a devilish grin, the pig releases his prisoner.

Coughing, Victor falls back onto the floor, looking up at his ‘Master’.  He could run, he could quit, but something, not just the money, kept him there.  In his fall, the dress fell right back into place, albeit with a very lewd tent.  “W-what is wrong with you!” he sputters, trying (and failing) to cover himself.

Eyes locked on his quarry, the pig tugs down his sweatpants, letting his whopping 9 inch cock bounce free.  It’s thick as all hell, almost as thick as a soda can.  “Come here, boy.  I know you’ve been lookin’.”  Victor, audibly gulping, crawls up to the couch and places himself between the massive and hairy pink legs, face to face with the beast this pig had hidden.  “Y’know, I haven’t had the time to wash up.  Think y’can do that for me?  Start here.”

Large hand grabbing the owl’s head, he shoves it against his heavy sack.  The musk is heavy, just like the rest of him, but far thicker.  Tongue snaking back out, he drags it across the underside of his balls.  Audibly slurping, he suckles at the hefty orbs as the owner begins to stroke his heavy member, foreskin sliding over the tip as he openly moans, head rolling back in ecstasy.  Tugging at his headfeathers, he yanks Victor up and away, pressing him against the shaft.  “Get this nice and clean, maid.  It’s all you’re getting.”  The implication is obvious to the owl, which makes him get right on it.

Starting with the tip, he lets his tongue slide under the foreskin.  This may have been a mistake.  The sheer concentrated musk hits like a truck, causing him to gag.  Pulling away wasn’t an option, so he carried on despite this.  Taking a deep breath, and being as careful as possible, he slides the member into his maw.  The warm, wet cavern of his mouth is absolutely heavenly to Johnson as he groans even louder. “Fuck!  You sure you ain’t really a whore?”  His hand pushes down, forcing more and more of the greasy, sweaty cock down his throat.  Despite all the abuse, Victor’s own erection hasn’t gone down.  In fact, he seems to be getting more turned on.  Pre drips from the tapered tip, a dark stain appearing on his outfit as he continues to blow his Master.  As the hand lets up, he begins to slowly bob his head, getting lower and lower until his beak presses against his filthy pubes.  His tongue isn’t left out either, wrapping around the shaft and moving just behind it, almost like a spring.

Once it’s nice and wet, the pig pushes him off, grabbing his head and tilting it up to look him in the eye, “Be truthful now, kid.  You’re lovin’ this aren’t you?”

Was he?  Yeah it was humiliating, degrading, and even disgusting, but that wasn’t too bad, right?  Swallowing his pride, he gives his true answer:

“Y-yes, Master.”

He grins, “Good boy.  Get up here.”  Sliding his hands under his shoulder, he places the owl on his lap, cock right between his cheeks.  “Hope you lubed it up good, boy, cause that’s all you’re gettin’!”  With a grunt, he lifts Victor up, cock aimed square at his hole, and begins to lower him.

Pain.  That’s the first thing to hit.  It’s like a baseball bat is being shoved inside him, stretching him to his limit.  Sure, he’d taken a knot or two before, but this?  It was like his whole cock was a knot.  Despite this, he lets out a whimpering moan, more pre spurting onto his skirt.  Any other screams are swiftly muffled as the pig leans in to give a lust filled kiss.  His snout presses to his beak, almost surrounding it with his own mouth.  Thick tongue sliding out, it overpowers Victor’s with no trouble at all.

The pain subsides about halfway down, pleasure overtaking it little by little until, 

“Ah~!”

He hits the sweet spot as Victor’s member throbs in pleasure.  The kiss broken, he leans against his Master’s fat belly, sliding deeper and deeper down, cock rubbing against his prostate as it goes.  Upon reaching the bottom, he lets out a relieved sigh.  Of course, as he knows, this is just the start.  Hands around his hips, the pig slowly lifts the moaning owl up before slamming him back down, causing him to yelp in pleasure.  “M-Master!” he groans, skirt hiked up to show his cock.  Upon hearing the title moaned, he repeats the action, this time pulling him more off.  This, as expected, pulls another moan from Victor.  Each moan triggers another thrust, which triggers another moan…  After a few repetitions, the owl is little more than aroused putty in his hands.  Each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through him, he lays against his client, panting like an overheated dog.  “O-oh fuck!” he whines, hips unconsciously thrusting, “P-please…”

“Not now, boy.  Master cums first, you understand?”  He punctuates with a thrust, “Beg for me and maybe I’ll let you cum too.”

Unable to handle much more, he obeys, “Please, Master!  C-cum in me!”  His words are stuttered with moans and gasps, “I-I want your seed in me!”  It’s horrifically embarrassing to say.  Or at least, it would be if he wasn’t already a mess of lust and want.  The pig, having gotten what he wanted, grins.

“Alright, here it comes!”  With a loud moan, he slams Victor down one last time, hips bucking as he unleashes an incredible orgasm.  Thick, hot ropes of his dirty seed flood the boy’s insides, coloring them a yellowed white.  The sheer volume of it makes the slut of a maid’s belly bulge out, looking as if he’s been knocked up by the horny porcine.  The warm, filling feeling pushes him over the edge, cock throbbing as it spits a far smaller load between the pair, most of it landing on the (now stained) black dress.  As his meager orgasm ends, the pig shows no signs of stopping soon. Not wishing to burst, the owl slips off, getting back between his thighs.  Taking grip of the still-cumming shaft, he aims it at himself, mouth open.  As dirty-looking as its source, the yellowed milky-white seed quickly covers the owl’s face, staining his attire even more.  Those that end up in his mouth are eagerly swallowed as he revels in the thick, salty, gooey taste.  It ends, slowly dying off.  Now, finally spent, the pig stands up with a groan, “Y’did good kid.”

He leads him into the kitchen, opening a drawer and pulling out an envelope.  He shoves it into Victor’s hand and ushers him to the door.  “See ya next time, boy.”  Rather unceremoniously, he slams the door shut behind him, leaving the owl outside with no underwear and dripping with cum from both ends.  Looking down, he opens the envelope.  What’s inside makes him freeze.

Money.  A few stacks of hundreds, each one being a thousand at least.  And, judging by the pig’s last words, he might be a repeat customer.  Grinning, he heads to his car.  This could be a lucrative relationship...