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Red Dead Redemption 2: At the Aberdeen's Pig Farm.	By : Nickamano Category: +M through R > Red Dead Redemption Views: 8720 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Red Dead Redemption 2 and any related materials are not owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

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Red Dead Redemption 2: Arthur Morgan and the Aberdeen Pig Farmers.
By Nickamano.

Disclaimer: I do not own Red Dead Redemption 2 or its characters, props, locations etc. I make no financial gain from the writing of the spoof / fan-fiction story. Video game company 'RockStar Games' is the original creator and all copyrights remain with them.

Tags: Rape, MF, MMMMMF, tit-fuck, oral, anal, micd, viol.

Part one.
Arthur Morgan's first thought having; while roaming the wider Scarlett Meadows countryside; stumbled across the Aberdeen siblings and their old run-down pig farm was loot.
He circled the greyed planked and weathered two-storey farmhouse building, looking at the state of the place; looking at the windows and the doors; looking at the surrounding rolling countryside and the beautifully concealing copses of trees. It all looked promising enough. Easy to get in, plenty of alternate escape routes should he be discovered or stuck inside and then easy to get lost in the countryside once away from the property.
He had a couple of hundred in cash on him and about the same stashed at his wagon back in Dutch's camp, but he could always do with more money. He had just had his favourite Schofield revolver nickel plated and etched with a baroque patterning and now he felt the need for a set of pearl grips to go with it, enlarged to fit his big hand and maybe etched with a carved spread-winged eagle or something.
The fence over in Rhodes had been a great find, taking any and all valuables from Arthur for a fair price and without any question asked. This place could be a little gold mine, or it could be a shit hole like that place north west of Valentine had turned out to be. Some half-drunk booze, an open box of shotgun shells and a basket of apples was all he had managed to scrounge from that place. Oh yeah, plus the rusty old side-by-side that; so far; had misfired more often than shot true.
Arthur drew gently to the side of the reins and steered his beloved alpine haired, black maned Arabian steed toward the farm house, then drew the pretty mare to a halt close to the front porch.
He was aware of the rattlesnake half concealed in a pile of felled rotten branches ten yards away near the garden fence, but he knew the snake was too far away to cause them any harm and that his horse would naturally maintain a safe distance from the venomous serpent.
The outlaw himself had been bitten by rattlesnakes a number of times over the years and was grateful to have just about developed a partial immunity to the venom. It was still an experience to get bitten, it still affected him, sickened him for hours, but it wasn't fatal any longer. Though still best avoided, of course. He wasn't stupid with it.
"Don't be shy, partner..."
The warm friendly drawl emerged sloth-like from the shadows of the veranda a moment before a shadow moved, the shadow followed by a huge man who drew himself out of the swing seat on the porch to the left of the farm house's front door. He was wearing old; stained and patched denim dungarees. His skin was bloated with fat and a mottled and ruddy pink. He had rough, sandy coloured hair, thinning on top and long at the back. His eyes were deep set, glistening and piggy, shadowed by a prominent brow, a wide puffy nose and chubby cheeks. He was somewhere in his thirties Arthur guessed.
The outlaw gave a nonchalant salute in reply; though his eyes studied the man and their surroundings; looking for danger signs. While grinning back; the denim-clad man-whale went on with his oddly over-inviting pleasantries.
"No such thing as a stranger here..." He said.
He smiled warmly at Arthur again, while casting a podgy arm out wide to take in the surrounding land.
"...And... Well, you look like you need to take a load off..."
Just as Arthur was about to reply; intending to voice a polite but unequivocal rebuttal of the man's obvious invitation; the situation changed dramatically.

It changed in the form of a woman. The fat-man's wife Arthur assumed. And it was with surprise because she really was something to behold. Far too good for the likes of the man-whale.
Arthur knew he was staring and probably had an incredulous expression on his face. It was a safe assumption that this woman was the fat-man's wife but how he had managed to snag her was anyone's guess.
Her skin was slightly mottled, ruddy cheeks, and slightly hollow looking eyes but she was still a beauty. Lank; straight brown hair was drawn back into a loose pony tail, loose strands framing an attractive round face. It was a strange face, youthful and yet somewhat drawn by a hard life. One moment she looked older than her perhaps thirty years and then next she looked ten years younger. Oh, and her bosom. Her tits were each as big as her head and jutted prominently. She wore a tattered brown blouse with faded yellow cornrow-like vertical stripes and a plain dull green ankle-length skirt half covered with a dirty green and white checked apron. But half the buttons on her blouse were missing and the weight of those big pendulous tits had forced the half-fastened front to gape, leaving her open and exposed almost down to her navel. There wasn't a whole load of flesh on display, a little less maybe than a saloon whore would reveal, but she was no saloon whore and the view of her illicit on-display cleavage was tantalising. Arthur felt his cock meat filling out and hardening in his rough canvas work pants instantly.
"Well, ain't this a rare treat?" She said, cooing huskily.
The woman's reaction was immediately gratifying to the outlaw - that she acted the part too, lusty and unmistakably flirtatious. The harlot-seductress-farmer's-wife.
She made flamboyant gestures and movements. Her generous mouth formed an alluring smile and her lustrous eyes glinted with an interesting kind of fire that felt enticing and distracting to Arthur. There was something odd about her maybe, but the sheer heated sexuality of her blew out any doubts and; just like the sirens of Greek mythology; she started to draw him in and Arthur happily let her. Despite her husband standing there with a possessive arm around her slender waist.
"Why didn't you tell me we had guests coming?" The woman playfully admonished the man-whale. "I'd've fixed myself up nice."
Her eyes seemed only for Arthur and if she had licked her lips with wanton hunger; he wouldn't have been surprised.
She reminded him of Karen Jones back at the camp. Karen was less seductive and more acidic in her manner, possibly less robust in the sense of tits (possibly). However, unlike this farmer's wife; Karen was a hard woman. Very capable and very vocal and could be downright abrasive, but Arthur had always had a soft spot for Karen. And he had no doubts that Karen could be just as seductive and tempting if the situation required it.
"Aw, now you know you look perfect princess."
The woman's husband ginned, eyeing his female companion obviously, practically ogling her. Finally able to drag his gaze from the woman's cleavage, Arthur managed to find his voice.
"Err, I ain't no guest miss, I'm just passing through." He said.
"Oh nonsense. Well come in and rest a while." The fat man said, taking the reins back and again offering a beckoning arm toward Arthur.
"I'm Bray Aberdeen and this lil cherub is Tammy."
"Pleasure." Arthur managed.
"Now we got food on the stove... And a bottle of the good stuff we been saving." The fat man announced, presenting the icing on the cake, as if that wasn't his wife.
"It's decided then. I'm gonna go and freshen up." She announced, already halfway disappeared inside.
Bray led Arthur in through the centrally situated front door. There was the end of a partition wall facing him as he stepped over the threshold with a large painting of a prim and stern looking woman dressed in black, with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, dark eyes that somewhat resembled Tammy's, though featuring a much sterner expression.
Arthur glanced right as he followed Bray to the left from the front door. To the right was the wide-open doorway into their living room. There was an iron stove; an old couch and a side board; even a sewing machine by the door. However, it was all untidy and dusty; as though rarely used. And the bare wooden floorboards seemed more dusty-grey than polished brown.
To the left; where Bray led him was the dining room which led into the kitchen. There was also a staircase bisecting the ground floor and separating the kitchen and dining rooms from the living room. The partition wall with the painting of the stern woman surrounded those bisecting stairs blocking them in with planks of old greyed wood.
Arthur heard Tammy's boots stamping quickly up the stairs but she had already been out of sight before he found where the stairs were. Arthur paused in the doorway taking a longer glance into the living room and a second look at the painting facing the entryway before he followed the man into the dining room.
Bray was already sitting at his place at the head of the table. It was a small grey thing barely seating four. It was already set for three. Knives and forks and glass tumblers. Though there were only two chairs at the table, the other was to Bray's left facing the door.
"Hey, there he is. Come on in. Come on." Bray welcomed with his usual extravagance.
Arthur kept his eyes focussed but he moved around to the seat on Bray's left. It was his preferred place anyway, facing the entrance and the stairs with his back to the wall by the unlit fireplace. He didn't quite sit down yet, the delicious heated aroma from the kitchen caught his attention.
"I hope she ain't primping for hours up there or we'll never eat!" Bray said, a good-natured admonishment.
Arthur had a horrible flash-image in his head of husband and wife fucking and it turned his stomach. The picture was of Tammy underneath Bray getting dick-slammed, but all that could be seen of her was her spread legs sticking up from around his flab; rocking and kicking to his laboured thrusts and maybe one hand clutching at the blankets beneath her, possibly a hint of brown hair fanned out over a sweat-stained pillow. The rest of her was buried under his sweating; quivering bulk.
Of course, to fuck in reality she would have to be on top it was the only possibility and Arthur found himself picturing another stomach-churning image, the wife riding the man-whale like she was trying to break-in a hippopotamus. Still, at least the latter image had her luscious, huge tits bouncing around all over the place.
Arthur's unpleasant yet comical imageries were chopped through by something Bray was saying to him, just as he pulled his chair back to take his place at the dining table.
"Go check on her, will you?"
Arthur was too shocked at first to say anything in reply.
"Just go and hurry her up a little, she won't listen to me! Go on partner, she won't mind!"
"Me?"
"Well sure!" The overweight farmer replied with glee, as if it was the most natural request to make.
Arthur was obviously suspicious and mentally questioned the whole situation but at the same time he was being controlled by his dick, which was currently a repressed solid lump of sexual need lodged awkwardly in his canvas pants.
He headed up the stairs at once, taking only every other step and cutting down the travelling time by half. He could hear Tammy singing softly to herself through the door on the left at the top of the stairs and he walked straight in.
He was barely aware of the double bed against the left wall; flanked by nightstand tables and another small table opposite, or the dresser with its extravagant framed almost full-length mirror in the corner; shoved into the corner opposite the doorway he was standing in. His attention was instead snatched completely by what stood in front of that mirror and was reflected in it. The husband's voice floated up from downstairs, the words barely soaking through Arthur's lust addled attention.
"Would you just pop your head around the door? Or we won't be eating 'till Christmas!"
Instead of answering, Arthur deliberately pushed the bedroom door securely shut with his boot heel.
Tammy was standing there with her back to him, reflected in the mirror, her blouse completely unbuttoned and untucked and there was definitely nothing under it. She was halfway through squirting something perfumed out of a tiny glass bottle with a little rubber squeezer attached to it via a tube.
She gasped when she saw him and spun on her booted heel. Her huge unadorned breasts shook deliciously beneath; unconfined and yet still concealed; as she spun to face him. Arthur gulped at the lump in his throat, but it was the other lump in his pants that Tammy was focussed on. She finally lifted her wide eyes to his, but it was still a struggle to meet her gaze. There was that sultry little half-smile on her face again alongside the blush that had spread across her cheeks.
"Oh well, look who it is. You are hungry, ain't you?"
Not for food - he wanted to say. Instead he silently crossed the room; moving as quickly as he could without running and grabbed her firmly by her slender upper arms. He wasn't sure if she would kiss him or scream for her husband; but at that moment he didn't care.
"It's alright. Looking ain't a crime." She whispered with that seductive half-smile and half lidded eyes that were smouldering like hot coals at a camp fire.
Arthur couldn't hold back another second. He pulled her hard against his broad chest; keeping a tight grip on her upper arms and forced his thin lips onto her soft plump ones.
It felt amazing, the softness and damp heat of her, the little gasping; moaning breath she let out as he forced the kiss on her. She tasted of cherries and smelled of rosewater, he kissed her harder still, his stubbled skin scratching at her soft smoothness. Her little moans became a whimper of discomfort but he didn't care. He pulled her harder against him, enjoying the warmth and intimate softness of her body against his hard; wiry self.
Part of his brain was still thinking defensively and he assured himself that both the hammer loops were secure over the Schofield at his right hip and the 'Army' length Cattleman in the off-hand holster at his left hip; that would surely be digging uncomfortably into her ribs. If she did try to snatch for either .45, the loops securing both six-guns in their holsters wouldn't make it easy for her.
But that was enough of that kind of thinking. He parted his lips against hers and his tongue shoved unceremoniously forward, pressing between her pursed lips and penetrating her mouth. He was gratified to find her teeth weren't in the way and she was kind of panting around his kiss, her tongue came forward to meet his and she started to return his hot passion degree for degree. So, Arthur forced it further still. Taken in by his lust he mashed her mouth with his, feeding her as much of his long; thick tongue as he could. He caught her responding tongue between his lips and sucked at it, drank in her saliva, gently nipped at her tongue with his teeth, before invading her mouth deeply with his tongue again.
Maintaining the frolicking; hungry; urgent French kiss, Arthur released his grip on her upper arms and sought out those fantastic tits. Finding the unfastened flaps of her blouse at her upper chest; he followed the feel of flesh and fabric down over the rapid bulges of the upper curves of her bosom. Fingers and palms caressed hot skin and thin cotton until the main jut of her warm; soft tits were under his sweating palms. Hardened nipples, hot like freshly fired .45 slugs burned under his excited fingertips.
With a gasp, she whipped her mouth from his and leaned her upper body back. Even pinned against the dressing table as she was; she stared up at him, her own lust making her wide eyes glassy. A half smile on her saliva slick lips; she wiped the excess drool away as he continued to maul her huge bosom regardless.
"You're a feisty one." She chided, gently reaching up to pull his hands from her breasts.
Of course, Arthur wasn't having any of it. He slapped her hands away and grabbed her breasts more firmly, cupping; lifting and hefting them, judging weight and fullness while his fingers sank into soft; pliant flesh. His desire for her brought out a barely restrained cruelty that emerged in the harsh molestation of her bosom. Hissing with discomfort, Tammy tried to shake him off.
"Hey, hey. Slow it down there. Plenty of time for that..." She chided him again, more seriously this time.
Fortunately for her, this time he listened. He released her and stepped back; panting and growling slightly in his still smouldering volcanic lust. She immediately stepped forward maintaining their previous proximity; and the promise of more.
"'Never rush a good time' my Pa always told me. Rest his soul." She said, her voice dropping to that seductive whisper again.
Then she stepped outside of his circle of lust and started to loosen the waist band of her skirts, her attention now solely on getting changed. It was abrupt, like he was no longer in the room. Dismissive.
"You go on and have a seat at the table, I'll be down in a minute." She cast him over her shoulder, a half-glance at him in the mirror.
Even with the sudden coldness, he could see the lust was still there in her eyes and her face was flushed. Knowing there was indeed more on offer, Arthur happily headed back down stairs.
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Red Dead Redemption 2: At the Aberdeen's Pig Farm.