Black cop Abel, his partner and soon other abducted officers make their way in the trunk of a car across the border.

This Little Piggy Went to the Market - Chapters 5 & 6
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

piggyCHAPTER 7

Abel wriggled around inside the cramped trunk, struggling to free his hogtied limbs. His flesh erupted in a cold sweat. He fought to steady his breath. Tight spaces made his skin crawl.

One of the first things they taught at the academy was never rush into a crime scene without backup, but he could never ignore a crying baby. Nelly, the force shrink, said that kids in danger triggered his abandonment issues. Considering he had gotten left on the stoop of a police station when he was only three days old that made sense.
Did a human trafficking ring that targeted law enforcement really exist? Who would support such a perverse venture? How would the perps evade arrest? Crimes involving fellow officers mobilized the force like nothing else. None of this added up. Yet, here he and his partner lay, trussed naked inside the trunk of a speeding limousine bound for God knows where.

Every fiber of his being screamed do not take this bullshit, resist, fight back, but he dared not jeopardize the safety of Kaila and the girls. They were his family. He loved them more than life itself.

He and his partner writhed around inside the steamy trunk for a long while, fidgeting with their bonds. His head throbbed, his extremities tingled, his bloated bladder ached so badly he could hardly think straight.

Worse even than the physical pain was the shame of having gotten jumped and assaulted in the line of duty. The situation had gone south fast, but that did not excuse his impulsiveness.

The limousine slowed and turned right. They drove a few miles further and swerved left. He and his partner piled against one another. The car rumbled along a rutted road a while and pulled over to park.

Doors slammed. The trunk popped. A cool breeze rushed inside. “Let’s go, hog snogs, time is money.” Abel recognized Raul by his snide tone. He and his partner got dragged out and pitched to the ground. “You squealers got ten minutes to do your business.”
Abel rolled up onto his shins and peed so hard his urethra burned. Without the use of his hands, and unable to see what he was doing, his aim was for shit. Piss pooled around his knees. His bowels gurgled. He grimaced and squeezed out a mushy turd. His kidnappers wiped his crack with clumps of damp grass. He warmed all over.

The tape peeled from his mouth. He winced. A plastic bottle brushed his lips. He gulped cool water. Fresh tape sealed his mouth. His kidnappers hefted his ass inside the trunk.
The brutes shouted in Spanish. Leather smacked flesh. His partner squealed and farted a real stinker. The pricks cheered.

Moments later, the groaning rookie landed atop his back, crushing his limbs and knocking the wind out of his lungs. The lid slammed shut. Doors banged. The engine turned over, and they drove away.

He wormed from beneath his partner and fumbled with his bonds. If he could just get the largest knot loose, he could at least free his trussed hands from his bound feet and stretch the cramps from his calves.

The limousine drove for hours, until his fingers and toes fell asleep. His mind drifted off to the amusement park with Kaila and the girls. They lined up for the roller coaster. His family loved coasters. The car lurched. He shot back inside the trunk. The lid popped. Cicadas hummed.

The kidnappers hauled he and McGee out and demanded they do their business. He lost his balance and toppled over onto his side. Piss streamed down his thigh. The brutes wrestled he and his partner back inside the trunk.

The limousine pulled out and drove a short way, then stopped. Attendants shouted. Gasoline rush inside the fuel tank.

Afterward, the limousine drove through a fast-food restaurant. The intercom crackled. The kidnappers placed their order. The car pulled forward. They picked up their food.
Abel smelled greasy hamburgers. His mouth watered. He had not eaten for two days now. His bowels rumbled. He farted a real stinker. Bile burned the back of his throat.
The limousine hit the highway and drove until he got so lightheaded he lost focus. His thoughts drifted home. He asked the Lord to keep his family safe and prayed for the strength and wisdom to bear whatever came his way.

The limousine pulled over. The trunk popped. A warm sage-infused breeze tickled his clammy flesh. He and his partner got lugged out. Someone strong pinned his arms back while he pissed. He gulped down two bottles of much-appreciated water and got dumped inside the trunk. Seconds later, his partner’s stinky butt landed on his face. He recoiled to the side with a groan. The lid slammed shut, and they were on the road again.

Based on the heat and dust, his best guess was that they had traveled south out of Chicago and were somewhere in Texas. They might indeed be headed for the border.


Abel jolted awake. He must have dozed off. Doors slammed. Men shouted in Spanish. The trunk popped.

“Let’s go, hog snogs,” Raul said.

Scuffling and grousing ensued. A sweaty naked fellow landed atop Abel and his partner. Seconds later, another followed suit. Abel wondered what the heck was going on. The lid banged shut. Doors opened and closed. The engine turned over, and they were on the road again.

Between the heat outside and the warmth generated from now four musky bodies, Abel found it difficult to breath. It crossed his mind their kidnappers might ditch the car in the desert and leave their asses locked inside the trunk to bake to death. He frantically clawed at the ropes binding his hands to his feet, same as he had done for hours now. This time the big knot gave enough to where he could worm a finger between the snug strands. He pried until he got his trussed hands freed from his bound feet and stretched his legs. A charley horse rocked his calf. He winced and clutched his shin.
The limousine slowed to a halt. Other engines rumbled nearby. An occasional horn honked.

Abel tugged at his bonds until he got his hands and feet loose, and ripped the tape from his mouth, biting his lip to squelch a yelp. He peeled the tape from his eyes and blinked until his vision cleared. In the dim glow of the taillights he made out the silhouettes of two naked fellows trussed like pretzels. The slim older white guy with the trim dark hair looked late thirties, early forties. The younger fellow with the spiked black hair appeared around his height, but closer to McGee in age.

“This is Officer Robert Abel, Chicago PD.” Abel banged his fists against the side of the trunk. “My partner and me, and two other guys are locked inside this trunk. Arrest those perps and get us out of here.”

The limousine pulled forward and lurched to a halt. The door on the driver’s side opened. Male voices shouted in Spanish and guffawed. The limousine rocked.
Abel kicked his heels against the lid. “Goddammit, help us! They’re kidnapping police officers. Open the trunk. You’ll see.”

Raul banged back and shouted in Spanish. Several men chuckled. The car door slammed. The limousine lurched forward and sped off down the highway.

Abel figured they had crossed into Mexico. Their kidnappers had probably bribed those agents to ignore his cries. He wondered who else might be on the thugs’ payroll.
He peeled the tape from his partner’s eyes and mouth, ripping out several strands of ginger hair. The rookie hollered for help. “Calm down, Connor. Everything will be okay,” he said, although he did not believe his own bullshit. “Help me free these guys.”
McGee snapped to attention and untied the younger fellow while Abel peeled the tape from the older one’s mouth. The pale guy winced and groaned. “Where the fuck are we?”

Abel shrugged. “My best guess, somewhere in Mexico.” He freed the guy’s hands. “Depends on where we crossed the border.”

“Agent Dan Logan, FBI.” The fed untied his feet and massaged his rope-burned ankles.

“Officer Robert Abel, Chicago PD. This is my partner, Officer Connor McGee.”

The limousine lurched upward. Abel hugged the side of the trunk. His fellow officers tumbled into a pile, grunting and groaning, and untangled their limbs.

“Trooper Nathan Santos, CHP,” the younger guy with the almond-shaped eyes said, his voice a hoarse rasp. “Fuck, my head hurts.” He tapped a huge purple and green knot on his forehead and winced. Scrapes and bruises covered his sturdy shoulders. “I was cruising down I-8 on my Harley when I blew a tire and got thrown. Next thing I know, I’m rolling around in the bed of a pickup truck butt-naked and trussed like a pig for slaughter. Now, I’m here.”

Santos rolled over. Someone had carved “Road Hog” into his smooth chest. The scabs looked fresh.

Abel winced. “Who cut on you?”

Santos glanced down and gasped. “No clue. Must have happened when I blacked out. No wonder my chest stung so badly.”

“Damn, son,” Logan said. “I hope that doesn’t get infected.”

Santos groaned. “You and me both.”

Logan nudged Abel. “So, you figure we’re in Mexico somewhere?”

Abel nodded. “Somewhere between Juarez and Matamoros.”

Santos farted. Everyone chuckled, which lightened the mood for a moment.
Abel explained how he and McGee came to be in this predicament, omitting the more shameful bits.

Logan shared he had gotten set up in Phoenix while searching for a missing member of his team. From the way the fed stammered, Abel suspected the guy had gotten sodomized as well but, same as he, felt embarrassed to cop to the shame out loud.
McGee whimpered. “They’re gonna kill us, aren’t they?”

“No one is killing anyone,” Logan said. “My team will find us. They’re the goddamn FBI. The best of the best.”

That the cocky fed had gotten kidnapped while searching for another missing agent did not inspire confidence. If they were in Mexico, however, the bureau might be their only hope.

For now at least they were on their own and needed a plan. He said as much. Logan insisted they wait for his team. McGee lamented he was too young to die. Santos championed fighting their way out.

Their heavily armed kidnappers seemed poised to shoot at the least provocation. They had a few strands of rope and their frazzled wits. They needed a miracle.


1 Comment

  1. 31118azti - April 2, 2020, 12:28 pm

    Four naked men in the trunk of a car, yikes, I am surprised no one got an erection!

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