Chapter 2: Building Tension
Jack's dreams over the next few nights were ones where he had become quiet the hog.
He had a round, jiggling belly, and a thick, veiny cock that jutted obscenely from his bloated body. He was surrounded by women, all of them beautiful and all of them eager to please him. They rubbed his belly, stroked his cock, and kissed his lips, all while whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He was happy. He was content. He was a hog.
A big, round, jiggling hog of a man, and he loved every second of it. His belly was a massive, swollen thing, round and smooth like a balloon, and his cock was thick and veiny, jutting obscenely from his bloated body.
He was surrounded by gorgeous women who splayed themselves of statues of morbidly obese Boars, Bulls, Cocks and Clydesdales.
They all had large breasts, wide hips, and narrow waists. They all had long, thick hair that cascaded down their backs in waves of dark and light. They all had full, pouty lips that were painted a deep, glossy red, and their eyes were a striking shade of green, bright and mischievous. They all had long, toned legs that ended in a pair of scuffed work boots, and their bodies were toned and muscular, with curves in all the right places.
They chatted softly among themselves, and ran their hands over Jack's hog belly.
"Men Are Such Pigs"
"Only the biggest fattest pigs are worth anything."
"The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"So a woman has a easier time into the heart of a man with a huge stomach."
The dream women murmured, pleasuring Jack.
Their fingers traced the swollen curves of his belly, their nails scraping lightly against his skin. He groaned, his cock twitching between his legs, his balls heavy and full. The women giggled, their eyes gleaming with mischief as they leaned in, their lips brushing against his ear.
"Such a good little pig," one of them purred, her breath hot against his skin. "So big, so round, so *full*."
Jack groaned, his hips bucking as their fingers traced the outline of his cock, their nails scraping lightly against the thick, veiny shaft.
"His ears, nose and tail are all coming in nicely." One purred.
"You're such a good little pig," another whispered, her fingers tracing the swollen curves of his belly.
Jack moaned, his cock twitching between his legs, his boar balls heavy and full.
"His ears, nose, and tail are all coming in nicely," another whispered, her fingers tracing the soft, pink flesh of his growing snout.
Two of the dream women sat down in front of him, showing their perfect asses to him as they sat on their feet. Their round, plump asses swaying to entice Jack.
Another woman, extremely well endowed, shimmed up to jack from behind, placing his head in between her massive tits.
"Lean back, Jack." She ordered. He obeyed.
The woman’s massive tits engulfed his face, her soft, warm flesh pressing against his cheeks as she held him tight. The scent of her skin—sweet and musky—filled his nose, making his head swim. He could feel her nipples hardening against his skin, her breath hot against his neck as she leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"You’re such a good little pig," she cooed, her voice dripping with honeyed praise. "You’re going to be so big and fat for us. So round and juicy. Just like the statues."
Jack moaned, his cock throbbing between his legs. A forth woman, planted herself in between Jacks legs and started to play with his cock.
She was a stunningly beautiful woman, with long, thick hair that cascaded down her back in waves of dark and light. She had large breasts, wide hips, and narrow waist. She had full, pouty lips that were painted a deep, glossy red, and her eyes were a striking shade of green, bright and mischievous. She had long, toned legs that ended in a pair of scuffed work boots, and her body was toned and muscular, with curves in all the right places.
She leaned down, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, her breath hot against his skin.
"You're such a good little pig," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed temptation. Jack groaned, his hips bucking as her tongue flicked out, tracing the thick, veiny shaft of his cock. The woman between his legs giggled, her fingers tracing the swollen curves of his belly, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. "Such a good little pig," she cooed, her voice dripping with honeyed praise. "You're going to be so big and fat for us. Jack moaned, his cock throbbing between his legs, his boar balls heavy and full.
The woman who's tits he was seated in, placed something in his mouth.
"Eat, pig." She said softly.
Jack felt the soft, warm flesh of her breast press against his lips. He opened his mouth and took her nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The woman moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair. "That's it, little pig. Suck my tits. You're such a good boy." The woman above him cooed, her fingers tightening in his hair as she guided his mouth to her nipple. Jack sucked eagerly, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak, his cock throbbing between his legs. The woman between his thighs giggled, her fingers tracing the swollen curves of his belly, her nails scraping lightly against his skin.
"Such a good little pig," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed temptation.
Jack moaned, as the woman between his legs wrapped her mouth around his engorged cock.
Her lips were soft and warm, her tongue swirling around the thick shaft as she took him deep into her throat. Jack’s hips bucked, his cock throbbing as she sucked him eagerly, her fingers tracing the swollen curves of his belly, her nails scraping lightly against his skin.
His mouth was still full of the milk of the large chested woman. With each swallow, it seemed like more milk poured into his mouth, which he dutifully swallowed, leading to his belly which was starting to swell.
Jack felt his stomach distend, his waistline expanding as he drank. The two women showing their asses swayed and giggled as they saw their little pig fatten and grow.
Their asses jiggled with each movement, their plump cheeks clenching and unclenching as they teased Jack. The woman between his legs continued to suck his cock, her lips stretched wide around his thick shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive underside. Jack groaned, his hips bucking as she took him deeper, her fingers tracing the swollen curves of his belly, her nails scraping lightly against his skin.
The woman above him, her massive tits still engulfing his face, cooed softly, her fingers tightening in his hair.
Jack swelled, his belly, already huge, swelled and bloated with milk.
His stomach distended, his waistline expanding as he drank.
His stomach distended, his waistline expanding as he drank. The sensation was not a dream. He awoke with a sharp gasp, his body slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his thickening waist. His hands flew to his abdomen, which now swelled in a soft, undeniable curve over his hips.
The moonlight through his window illuminated a new, palpable heaviness. He staggered from the bed, his balance slightly off, and stood before the dusty mirror. The reflection showed a stranger—his face was fuller, his cheeks rounder, and a distinct, soft paunch pushed against his undershirt. He turned, seeing the beginnings of a swell in his ass, the fabric of his pajama pants straining. A low, confused groan escaped him.
A knock at his front door shattered the silence. He pulled on a robe, its belt now struggling to meet around his middle. Sara stood on his porch, a woven basket hooked over her arm, her smile sharp and knowing in the predawn gloom. "You look like you had a rough night," she said, her eyes roaming his changed silhouette without a trace of surprise. "I brought breakfast."
She pushed past him, the scent of rendered fat, honey, and deep-fried dough wafting from the basket. His stomach growled, a loud, insistent roar that echoed in the quiet cottage. "I... I don't understand what's happening," Jack stammered, his voice tight with panic and a dark, thrilling curiosity.
"You're acclimating," Sara said simply, unpacking a plate piled with glistening sausage patties, biscuits drowning in gravy, and a stack of pancakes dripping with syrup. "The local proteins, the grains, the water—it's all very rich. It agrees with some men more than others." She patted his belly, digging her hand under his robe and pulling it apart, exposing his belly as her eyes went wide with delight. "It really agrees with you, my good little pig."
He wanted to protest, to demand scientific explanations, but the smell of the food overwhelmed him. He sat and ate, shoveling the rich, heavy food into his mouth with a speed that horrified some distant, fading part of his mind. Each bite seemed to melt directly into his cells, a warm, spreading satisfaction that radiated from his core. He could feel himself expanding, the sea of his pants growing tauter.
Sara watched, one hand idly stroking his shoulder. "Good boy," she murmured. "Fill up. Make room for more."
When the plate was clean, he was breathing heavily, his new gut a tight, rounded dome under the fabric. A profound, prickling heat spread through his loins. Sara saw it, her green eyes gleaming. She stood and took his hand, leading him back to the disheveled bed. "Lie back," she instructed, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Let's see what all that good food is fueling."
He obeyed, sinking into the mattress, which groaned beneath his increased weight. Sara peeled the robe off, exposing his body. His cock, thick and flushed, lay hard against the swell of his lower belly. She whistled low. "Getting there," she said, her fingers tracing the line where his hip used to be. "But you've got a long way to go, piggy."
Her touch was electric. She climbed atop him, her lithe frame a contrast to his softening form. She didn’t kiss him. Instead, she positioned herself over his aching cock, her cunt already wet. He could see the glistening pink folds before she lowered herself onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.
"Fuck," Jack gasped, his back arching. She was impossibly tight and searing hot. She began to move, not with romantic grace, but with a steady, grinding rhythm designed to milk him.
"Yeah, that's it," Sara grunted, her hands planted on his chest, her nails biting into his flesh. "You just lie there and get fat. Let me do the work." Her hips pistoned, taking him deep, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Each time she came down, his belly jiggled, a soft, quivering mass between them.
He was transfixed by the sight—her toned stomach, the sway of her tits, and below, the obscene junction where his body was vanishing into hers. The pleasure was a thick, relentless tide. "I can feel you getting heavier," she moaned, riding him harder. "I can feel this fucking bed bending. Give it to me. Fill me up, you hungry pig."
Her words detonated in his brain. His hands grabbed the swell of her ass, pulling her down onto him with a force that made her cry out. His orgasm built not from passion, but from a deep, animalistic drive to spill, to spread, to seed. He erupted inside her with a ragged shout, his hips bucking off the bed, his swollen belly shuddering.
Sara clenched around him, milking every pulse, her own climax a sharp, shuddering series of cries. She collapsed onto his chest, his softening cock still inside her, both of them slick with sweat. He could feel a strange, pulling ache in his bones, a tingling across his skin.
As they caught their breath, the changes began in earnest. A visible ripple passed over his abdomen. It expanded, the skin turning pink, stretching with a soft sigh, rounding outward like rising dough. The fat on his sides thickened, spilling over the edges of the mattress. His chest broadened, becoming heavier, his pecs softening into a substantial, jiggling mass.
"What's... happening?" Jack panted, watching in awe as his body continued to grow.
"Shhh," Sara whispered, sliding off him and lying beside him, her hand stroking his ever-expanding flank. "It's the final catalyst. My little gift. It’s in the food, in my sweat, in my cunt. It’s in you now. Just let it happen."
His shoulders widened, pressing into the headboard. His thighs thickened, his ass swelling until it overflowed the sides of the bed. The gentle curve of his belly became a massive, sloping mound, rising high and round, the skin taut and shiny. He groaned, a sound that deepened into a resonant, porcine rumble as his neck thickened, his jawline softening.
Sara traced the new contours with reverence. "Yes," she breathed. "There he is." She slapped his vast, heaving belly. A deep, rolling wave of fat jiggled from his sternum to his groin, the vibration lasting for seconds. She slapped it again, harder, her laugh mixing with his shocked, pleasured grunt.
He was immense. A massive, hairless hog of a man, easily twice his original size, pinioned by his own weight on the reinforced bed. His cock, now sheathed in the soft fold of his lower belly, twitched feebly. A profound, contented lassitude seeped into every cell. The anxiety, the intellect, the Minnesota reserve—it all melted into the warm, blissful simplicity of sheer, overwhelming mass.
Sara kissed his bloated cheek, then his lips, which felt fuller. "Welcome home, Jack," she said, her voice full of triumph. She nestled against the mountain of his side, her hand resting on the great, living hill of his stomach. It rose and fell with his steady, contented breaths, a monument to his new, perfect existence.
It rose and fell with his steady, contented breaths, a monument to his new, perfect existence. Sara watched it for a long moment, her expression one of pure artistic satisfaction. Then she slid from the bed, the floorboards complaining under her boots, and returned with the now-cold basket.
“You’re not done,” she stated, her voice casual yet absolute. She pulled out a mason jar filled with a viscous, cream-colored liquid. “This is important. Open up.”
Jack’s mind was a fog of pleasure and profound heaviness, but the command registered. He obeyed, his jaw feeling oddly broader as he unhinged it. Sara didn’t use a spoon. She climbed back onto the bed, straddling his colossal chest, and unscrewed the lid. The smell was cloyingly sweet, like condensed milk and honey with an earthy, fungal undertone.
She tipped the jar directly to his lips. “Drink it all, pig. Every drop.”
The substance was thick, coating his tongue and throat. It tasted of rich soil and clover and a dark, organic sweetness that made his gut gurgle with immediate, eager heat. He swallowed, the muscles of his throat working massively. Each gulp sent a fresh wave of warmth radiating outward from his core, a deep, cellular satisfaction that made his eyelids flutter.
Sara watched his Adam’s apple bob, her free hand massizing the vast slope of his belly. “Good boy. This’ll settle the changes. Make them permanent.” She poured the last of it into his mouth, a trickle of white escaping down the new, thick column of his neck. She leaned down and licked it off, her tongue rough against his skin. “Now we wait.”
The effect was not a violent transformation, but a deepening. The fat on his body, already substantial, seemed to ripen, settling with a heavier, more definitive density. The pinkness of his skin deepened to a ruddy, healthy glow. A soft, downy hair, blonde and fine, spread across his shoulders and the great curve of his stomach.
A deep, resonant rumble echoed from his gut, a sound that belonged in a barnyard. Jack whimpered, a sound that ended in a snort.
“There it is,” Sara cooed, her eyes alight. She slapped his belly again, enjoying the deeper, more liquid jiggle. “That’s your engine now. You’re going to need constant fuel for all this.” Her hand drifted lower, over the shelf of his belly, finding his cock which was already half-hard again, nestled in the soft fold. “This too. You’re always going to be hungry, Jack. For everything.”
She wrapped her fingers around him, his girth now thicker, blunter. He groaned, a puffing sound. His hips, buried under layers of fat, could only make a slight, rocking motion. Sara grinned, positioning herself over his face instead. “Clean the jar, piggy. Then clean me.”
She lowered her cunt onto his mouth. The musky, sharp scent of her mixed with the sweet residue of the potion. He licked clumsily, his tongue feeling larger. She ground against his face, her folds smearing wetness across his lips and nose. “Use that big tongue. Get in there.”
He lapped at her, the act simple and instinctive. Her taste was familiar now, a part of his new world. She rode his face with steady, demanding rolls of her hips, her fingers tangled in his hair. “You’re mine,” she grunted, her breath coming faster. “My creation. My fat, fucking hog.” Her climax was a sharp, shuddering event, her juices flooding his mouth, and he drank those down too, another kind of feeding.
She climbed off, panting, and looked at him—a beached, breathing monument to her town’s peculiar appetite. From the window, the first rays of dawn lit the bronze statue of Bubbles in the square, its swollen form glowing. Sara looked from the statue to the man, and her smile was one of perfect match.
“Tomorrow,” she said, wiping her thighs, “you meet the neighbors. Maggie’s been asking about you.” She dressed, not with haste, as Jack lay pinned and digesting, his vast body humming, already craving the next meal.