“I...I don’ know, Jack...” you say, hesitant.
“It’s easy--even a dumbass like me can do it. All ya’s gotta do is rub it in, ‘n then focus on what ya want tah change--how dirty ya wanna be, but also what kinda filth, ya know? There’s a whole lotta ways tah be a slob, trust me! Go on, get those hands dirty--give it a shot.”
You know you shouldn’t. You know you should just run, but you’re also...so curious and turned on by the prospect, that before you’re rational mind can stop you, you’ve got a wad of ointment in your still clean hands and have started rubbing it in all over your palms, knuckles, nails and forearms. You feel it start tingling, and what you are imagining suddenly appears--your hands doubling in size, the backs of them coated with as much hair as your feet, the skin weathered and rough, the cracks in them filled with dirt and shit, the nails long, broken, yellow, and caked with filth underneath.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talk
in’ about,” Jack says, running his own filthy hands over your fat rolls, “Go on--keep goin’!”
Giddy, you get another blob of ointment and spread it up over the rest of your arms, watching the hair fill in there as well, the skin breaking out in rashes in a few places, but you don’t let that bother you--you never have. You keep going, coating as much of your body as you can reach, making sure to work the cream deep within the folds of your fat where it festers and reeks. Before too long, you’re surrounded by an aura of reeking stench--you can see the odor making Jack drool with lust as he grinds his cock against your thick thigh. Your chest is covered with a thick layer of hair, as is your huge belly--and Jack can’t resist, getting wad of ointment himself.
“Here boy, let me git the parts ja can’t reach,” he says, slathering your back, completing the pelt--the hair running over your shoulders and all the way down to your already forested ass and crack. “Gotta git these thighs a yers too, don’t forget,” You just stare at yourself--no, you admire yourself in the mirror, your disgustingly hairy body. What the fuck is wrong with you? You shouldn’t want this, and yet you can’t think of any moment when you’ve been more turned on it your life. There’s only two places where you can still see glimmers of that old version of yourself--your mostly clean face and hair, aside from your mouth and nose, and your crotch--which has so far gone untouched.
“Fuck boy, yer so fuckin’ hot,” Jack said, pulling you close to him, running his hands through your fur, looking at you in the mirror as well.
“T-Thanks, daddy.”
Now--why don’t we give ya a better style, eh? I don’t think the clean cut look suits a slobby pig like you. How about we muck up that hair and face a yers--what would ya like tah see, boy?”