Turning into a pig was beginning to be the thrill of a lifetime. Your ballooning body was alive with electrical rush - it was a strangely euphoric feeling to feel yourself getting impossibly bigger with each snoutful of slop you swallowed.
Finally, you make it to the bottom of the trough, and pull your head up with a satisfied sigh. You are finally full. You sit back on the lineoleum-coated floor with a grunt, your new heft shaking the table you had been at as you landed.
"How do you feel?" Dot asks, having patiently waited for you to finish up.
"Cramped," you grunt, almost surprised at how different your voice sounds. Raspier, like halfway between a grunt and a squeal. You flex your shoulders back, pushing much-grown breasts through a too-small bra, popping it off of your body with force enough to send it flying like a rubber band snapped.
"Much better," you sigh, leaning back and laying a thick arm against your gut. You glance
yourself over, and by human standards you are certainly obese. But as a pig? You feel like you could stand to gain a bit more.
"You're looking well on your way," Dot says with a smile across her bovine face. "Few more days and you'll be all set."
"Days? Ugh. Gotta pick up the pace, but I'm so full," you groan.
"Oh, you're still changing. It's just faster when you're active - actively eating, actively exercising..." Dot smirks. "Maybe you should run along to your sty, meet the other pigs. Might even pack on a few pounds on the way."
"Heh," you grunt, heaving up to your feet. You're completely naked, and perhaps as a human, you'd feel shame or even a bit cold, but you find yourself comfortable like this.
"Never imagined I'd go on a jog in the hopes of getting fatter."