Startled, I stood there realizing of what I had asked to become the Imp caused almost all of what was me, I became for him as if born a Yorkshire boar.
"Happy now I trust," he asked of me, but how then was I able to give an intelligent answer?
"Oink, squeel, grunt, grunt," came my manner to answer, as what I became was fast demeaning my mentality.
"Okay friend, now know this, as what you thought of as sensual fun is now for you, your personal place in a pig style of Purgatory. I have done what you wanted, and by asking, you have doomed-damned yourself to a future of breeding with bristly Sows. As maybe you do not understand the mating rituals of swine. You are to sniff her scented vulva, and if it smells spicy you then give her a big lick. After tasting her vaginal discharge your boar cock will begin to arouse, as your feel aroused. The real fun you wanted comes next when by mounting over her rump, you angle your cock-tip into her vulva lips, giving a shove you penetrate her, sliding in six to eight inches of rigid cock. Thrusting is optional, as the sheer sensation is usually enough to cause your big balls to spew forth the first load of three. That third load spews a thicker paste what works to seal shut her vulva, forcing her to retain your semen.
So that is what must do with each Sow you meet and breed. Remember this, as being a boar hog your life expectancy is but three to five years. I suggest if you can keep your wits, to escape and more on, go from farm to farm and live for as long as your mind and cock can work together." The Imp friend said, and the more you think about an Imp as a friend, the more you shall realize he is the true enemy!