Snorting out your nostrils, squealing with pursed lips, grunting noises which come out with instinctive moving about the sty, all this is how one expresses his feelings.
Short and fat, your body in as a lump of flesh having long ears, a short tail, cloven trotters, and a sheath that holds within it something which drives you mad.
Rank is the odors of those there too who like you stand scared to death for what they feel, know, and have become. Pissing, crapping, the rank odor would turn the nose of even a beastly boar like you.
It is now where you are to live and Circe shows no interest in your continued pleading for mercy. Indeed it is as when Circe comes to feed her pets the swine all crowd to her, gamboling over each other the sows and boars alike all plead for her mercy.
But mercy is not within Circe she hates men in general and even has doomed some women to live as animals. Even in you memory you know of one so doomed to become a milking nanny goat. a young and sweet girl she was in her late teens. She wanted to please men and then do as Circe demands and poisen the men to a life of terror and beastly existence.
One mistake is all it takes with being before Circe. The female witch has no respect for others and makes them know their puny place in her realm and world.
Your passion and memories are bright and true. It is the sweet reminder of a sow's twitching pussy that brings your mind back to the business at hand. Indeed below you stands a youth from off a recent ship. Bobby Ray, a young teen boy now a large and mature sow with rank desire and the need to be fucked and fucked often.
It is your own organ which pressed apart his lips of piggy pleasure. Your thursting that makes the boy squeal from sexual pleasures he was not born to know. He has asked for this now three times today and each time enjoyed your mounting, thrusting, and the rush.
You know what he wants but with your boarish intellect it will be spelled out for Bobby Ray, Once, Twice, and Three times in enough, your tired!