Mike guided Chris back to his home.
He stood aside and let the human enter his front door. Chris walked inside, nostrils scrunching in disgust as the smell of musk and animal pheromones rushed out. Mike had to admit, the scents were fairly strong. Fucking every night tended to make the house stink something fierce. Hence why he opened the windows.
“Smells like shit.” Chris growled and Mike rolled his eyes.
“Come on, Chris.” Mike pointed at the kitchen. “I’ll make you coffee.”
“I don’t want your fucking coffee, I want that check.” Chris snarled.
Mike ground his teeth and walked into the kitchen anyways. He put on some coffee and pulled out his phone. Chris leaned against the wall, clearly annoyed.
The big tiger wondered how he was going to deal with Chris. There were so many different ways…he could make him his husband. He was looking for an appropriate victim, after all. But Chris was so…so mean and vitriolic. He was a pig and…Mike blinked, then grinned toothily. Yeah. A pig. No, a boar. Then he paused…why not a warthog?
The tiger tapped in a few sentences and then pressed enter.
Chris started pacing, not noticing his jeans altering as a velcro strip appeared on the back and a hole opened in the seat as a long, tufted tail slid out between his growing, wobbling buttcheeks. The tail lifted and a moist fart rumbled out. The man sniffed the air and snorted, nostrils widening and flattening into something distinctly hoggish. He grinned, bottom teeth growing into tusks.
“Just adding to the ambient aroma.” Chris chuckled, patting his belly as it swelled into a massive gut. His shirt re-sized to fit, but apparently the new Chris was proud of his gut and the shirt lifted up, exposing 6 hairy inches of underbelly and his belly button.
Mike smiled back, glad he’d opened the windows.
Tough bristly hide covered the transforming man. His ears lifted away from the sides of his head before they came to a rest at the top, twitching at every new sound that came to him. His balding head started to bristle into a large, rough mohawk. It trailed all the way down to the small of his back. His face pressed out into a rather viscous-looking muzzle as his tits sagged into moobs and settled on top of his heaving gut. The tiger thought Chris was rather handsome, actually. Then again, Mike liked his men big.
Mike laughed as he watched the warthog fruitlessly attempt to force his shirt over his rotund gut.
“Whatth tho funny?” Chris asked, lisping around the big tusks that jutted from his underbite. His piggy eyes crossed under his heavy brows and he touched his throat. “Whatth wrong with my voithe?”
“Your tusks, handsome.” Mike smirked, tail swishing behind him. “Very virile, I must say, but they make coherent speech a bitch.”
The new warthog stared at Mike in confusion. He scratched his ass with hoofletted hands and farted again. Chris sniffed his fart happily and chugged a beer that popped into his hand. He crumpled the empty can and burped loudly, jowls and second chin wobbling at the force of the belch, his piggy eyes popping open in surprise. The warthog glanced down at his trotter-hands and a frown creased his still-wobbly jowls.
“Thomethingth wrong…!” Chris’s piggy eyes darted around the room and spotted his reflection in the mirror. “That’th not me!’
The anthro warthog shivered in fear, another fart eeping out between his fat buttcheeks. Mike grinned and walked over to the shaking hog, wrinkling his nose at the stench. He held up his phone and showed it to Chris.
“But it is you. Male. Forty years old. Anthro Warthog. Morbidly obese.” Chris grinned and pointed at the sentence he was about to activate. “It says you’re a ‘subservient warthog looking for bigger anthros to breed his sloppy piggy hole and be bred by his big corkscrew cock.’ Right?”
“N-no!” Chris realized Mike was doing something to him, that he was about to change if Mike entered that sentence. “Don’t! I’ll do anything, just pleathe, I’m-!”
“Actually kinda hot like this,” Mike smiled, adjusting his throbbing cock and pressed enter. “It’s not all bad. You’ll love it, I promise.”
The warthog froze, tail standing up in shock. Mike could see his eyes glaze over, cock swell and sag in his jeans in a huge bulge. The big warthog was starting to look greasier-not too dirty, Mike wouldn’t have that in his house-but sloppier, a little dumber, as his thoughts were now more sex-oriented.
“What’s your name again?” Mike smiled kindly at the brand new warthog.
“Chrith, thir. We uthed to play football back in high thchool? I worthipped you.” Chris smiled, exposing his yellowed tusks. A few gray hairs picked themselves out along his hide and his body sagged slightly.
Mike grinned and raised his arm. “Why don’t you start worshiping me by licking out my pits?”
“Yeth thir!” The warthog scrambled on hooves that didn’t quite catch on the slick tile floor and eagerly snuffled and licked Mike’s pits.
“Like that?” Mike grinned, flexing his arm. The hog just lapped at his pits, snorting and snuffling. His tail wagged as he alterenated between pits. Soon, the snuffling stopped.
“All clean, thir.” The warthog seemed disappointed. “What elthe would you like me to do?”
“Do you like my musk that much Chris?” Mike said in a mocking tone.
“I love it, thir!” The warthog snuffled.
Mike rubbed the warthog’s mane. Chris nuzzled into his paw. This was much better than Mike had thought. He felt his cock stir, growing hard.
“Do you want to suck my cock, Chris?” Mike smiled.
“Thir! I’d love to thuck your cock!” Chris begged. “Pleathe, give me your cock!”
“You don’t know how happy it makes me hear you say that!” Mike grinned triumphantly and kissed the warthog, tasting the salt of his own sweat on the hog’s tonuge.
“Thir, y-you don’t need to kith me. I’m just a piggy thlut.” The warthog moaned and broke the kiss, sliding to his knees in front of Mike’s groin. His trotters fumbled with Mike’s belt, the warthog clearly too exicted-and then they dropped to floor between Mike’s legs. The warthog’s maw eagerly slurped down Mike’s cock.
The tiger had to hold onto the table, feeling the warthog’s mouth suckle and bob. If Dave were a gentle cocksucker who could ocax you to orgasm, Chris was like a trained, professional cum vaccum. Mike could feel his orgasm rising after just a few moments.
“W-wait! S-Stop!”
“Too fatht, thir?”
Mike panted and nodded. He turned over and presented his ass to the warthog.
“Just, just eat me out first, okay.”
“Thir!’ The warthog cried. “Thank you tho much!”
The warthog dove into the white tiger’s muscular ass with gusto. Mike wasn’t sure what the warthog was doing down there, but his prodding tongue was eliciting sensations he’d never known before. He was glad to be leaning on the table because his legs had gone weak.
“You’re rather tight, thir.” The warthog muttered. “I’ll loothen you up.”
The warthog’s tongue was firm yet sloppy and it lit up his pleasure centers every time it forced it self through his ring. His tailhole loosened with each prod, a small fart escaping which the warthog happily huffed. The muscle never really recovered, puffing and slacking. The warthog gave it a few experimental prods, tongue sliding in without any resistance at all and snorted happily.
“Give yourthelf a clenth, thir.” The warthog’s voice was muffled between Mike’s cheeks.
Mike tried to clench his ass around the warthog’s firm tongue, and the muscles quivered, but there was no real pressure. The warthog withdrew his snout, giving the savory ring one last lick, hole completely slack. The tiger moaned happily.
“There you go, nithe and loothe.” Chris lisped happily, then positioned himself behind the bent over tiger.
“Damn, if you can do that, I think I’ll keep-Oh!” Mike jumped as the tip of Chris’ porcine dick spread his strangely loose pucker. “I-I never asked you to do that!”
“It’th okay thir, I know you need it.” The boars hooves gently rubbed between the tiger's ears. “Thingle fatherhood ith hard. I underthand.”
“I...oh!” Mike moaned, cock splurting precum on the kitchen floor.
The boar pressed into him further, the first spiral of the cock sliding against Mike’s prostate. The tiger yowled, claws clenching into the fiber of the carpet. He checked the phone. [Reality Alteration in Progress] was still blinking. What the hell did that mean? The boar thrust again and the phone was forgotten as a blast of pleasure shook his mind.
“Oh! Chris…” Mike moaned, the warm, pleasurable waves emanating from his hole so hard to ignore.
The warthog thrust deeper, his spiral cock screwed itself into Mike’s hole. The tiger let out soft gasps of pain and pleasure every time a new coil entered him. Chris’s spirals rubbed his prostate and he was reduced to pleasurable mumbles and moans.
“That’th it, relax thir.” Chris snorted, running his trotters along the tiger’s sides as the tight definition that had been there faded away, muscles vanishing beneath his fur. Slowly, the rest of of his body began to lose definition, muscles deflating as if they had simply never been there before. “Gotta thtay loothe for the road.”
The road? What was the warthog talking about? His vision began to waver, the kitchen suddenly appearing as a row of sinks in front of him and he nearly fell over, but caught himself on the edges of the open stall door. Mike wanted to tell Chris to stop, something was wrong, but he just whimpered and his claws curled as the relentless assault on his prostate continued. Every thrust knocked his thoughts loose, replaced with immense pleasure. His cock drooled precum on the cool tile floor beneath him. The warthog’s cock expanded inside of him, filling his loose hole so nicely.
He wasn’t a bottom, but he found himself pressing back into his raunchy lover, moaning happily. He could see the boar behind him smirking as Mike gave in, pushing back into each thrust. They built up a loving, pleasurable rhythm. It felt so good that he didn’t care if Chris was fucking him like a sow.
Mike suddenly felt warm and full and sweaty. The tiger looked down and watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on thick, jiggly fat. He burped heartily as memories of a thousand fastfood stops filled his mind. A massive furry gut flopped below him, cock hidden by a thick swell of fat. The tiger’s face puffed out and his lips drooped into heavy jowls. He patted the roadbelly he’d worked so hard to build in admiration and confusion.
“Why…I don’t...when…” Mike stammered, rubbing his enormous gut in disbelief, but with each thrust from the warthog his memories of being any other way faded.
“Tthththth, it’th okay, jutht relax.” The warthog shifted and pinched a thick nipple on Mike’s floppy moob. An electric jolt of pleasure blotted out anymore questions in Mike’s mind. The trucker relaxed into the fuck, worries fading. “That’th more like it, thir. Jutht let old Chrith breed your hole like old timeth.”
Mike let out a quiet fart as his ass widened, fat replacing the lost muscles. The warthog snuffled happily as the kitchen was hazily replaced with a truckstop bathroom, all tiled floors. The tiger stared at himself in the mirror. A big knit trucker cap sat on the fat tiger’s jowly face. His big road belly wobbled beneath him with the impact of the fat boar’s thrusts.
“Chris, wait-” Mike’s voice was deeper and rough, and as he fumbled behind him with pudgy paws to stop the boar, a pack of cigarettes fell out of the in the front pocket of the flannel vest he was wearing. It was open, exposing his furry moobs and floppy gut.
“Almotht finished, thir, I know you love driving with a freth batch of warthog cum inthide you.” Chris chuckled and slapped Mike’s wobbling asscheeks.
Chris thrust harder, and the tiger knew the warthog’s orgasm was rapidly approaching. Mike desperately bucked against his thrusts and pushed the warthog’s cock deeper. He didn’t care if he was a fat trucker anymore. Mike felt hot and sexy and ready to be seeded by his hot warthog mate. There was still a small part of him in the back of his mind, screaming at him to stop, but it was rapidly disappearing. Routes and driving instruction filled his mind, pushing out his old, boring life. He felt the warhog’s massive balls tense against his thick thighs. Mike moaned and pressed back hard, feeling the old him slip away.
The warthog unloaded deep inside the trucker’s guts. Mike groaned, feeling the warm wetness flood his insides. The warthog kept thrusting, pumping a gallon of sperm inside him. The feeling of the big, sexy warthog claiming his ass was too much for the tiger to take. With a low, rumbly yowl, Mike felt his own cock spray the tiles of the floor with his own load. He panted in exhultation, the warhog gripping his lovehandles tight as he steadily filled his guts with his virile seed.
A few minutes later, the flow tapered off and the warthog pulled out, cum sloshing wetly on the tiles below. Mike turned and pulled the warthog into a sloppy kiss. The made out, exploring each other’s thick, flabby bodies. The tiger broke the kiss first, rubbing the boar’s bristly back, giving it scritches with his claws.
“Chris.” Mike stared into the warthog’s liquid eyes.
“Don’t thay it.” The hog whispered, placing a trotter on Mike’s lips. “Jutht go, thweetheart.”
Mike hiked up his jeans and fastened his belt at the first notch, gut sagging heavily, hanging mid thigh. With a heavy grunt, the tiger scooped his cigarettes off the floor and waddled his morbidly obese frame to the mirror, his gut brushing against the sink counter. The trucker stared at himself.. Something niggled at the back of his mind, something was wrong.
“Almotht forgot your buttplug, thir!” Chris said, holding out the thick boar-cock shaped dildo.
Mike shook his head and chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and light it. He dropped his jean enough to expose his ass crack and bent over. He came messily in his pants when the warthog shoved the plug in and it banged against his prostate. The tiger moaned happily.
“Thanks, Chris, needed it.” Mike growled
“Alwayth here for an old flame, thir.” Chris winked.
Mike turned around and kissed the hog. As they made out, reality fully solidiefied around them. Mike’s phone beeped. He broke the sloppy kiss and checked it, frowning. [Process Complete. Enter new transformation] blinked on his phone.
“Work?” Chris asked, rubbing the tiger’s thick ass.
“Uh, yeah.” Mike frowned and snapped his phone into place on a plastic contraption on his belt. “See you in a few days.”
The warthog winked and blew him a kiss.
The fat trucker tiger waddled out of the bathroom, hitching up his jeans, and climbed back into the cabin of his big rig. Just one more trip to the city and he’d be switching routes. He’d have to bring the hog with him when that happened-if he could convince him to leave that rundown bathroom.
The tiger smirked, thinking back on their tryst. It wouldn’t be too hard.