Troy awoke in the morning. Brandon was not in bed. His nostril’s flared as he scented bacon and eggs and coffee. Troy rolled out of bed with a heavy clomp and blinked down at himself stupidly before he remembered the events of last night. Right, turned into a shaggy bull anthro. Brandon was here, likely making breakfast. Wait, where was the Book?
The bull turned around, looking frantically around the room until he spotted it, untouched, on his desk. Troy sighed, the sound coming out more like a moo. Thank god for small favors. He clomped into the living room, where the boar was bustling around making breakfast. It looked like he was making eggs Benedict, now that he looked closer.
A man that could cook, just his luck. Brandon was bent over, ham hocks waggling too and fro as he searched for more pans. Troy wanted to do a lot of things. Sniff the air, lick that hole, since Brandon wasn’t wearing pants… but he decided that what he needed to was find a buyer.
“Morning.” Troy said, waling to the couch and bringing up the footage. He archived it and sent it to his folder for editing.
“Morning, kid! How’d you sleep?”
“Great. Your back?”
“Better than ever! Usually that kind of injury would lay me out for a week, but boy, this body you gave me has stamina!” Brandon grinned. “I made Eggs Benny!”
“Cannibal.” Troy smirked.
“Boars are cannibals, pal. Don’t you know?” Brandon said, setting a plate down in front of him and going back to plate himself something.
Troy went through Craigslist and checked classified ads. Something here would say something about wanting boar sires. He Googled it, trying to find someone local who could take a breeder boar off his hands. Nothing yet. There was a livestock auction place a few miles down the road. Troy decided to phone them, see if he could get some contacts. But, he realized, once Brandon was done eating breakfast, he’d be on the road back home.
“So Brandon, have you considered staying for a few more days?”
“I want to, but…” Brandon swallowed a bite of eggs and English muffin. “…I have work.”
“Right…”
“So…when are you changing me back?” Brandon asked, “I’m in no rush, but I’d like to be out of here by noon. The video turned out OK, right?”
“Yes.” Troy said, then his eyes refocused on his computer and more importantly, on a wanted ad.
Breeding sire wanted. Needs to be of good conformation. Duroc Boar. WTB 16K. Contact ***-***-****. My name is Mike.
Troy smiled and got up. “Hey, where’s Dustin?”
“The dog?” Brandon looked up. “Let him out back to go potty.”
“Oh.” Troy hadn’t even thought of letting the dog out. “Uh, thanks.”
“Yeah, he was shaking bad and whining, like he’d been holding it in for a while. Surprised he didn’t just make a mess on the floor. He’s a really good boy.” Brandon said.
“Yeah, I suppose he is…” Troy said, feeling bad, imagining the kind of torment he’d subjected Dustin to. “I’m new to having a dog and completely forgot.”
“New to having a dog…?” Brandon asked. Then his eyes widened. “His name is Dustin!”
“Yes.” Troy swallowed.
"You mean...the dog's name...is he the guy? Your best friend?”
“Yes.” Troy replied.
“Did he want to stay a dog?” Brandon asked, concerned.
"...Sure, yeah. Just come over here and sign.” Troy swallowed, mouth feeling really dry all of a sudden, and wiped his palms on his pants. He was suddenly very sweaty. “I take Paypal and Venmo. No checks.”
"Wait, money? I thought this was for free."
"Well, I assumed you wanted something more permanent."
"I..."
"You can stay a boar, if you'd like. I just need you to pay me for it."
"I mean, I have a job, Troy. A life. People will think I'm a monster."
"You...don't have to leave, you know. You could stay with me."
"Troy...look, you're a nice guy, but..."
"But?"
"I like being alone. I just...this is alot right now."
"You...don't have to leave, you know. You could stay with me." Troy said, suddenly getting desperate. He meant it. Troy really didn’t want to go through with it. He wished Brandon would just give him an excuse. "Please don’t leave. It...I don't wanna...I actually kinda like you.”
"Just hurry up and change me back." Brandon goes to get his things from the bedroom.
"Stop."
Brandon freezes, his ears flicking. "Tory..."
"I'm pointing at you." Troy swallowed thickly, his furry cheeks soggy.
"Don't..."
“You’re really nice. Tell you what, I’ll let you go if you give me some money, OK?”
“Let me go? What do you mean? Are you being serious right now?” Brandon demanded, turning around and freezing when he saw Troy’s finger pointed at him.
“I’m going to change you into a prize pig unless you give me everything you have in your savings account.” Troy said.
“That’s everything I have!” Brandon cried. “You’re taking everything from me! Please, stop this!”
“Unless you would rather turn into pig meat, I would stop complaining. I bet I could salvage real value off you, 2$ a pound."
“Fine.” I’ll…I’ll give you my money.”
“Good.” Troy wanted to cry, to tell Brandon he was lying and that he was going to let him go. Instead his body seemed to move on its own. He stood and indicated the couch. “Sit there. Use my laptop. Log in to your accounts. I want it all.”
“Even my retirement fund?” Brandon asked tiredly.
“If you don’t, you won’t have to worry about retiring, will you?” Troy said flatly. “Like I said, hogs are selling for $2 a pound. I could get a few hundred out of you when I sell you to a factory farm.”
“P-please not a pig!” Brandon pleaded. “A tiger! You can make me into a tiger!”
“Who would want a fat old tiger?” Troy asked. “And they only live for 15 years or so. You’d have maybe five years left.”
Brandon swallowed and walked over to the couch, as though in a trance. He started typing in his information. Troy pushed a pen and paper towards him with his hooflets.
“Write it down. Set your phone and wallet on the table.”
“Y-you’re gonna change me anyways!” Brandon’s voice broke.
“...Yes.” Troy nodded.
“I liked you!”
“That’s what made it easy.” Troy replied. “No one believes in magic. You give them a taste and they’ll pay you whatever you want. Dustin was right, furries are the ultimate suckers.”
“This is murder!” Tears were running down Brandon’s jowls.
“No. Because I’m not going to send you to a factory farm.” Troy said. “You’re going to be a champion show pig. A proper breeder.”
The conversation was so alien that the situation was completely surreal. Troy watched the hairy boar shakily write down personal information in the notebook.
“Done. All yours. Can I…” Brandon swallowed and looked up at Troy. “…I don’t wanna just disappear. That’s… that’s horrible, you know. No one ever gets closure. Can I call my brother?”
Troy sighed. “Sure.”
He handed him a phone. Brandon picked it up and began to dial it. His hooflets made him screw it up. Troy pointed at him.
“Shape.”
The phone dropped form Brandon’s trotters as his fingers receded into useless stubs. There was a crack as the boar’s spine reconfigured and he fell forward into the coffee table, breaking it with his weight. He squealed in horror as his face twisted, forehead collapsing as his eyes grew into beady blue orbs.
Troy watched it all with fascination. There was a dial tone from the phone. Troy smashed it with his foot. The pig squealed and backed away from him. There was still a bit of light there in the boar’s dimming eyes.
Troy pointed. “Control. You are a happy, virile boar. You are complacent and obedient around humans. You are proud, and always willing to fuck any sow brought before you.”
Troy felt the energy whisk out of him and he fell back onto the couch. Darkness threatened to overtake his vision… but then he slowly recovered. The boar had stopped squealing and was happily rooting around his living room, looking for food. Somehow, he’d managed not to pass out this time, but he still felt incredibly weak.
An hour later, Troy found he could finally move, and let the pig outside. Dustin ran back in, licking Troy’s face happily. He swatted the dog away and closed the door. Then he got out his phone and called the number.