Dusty relaxed in the back area of the shop, eating a delicious pork sandwich.
Despite what Dusty might have expected, given his “new” name, his personal office/workshop area was perfectly clean. There wasn’t a spec of dirt anywhere to be seen - even the lights were spotless, despite being in a shop.
The smell of bacon and cigarettes filled the room. It was like a small room-there was a fridge in one corner and a small kitchenette with a stove. His own personal bathroom. Various workbenches and equipment lined one side of the room, the floor protected with a thick rubber mat, chains hanging up in the corner. In the middle of the room was a large red rug, a couch along the other back wall, and a small flatscreen hanging above it.
Dusty munched happily away, loving his BLT. Freshly smoked bacon, ripe tomatoes, lettuce, some may whip. *Chef’s kiss*. He took a swig from a can of Coke and dug some Lay’s potato chips from the foil package and ate them. Tonight was the orgy. They closed on Sundays, so they had a big party out back. Bonfire, drinking, sex.
Bubba had turned a mild-mannered accountant into a rather alluring furry cub. Somehow, he’d managed to keep the man from becoming a trucker. They needed a decent accountant, after all. He was a red-head with bright green eyes and a lovely beard. His ass was thick and Dusty wanted nothing more than to eat it out and then plow it.
He was just finishing off the sandwich, burping lightly and patting his furry gut, when there came a knock on his door.
Sam opened it, the handsome muscle cub peering in. “Hoss?”
That was his nickname for Dusty, now.
“Yes?” Dusty asked, his voice a deep rumble.
“We have a very special customer.” Sam smirked. “You know the kind.”
“Asking too many questions?”
“Wants to see the shop, take a peek out back. The usual.” Sam shrugged.
“Cop?” Dusty leaned forward, grinning.
“I think so.” Sam replied.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Dusty tidied up his workstation. “Give me three minutes, I’ll be right there.”
“You got it, Hoss. Or should I say, Boss.” Sam winked and left.
A few minutes later, Dusty walked out to the front, his belly swaying in front of him proudly. At the front counter stood a man who was older-forty, perhaps. They were husky, not necessarily fat. Bald but not hairy. He was wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit well.
“Are you the owner of this establishment?”
“I’m the manager on duty, name’s Dusty, though the guys all call me Hoss.” Dusty grinned, extending a hand.
The man shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve. I was wondering if I could look over you cars out back?” The man explained.
“I told, uh, Sam, that I wanted to find parts for my hatchback.” He said, gesturing to a small car in the parking lot.
“Parts, huh?” Dusty licked his lips, looking around conspiratorially. “You know, I just might. Follow me to the back, we can talk business there.”
“Sounds great.” Steve touched his breast pocket.
So, he was recording the conversation. Definitely a cop.
Dusty led the way back to his personal office, heart beating excitedly. Finally, some action! Steve followed behind him, turning his chest awkwardly, likely recording everything. The evidence was circumstantial, but the acetylene torches and car parts were enough for a real warrant down the road. Not that it would go that far.
Dusty walked into his office and indicated the couch. “Have a seat, I just need to get some things ready.”
, Dusty opened his desk draw and began fumbling about inside, before slyly removing a bottle and a cloth. As he prepared his cloth with the liquid, he kept up the conversation. It was best to keep his prey off guard.
“So, your car looked a bit too… family friendly for you to be showing up here. I’m guessing there’s something special under the hood, huh?”
“Yeah, big stuff. Not looking for a new turbo or anything like that though, just a new stereo and maybe a catalytic converter – if you have a high airflow model. You guys get any coming through here?”
“No.” Dusty answered honestly. “Parts for those foreign cars can be hard to find around here, even on the after market. Especially since you’re not really looking for standard kit?”
“Ya I kind of figured. What other parts do you usually get?”
“Out here? Mostly American, some German stuff. Nothing spectacular. I have a contact on the west coast I can talk to for Japanese stuff, but you’ll have to wait and it won’t be cheap.”
“ “Well, let’s say I needed some help coming up with the cash, you don’t happen to buy, do you? My, uh, wife has a couple of cars she doesn’t drive anymore that she might be willing to sell.”
“Clean title or…?”
“Salvage…” Steve replied with a wink and a nervous chuckle.
“You’re going to have to bring them around, going to depend on the condition of the parts. And like I said, Japanese is in high demand right now.” Dusty smirked.
The man wandered over, inspecting some of the tools and cabinets. Dusty heard him opening drawers and smiled. Far too curious for a real thief. They at least would have played it safe and not have been so nosy.
“Actually, I may have a part right here.” Dusty said, as he opened the drawer in front of him and stepped back.
“Great!” The man wandered over and leaned down to see. “You don’t happen to know-”
Dusty grappled the man and shoved the chloroform rag into his face. He struggled, but Dusty pressed hard. They tumbled to the floor, the man rolling and flailing his limbs, trying desperately to fling Dusty off. But Dusty was far bigger than the undercover cop, and leveraging his weight, kept the rag on the man’s mouth.
Eventually, Steve’s struggles ceased. Dusty carefully lifted away the rag and saw the man had gone slack, as though sleeping. He checked his pulse. Alive, but unconscious.
Dusty rolled off of him and walked over to the wall, pulling down a lever. The chains high up in the corner came down. Dusty tied up the man’s wrists and hoisted him into a hanging position before pulling the lever back up, raising the cop into the air, his feet dangling three feet off the ground.
Carefully, he undressed the man, making sure to keep the clothes in a plastic bag as he removed them. He’d need to clean again. Dusty was very good at keeping things clean. He stripped his own clothes off and stared at the man.
‘Steve’ or whoever he was, had a decent body for a man reaching middle age. Some fat, quite a bit of muscle. Not very hairy, save for a smattering on his chest and a small treasure trail. Not Dusty’s type, honestly. Dusty played with the man’s soft cock and balls. Not too small, rather average, really.
Dusty walked over to the couch, shifting it over so it was in front of the hanging man. Then he made sure the door was locked and the soundproof padding was in place. Didn’t want to disturb the other fellas in the garage, after all. He sat back down on the couch and waited, his hand on his cock. Chloroform didn’t last long. Maybe ten minutes.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=
Steve woke up slowly, rolling his head.
He was 41 years old and an undercover police officer for the county. . There was a recent surge in stolen vehicles, and shortly after each report, matching parts would show up on the eBay page for “Bubba’s Body Shop”... It had been laughably easy to trace – either these guys were brand new and had no idea what they were doing, or were the unwitting mule for another shop. Regardless, Steve wanted to get a personal feel for how they were operating, and the shop was pretty close to the station. So after lunch, he’d stopped in and saw a nice kid named Sam.
They’d chatted for a while, and while amicable, Steve felt like Sam had been evasive in his responses. He’d tell his friends that he didn’t know when someone was lying, technically, but he’d been around enough criminals and liars that he could spot one if he talked to them long enough. Sam was shady.
He’d been annoyed at being passed off to this ‘Hoss’ fellow. Making friends with a lowly employee and getting access to the back was the easiest way to obtain the evidence he needed. Judges only require circumstantial evidence to issue a warrant. And boy, did he think he’d obtained some.
And then…he blinked, mind fully awakening. The last thing he remembered was slamming a damp, foul smell cloth against his face, and now he was…dangling from his hands? He tried to struggle, but could feel his arms already burning from the strain of being suspended for… however long it was that it had been.
“So you’re awake, huh?” A deep voice growled from below him.
Steve looked down. The fat, hairy, well-hung man below him, Hoss, was playing with his dick, watching him struggle against his bonds. Steve felt cold, and noticed that he, too, was naked.
Was this guy some kind of fucking sex pervert?!
Images from various movies…his mind flashed to a gimp in a cellar, then a couple of hicks torturing some city boys in the deep south. He struggled harder. Anything to get away from that fat hairy fuck on the couch. He was young, now that Steve could look past the beard and body hair. Younger, perhaps, than Sam had been. Who the fuck was this guy?
“What the fuck did you do! DO you know who I am!” Steve shouted, then turned his head to the door. “Help! Help!”
“Squee! Squee! Squee!” Dusty squealed like a pig in response.
“Fuck you! Help! Heeeelp!” Steve screamed in anguish, his body jerking in his chains.
“Sqreee! Sqree!” Dusty grinned.
“What-what the fuck do you want? I’m a fucking cop, asshole!” Steve said, finally admitting it.
Sometimes, admitting that got you killed. Or, in other instances, made the offending party think twice. Steve looked Hoss over and figured that he was young enough that he might actually let him loose.
“I want you to calm down.” Dusty leaned forward, tapping on his armrest. “No one can hear you. Sound proofing.”
Shit. His odds of survival had just decreased. Dramatically.
“Just let me go, alright? I won’t tell anyone about this.” Steve pleaded, his throat bobbing, eyes sweeping the room.
Steve was desperately looking for a way out. No matter how bad things looked, there was always something that could get him free. He just had to think his way out of it. Or, at the very least, survive long enough to be found.
“I will let you go if you agree to cooperate.” Dusty smiled.
“Whatever you want, man. Just let me go!” Steve gasped.
“I want to play a little game. Very quick, it’ll take ten minutes, max.” Dusty assured him. “Then you can hang out with all the other pigs.”
“Fuck you.” Steve muttered under his breath, then spoke up. “Fine. Whatever you want.”
Dusty heaved his bulk off the couch and walked over to the metal cabinet behind him. He opened it and browsed the various bottles he found there. Steve could see what looked like bottle of cologne-cheap bottles. They were labeled strangely-‘dog’ and ‘cat’. He counted twenty in total – 10 ‘dog’s, and 10 ‘cat’s.
The big man paused, then pressed something on the shelf. The entire shelf swung open, revealing more bottles. These were labeled…differently. ‘Dog’, ‘dOg’, ‘doG’, ‘DOG’ and ‘Cat’, ‘cAt’, ’caT’, and ‘CAT’ were all there. Somehow, Steve intuited, these new bottles were hidden for some reason.
Dusty selected a bottle named ‘cAt’. Steve wondered what it meant. Steve could also see that while there were dozens of copies of the other bottles, there were only a handful of ‘cAt’s - as though Dusty used that one more often than the others. Having picked up the bottle, Dusty walked back over to where Steve was hanging.
“Alright. Here’s the game. What’s your favorite animal?” Hoss leaned forward, his rather minty breath in Steve’s face.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Hoss smiled.
“Cat.” Steve said promptly.
Hoss stared at him, then looked at the cologne bottle in his hand. Then he burst out laughing. Steve wondered what was going on.
“Oh! I forgot how observant you people are!” Hoss held up the cologne and peeled off the label…revealing another label underneath that said ‘pig’. “Wrong! Your favorite animal is pig!”
“Seriously?”
“I heard that all cops are pigs. I mean, look at you. Hairless, pink, a little chubby, but otherwise well-built. A proper boar.” Hoss smirked.
“What the fuck do you want?” Steve rolled his yes at the childish humor.
“I want you to act like a pig. Convince me, Mr. Undercover Detective.”
“Why?” Steve said bluntly.
“Because if you impress me, I’ll let you go.” Hoss smiled.
“I don’t believe you.” Steve said bluntly. “I’m not going to debase myself so you can, what, kill me?”
Hoss nodded to himself, “I understand. Let me assure you, I would never kill a human being.”
“But you would kill a pig.” Steve pointed out. “That’s why you want me to act out. To dehumanize me.”
“Just a snort will do, and I release those chains.” Hoss said, ignoring Steve’s objections. “You and I both know the difference between a human being and pigs. Don’t worry, just acting like one isn’t the distinction I’m looking to make here.”
Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oink.”
“That was incredibly pathetic.” Hoss went back to his computer. “Okay, just hang out until your arms fall off. Should only take a few hours, what with the lack of circulation. Then I’ll let you go.”
“Fucker!” Steve spat. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because then you’ll be totally armless.” Hoss smirked.
Steve stared at him.
“Armless. Totally…like harmless, but you won’t have arms.” Hoss explained.
“I get it. It wasn’t funny.” Steve said.
The burning sensation from dangling returned tenfold over the next hour. Steve struggled, but it felt like his arms were on fire. He tried to touch something-anything-with his foot, something that might help him escape. But the level was ten feet away on the wall opposite him and he couldn’t swing himself far enough to reach it.
“Alright!” Steve panted. “I’ll do it.”
Hoss heaved himself off his chair and sauntered over to him. There was a gleam in his eyes. Steve swallowed his pride, the burning in his arms too much to ignore.
“Go on, piggy. Act.” Hoss encouraged.
Steve snorted and writhed around in his chains, trying to sound like a pig. He hit the right notes a few times, but he could see a growing disappointment in Hoss’s eyes. Finally, the big young man held up a hairy hand.
“Enough. That was bad. Lucky for you, this cologne should get you in the mood.” Hoss held up the pig cologne and sprayed it in Steve’s face.
Steve breathed it in entirely on accident.
He immediately gagged at the strong odor. It smelled like sweaty cock…and below that was like something from a sty, like the ass of a boar. It was a cloying and wholly inhuman stench. He attempted to scrub it off his face, rubbing his head against his arm. Meanwhile, Hoss turned on a fan, holding his breath.
“That should be more than enough to help you get in the mood,” Hoss chuckled as he placed the cologne back in the cabinet.
Steve moaned and gagged as the smell intensified. Heat surged through his body while beads of sweat formed all over him, but strangely the air in the room felt cold against his naked skin. Steve could see steam wafting past his face as he began to realize that it wasn’t the room that was getting hotter – it was his own body. It was like his heart had been turned into a furnace, pumping raw heat through his veins.
The weight on the chains around his wrists gradually began to increase as his belly began to sag and swell. Beads of sweat were forming on his expanding midsection, before immediately evaporating away with a slight hiss.
He felt so odd, like he was warm and bloated and full and yet there was this increasing pressure and a gnawing hunger in his gut. His buttocks swelled, growing round and tight with muscle and fat. His lips quivered as the growth reached his thighs and they grew as well. Steve looked down at the as the heat continued to build up inside of him. A grunt of horror fell from his loose lips.
Steve was fat and growing fatter by the minute. His pinking skin was swollen and taut with fat, stretch marks spidering across his skin and fading, as though he’d outgrown them, all while more kept appearing the larger he grew.
The heat hit his head and his thoughts began to muddle. It was like his brain had been dumped into a pot full of boiling water, with his very self dissolving into the bubbles of steam before being carried away as pot continued to boil.
Why was he here, hanging painfully from his wrists? What had he been doing before? The memories were hazy, as though he were trying to recall a dream he’d recently woken from. Steve was in a room with a naked man stroking himself off in front of him…but why?
There was a sudden pressure in his back, causing Steve to convulse. He squealed as his spine popped loudly and his hips cracked. He found his legs were sagging slightly at an angle away from him instead of being pointed directly at the floor. His spine shifted again, legs lowering towards the ground as he grew larger.
Sweat trickled from his brow, steam rising from his pink skin. Soft hairs sprouted across his flesh, but instead of holding the heat in, it felt like the new hair was actually cooling him off. The sweat pouring from his body began to cool and condense, forming a slick layer of glistening moisture..
Steve’s hide tingled as it changed color, blotches of brown and white appearing on his inhumanly pink skin. His exposed ass stretched apart, the muscles shifting aside and morphing into flanks. He could feel his knees pulling upwards toward his body. There was another pulse of growth from his spine, then a delightful tingle in his balls.
A shudder wracked his form, a strange sensation something sticking to his belly. His cock had grown hot and stiff. It felt like a pair of invisible fingers were molding his genitals upwards against his gut. For a moment if felt like it had moved inside of him, the tip of his shaft teasing his belly button, before the sensation faded. His asshole twitched as it was dragged upwards to meet the bottom of a curling tail, his throbbing balls following with it, growing larger, heavier, rounder.
Steve’s new piggy sheathe hung under his swollen belly. His cock slowly twisted out into a corkscrew. He could feel his huge, aching boar bells clench and throb, expanding even more under his exposed asshole, his tail twitching happily. It felt…good. His gut sagged and wobbled further, the new weight causing Steve’s wrists to begin to really hurt.
Hoss stood up and walked over to the lever, lowering it and Steve to the floor. Steve stared up at him dumbly and tried to stand, but found himself falling onto all fours. The big man above him smiled.
“Go on, keep acting like a pig.” Hoss encouraged, removing his handcuffs, rubbing blood back into Steve’s hands.
Steve grunted and snorted in relief. His body felt heavy and dull, slow and sluggish.
Steve’s hands suddenly cramped, popping loudly. His fingers stiffened as the nails of his fingers and flesh merged into a large digit. He felt uncomfortable standing on his palms and shifted himself up on his new, heavy nails. His feet creaked and the heels rose, the nails expanding. He got up on his trotters and snorted and oinked happily. No more pain!
“There’s a good piggy.” Hoss smiled.
“Mmmfff….SNORT…I’mmnadda p-pig!” Steve tried to protest.
“Oh?”
“Nnnghrrr!” Steve grunted, trying to remember his life. He was something else, right? His eyes dulled as he tried to remember anything, but his mind reeeled from the strain.
“Oh, okay then.”
“Freee!” Steve squealed.
“Okay, I’ll free you.” Hoss smiled.
“Mrrph-reee!” Steve grunted happily, unable to cheer, but could only squeal.
His neck grew forward, fat swelling around his cheeks and chin. Steve’s hair fell out in clumps from his scalp, leaving the same, white-brown-pink hairy hide that was everywhere else on his body. His ears twitched in happiness, growing in size and length before flopping forward into his increasingly larger, darker piggy eyes.
Steve’s nostrils tingled as his face stretched forward. He grinned, eyes drooping as he sniffed the air with morphing lips, nose flattening and nostrils turning upwards into a snout. His eyes were forced apart as his nose expanded, eagerly snuffling the scents in the room, smelling mouth-watering bacon. Steve drooled from his wobbling jowls.
Hoss grinned and tossed him the last bits of his sandwich. The pig eagerly gobbled it up off the floor, tongue lapping at the tile. He knew something had changed. Something was missing. The pig paused, blinking dumbly. Was it his name? Of course he knew his name! It was…
Nothing. Pigs didn’t have names.
There was a sudden pressure in his face as it popped. He stared blankly at the empty floor, snuffling around for more food. His pushed forward on his trotters and nosed around the floor, rooting for more food. Though humans thought of food as hamburgers and pizza, the pig merely thought of it like…an idea along with a need.
The big thing wrapped something around the pig’s neck and led it outside. It snuffled at the air as it was led to another small building just behind the big thing’s room. Though it lacked the knowledge to recognize what was inside, it could smell food and blood and meat and salt and smoke and its mouth water.
Hoss led him over to a shower-like area and tossed a moldy apple on the floor. The pig snuffled and ate it hungrily. A shadow fell over him. He looked up just in time to see the mallet descend and hit him square between the eyes.
BONK
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dusty stared down at the stunned pig for a moment before hooking it by the leg and hoisting it over the shower, hanging it upside down. Then he took a knife and shoved it into the throat. Dark blood gushed out, splashing the walls and down into the drain. He waited until the pig was empty of blood, then hung him up with the other pigs and various animal carcasses in the walk-in fridge. He went and checked the smoker out back. A few more hours until the bacon inside was ready.
Hoss walked back out in his kitchen and butcher shop. It was a gift to him from Sam, for his culinary skills. The big man smiled, thinking of how delicious Steve would be. He kept the man’s ID on him and walked outside into the warm sunlight.
On the wall, he spotted a praying mantis. He carefully captured it and inspected it. Male. Perfect. He set it down in front of him, pulled out his Book, and pointed.
“Shape.” Dusty intoned.
The insect swelled, transforming into a junkyard dog. He pulled out a bit of bacon from his pocket and tempted the dog closer, leading him out to the front of the garage, where Sam was. Sam grinned when he saw Dusty come around the corner with the dog.
“Just another junkyard dog, huh?” Sam asked, eyes glittering.
“You betcha!” Dusty said, laughing stupidly.
“I can smell the smoker going. You going to be ready for the barbecue tomorrow?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I’m gonna have all the meat you boys could want and then some.” Dusty smiled vacantly.
“I’ll bet you will.” Sam winked and pinched Dusty’s globular ass.
Dusty giggled dumbly. Sam turned and left as the junkyard dog ran off down the road. Dusty glowered at Sam behind his back. Fucking retard.