Mark was a regular man. Every morning, he ate a regular breakfast with regular eggs, regular bacon, and regular toast. Once he was done, he traveled in his regular car to his regular office, where he worked in a regular cubicle entering regular data. His regular car broke down regularly, so he often took a regular trail home. All in all, his life was very regular, the incessant monotony of it all broken not even by the slightest variation. However, on one particular day, Mark's regular routine was broken by a rather irregular creature.
You see, it just so happened that a downright strange lab filled with extremely odd experiments was rather near to Mark's regular trail. This surprisingly unique facility happened to be the place where the X18 virus had been developed, and the men who ran this place had just happened to have decided to let loose one of their infected subjects to test the virus on a human populous on the same day that Mark's car just happened to break down. Whether by karma, by natural law, or by divine justice, the entire universe seemed to have orchestrated this moment. Reality, it seemed, had decided that Mark had seen enough "regular" for his life.
Of course, Mark knew nothing about any of this. To him, this was just another regular walk to his regular home. Well, regular enough, until he began to hear certain sounds that were quite out of place. First, it was just a mild rustling in the bushes (nothing to worry about, of course). Then, an almost hoof-like tapping. Turning, Mark could see nothing (probably just a deer skipping along, still not a problem). Satisfied that he was quite alone, Mark continued on his walk... but eventually was stopped by a far more conspicuous noise, an almost snort-like panting punctuated by grunts of lust. Turning once again, Mark came face to face with a creature wholly alien to him.
This thing Mark faced had a torso that was quite decidedly human. Her skin was an almost pinkish hue, but otherwise it was beautiful and looked silky smooth. Her chest was adorned by a pair of fabulous breasts, and her gut (while not perfectly toned) had a layer of fat to it that made it seem only more marvelous. Below that, her hips flared wide, a testament to her feminine form, with long and curvy (though not particularly slender) legs leading down to her ankles. Beyond those ankles, however, the thing was decidedly not human. A pair of hooves took the place her feet should have. Her hand were similar, fingerless but still more dexterous than normal hooves would have been. Finally, a short, curly tail stretched out just above her voluptuous rear, a marked point of inhumanity that only accentuated the fact that she was most definitely not a mere woman.
Mark's focus, nevertheless, was not her unique body. Instead, he was looking straight into her face, a face which was decidedly species-exclusive: the face of a pig. He was so inclined to gaze into her visage not because of some otherworldly beauty or bestial fetish of his, but rather because she'd seen it fit to pucker up her porcine lips and peck him right on the mouth just as he turned to face her, and (as Mark had quickly learned) it's rather hard to pay attention to anything else when a pig has you liplocked.