Working the volunteer desk at the Livestock Regen office wasn't the most inspiring job in the world. Generally, three kinds of people volunteered for regen--hopeless losers for whom it basically represented a roof over their head and three, or more, meals a day, sexual fetishists, and people temporarily going through a bad patch. George Cave, the staffer, had learned to tell the groups apart with at most, a few questions. He generally waved members of the first two groups through to the labs, (although the fetishists could be very picky, and often left when told there was no demand for a particular species and gender) and gave the third a pamphlet and told them to come back in a week--they seldom did.
But the woman standing before him didn't seem to fall into any of thse categories. She was exquisitely beautiful, thin in tasteful clothing that set off her physical attributes and she seemed to be about twenty-five. Why would anyone want to give up this body?
"Are you the volunteer coordinator?" she asked.
"Uh, yes."
"I want to be a sow."
"What?" George was taken aback.
"A female pig." She rolled her eyes.
"I know that, but why?"
The woman took a deep breath. "Do you know what it's like for a woman to make a living on how she looks? Do you know how many hours a week I spend in the gym? I haven't eaten anything beyond a salad for five years. My feet are in constant pain due to all that walking on heels. I want to be a fat, lazy pig. I want to sleep when I want, I want to eat all I want out of a trough, I want to walk around on hooves, not heels. I want to get fucked by boars that don't care what I look like, and wouldn't dream of staring at my tits. I want" she paused as a kind of ecstatic shiver ran through her petite body "I want to wallow in mud."
There was always demand for sows. George answered "We can do that."
The woman smiled, her first really sincere smile since she had been a little girl. "Can we start now?"