Being a sow felt as wonderful as she had imagined it. The plump body, the strong, muscular legs, above all the sheer comfortableness of her new form, combined to make her resolve never to go back. If endless litters for the slaughterhouse were the price she would pay, then she would pay that price.
There was, however, a problem. This wasn't the right surrounding. The walls, the fluorescent light, the furniture. She needed to be in a sty, not an office. And this office wasn't designed for a pig to get out of it, she thought as she looked longing up at the door knob. The human who had brought her in didn't seem to be of much use at the moment. She squealed in frustration.
Another human opened the door. "George, what's going on here? Oh dear."
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Maureen, George's supervisor, was aghast at the situation. As far as she knew, no paperwork had been filed on this transformation, nor had a medical check been done. And the sow was in a place where a sow ought not to be!
She turned to the pig. "Come along, dearie. We have a lovely sty for you." She turned to George, obviously in the first stages of metamorphosis. "We'll deal with you later."
The sow obediently trotted behind the human.
"Did you do this voluntarily?" Maureen asked.
The sow nodded her head yes. "That's all right then, we can find your ID and file the paperwork retroactively. A bit irregular, but the best we can do now." She opened a door. It led outside, and the sow let the wonderful scents of the world, so different from the filtered air of the office, wash over her.
"Here you go." said the kind human, opening the gate to a pen with lovely dry straw, and, yes, oh yes, a trough filled with wonderful, delicious smelling swill. She trotted up to it in a fierce hurry and began to devour it.
Maureen laughed. New sows! That always seemed to be their favorite place in the sty.