You've been eating slop for a week. The waitress was an anthropomorphic sow girl, but you're all sow. One
day she comes to the pen where you and the other sows are crowded together.
"Well, ladies, the freezer's getting a bit empty. Time's a coming when the butcher will be coming by to dress
a few hams," she said evilly, "But ya'all have a get out of sty free card, if you can recruit new sow boys.
Heh, heh, now how d'ya do that ya may ask?"
She winks and points at the moon visible rising over the ridge. "It'll be a full moon tonight, and you'll each
become human women for as long as the moon is full. Bad news is ya'all be turning back into sows come
moonset, so you want to bring your dates back to the restaurant before moonset, so we have new pigs for the
slaughter at the end of next week. The more ya'all bring the better because well even if ya'all bring one guy
back, but we need more one-a-yall will be up for slaughter. Don't think of running off now, stray pigs always
end up as bacon."
You scream in pain as your rib cage flattens and spreads. It's hard to breathe as your organs reshape. You
stagger on your hooves only to feel the mud oozing between your toes and fingers. Except they're not your
toes and fingers, these are smaller - downright dainty. You look around and the other sows are all now human
women.
You are offered a selection of thrift store clothes after you and your muddy sisters have been hosed off.
For women you are all awfully quiet.
Finally, one of the sow girls speaks up, "So you expect us to bring other men back to be sows and eventually
to slaughter to feed more victims in your evil diner?"
"Well, we cater to pigs. The worst men in society. Surely, there is a man or two you despise enough to want
to take your place in the slaughter house?"
"Oh, yeah!" you say aloud remembering your old fraternity brothers who made your life hell before blackballing
you. They would fuck anything with boobs, and they gave points for the number of guys or girls involved in
group sex. And the Night of the Silvery Moon Dance was always held in August on the first weekend with a full
or nearly full moon. That would be tonight.
You tell the other girls about the frat, and ride in the waitress' old pink school bus toward the college.
You suspected that the turnout for the dance would be low. You had posted a rumor that several of the frat
brothers were bi and HIV positive, but your descriptions were vague enough to be any guy at the frat. So when
you and your sow sisters arrive, the men of Heta Omega Gamma are eager to dance and ride back on the bus with
you for dinner.
"We sowrority girls always book a restaurant and bus and then raid a frat house for hot guys," you lie, "And
then it's back to our place." You bat your eyes, and watch as the senior who made your life hell practical
drools over your feminine body. You wished he had done that over your male one. Once they found out you were
gay, they made life hell, but couldn't throw you out. Now you might let the guy pork you after he's porked out
enough to join your sowrority. Double revenge.
"We'd love to escort ya'all to dinner, and home after our traditional Silvery Moon Dance & Photo," Eldon said
with a grin.
"Wonderful, Donny," you cooed. How he hated to be called Donny, but coming from a hot chick, he seemed
pleased.