By Digital Circe
(woman to pig transformation)
Story warning: violence, nudity, vore
Annie’s mouth felt dry, like it was full of cotton balls. She blinked, waking coming back to her slowly. Her head hurt – had she been drinking that much? She felt cramped, like she’d been laying wrong and had a crick in her neck. Where, exactly, was she?
As her eyes finally focused, she realized how good a question that was. Annie was in a dark room, lit only by a few dim security lights. The walls seemed to be made of concrete. But more troubling were the metal bars around her. She was in some sort of small cage – something akin to an animal cage. Something big enough for a large dog, but tight and cramped for a grown woman. She was laying on some kind of pad that didn’t offer much cushioning. She was also naked.
Annie moaned, her headache throbbing, and tried to sit up. It was hard to do in the small kennel.
“Hey, are you awake?” a hushed voice came from her right. Annie turned her head, surprised to see other cages like hers, several of which also had naked human contents. She looked into the eyes of another girl, surprisingly clear in the darkness.
“Yeah,” Annie slurred. “Who are you?”
“Christine. My friends call me Chrissy.”
“Do you know what happened?” Chrissy asked, her voice still a whisper.
“I have no idea. I guess we got kidnapped.” Annie looked around. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
Chrissy shrugged. “No. I think we were going east. If I had to guess? I think we’re in Detroit. Parts of that, especially parts far enough away from the highway – we may as well be in Beirut.”
“I was in Chicago.”
“I was from Gary. I was in a nightclub, and someone slipped something in my drink.”
“Will anyone come looking for you?” Annie asked.
“I’m a college student at IU Northwest. I was out drinking with my fake ID. People who saw me won’t exactly be coming forward, if you know what I mean. It’ll be investigated, but the search will get hindered. You?”
“Similar story, except University of Chicago.”
Chrissy sighed. “Whoever they are, they probably prey on girls like us. Here and there. Never too many from one place.”
“We’re young and pretty. And stupid about personal safety. Why not us?”
“But what do they plan to do?”
“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure I haven’t been raped. And for some reason, that makes me even more scared.”
“Yeah,” Annie agreed. She looked around the darkened room. “How many people are here?”
“Counting us? It looks like eight people in cages. We’re the only ones awake, so I can’t be sure about everyone, but some of them look like boys.” She pointed at someone in a cage in the corner, curled up with his back to them. Between his legs, Annie could clearly see his penis. She frowned.
“Is this some kind of slave ring? Or are they just catering to all clients?”
“I dunno. But everyone looks about our age. Physical prime. And it’s dark, but nobody seems to be ugly.”
“I don’t see any guards,” Annie said slowly.
“Maybe they’re watching us on cameras. Or maybe they just think we can’t get out of these cages. I can’t, anyway.”
Annie looked hers over, too. Chrissy was right; she couldn’t see an easy way to break out. “Have you tried yelling for help?” she asked.
Chrissy shook her head, looking timid. “I probably should have, but I was scared. What if no one’s around to hear? What if someone comes in and beats me for it? I thought, once everyone wakes up, we could all decide together if we want to take that chance.”
“Well, we need to do something.”
“Everybody seems drugged out. You’re the first who’s come around, and I’ve been whispering at people for about an hour. Or three hours, or just fifteen minutes, for all I know. It’s hard to tell, without a clock.”
“Then let’s wake them up,” Annie said firmly, daring to raise her voice above a whisper.
“That won’t be necessary,” a clipped voice interrupted them. Annie struggled to look around far enough in her cage to see the speaker.
“Who?” gasped Chrissy, but then Annie saw him – a middle aged man dressed in black, with several burly aides. The other men went around, prodding caged people awake, and turning their kennels so they could see the speaker. Murmurs and gasps filled the room, but none of the caged people had the nerve to challenge him.
He looked around the room at the caged, naked people. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Welcome to our humble club. You have all been selected for your youth and vigor. Allow me to assure you, whatever your old lives were, they are over. You serve the club now, and will for the rest of your lives. However long that might be is up to you.”
There was murmuring at that, and some snickering from the man’s hired muscle. Annie swallowed dryly. They were going to be sex slaves for sure.
“Look, if its money you want, my dad…” one of the caged boys started.
“It isn’t,” the man cut him off, a trace of irritation entering his voice. “At least, not from you. Do you seriously believe that we’d go to this trouble, if there were any possibility that we would let you go free? No. You’re our livestock, now.”
Annie’s ears perked up at that. ‘Livestock’ was a funny euphemism to use for sex slaves. She might have expected something dehumanizing like ‘merchandise’… but livestock?
“Let me tell you what life will be like for you,” he continued. “Our club caters to connoisseurs of bloodsport. The epic ballet of two gladiators locked in mortal combat, only one to emerge alive.”
“But… but I don’t know how to fight!” squeaked a girl in a cage to Annie’s right.
The man wore a particularly cruel smile. “It’s nothing as formalized as martial arts or wrestling. You’ll fight as animals. With tooth and claw and whatever other natural weapons you receive.”
What? Annie had difficulty following that line of logic.
He looked around. “You are still human, tonight, but our patrons enjoy animal fights. And thus we mutate you into beasts, so that they can enjoy combatants of both savage and intelligent nature. The best of both worlds.”
The reaction was, predictably, one of disbelief. One of the caged men laughed mirthlessly. “Are you high?” asked one of the other prisoners incredulously. “What you’re saying, it’s not possible…”
“But it is. All of you will be crossed with animals, and fight in the pits. Fight well, and you live. Fight poorly… and die.” There was more murmuring, but there was something about his tone that made Annie realize he wasn’t lying. That what he said, bizarre as it sounded, was true.
“Please,” a girl to the left whimpered. “Please, I don’t want to be an animal, I’ll do anything…”
“Oh, it’s too late for that. You’ve already been exposed to the reagent. Your metamorphosis is a given.” He turned to his assistants. “Separate them by species.”
The men came forward, lifting the kennels and moving them into different rooms. Annie found herself carried into a grey, windowless cinderblock room. Chrissy’s kennel was deposited beside her, and then, without ceremony, both of their latches were undone. Their handlers stood back, waiting for the girls to emerge.
It was still difficult for the two girls to crawl out of their cages. The openings were small, and they had been lying, scrunched up, inside the tiny spaces for God knew how long. One of Annie’s legs had gone to sleep, and she felt pins and prickles run through it as she dragged herself out onto the hard cement floor. But still, it felt good to be free. The naked girls stood awkwardly, looking around nervously.
Annie took a moment to look Chrissy over, unconsciously comparing herself with the brunette. Both of them were traditionally beautiful, with long hair, pretty faces, full bosoms, and long legs. Both were thin, but curvy. Toned, without being noticeably athletic. It felt unfair to her, that they wanted to corrupt their beauty; turn them into something subhuman. But just as she started to wonder what kind of animal that would be, her question was cruelly answered.
“Let’s get these pigs transformed and into their sty,” one of the big, burly guards said to the other with barely a trace of interest.
“No,” Chrissy mouthed, horrified. Annie could only whimper at the horrible sentence, as the men adjusted controls on a console, activating whatever horrible reagent was already inside them. She felt a warmth start to spread from the core of her body, and then it started to happen.
“Uhhhhh…” she slurred, feeling her face begin to change, to become more pliable. The shape of her jaw felt different, like it didn’t fit. Annie looked up at her fellow prisoner, seeing Chrissy wrap her arms around her belly, fruitlessly fighting the overpowering sensations. She could see the brunette’s ears start to point, to poke out past her disheveled mane of hair.
But her own sensations quickly reclaimed her attention. A twitching feeling came from just above her butt, and she reached back to feel a small nub of flesh, starting to twist out into her inevitable tail. She made a whining sound, almost like a squeal, and tried to look around behind herself. But before she could catch a glimpse of her nascent tail, she stumbled, unstable on her feet, splaying awkwardly on her side. And a quick glance told her why. Her toes had begun to crust over, changing shape, and her ankles had begun to shift, bringing her weight onto the malforming toes like she was wearing heels. They were becoming hooves – some of the toes swelling large and bony, while others shrank into mere dew claws. As she reached out to touch one, she could see that the same thing was happening to her hands, albeit more slowly – a hard keratin surface was building up on her middle fingers, and she was losing sensation in them. She tried to push herself to all fours, to stand, to reclaim her human posture.
But she noticed something else, down there on the floor – the cold cement was less noticeable. She felt warmer – her skin thicker, better able to retain heat. The room wasn’t as cold anymore, despite her nakedness. She swallowed dryly, feeling her insides squirm, and knew that her changes would not all be as noticeable as her hooves.
Annie looked up at Chrissy, who had managed to retain her footing despite her own half-formed hooves. But she was bent over double, and from the side, Annie could see both that her tail had grown out a significant length, and her swelling ears were now quite visible over her hair. She reached up and touched one of her own ears, finding it not far behind Chrissy’s.
She tried to sob, but only a squealing sound came out of her mouth, and she felt her nose begin to grow. It turned up, growing broader and flatter as it filled her face. And with it came the most disorienting feeling yet – her sense of smell improved dramatically. She could detect more, and more permutations, of odors on the air. There was something that she recognized as herself, albeit much stronger than she’d ever smelled before. And a distinct odor for Chrissy, and even the salty sweat of their two captors. A harsh smell that she guessed was from their guns. Something like mildew, from the corners of the room and around the small floor grates. And smells she didn’t even have words for. It was too much to take in, and Annie’s head began to spin. She couldn’t control the competing sensations. Chrissy finally dropped to her knees, similarly overwhelmed.
But still her transformation pressed on relentlessly. Annie squealed as her snout pushed out, her small tusks growing past her delicate lips. She shook her head in panic, blonde hair and floppy ears flying. Her fingers stiffened more, losing sensation as they gained strength. Her corkscrew tail finally finished, twitching out over her full, beautiful bottom. And then, there was a sense like unclenching her muscles, as the strange pressures ceased. Her transformation was finished. Breathing heavily, Annie glanced up again at her fellow piggirl, as both struggled to their feet.
Denied mirrors, the girls instead took in the changes the other had suffered. Partial hooves for hands and fully transformed feet, a curly tail, floppy ears, and a long snout marred both of their beautiful forms. Aside from that, though, neither had lost any of her natural radiance. Full, curvaceous bodies, attractive if mussed hair, and full, innocent eyes. Enough for their audience to see them as subhuman, while still being turned on by them. But the changes weren’t just physical. The cacophony of new sensory information was overwhelming. It wasn’t just her sense of smell – Annie could hear better, too, and the extra sounds disoriented her.
“Looks like the transformations were successful,” one of the guards said. “Let’s get them to the sty.” Both piggirls squealed in protest, but neither was in any shape to resist the large, strong men. They were taken by the arms, and dragged deep into the compound. Both could hear plaintive animal sounds echoing down the halls, of many types of beasts mixed with human despair.
At the end of the hall, they were transferred to the pigpens and the door locked behind them. Annie looked around nervously. A lot of other hogs were in the room. Some looked angry, others apathetic. All of them were sows, though, and most classically beautiful, albeit deformed with pig features. Just like she now was. The other women regarded them silently. The two new pigs shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.
Then, a monitor at the side of the room came to life, and the image of the man who they had first seen smiled down at them patronizingly. Annie noticed that the monitor was protected by black bars – presumably to keep the swine from damaging it.
“Ah, good,” he said. “It’s wonderful to see our latest gladiators settling into their new roles. I trust the accommodations suit you, given that you’re pigs now.” Annie winced. He must have a camera in the room, to be able to see them. But that made sense – surely the whole operation was heavily monitored.
“Why did you do this to us!” Annie squealed more than said, letting her anger and despair get the better of her. “We’re not bad people. How dare you destroy our lives like… like this!”
The man on the monitor only smiled, able to hear them, as well. “It’s nothing personal, my dear. To put it simply, you’re entertainment. Our patrons have paid to watch you two lovely ladies mud wrestle like the pigs you now are. And fight you will, until one of you drops. Because the one who wins gets to live, and the other will be slaughtered for bacon. And don’t think you have a way to opt out. Refusal to fight will simply result in both of you becoming pork dinners.”
Annie and Chrissy both gasped in horror. The piggirls around them merely hung their heads. Eaten? Losing meant not just dying, but being eaten? Annie’s head swam with the twisted revelation. What sort of madmen had kidnapped them?
“Our clientele enjoy seeing pretty young women behave as beasts,” he continued. “Try to put on a good show for them. We can make the life of an entertaining fighter better than that of a lackluster one. Now, I’ll give you some time to acclimate yourself to your new assets. Use this time wisely, and prepare yourselves.”
As the monitor went dark, the other sows looked away, or down, or at the walls. Clearly hearing that had affected them, even though they must have heard it many times before.
Most of the women ignored the two newcomers, but a full figured, red-haired piggirl with a scar across one eye approached the new swine, with mugs of something that smelled like coffee in her deformed hands. “Welcome to hell, piglets,” she grunted sadly, handing them the beverages. “My name’s Melinda.” Annie drank the bitter cup gratefully, and they introduced themselves, as well.
“What happens now?” Chrissy asked quietly.
“I train you,” the older sow grunted. “You may have noticed that none of the other girls want much to do with you. Well, that’s just how it is – nobody’s gonna help you too much. Because even if they don’t fight you tonight, sooner or later you might end up in the ring together. And nobody wants to help out a rival when the stakes are so high.”
“But you do?” Annie asked.
“I’m not a fighter,” answered Melinda. “Just here to make sure you have your best shot. And make it a better show for them, I guess.” Chrissy seemed to brighten a little at the thought of an ally, but Melinda quickly shot it down. “Don’t get too excited about it, it’s not much. Even what I say, I say to everybody. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more comforting to offer, but I wasn’t kidding when I called this place ‘hell’.”
“Can we sit down?” asked Annie. “My new hooves hurt.”
“Best you don’t. When you get in the pit, you’ll want to be used to moving on your new feet. Hooves actually take pretty well to the mud – but you don’t want to be too shaky on your pins.”
“Okay,” said Chrissy unsteadily, taking deep breaths. Annie wanted to put her arm around her, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to.
“Now. About the fight. Like he said, we’re pigs, so they have us mud wrestle. And just like you’d imagine, they want it both dehumanizing and sexy. Remember that. Even though you’ll be trying to kill each other, try to do it by suffocating the other one. Don’t try to break bones, or bite and gore each other with you little tusks. They… they don’t care for scars, at least not on our kind. You need to look beautiful at the start of every fight. And don’t be fooled – this is a gladiatorial match, just like in pagan times. If you fight in a way they don’t like, the crowd might just call for both of your executions. I’ve seen it happen. They want to demean you, but also lust after you. So give them what they want. They might want blood and gore from other species, but this is mud wrestling, and they want to see sexy girls going after each other.”
“And we have to fight each other?” asked Annie, looking around the pigpen. She hadn’t known Chrissy for long, but she was the closest thing she had to a friend in this horrible place.
“They don’t let vets fight newbies, answered Melinda. “Unless they’re bringing in a few more pigs, you two will fight each other. Whichever of you wins will eventually fight one of them. And so on. They like the fights to be relatively even.” Annie swallowed. That meant that every other girl in the room had already killed someone. No wonder they were so surly.
“There were eight of us taken, but only the two of us were turned into pigs. What happened to the other ones?” oinked Chrissy.
“Well, there’s also cockfighting and dog fighting that I know about,” grunted Melinda. “Probably more, but I mostly just get to see the pigs. After all, I’m a slave, same as you. Not fit for the ring anymore, but they found other uses for me.” She said the last sentence with dejection – whatever had happened to her, clearly wasn’t a better fate.
Annie coughed quietly, and tried to change the subject. “What… what happens to the loser for those other fights?”
“Probably fried chicken for the boys turned into cocks. I don’t know about the dogs. Chinese food, maybe?”
“There’s probably chimp and bull fighting, too,” another piggirl added. She didn’t look up when she spoke. “And whatever other real animals people like to watch kill each other.”
Annie went pale, but Melinda patted her on the arm with her misshapen hoof. “Try not to think about it, piglets,” she said. “Let’s just get you used to moving around in your new bodies; getting a feel for your new center of mass. And remember what I said about suffocation. Your beauty is all you still have that makes you desirable. Everyone here kind of has a gentlewomen’s agreement not to damage that if it can be helped. We may have to kill each other, but we’re not… we’re… we’re not monsters,” she said after a pause. “Remember that. Whatever you have to do, whatever you look like… we’re not the monsters here.” Both new piggirls nodded, unsure.
It was a short day, all things considered, as Melinda helped ease them into the peculiarities of moving in their new bodies, and how to filter out the excess of sensory information they were being bombarded with. She didn’t teach them much about fighting, though, and the other sows gave them a wide berth. Without weapons, all they would have to work with was mud and their own bodies.
“How long do girls tend to last in here?” Annie finally worked up the courage to ask during one of their water breaks.
“I think the club is only open three or four days a week. And there isn’t a pig fight every night. Once, sometimes twice a week. I know there’s a rotation of animals, but I don’t know the schedule,” answered Melinda. “Whichever of you survives tonight, it might be a few weeks before you’re back in the ring.”
“Really?” asked Chrissy dubiously.
“Yeah. I gather we’re kind of niche entertainment, anyway. We’re the sexy fighters, just mud wrestling. Here for titillation as much as blood sport. But others… others are supposed to tear each other apart, and the real blood aficionados do want to see gore and scars on them. I saw a cock fight, once. It was… well, it made me glad I was a pig. Those two boys tore each other up like there was hellfire and devil’s blood in their veins, and the crowd was screaming and cheering like I’ve never heard. Way bigger than any pig fight crowd, too. I couldn’t even bring myself to watch the end of it, but I heard the winning boy’s hollow sounding howl of triumph, after he did the deed. I know they burn through cocks a lot faster than sows.”
“My God,” whispered Annie.
“Oh, He’s long since abandoned this place,” grunted Melinda. “And the only way He’ll let you out of here is to lose.” After that, Annie didn’t want to ask any more questions.
They continued to practice basic movements, trying not to think about what was to come. Annie found herself staring at Chrissy, with a combination of sadness and guilt. She didn’t want to try to hurt or kill this girl, but she couldn’t let herself become a meal. She wouldn’t let herself die like a pig.
All too soon, evening came, and the armed guards came in to collect the two young gladiators. Annie managed a small wave to Melinda, but the trainer just turned away. Obviously, she didn’t want to let herself get too attached to new girls.
Chrissy and Annie were led down dark service halls, and even though the walls were soundproofed, they could hear the dull roar of a crowd’s vicious approval in some nearby arena. Annie winced. They passed another set of guards as well, with their own animal cargo. They were leading another hybrid - it was a man with scaly legs, a beak, and a light dusting of feathers across his muscular body. He looked uninjured, and nervous. Annie wasn’t sure if he’d been in the initial group with them – it might have been the boy who had said his father would ransom him.
They came to a waiting area, with two halls curving away. They could hear noise from above– the stands for their arena had to be above them. More guards were around, as well as support staff. There was an energy in the air – the match was coming quickly. The piggirls looked at each other nervously.
Then, Chrissy impulsively wrapped her arms around Annie, hugging her fiercely. Annie was briefly startled, but she needed the human contact too, and hugged the brunette back. “Whichever of us wins… no hard feelings, okay? I don’t hate you, and I don’t think you hate me,” whispered Chrissy.
Annie shook her head, her body still wrapped tightly to the shaking brunette. With her snout buried in Chrissy’s hair, she could smell the other piggirl clearly – a unique, beautiful scent that shouldn’t be extinguished. “Never. Talking to you in those cages, when I was so scared… you gave me a friend when I needed one. We… we should have been friends. We’re… we’re not…” She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘enemies’, but Chrissy finished the sentence for her, echoing Melinda.
“We’re not monsters.”
Annie nodded, trying not to cry.
“I want to live, Annie, so I’m going to fight – fight hard – but if you manage to kill me, don’t feel guilty,” Chrissy hissed. “Don’t let them make you think you’re a monster. I wouldn’t want you to.”
“Me either,” managed Annie. “Whatever you do in there… you’re… you’re not a monster, either. Not an animal. Good… good luck, Chrissy.”
“You too, Annie. I’m sorry.” And with that they were forcibly separated, led down the different halls, each to their own entrance. Both were made to wait a moment, then pushed in as their name was called.
The piggirls blinked as they came into a muddy pigsty. It would normally be slippery, but Melinda was right – their new hooves took well to the sloppy, wet mud. Chrissy sniffled, taking in the clearer smells around her. The lighting was harsh, illuminating the arena clearly. A videoscreen was above, showing close-ups of the girls as they were before – Annie recognized the picture from her Facebook album – and listing betting information. She was a little bothered that Chrissy was apparently considered the favorite to win. She looked around for the announcer, but she couldn’t tell where his box was. His voice filled the room, though.
“Ladies and gentlemen, enter your bets while you still have time. This evening we have a match between two brand new sows eager to gain your favor. Yes, fresh meat!” There was a cheer at that. “Look at this pair of fine pigs, ready to prove which of them is better. Lovely young animals, and skilled, as well. Anne, the blonde, was a cheerleader, and Christine, the beautiful brunette, was on her college tennis team. So, we have two athletes for you tonight!” Annie frowned at that – she had never been a cheerleader in her life. Apparently a lot of their biographical details were being fictionalized for the crowd. She wondered if the people might even believe they were willing participants. They wouldn’t believe that the sows were just born as half-animals, though – the still images switched to footage that had apparently been taken during their transformation, and the crowd seemed to revel in the sight of beautiful young women being evolutionarily reduced to pigs. She looked around at the mass of people assembled to watch them battle to the death in the arena. Aside from the cage and the spotlights and the bleachers around it, the arena was an ordinary pigsty – a fitting place for a contest between two swine. Annie grunted nervously.
Odds were still being called out, as people continued to put in bets on which of the two beautiful sows would prove victorious. Their names and physical attributes were announced, and Annie blushed as her bust size was called out and even shown on the screen. She wished that they would at least be permitted to wear bikinis, but it appeared that no indignity was too small to inflict on them.
As she looked around, she noticed that there was a lot of criminal activity going on. In addition to the blood sports and the gambling, Annie could see drugs being sold and prostitutes circulating among the crowd. She wondered briefly whether they were willing whores, or as much slaves as she and Chrissy were. She hoped she’d live long enough to find out.
Men with guns guarded the exits, but Annie didn’t see anyone who looked like a coach or referee. Clearly this wasn’t going to be the kind of fight with rounds or rules. Her mind tried to form survival or escape plans, but she could tell it was futile. Every step of the way, there had been too much security; too many unknowns. This wasn’t an incompetent organization.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “the moment has come that you’ve all been waiting for! Which little piggirl will win? Which will live, and which will fulfill her destiny as pork chops? Will it be the lovely, buxom Anne? Or will it be the vivacious young Christine? Remember, only one can win! Prepare yourselves, piglets, because it is time to FIGHT!”
A bell clanged, and the guards nearest the piggirls nudged them forward, towards the center. Wet mud squished between what was left of Annie’s toes, staining her feet and dew claws and ankles. The crowd’s cheering faded into a dull roar as all of Annie’s attention was drawn to the movement of her mortal foe. Chrissy walked forward slowly, then started circling to the right, keeping some distance between them. Annie circled as well, wary.
Suddenly Chrissy switched to the left, and Annie turned to defend herself – but it had been a feint, and Chrissy cleared the distance, mud splashing around her hooves, and plowed into Annie. She staggered back into the wall of the sty, swatting at the brunette’s arms to keep from being pinned.
Annie ducked, arms up to protect her face, and tried to roll along the wall out of her opponent’s clutches. But Chrissy just grabbed the blonde’s now-exposed tail, pulling hard. Annie squealed in pain as the crowd roared, and she lost her balance. Sliding down the wall, she landed on her butt in the mud with a squishy plopping sound. She could hear laughter in the stands, and tried to ignore it.
Annie swung her leg around, and Chrissy backed away, allowing the blonde to pull herself to her hooves and stalk forward. She could feel the mud ooze down her butt and the backs of her legs, and a brief glance at the screen told her that it was something the crowd was amused to see. Crouching slightly, she scooped up a fistful of mud and flung it at the brunette. With a sharp squeal of surprise, Chrissy brought her arms up, most of the mud spattering harmlessly across them. But in that moment, Annie charged, grabbing her arms and pushing her back into the far wall. Chrissy responded by bringing her knee up into Annie’s unguarded belly, and Annie crumpled, dropping to her hands and knees in the muck. But she had managed to knock the wind out of Chrissy, who backed away gasping, unable to press the advantage. Both piggirls managed to pick themselves back up, circling again nervously and catching a fresh wind.
Chrissy was the next to try a charge, but Annie just jerked away from it, her natural fear instinct playing more of a role than any strategy. Surprised, Chrissy tottered, slipping in a slick spot of mud and crashing down to all fours herself. Her fairly clean butt stuck up in the air, tail wiggling about stupidly. Seeing it, Annie managed to get her wits about her, and rushed at the back of her downed opponent. But Chrissy was too quick, turning and struggling up from her knees just as Annie hit into her arms.
They both staggered with the collision, almost to the far wall of the pen before Chrissy lost her precarious balance. As she fell, she cracked her head into the wall with an audible, ugly sound, most of her back splashing in the mud. Unfortunately, Annie’s first instinct was to check and see if the other girl was alright, rather than press her advantage. She reached down for Chrissy before she stopped herself, remembering that they were opponents.
Chrissy struck out wildly, and Annie backed up, in no real danger of the clumsy blows. Chrissy struggled up, touching the back of her head and smearing more mud in her chestnut locks, but no blood came off on her hooves. Still, her vision was swimming and she was disoriented.
Annie was beginning to breathe heavily, and couldn’t tell how shaken up her opponent was. She went back to circling, keeping distance between them. But their circling began to bore the crowd, who screamed at the sows to fight. Annie and Chrissy both saw guards raise their weapons, and rushed at each other again.
This time, it was Chrissy who hit first, knocking Annie to one knee. She reached for her hair, but Annie shrugged away, taking all her weight off her right leg. The action didn’t register with the brunette, and Annie seized her opening. She kicked hard, her hoof striking Chrissy’s soft calf. The brunette went to her knees with a yelp of pain, and Annie pushed the advantage, shoving the other pig to the ground and getting on top of her. Not knowing how to pin her, Annie just tried to lay across the other piggirl, and to smother her with her chest. Chrissy slapped and struggled, finally wrenching an arm free and grabbing a knot of blonde hair, pulling. With a harsh squeal of pain, Annie pulled up and Chrissy shoved her off, rolling over and crawling away.
Chrissy coughed as she struggled away on all fours, her tail wiggling above her sexy, slime covered bottom. The crowd hooted at the now almost completely mud covered girl, her figure still evident under the filth. With a chill, Annie realized they were indeed objects of both twisted lust and simple degradation.
Annie recovered faster this time, and threw herself at the retreating sow. She landed on Chrissy’s back, sending them both splashing into the mud again. But she couldn’t seem to get a solid grip - her whole body was slick with the filthy slime. Chrissy wrenched around until they were face to dirty face, trying to pin the blonde’s arms and not quite managing it. They both felt themselves losing their grip, and struggled to improve their position. The crowd around them cheered, enjoying their muddy, desperate bout.
The pigs rolled around together for a while, neither taking a clear advantage, but afraid to break the grapple lest their opponent come out of it better positioned. Both of them were filthy with muck now, and tried to shake the mud away from their eyes, their ears. The sensory overload from their new snouts, coupled with the mud occluding their traditional senses, left both sows severely disoriented.
Finally, Chrissy brought her knee up hard, and Annie rolled off, wind rushing out of her lungs. Chrissy gasped for air, blinking mud away from her eyes, as she looked for her opponent. She was crawling on all fours, person-shaped but otherwise all but unrecognizable, and kicked with everything she had. With a squeal, Annie went down face first in the mud. Chrissy struggled back up to her hooves and rushed her stunned opponent, thick, churning slime splashing around her legs. Annie became aware of her just as her hands closed around Annie’s neck, squeezing. The blonde gurgled, pawing at her neck and shaking back and forth.
The pair of swine teetered around, Annie beginning to see spots, but she couldn’t break Chrissy’s grip on her neck. Finally, in desperation, Annie pushed backwards, hoping the wall was nearby. She was lucky; it was. With a grunt, Chrissy smashed into it, doubly crushed by Annie’s falling body, and let go. Annie staggered away, gasping the sweet air.
The crowd was in a frenzy now, so close to seeing a kill. Annie looked around desperately, feeling their bloodlust. She tried to come up with a plan, still dizzy and disoriented. It almost looked like three Chrissys were standing up, and Annie couldn’t quite make sense of her movements.
Chrissy was in bad shape too, but she took a play from Annie, scooping up a fistful of mud. As she charged, she flung it in Annie’s face, making her turn. The sows slammed together again, falling back in the mud, Chrissy on Annie’s back. Desperate to end it quickly, she grabbed the back of Annie’s head, shoving her face deep in the slime. The blonde flailed about, desperate to get purchase on the slippery ground.
The seconds ticked by, as the crowd roared in approval. The brunette piggirl managed to keep her rival’s face in the mud, every muscle in both of their misshapen bodies struggling to decide Annie’s life. The blonde kicked and swung with her hooves, desperate to dislodge Chrissy’s hold before she blacked out. Her heart clutched at the idea of being slaughtered and served as food, as bacon, like a common pig. But she had no purchase, and this time Chrissy had a solid grip.
She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, as her mind went fuzzy and her limbs became like lead. For Chrissy’s part, she couldn’t gauge the time either, feeling Annie’s struggles lessen almost interminably slowly. Finally, the blonde’s hoof splashed in the mud by her head, no longer struggling. Sobbing, Chrissy sprung back up like she’d been touching a live wire. “I can’t!” she shrieked! “I can’t do it!” The sow sank to her knees, a few feet away from her fallen foe, as the crowd’s cheers washed over her like a horrible baptism. One of the guards came forward, rolling Annie over with his foot. The blonde sputtered a little, but stayed still. She was out cold.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t kill her!” Chrissy screeched, on the verge of hysterics. The guard just patted her on the shoulder, surprisingly gentle.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to. You knocked her out; that’s close enough for the crowd. Come on, the butchers can handle it from here.” Chrissy looked at him in horror. Above her, the announcer was shouting her name, declaring her the winner. Two other guards picked Annie up, hauling the hog’s limp body out of the ring.
Annie recovered slowly, only dimly aware of what was happening to her as she was carried deep into the compound. But she revived with the shock of cold water, as she was unceremoniously hosed down. Runny mud sluiced off, dribbling down a gutter. She blinked, still disoriented, as her now-clean arms were bound behind her. “Whaa?” she slurred, but one of the guards just laughed at her, and shoved an apple in Annie’s snout – a crude gag, and a reminder that she would soon be dinner.
She was dragged to her hooves, and brought into another room. There, a man in a dark suit was chatting with one of the patrons. As they talked, Annie became aware that the man had purchased her – that they were discussing her fate.
“Since she’s still technically alive, we can make some modifications, if you’d like. Do you want her looking like this, or would you prefer your sow to look fully like a pig before we butcher her?” the man in the suit asked.
“Hmm. Make her more pig-like – I want a lot of meat from those thighs. But leave her with some semblance of her old self,” her new owner said casually, as though she were not standing right there. Annie sobbed pathetically as her fate was decided.
“We can cut off and mount her head as a souvenir as well, if you like,” the first man offered.
“Perfect. Have it prepared and given to my agent whenever it’s done. As for the meat, there’s no sense waiting hours and hours for a whole roast. Just butcher her now and cook up some pork chops for my group. I’ll have my people come by tomorrow to collect the rest of her meat.” The men shook hands and left, barely acknowledging the shaking, crying piggirl.
But she had a few horrors left to witness. As she was led into the kitchen, Annie winced, seeing a muscular cock forcibly held down by three brawny butchers and a lunette pressed around his neck. A moment later the blade came down, neatly severing his head, and his headless body sprang up, running a few paces before it crashed to the ground, twitching as the lifeblood pumped out and flowed down the drain. Men picked it up, and started plucking what would soon be someone else’s meal. Had he been purchased by someone as well, or would he just be on the club’s disgusting menu? She looked down at the head, eyes frozen wide in shock, beak open a little in his last caw.
“Pig her up a bit first,” the guard told one of the cooking staff, and the man pushed a few buttons on a console similar to the one that she had seen when she was first transformed. Annie closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable.
The warmth came first again, radiating out from the center of her body, as it began to reshape like soft clay. This time, it was her mass that changed, rather than her more delicate features. She could feel herself getting plumper as her body bloated, becoming more pig-like, as more breasts sprouted on her belly. She made a moaning sound as she felt them grow, each new rosy nipple bulging out on a small, maternal teat. But nursing piglets would be the last thing she’d have to worry about.
Her arms felt thicker, less able to move, even if they weren’t tied. And her swelling body quickly shifted from simply taking on weight to taking on the barrel-like shape characteristic of pigs, as well as their meat-to-bone ratio. Her belly was made of taut, solid fat, nothing like the flabbiness of an obese human.
But, all things considered, her body didn’t change that much. Her head remained the same, as did her hands, and even her legs kept their length, although a bit of girth grew out on her thighs and butt. At the end, she was surprised to find herself a much plumper piggirl, rather than a true sow. It was still Annie that would go to her death, and not an unremarkable pig.
The hog was dragged over to the lunette and pushed down into position. From there, she could see the cock being prepared, his body chopped into almost unrecognizable cuts of meat, and his head carried out of the room. Then the torso of a man filled her vision, and she noticed that he was holding an electric animal prod.
“Be careful of her head, the buyer wants it for a trophy,” one of the men said, and her hair was raised and the cold metal pressed to the back of her neck.
“I’ll take it down to preservation,” the man with the shock prod said. “She is still beautiful, isn’t she?” And then he pulled the trigger.
She was stunned, and only lightly felt the blade on her neck; the heavy sensation of her head falling. She could see her pig-like body behind her, blood pouring out of it. It was over. There was no point fighting the inevitable any more. Annie closed her eyes, and let herself drift off to sleep, to dream about having a full human life. Graduating college, finding a stimulating job, getting married, having kids. The life she would have chosen.
It was a beautiful fantasy. In the kitchen, though, her belly was opened, and she was thoroughly cleaned out. Her torso was divided in half, her limbs removed, and thick chops taken from her thighs to be put in the oven while the rest went in the meat freezer. The gristle and undesirable bits like her hooves were tossed in the trash. In the end, her human shape was gone, and her body looked like nothing more than ordinary cuts of pig meat. She cooked up deliciously, and her taste was praised both by people at the club who knew they were eating the piggirl gladiator, and later by those who thought she was simply ordinary pork.
Her head, on the other hand, was taken to the taxidermy department, where she was skinned, cured, and stuffed, her eyes replaced with realistic glass baubles. Her own skull was used in the mould to retain her proper and distinct shape, and the artist working on her was skilled enough to give her lips a hint of a smile under her snout. The useless bits, like her brain, were simply discarded. It was time consuming work, but she was impeccably preserved; styled and arranged on an oak plaque. She was still beautiful, despite her pig’s snout and ears, and her mounted head would be enjoyed for many years, even going on to outlive her new owner. Of course, the people that eventually inherited her head assumed that she was nothing more than a strange, artificial creation – a bizarre curiosity of an eccentric man.
But as Annie was being dragged out of the ring to become pork chops, an official approached Chrissy with two guards, offering her a wet towel to clean off some of the excess mud. She took it, body still shaking with sobs that weren’t quite audible. “Well done!” he congratulated the exhausted and aching brunette piggirl.
“Is that it? Am I done?” she whispered, tears running down the sides of her snout. She didn’t know Annie before today, but she had felt the blonde’s love of life in her struggle. She was sorry that she would be eaten like a common hog.
“For tonight, you are. But you’re a pig gladiator now. Soon, you’ll face another lovely lady-turned-pig in the ring. Every time you win, you extend your life a little longer. And everyone loves a winner – if you win a lot of contests, when at last you fall, you’ll fetch a high price!”
Chrissy let herself cry for real then, and she squealed mournfully, in rage, in terror, and in loss. But she was still alive – for a little while, at least.
When she was returned to the training room, the hollow expressions on the other sows’ faces made sense to her, and numbly, she accepted a cup of bad coffee from Melinda. She was one of them, now, after all. And she always would be.
Story warning: violence, nudity, vore
Half-pig girls are forced to mud wrestle in a strange underground club.
Why are your stories so good and....dark.
I really hadn’t given any of that much thought, but I guess since she’s looking at someone, they’re probably running from her eyes, down the side of her snout, and then down her cheeks or across the corners of her mouth. If she were to turn her head facing down, yeah, probably.
If you touched her intimately like that, she might jerk away like she’d been shocked with electricity. She reacts poorly in her distress to the comparatively mild touch of the guard, after all. She’s probably in no fit condition to get anything comforting from intimate contact with a stranger.
Uhm… as salty as normal human tears, I guess. Pigs can’t cry like humans do, so her tear ducts are unchanged.
I suppose they’d be a little bit warmer than human tears, since a pig’s body temperature is about five degrees Fahrenheit higher than a human’s. They wouldn’t be much out of the ordinary.
I normally prefer stories with more karmic endings and less emphasis on violence or gory deaths, but I enjoyed this story.