Arctos Audio 2: True Story (Part 4)

WARNING: Things get nasty / rough / strange from here on out! Scat etc.

*Meanwhile, with Nate*

Nate was on his hands and knees in the bedroom, just staring at himself in the mirror. He had to stop this–he couldn’t let this fucking nightmare go on any longer…but fuck, it felt good to let go, it felt good to be a pig for once in his life. He wasted so much time keeping everything clean and organized and tidy for Paul and himself, and these last few hours in this gear, oinking and squealing as he emptied to cupboards and fridge, stuffing himself with everything he could find–he was so content, and so full! He let off a belch, disturbed at how the mask’s mouth moved along with his own–and he realized, for the first time, that he’d eaten his entire meal through the mask, and it hadn’t bothered him or gotten in the way once. If anything, it had seemed…easier, to just shove his masked face into whatever he was feasting on at the moment and scarf it straight down, not even bothering with utensils, or even his hands for the most part, aside for opening packages.

But still–he’d shot his load, he was done. He had to be done. Paul was going to be home soon, and he was filthy–fuck, the house was a fucking sty! How was he going to explain this? He tried to figure out some cover story, but his mind felt like it was slogging through mud. He was just so full…and feeling so full felt so good…and feeling good was making him horny all over again. He reached down and felt the pig cock sheath, slick with precum and tried to pull it free from his own cock, but it was so slick that he couldn’t get any grip. Was it stuck? It had just slid over his cock, hadn’t it? It shouldn’t even be able to hold on that tight. He looked between his legs at it, but he couldn’t really see it past his belly–in the end, he managed to lay down on his side, and in the mirror…he saw his cock was wrong. The sheath wasn’t there–or rather, it was still there, and still made of red rubber, but it merged seamlessly with the skin around his crotch. He tried again to pull it free, and only ended up jacking himself slowly, oinking and snorting as he did.

The buttplug then. That…that had to come out. He certainly felt full back there still, so it couldn’t have come out. He got back on all fours and bore down, expecting it to pop out, but instead he felt shit start flowing out of his ass, and as soon as it had started, he couldn’t stop it. It ran down between his ass cheeks and his thighs, pooling behind him on the carpet–it reeked, but the stench didn’t disgust him. It smelled…comfortable, and with one hand still stroking off piss started gushing out of his cock as well, soaking the underside of his gut and the floor below him.

But then what about the tail he could see behind him? Ignoring the mess he’d made, he reached back and felt the curly black tail, following it to the root–where it met his tailbone above his ass. It was a tail–an actual rubber tail, and he could even make it wiggle. “No–no no no!” he said…or tried to say. The mask contorted the words, and with both hands he tried to pry it free of his face, but to his horror, he couldn’t find the seam there either.

The story–the fucking story. The guy had stolen that pig’s carcass, and sewn the pig’s parts over his own–and they’d become his own. He’d started becoming a pig, and now…now was it happening to him too? He stared at himself in the mirror, covered in sweat, food, piss and shit, trying to convince himself that this was all so fucking wrong, but his mind was changing. There was…nothing wrong with this, was there? If anything, he needed to go further. Now…now that he’d gotten a taste of being a pig, didn’t he want so much more? Isn’t this what he’d wanted? Isn’t this why he’d put this stuff on in the first place? Because deep down, ever since he’d read that fucked up story, he’d wanted…he’d wanted to turn into a dirty hog too. A filthy hog. The filthiest, most perverse hog he could possibly be.

He sat back in his shit, wiggling his tail in the much and squealed in delight, scooped some up in his hand and started jacking his piggy cock with it. His gut was distended from his massive meal earlier–but it was larger than it should be, even given everything he consumed. He realized that he was even fatter than he’d been in the morning–and it thrilled him. He smeared shit over his belly, and then licked it off his hand, coating his snout, smelling all of it. His rubber snout was so much more sensitive than his flesh nose had been before, and the stink of his own muck pushed him over the edge, his piggy cock spurting another massive load of cum all over his hand–and he licked that up too, tasting the shit and cum together, and grunting in delight.

What was he doing up here in the bedroom anyway? He should be back downstairs in the kitchen; he should be eating. After all, he still wasn’t really large enough to be a true hog, and there was certain to be some food he’d missed before. He crawled back down the stairs, dragging shit along as he went, and started scrounging around in the cupboards for anything he had missed.

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