When he did wake up again, he felt…so much better, aside from the hangover. Everything about his old self, that old Bruce, was just a distant memory now, and in its place, all he could remember was being this massive, sex obsessed pig. It was like everything that had felt so empty before was full now–full of gluttony, and lust, and other base desires, but at least full. So what if Jean didn’t get it? He didn’t need Jean–he could find plenty of other guys around town eager to use him like the sexy hog he was. He got on the various apps he used for hookups, and less than an hour later he had a guy over to his apartment, begging Bruce for his piggy cock, and already it was better than most of the sex he’d ever had with Jean. Once he was finished with the first, he kept inviting men over, and when he couldn’t find anyone, he’d just sit around and masturbate, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to clean up for him, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to deal with Jean wanting to talk about complicated shit, like feelings, or what Bruce wanted in a relationship. He wanted to fuck, right? But then why, as the days wore on, and he continued his constant sexual conquests with men obsessed with his freakish body…did he keep thinking about him, the entire time? Why was he still so damn angry at him? Why did he…still want him, so damn badly?
After a few days, the sex got old, as it always had before. Everyone wanted to see him as this animal, wanted to either treat him like some mindless beast, or be ravaged by him, but none of them really seemed to give two fucks what Bruce wanted. Sure, maybe he did enjoy ravaging, but was this all he was for people? Just some fucking animal? He knew he was more than that, but no one else saw it–Jean was the first person, he realized, who had seen anything about him beyond the surface, and that…that had terrified him, more than anything else in his whole life, more than the bullying he’d suffered at school, more than the looks of disgust he got on the way to work–the notion that someone might actually care had been too much for him to handle in so many different ways, he’d just lashed out and pushed him away, rather than deal with what he was feeling. Everything felt like a jumble, suddenly. As all of his old problems with his life, and with Jean, as a human had begun to fade away, all of his new past life as a pigman was coming into relief–and he was beginning to wonder if he’d made the right decision after all. Jean…might not have been the sexiest guy, but he’d cared about him, and he’d cooked real good food for him, and…and what if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his whole life, without even realizing it at the time?
The depression hit hard, and fast. The sex dropped off, and instead of finding random men to fuck online, Bruce stayed in his apartment, ordering a different takeout every hour, never once stopping until he was certain he was going to burst. He would look at pictures Jean and him had taken together–sometimes as the real Jean, and other times using the filter profiles Bruce had made for him, his fantasy Jean, a Jean…he hoped might be able to understand all of him–the sexy, wild hog, and the person behind the gruff, abrasive act he’d put on for as long as he could recall. He wondered if he’d be willing to give it a try, just once, to see…how it felt for them both. Maybe he’d understand how much Bruce needed this, even if he didn’t like it. Maybe Bruce could finally manage to show him what Jean wanted to see, to explain everything he’d never had any words for at all…but how could he ever even show his face there again, after making such a mess of things? In the end, he got drunk enough that the terrible idea of going back to Jean and begging him to forgive him sounded better than the idea of going on alone. He had to at least try, after all. He’d try, and Jean would shoot him down, and then…and then, maybe, he’d be able to get on with his own life, and put this awful episode behind him once and for all.