Before he could object again, Jay had another cake pressed to his snout, and after that, he didn’t object again. He went to pick up his fork and knife again, but Jay knocked them out of his hands. Next, he went to grab a pancake with his hand, but Jay gave it a hard smack, and Bruce gave a general snort of annoyance.
“Ya know the rules–if pigs are at the table, gotta eat like a pig. Ya didn’t forget that one right?” he leaned in close, picking up one floppy ear with a couple of fingers, and whispered into his ear, “If I remember right, ya came up with that rule yerself, didn’t ya pig?”
He had, early on. Fuck, if it didn’t make him hard as hell thinking about it. He stood up at the table, bent over, and shoved his face into the remaining pile of pancakes, taking massive bites out of them with his snout, while Jay urged him on, tugging away the clothes Bruce had just put on his body upstairs earlier.
“That was another rule, wasn’t it pig? No clothes for pigs in the house. That one was yours too, wasn’t it?”
In fact, Jay had mentioned it in passing, and made Bruce add it to the growing list himself. He’d…done that a lot, really, made these suggestions, wormed them into Bruce’s head until he’d gotten himself properly worked up, and he’d start following them on his own. Jay did a lot of shit like that. Bruce knew he should stop this, that he was blurring the lines of their relationship again…but his cock was so hard, and feeling Jay rub his heavy, full belly was…so damn satisfying. He was full, but Jay had always wanted him bigger, talked about him breaking 800 pounds, one fat fucking pig, a prize winning pig, even. Keeping him on all fours, forgetting how to speak, forgetting he was anything other than a pig, a real pig–fuck, what in the fuck had he done to him?
He hadn’t even asked him. He’d had no idea–whoever Jay had been before all of this. Bruce tried to remember as best he could, but the memory had already faded to nothing more than scraps. He could remember a clean apartment, a smaller, scrawnier guy, but no details about him beyond that. He was gone now–Bruce had erased him from existence in a fit of horniness, and in his place, he’d created Jay–a twisted, perverted, redneck…and fuck, if he wasn’t turned on, but feeling Jay’s hands on him, he could feel other hands too, hands in the past in other places, and he shuddered in dread at what he had done, Jay pulling his hands away when he did.
“What’s up pig–I can tell you’re enjoying this. Come on–get those pants off for me. No pants in the house for pigs.”
Bruce shook his head got up from the table, and pulled away from him. “No–no, this was such a fucking mistake, I’m sorry, I’ll…I can fix you–this–I think, but I can’t remember him around you.”
Bruce grabbed his shirt from Jay’s hand, and the redneck just stared at him, confused as to what that might mean by any of that. “What are ya talkin’ about?”
He shouldn’t have said anything, why had he said that? Bruce turned around and headed for the front door, already pulling his keys out so he could get out of here, get back in the city, get his head clear and figure out how to start putting all of this right, but he hadn’t made it off the porch before Jay caught up with him, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him back.
“What the hell did you mean by that, pig? What the fuck is there about me to fucking fix? And who else are you fucking talking about?”
Jay was angry, and he’d interpreted that about the only way he could, knowing what he knew, but Bruce couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t tell him what he’d done to him, that he’d sprung from some horny fever dream, caught between his old self, this pig, and a boyfriend he’d never wanted to be with, all of it rolled up together into a whole new mess even worse than before. “I can’t talk about it, alright? It won’t make sense. Just let me go.”
“You know what your problem is pig?” Jay said, leaning in close, “You’re don’t fucking know what you want. You’re broken, and you know it, and you look for people who want to fix you, who want to make something of you, something good, something hot–but you know what? I think you like being broken. I think that’s why you left, but I think you came back last night, and knocked on my door, because you know full fuckin’ well that it’s gonna take a sick, perverted fucked like me to fix what’s wrong with you, and make you into something good–those boys in the city, they don’t know what to do with you, do they?”
Bruce was trying to pull away, but Jay’s grip was only getting tighter, tight enough to hurt. “Fucking let go of me Jay, you’re hurting me.”
“Fucking answer me!”
“No, alright? You’re right! They’re all shit, is that what you want me to say? They all want to treat me like I’m normal, clean me up, make me presentable, show everyone that I’m just like every other fucker in society, but yeah, I’m fucking not. I’m a fat, horny, dirty-minded pig, and you’re the first guy who’s gotten that, really fuckin’ gotten that, but this isn’t you! This isn’t right, you…fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it, but I have to go, I have to figure this shit out, how to fix this.”