Werepig - Part 1

So the past few months haven't been particularly kind to me. I was basically sick all winter long, bouncing from one bout of COVID to the next with a cold or two in between. Honestly, I've never been sicker than this past winter. Thankfully, winter is finally easing, and with it, the rampant microbes that seem to be having a field day in my lungs and sinuses. And with health, comes smut! Enjoy :)

The first time I transformed was a bit of a surprise. I had a thing for fat guys--not chubby, not dad-bods, fucking fat dudes. One guy I picked up on an app was just my type: big, fat, and hairy, with a mane of spikey hair that went down his neck and halfway down his back where it connected with a bristly coat that covered most of his belly and torso. Big, bouncing tits, thunder thighs, and a thick uncut cock.

The sex was phenomenal. He was horny in a way that few men I’d been with could even hope to achieve with an entire pharmacy of drugs available to them. He was even hornier than me, a guy who jerks off twice a day at a minimum. And oh man, the way he’d cum--it’d just go on for fucking minutes, overflowing my mouth or my ass. Sometimes both.

Anyway, he was also a bit of a biter. Most of our time together, he’d just give me a few love nips on my neck and I’d have to explain away some bruises to my roommate. But then, one time, he was particularly aggressive in bed and he bit a little too hard, and I reached up and felt blood. He apologized profusely and said he’d gotten a bit carried away because it was getting close to a full moon. I thought his apology sounded like mystic bullshit, so I broke things off.

Then a month later, I felt sick--sicker than I’d ever felt in my life. I was feverish, achy, sweating like a pig, and everything itched everywhere. I didn’t puke, but I wanted to. And then, when I saw my reflection in the mirror, I wanted to scream. Only instead, I squealed. My nose was upturned, my hair had lengthened and was pointing straight up, almost like a mohawk, and it went way further down my neck than before. And I was fat--well, fatter. I had thickened everywhere, from my face to my arms and chest. My ass was huge, my fingers were swollen, and I had a gut that almost rivaled the guy who bit me.

But what really freaked me out was my cock. At first, I couldn’t see it--it was just this big flap of skin that connected to my groin. But then I poked around inside and saw it in there. It was thinner at the tip and pointed, but it got way thicker as I probed my finger close to the base. The shape of it was alien, and yet despite being disturbed, I couldn’t deny it felt even better than my old dick.

Suddenly, the horror, pain, and discomfort just melted away and I was unbelievably, undeniably horny. I cupped my balls, bigger and hairier than ever, and grabbed my pec-turned tit, the enlarged nip already engorged with excitement. I ran a hand over the hair that now coated my chest and belly--it was thrilling in a way I couldn’t begin to describe. And as I jiggled my new heft I saw my shaft slowly inch its way out of my new sheath, growing longer and longer as my additional adipose wobbled hypnotically. I didn’t even notice my mouth fill with tusks or how my bizarrely-shaped dick seemed to curl slightly as it extended further up my stomach. I was just awash in sensations so intense that it was difficult to take it all in at once. And then I touched my new erection and it was like discovering sex again for the first time.

I’d say I made several discoveries that first night, but that would be overstating things slightly. It was more like the discoveries were made when I regained some composure the following morning. I can tell you now how I found out that flexing some new muscles allowed me to change the curl and angle of my apparently prehensile cock, going from a nearly straight and pointed arrow to curling around itself and pointing in multiple different directions. I could also describe how various fluids from my dick and new sheath made for the perfect, if somewhat pungent lubricant. And I could recount how, after achieving orgasm, I ejaculated rope after rope of jizz for literally minutes, my brain so awash in dopamine that I eventually passed out in the bathtub, still weakly spasming and forcing out yet more cum for I don’t even know how many more minutes.

At some point, I managed to wake up for long enough to extract myself from the bathtub, absolutely covered and encrusted in dried ejaculate, to stare at myself in the mirror. The enormous boar’s head that stared back at me looked completely unfamiliar, but the ongoing topor of my post-orgasm prevented me from feeling any emotion at all. I lumbered back to my bedroom, heedless of the fluids I was still dripping, and collapsed atop my mattress.

The following morning, I was mostly back to normal, but I was also forever changed. For starters, I was fatter. Well, more like thicker. There was certainly more musculature to support everything, but you’d never see it for the plush flab that coated me from head to do. I was also far hairier, with a coat that covered me from shoulders down to my toes. My bottom incisors were bigger, my nostrils were ever so slightly more prominent, and my junk had gotten a significant tune-up.

I was glad that I didn’t have the weird tentacle cock that I had last night. Instead, I had a thick, uncut chode that seemed far more appropriate for a man of my increased stature. Regaining a foreskin I’d never known was something truly exciting, and it didn’t take long for me to reach a full erection. About as long and thick as a soda can, the head did taper a bit to a point that seemed out of place given how broad the rest of me was, but it didn’t look so out of place that people would comment. Especially given its overall size--they’d probably be too busy trying to unhinge their jaw wide enough for it to fit.

Just the thought got me horny enough to tackle this morning wood before I tackled the larger issue of seeing if I had any clothes that still fit. The foreskin made jerking off easy, and the added pre-cum just slicked everything up so I didn’t even need to reach for the lube on my bedside table. I languidly stroked and eventually blew a load that coated my hairy gut. I was surprised at how long my orgasms lasted. Normally, I’d maybe shoot a rope or two before the rest would sort of dribble out. This time I counted more than a dozen before I finally gave up and just tried to focus on ensuring my astounding fluid production landed on me rather than the rest of the bed.

I didn’t succeed very well. Or maybe it was the fluids from last night that I failed to notice until after I’d gotten up. There were white stains everywhere, and I was covered in crusty white flakes alongside the wet streaks that coated my hairy, jiggly torso. I amended my plan to include a shower and laundry. Then after I reached the bathroom, I further amended it to include a mop and a bucket to clean the mess I’d made the night before. Then I’d figure out if my fat ass would fit in even my loosest boxers.

And after all that, I vowed to ask the fat fuck who bit me a few questions.