The Position:
A Fairy Tale
 
 
By Xyd and Jen the Pig
 
 
Jen swallowed nervously as she trod down the corridor, the folded page of the newspaper clutched in her hand. Finding the place hadn’t been difficult at all; it was in a run-down part of town, and she would have felt worried about leaving her car parked in the weed-grown gravel parking area in different circumstances. She had been surprised to find the nondescript looking door slightly ajar, and had almost thought of knocking before pulling herself together and entering. She found what looked like a receptionist’s desk inside, but it was unoccupied; a note informed her that the receptionist had ‘Gone to Lunch’ and given instructions on how to find Ms. Farmer’s office for the interview. As she finished reading the note, the door had slammed shut behind her, making her jump and let out a little involuntary yelp, which she hoped no one had heard.
 
She stopped outside a door with a frosted glass window and a name plaque slotted into the door that read
 
 
MS. G. FARMER
RECRUITMENT
 
 
She swallowed and looked down, checking herself. She was dressed appropriately enough for an interview, in a short-sleeved white blouse and black skirt, black patent leather shoes with a slight heel, the same outfit she had worn to her last interview. The strain that both garments were under made it very clear just how much weight Jen had put on in the last two years; it hadn’t happened dramatically, and she had never exactly been a thin girl, but she had definitely been spreading, and she knew the other women at work had noticed, whispering and giggling behind her back. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to worry about putting up with that sort of abuse for very much longer. She neatened up a few errant strands of hair and knocked, in what she hoped was a confident way.
 
“Come in!” called a voice from inside. Jen blinked, licked her suddenly very dry lips, and obeyed.
 
Georgina smiled with closed lips from behind her desk as the girl walked in.
The office she was sitting in was a strange sort of place indeed; it seemed like it didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the building. It seemed a bit too large, and the ceiling was far higher than the corridor outside, leading up to skylights in a slanted roof that admitted a pale, slightly grimy light that supplemented the overhead neons; the floor was a dull green vinyl, extending a few inches up the wall, and the off-white paint on the walls had an odd look to it. Most of the room was clear of furniture; there were a few filing cabinets and storage boxes up against the walls, and there was Georgina’s substantial and well-worn desk and comfortable brown leather swivel chair, and behind her there was a cluster of other essential office accoutrements; a printer, a kettle and a small refrigerator. Her desk was mostly clear, a computer monitor and keyboard off to one side, a tidy with some pens and a few sheets of paper. A mug of black coffee steamed next to her elbow. The girl’s eyes flicked to it as she walked across and extended a hand.
 
“Hi there, my name’s Jen, Jen Lane.”
 
The extended hand was rather chubby, the knuckles sunk in a pad of soft flesh. Georgina took it and squeezed it tightly, running her thumb over the back.
 
“You can call me George.” She smiled more broadly, showing off two rows of neat, ivory-coloured teeth as she released Jen’s hand, running her thumb and forefinger all the way down the length of one digit and feeling the thickness of the flesh between each joint in a quick moment.
 
Jen’s hand twitched back a little, unsure of what to make of the strange gesture, certain thoughts forming in her mind only to be deliberately suppressed as well as she could manage. Ms. Farmer didn’t look awfully much older than Jen’s 25 years, but she had a touch of the old-fashioned schoolmistress about her, hair tied firmly back, thin wire-framed spectacles, a striped blouse and suit jacket that implied the pencil skirt beneath. There was something about her smile that made Jen feel very odd. She couldn’t decide whether it was excitement or fear; but she had to press on. Perhaps she should try a familiar sort of approach, get a conversation going between them, seize the initiative?
 
“That’s a cute mug!” She remarked, pointing at it. Ms. Farmer’s eyes swivelled from their slow inspection of Jen’s body towards the mug. She picked it up and peered at it, as if noticing it for the first time. It had a small cartoon image of a tractor, above the words
 
 
TRUST ME
I’M A FARMER
 
 
She raised it to her lips and took a sip of coffee, raising an eyebrow at Jen but not saying a word. Jen felt her cheeks begin to redden.
 
“Because uh, that’s your surname, of course. Farmer.” Her hand made creases in the folded page of newspaper she was still carrying, deliberately refusing to put two and two together.
 
George nodded, putting the mug back down and smiling again. “Yes. Of course. And what position did you come here about, anyway?” she peered at Jen over her glasses, making a show of swivelling slightly and tapping a few keys on her computer before stopping, her hands hovering, ready to type. Jen’s blush became a deep crimson. Her eyes flicked around, as if looking for an exit. It was at this point she noticed for the first time the other door, which she had overlooked at first, thinking it some other sort of odd feature of the room. It was made of stainless steel, with a few scuffs and dents, and a very heavy and industrial looking latch. Her eyes fixed on it, to avoid looking at George as her embarrassment grew, and she became suddenly aware of the very peculiar smell of the office, a mixture of coffee and an under layer of powerful cleaning products that didn’t quite mask something else, right at the bottom, an earthy smell, with a note of strange fragrance that was just on the right side of putrid. She swallowed, and heard George cough, bring her attention back to her. The woman behind the desk indicated the piece of newspaper with her eyes.
 
“The position?” she asked again, quietly.
 
“It’s the uh…” she brought herself up a bit, trying to regain her composure, aware of how absurd what she was about to say sounded. “…the pig position.”
 
George nodded and typed something into her computer.
 
“Of course, I could have guessed.” She flashed Jen another smile, tight-lipped again this time. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
 
Jen looked around, searching for a chair, panicking a little for a moment before Ms. Farmer indicated one of the boxes.
 
“In there, dear.”
 
Jen walked over with as much dignity as she could muster and bent over, undoing the clasps of the plastic crate. As she did so, she gave Georgina an excellent view of her rather well-developed rear end, straining against the fabric of her skirt, a little bulge of thigh beneath the hem. She finally popped it off, and let out a little gasp that, to Georgina’s ears, had more than a little of a squeal about it.
 
“It’s uh…full of straw?” Jen half turned, her voice had raised almost a whole octave, and the pink flush had reached her hairline. Georgina nodded.
 
“That’s right. Spread some out on the floor and take a seat, there’s a good girl.” She turned back to her screen and filled in the next field on her form.
 
POSITION: Pig
FORMER NAME: Jen Lane
 
She turned back and watched as, trembling slightly, Jen picked up an armful of the straw and walked back across the room. She hesitated for a moment, and Georgina nodded, at which she dumped it on the ground about six feet in front of Georgina’s desk and slowly knelt down before sitting back on it, shifting her weight a little awkwardly as she tried to find some sort of half-dignified position, which was of course impossible. George leaned forward a little over the desk, peering now down at her.
 
“So, Jen, you saw our advert in the paper, I take it?” Jen nodded, replying with a voice that seemed suddenly very meek and small.
 
“Yes…”
 
George turned back to the computer and opened another tab. “WANTED: Full-Time Pig. Enthusiasm required. Ample opportunities for personal growth, must be able to start immediately, on permanent contract.” She could hear Jen swallow as she put a slight emphasis on the word ‘permanent’. She watched as the girl checked the bit of paper in her hand, as if she could have been in doubt, and then nodded, picking at some of the fragments straw that clung to her front.
 
  “And what makes you think you’d be suited for this opportunity, Jen?” George asked, leaning back over the desk with her elbows planted firmly and resting her chin in her hands. The rotund girl cleared her thoat.
 
“W…well, the opportunity appeals to me on a lot of levels, and I think it’s something that I’d be pretty good at. I enjoy spending time outdoors and, well,” she swallowed, “frankly, eating and sleeping probably count as my top hobbies, and I would think that both would be quite important parts of being a pig?” She looked up, eyes shimmering. Georgina gave a very slight nod, which seemed to embolden her. She smiled and started talking a little more eagerly, her cheeks though still bright pink, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead and the straw now sticking to her clammy hands.
 
“And well, I’ve always felt a sort of affinity, you might say, to farm animals. And especially pigs. And well, there’s other things as well, about the lifestyle, that just seem very…they seem very...good, to me.” She trailed away at the end, blinking up at Georgina, her brow furrowed slightly in a rather cute way, as if she was confused by herself. Georgina simply nodded again, turning back to the computer to make a few more notes.
 
“And?” She asked, simply.
 
“And…well, “ Jen cleared her throat again, “I’ve been very unhappy lately. I don’t really seem to fit in at my job, or anywhere really, and I’ve been putting on weight and I, well, I’ve been sort of, enjoying it, actually. Except for the way people talk. I think it would be quite nice to be somewhere where I could really just concentrate on eating and, and put on weight, and not have to worry about people saying anything, you know? A real change of pace, a chance to really achieve…all that I can achieve” there was a slight note of melancholy at the end, Georgina noticed.
 
She nodded again. “Converting food into high quality pork is the essence of a pig’s job description, you’ll definitely have a chance to shine in that department if we decide to take you on.” There was something quite sinister about her smile as she rounded on Jen again, noticing how her face had blanched a bit, whilst still not giving up its blush.
 
“Pork…” she said, quietly. It was not a question, but Georgina answered it anyway.
“Yes, pork. You do know what happens to pigs, don’t you Jen?” The girl shut her eyes for a moment. Georgina noticed that her breathing had become faster; it might be fear, or it might be something else, perhaps mixed with a natural anxiety. Then she nodded.
 
“Yes, yes, I do know. Of course.”
 
“And that doesn’t bother you?” The girl shook her head.
 
“Well, it won’t be for a while, I imagine?” Georgina smiled.
 
“Oh no, not for a while. We concentrate on quality here, not quantity. What’s your current weight and height?” Jen’s reply came almost without thought.
 
“Two hundred and eighty six pounds, this morning. And uh, five foot six” Georgina entered the numbers into the form, and a few others filled themselves automatically.
“We’ll be looking at you achieving a finishing weight of somewhere between four-fifty and five hundred pounds.” Georgina explained, while typing again. “that could take as little as five months, but more likely six to eight.” She finished and pushed her chair back a little, half-turning to flick the kettle on and open the fridge.
“Six to eight…” murmured Jen, “…I hadn’t been expecting that long, actually.”
Georgina turned back, holding a large tupperware container two thirds full of some brown substance she had removed from the fridge. “Weight gain is a complicated business. The more you put on, the more calories go to maintaining what you’ve already got. But don’t count your chickens…or your pigs.” The kettle came to the boil as she prized the top off of the container. A rich, sweet smell added to what was already in the room.
 
“Obviously, you look like you’re qualified for the job on paper, but how are you when push comes to shove?” She picked up the kettle and poured half a cup of boiling water into the tupperware, then from out of her desk produced a large wooden spoon. As she stirred, the sweet smell became stronger, almost overpowering all the others in the room. “I need to make sure you’re not wasting my time here, Jen, and that means I need to put your skills to the test. Have you eaten yet today?”
 
Jen swallowed. “Yes…breakfast…and a snack.” A little life flushed back into her cheeks as the grim portion of things receded a bit, to be replaced by more immediate embarrassment.
 
“Well, let’s hope you’ve still got a good appetite. This container holds about a kilo of our standard feed; about 5,000 calories or so. To begin with, you’ll be eating this twice a day, but by the end you’ll be on three or four feedings at least, supplemented of course with treats…a form of performance-related pay, if you will.” Jen nodded, a look of concern on her well-rounded face. Georgina wondered what she would look like at the end, and felt herself beginning to salivate.
 
Jen shuffled forward and, with trepidation, took the container, sliding it mostly off the desk and then sitting back down on the straw. She was concentrating so much on not spilling the thick, warm contents that she forgot to sit in any sort of dignified manner, and instead splayed her legs out in front of her, her skirt riding up and exposing more of her already very generous thighs. She noticed that the straw seemed a lot more comfortable, now she was just sitting on it without thinking; really surprisingly soft. She looked down into the feed, and the smell of it hit her. She had put on a little perfume in the car, but that was overwhelmed now, by the smell of the room, and the feed, and by something else that she realised with a start was her; a faint sweaty stink that had already gone a long way to washing the polite smell off her. She concentrated on the feed; it had notes of fruit and grain; she could see fragments of oats and what looked perhaps like cooked apple, but there was also a heavy sweetness, molasses perhaps, and other things. She steeled herself, and looked up.
 
“May I have a spoon, or something…” she trailed off as she caught Georgina’s look, her eyes a gleaming green.
 
“We don’t allow spoons where you’ll be working, or knives or forks. Health and safety, you understand.” Jen nodded dumbly, looking down at the sticky mess. She gingerly stuck her finger in; it yielded well enough, and though it was warm, it was not painfully hot. She scooped up a generous amount with her finger and brought it up to her lips. She thought of tasting it with her tongue, but conscious of Georgina’s eyes on her, she bravely stuck the whole thing in her mouth. She chewed, though chewing wasn’t really necessarily. The flavour of it filled her mouth; it was sweet indeed, but the sweetness was well balanced, and there was a pleasant sort of fruity, nutty flavour underneath it. She was sure it had plenty of fibre, as well as sugar and, by the slightly greasy sensation as she licked her lips, quite a lot of some sort of fat as well. It was far from disgusting. In fact, it was quite pleasant, and it certainly went down easily enough. She got a little bolder, using three fingers this time to scoop up a proper mouthful. It took her longer to get this one down, the feed could perhaps do with being a bit moister, but she was sure when she was…actually on the farm, so to speak, she was sure she would have plenty of water. Should she ask for some now? No, she needed to make a good impression.
 
Georgina, meanwhile, was smiling again, full and toothy. Her teeth were almost regular; untouched by any orthodontist, as if any could be found who was foolish enough to put their hand into such a mouth, and feel the oddly sharp edges of the incisors and the unusually fine points of the canines. She had, over the years, had a few runners. Not many, but no system could be perfect. However, once they had eaten, she had never had a single one run away. She thought of her one tenth share of the meat of each item of livestock she acquired and her saliva continued to run. She watched as Jen took another scoop, using her whole hand now, the sticky feed oozing between her fat fingers and along the edge of her hand, a little brown dribble down her arm, another two forming at the corners of her mouth as she chewed and swallowed, trying to lick her lips before scooping up another handful.
 
“Don’t worry about making a mess dear. The floor is vinyl for a reason. Table manners are one thing we definitely won’t be expecting of you. Make as much mess as you like. That goes for anything. If you feel the need to relieve yourself, even, just go ahead.” Jen made a choking sound, a little of the feed going down the wrong way, and swallowed quickly. There were visible beads of sweat now on her forehead, and dark stains under her armpits where the fabric stretched in such a way that the tone of her skin was visible in places.
 
“R…relieve myself!?” There was that note in the breathing again. Definitely not fear this time.
 
“Of course. As you would imagine, there will be no dedicated toilet facilities in your place of work. There is a slatted floor though, which allows solid and liquid waste to collect before being turned into fertiliser.” Jen stared at her as she spoke, subconsciously sucking on her fingers. There was obviously something very moreish about the feed; probably something to do with the cocktail of hormones and steroids mixed in with the food ingredients.
 
“That uh, sounds very efficient…” she said weakly, before glancing around. “Are you…sure? What about my clothes?” She seemed to realise as she said it what a stupid question that was, and Georgina didn’t feel a need to give an answer. Jen closed her eyes and seemed to tense up a little as she took another scoop of the feed and stuffed it into her mouth. Then, suddenly, she relaxed. The sound of the pissing was muffled by her panties and skirt, but Georgina could easily see the spreading moisture as it wicked through the material and then began to pool across the floor. A bizarre look halfway between shame and bliss spread across Jen’s face, one Georgina had seen many times before, and her shoulders slumped. She swallowed, and then, seeming to startle herself, let out a long, wet-sounding fart.
 
“Methane will be collected as well, of course. We use it to power the lights here.” She pointed up. She didn’t mention the other things the methane powered, more prominent in her mind than lights; the conveyor belts, the meat saws, the freezers and refrigerators. She ran her tongue along her teeth, nose wrinkling slightly as the smell reached her. There was already quite a lot of the farmyard about Jen already.
Jen didn’t say anything, but instead kept her head down and tried to concentrate on her food. She got about halfway through before it looked like she was beginning to struggle. Clumps of the sticky, half-masticated feed fell from her mouth and down her front as she chewed, sweating even more profusely now. Her lips had a sticky brown rim, and both her hands were filthy. She could feel the warmth of the piss soaked into her underwear and skirt cooling, a sensation she wished she could say was new to her. She groaned softly, resting a hand on her belly and leaving a half-handprint.
 
“I think I need a break.” She said, weakly, sitting back, breathing heavily and thickly. Georgina stood up from her chair and walked around to the end of the desk, peering down into the container, tutting at the half-inch or so of feed still left in the bottom. Jen was astonished to see that on her feet she wore, not the pair of sensible heels the rest of her outfit suggested, but a pair of green wellington boots. She stood in front of the desk and leaned back on it, looking down at Jen, who was feeling very fat, filthy and pathetic, but also, a fact which she had been trying to ignore, so very, very turned on. Her mind was reeling with the rapidity of her transformation; it was terrifying, but at the same time, so exciting. She wanted to go all the way, and part of her fear was the idea that if she stopped, if she said no, or held back, or didn’t strive her utmost, she might lose her nerve before she passed the point of no return.
 
“Come on girl.” Georgina said, softly, brightly, with the tone one might use to address a pet. “Just a little more. Maybe you’d feel more comfortable if you loosened that blouse?”
 
Jen nodded, resting the tub down between her legs as she reached up to fumble with her buttons. Her greasy, sticky fingers slipped and slid, and she had a sudden flash of anger. What was the point trying to undo the buttons, you idiot? The thing was ruined anyway. She grabbed inside her collar and pulled down. The buttons pinged off one by one, a few of them striking Georgina as the blouse tore open, though she didn’t move an inch. Jen didn’t stop, flailing her arms a little as she tried to peel out of the now useless garment. There was a little further tearing, and quite a lot of grunting and subvocal cursing, and then the stained and sweat-soaked thing was off. She removed her bra almost as an afterthought, tugging it down off her breasts and shoulders and huffing with the clasp for a few seconds before tossing it away. Her breasts, though not insignificant, were fairly small for a woman of her size, certainly seeming a little out of proportion with the belly that had now been liberated from the straining blouse. Jen took a few moments to breathe, scratching an itch in her side and looking up almost dazedly at Georgina, who stared down at the topless, overweight woman in her piss-soaked skirt and smiled indulgently.
 
“Come on now, just a little more.” The repetition had a soothing quality. Her breathing slowed a bit, and her mind was brought back to the other itch she wanted very much to scratch, the now cooling wet underwear tingling as it pressed against her crotch. She picked the tub back up again and tilted it so the mix began to slowly flow down into one corner, then raised it up to her mouth. About half of it ended up spilling down her breasts, mixed with a fair amount of her own drool, but she got it in. She chewed and swallowed, brown bubbles forming on her lips, her eyes lidded and heavy as her body began to process the incredible amount of food she had just forced into it. She heard a snapping sound and looked up; Georgina had produced from somewhere a pair of blue rubber gloves. She leaned down and took the tub from Jen’s weak hands, popping the lid back on and returning it to the fridge.
“Well, I think based on your performance here, I’m ready to welcome you aboard, Jen.” She smiled and reached behind her, picking up a clipboard with an attached form, and a pen. “You just need to sign here.” She indicated a space. Jen reached up, but the board was snatched back. “Oh no, we can’t have you getting it mucky, here…” Georgina leaned forward, and she felt a rubber-clad finger probing her mouth, and then something hard, which she realised dully was the end of the pen. “Hold tight, there’s a good girl.” She gripped it tight with her teeth, and leaned forward, steadying herself as Georgina held the form in place, making a loose scribble in the appropriate box. As she did so, she blinked, trying to focus and read as much of the document as she could. Her brow furrowed as Georgina walked over to one of the filing cabinets and unlocked it, filing the form away in its appropriate place. The pen dropped out of her mouth on to her belly.
 
“How did you already have my name on it?” She asked, confusedly, as Georgina walked back over. The woman laughed as she took up her position again leaning on the desk.
“Pigs are quite intelligent, but still not that bright, are they?” Her tone was now more like one that might be used to address a toddler, all the earlier formality and trappings of an interview gone. Jen wasn’t quite sure what she thought about it, but her body new. She began to slowly rub her thighs together, hoping Georgina might not notice.
 
“Wh-What do you mean?” She managed to stammer. She laughed again. There was something very…dangerous about that laugh. Like there was something beneath it, wild and barely caged.
 
“My dear little piggy…don’t worry, we’ll think up your sty name soon enough…do you think that it would be sensible to just place adverts like that in the newspaper where anyone could read them?” Jen stopped her unsubtle masturbation, leaning back on her hands for a moment and staring up at George. The waistband of her skirt felt very tight all of a sudden. She began to unfasten it as she tried to wrap her head round what the woman was saying.
 
“You mean…somehow…only I got the advertisement?” George nodded.
 
“That’s right. Not at random of course. We’re a small…organisation…but we’re good at what we do. My colleague, Ms. Wolfe, is always on the lookout for a prospect. She says she can smell the pigs, would you believe?” A memory flashed through Jen’s mind of a woman dressed unseasonably in sunglasses and a fur coat, staring at her in a café. She continued to stare at George, mouth slightly agape as she kicked off her shoes and began to wriggle out of her skirt, the sodden panties rolling down her legs with it.
“You, you knew I’d want this?” George nodded.
 
“It’s much more common than you’d think, and becoming more common. Of course we do try and help it along. My other colleague, Ms. Haxan, is very into computers, you know. Trick photography and such, it’s all very clever. I’m sure you’ve probably seen some of her work.” Jen thought to the folder on her computer, and a strange thought crossed her mind.
 
“What will you…do…with all my things?” She asked. George shrugged. “Sell or donate what we can. We’ll destroy any photographs and your computer and so on. Anything that’s too identifiable. Not that anyone will come looking for you, of course.” Jen nodded and sighed.
 
“No, they won’t.” She had known that; and in case they did, she had already made some efforts to cover her tracks. It was good to know others would be on the case.
“And why should they? They’d be looking for Jen, and Jen ceased to exist a few minutes ago. Now all they’d find is an unnamed sow; a runt of the litter.” She flicked one leg forward, kicking the sow’s discarded skirt and underwear away across the floor. “Get on your hands and knees, and lets have a proper look at you, and the right name might come to me.”
 
The sow drew her knees back, obeying almost thoughtlessly, but moving awkwardly as she tried to avoid looking away from the woman she somehow knew was now, and forever, Ms. Farmer. It hurt a bit to put her weight on her wrists so heavily.
 
“You’ll get used to it,” Said Ms. Farmer, appearing to read her mind as she stepped forward. “It helps keep your arm muscles in good order, gives a better meat to fat ratio.” She squatted down next to the sow and ran her gloved hands down her back, probing gently at certain spots, inspecting her. “Once we’ve got you settled in we’ll perform a little operation so you won’t be able to stand up again, not that you’ll want to when you get more towards your proper size.” The sow shuddered at that, and Ms. Farmer appeared to enjoy feeling it run through her. “Lots of good bacon here,” she murmured, before moving her hands down to the sow’s buttocks. “These hams though, these will really be exquisite.” The sow gasped to hear herself so casually talked about as meat. An electric shock of mixed fear and lust shot through her, and there was another fart, and then a wet slopping sound as she voided her bowels, some detached part of her realising that could well be the remnants of the last meal she ever ate sitting at a table wearing clothes like a person, leaving her. Ms. Farmer nodded approvingly, hands moving down the backs of her legs and calves, then round underneath her, massaging and probing her belly and flank, then weighing her breasts as she continued to talk. “nice bit of pork belly, and I’m sure there’s some excellent ribs under here as well. The breasts of course aren’t really edible, but the fat makes some really excellent dripping…” The sow closed her eyes, and tears ran down her grimy cheeks. She was in such a state of emotional turmoil, mourning her old life and consumed with lust for her new one, aroused by her own imminent mortality, yet absolutely terrified of what her words implied.
 
“Ms. Farmer…” she managed, only to feel a blue gloved finger against her lip.
“I know, girl. Don’t worry.” Her other hand moved up back along under her belly and, with quick and expert probing, located her cunt. She made a squealing noise so animalistic that it shocked her, shifting her knees a bit to allow better excess. Doing so made a little more piss run out over Ms. Farmer’s gloved hand, dribbling on the vinyl. “I’ll finish you off now, and then we’ll go through that door there, and then we’ll shave your head and fit your cute little brass nose ring, and we’ll brand you and snip you…it’ll hurt a bit, but it’ll all be over before you know it, and then all your troubles will be at an end.” As she spoke, her finger had located the sow’s clit, and was stimulating it with strong, forceful strokes. The sow panted, squeaking a little in the back of her throat with each breath. “Nothing left to do but gorge and sleep and shit and gorge. Maybe a romp with one of the other sows now and then if you feel like it, maybe not. And then one day, when you’re plump and ripe and you’ve forgotten you were ever a person, we’ll take you out back where you have your weekly hose bath, only this last time, while I’m giving you your wash and rub, Ms. Wolfe will scramble your useless little brains with a metal spike, and we’ll have that chubby cute little head of yours off before the lights go out. From now until then, you’ll never hear your ultimate fate mentioned again. Will you think this was just a dream, that you were always a pig, that you’ll always be a pig? Will you remember this in a flash as the barrel of the boltgun presses against your temple? I do wonder sometimes. Do you have any thoughts on the matter, Parsley?”
 
But Parsley didn’t say anything; she just squealed and trembled as the most powerful, nerve-wrecking orgasm of her life shot through her body, forcing more tears from her eyes and brownish drool from her lips. Ms. Farmer smiled with the satisfaction of a job well done, and stood up.
 
“Come on girl, “ she said, after giving the animal a few moments to recover, as she walked over to the door. Parsley swayed for a moment then, wincing at the pain on wrists and knees, she crawled obediently towards the stainless steel door.