Three Little Pigs

by ilovebe
Published: Aug 27th, 2016
Last Edit: Dec 21st, 2016

Description

Three young ladies must endure humiliating transformations for trespassing

Tags

sow (1) weight gain (1) nonconsensual (0) feral (0) female (0) breast expansion (0) mental shift (0) magic (0) orgasm (0) pig (0) ungulate (0) witch (0)
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Story

The general idea of this story was inspired by OBLIVION 1134’s premise of three not-to-do well girls stumbling upon someone with special powers. Enjoy! (Note: This is an early story I wrote almost eight or nine years ago)

Three Little Pigs

 

            “What time, again, did you say that we were meeting the boys?” Alisa asked as she finished pulling her chestnut hair back into a taut ponytail that cascaded down to the middle of her back.

            “About eight. Hopefully the keg’s been tapped by the time we get there,” Becky called out from Alisa’s bedroom.

            “Well, either way, I know that Donny has some Soco, so if they don’t have the tap yet, we can bust into some of that.” Alisa leaned into her bathroom vanity mirror as she widened her lips into the proverbial “O” to apply scarlet red lipstick. She stepped back to take one last survey of her reflection before walking out. Now 18, along with her other friends, Alisa had never gone to a party, so she wanted to look good but not as though she were trying too hard. A white form-fitting t-shirt accented Alisa’s tapered waist that blossomed upwards into a pair of tight c-cup breasts. Downwards, her trimmed stomach flawlessly flowed into widened hips, upon which hung a pair of denim capri jeans. Being that the girls were going to a kegger in the woods, Alisa chose a comfortable pair of white low-top sneakers with white socks to get her through the woodland sojourn. Alisa gave a little smile to the mirror as she examined her olive complexion and walked through the door into her bedroom.

            “Alright, Parker should be here soon,” quipped Becky as she laid down a magazine upon the bed that she had just been reading. “How do I look?” Becky stood up and did a twirl.

            “You look great,” Alisa acknowledged with a friendly laugh. 

            “Well, I’ve been going to these things since last year, and I want to come into this year with a bang.”

            It was true that Becky looked great. The more innocent looking of the two, she sported her blonde hair in a conservative style that fell down to her shoulders. A similar build to Alisa, Becky did not quite have the same sized breasts as her friend. However, what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in tautness. Her breasts were perfectly shaped orbs that stood proudly above her soccer stomach. Becky was looking exceptionally hot this day by being stuffed into a tight pink, short-sleeved, polo-styled shirt with a collar and buttons that began at the neckline and plunged downward, stopping just shy of where the top of her breast-line began. Wanting to stay cool and look hip, she had picked out a pleated khaki skirt, tightened at the waist with a belt, and falling about six inches above her knee. To top off the total package, Becky had decided to wear her pink socks that traveled halfway up her thighs and gave a pleasing aesthetic contrast to the white loafers on her feet.

            As soon as Alisa gave the accolades to her friend, the doorbell buzzed from downstairs.

            “Sounds like Parker,” squeaked Becky with a joyous exuberance. The two girls rushed downstairs to greet the third member that would be joining them at the party that night.

            “You guys about ready?” asked Parker, looking excited about the planned events of the evening. The most adventurous of the group and also the most mature, Parker was wearing a navy-blue, sleeveless, button-up blouse. Wanting to show off her silhouette for the night, she had decided to go with a black pencil skirt with matching black nylons and pumps. Parker’s brown hair was trimmed into a sporty cut that ended just before the base of her neck with bangs that curled down the sides of her jaw line.

            Checking to make sure she had her house keys in her pocket, Alisa replied that they were ready. “Doesn’t Becky look great?” she added.

            “Definitely,” responded Parker with a sincere sense of enthusiasm.

            Pointing to Parker’s skirt, Alisa stated, “You look great, but I don’t know how practical this is going to be. Can you move well enough in it?”

            “Well, it does slow me down a bit, but I take the look if it’s worth it.”

            “Anyways,” interjected Becky, “Maybe we’ll arrive a little late and the keg will be tapped. So it’s a win-win!” Becky always had the ability to look on the bright side of things. Her innocent demeanor matched her innocent looks.

            “Let’s roll,” said Alisa as she closed the door behind her. “We can walk down Spruce Street onto Leigh lane, hop down the bike path past Deckard’s and take that dirt road by their house up into the woods.”

            “Why don’t we just cut through the field at the end of Leigh?” asked Becky. “It would be a lot easier and would cut off a lot of time.” Becky had ulterior motives to suggest this route. The Deckard’s had a German Sherman. While always properly chained, the dog made the blonde somewhat uneasy upon passing.

            “Forget that,” Alisa said with a quiver in her voice. “That whack-job of a lady owns some farm land out there and she’d lynch us if we were caught on her property.”

            “Way to be racist there, Alis’,” laughed Becky.

            Alisa countered, “It’s not racist! Lynching is something that you can do to anyone…and we’d be lynched if she catches us on her land!”

            “Do you even know anything about Miss Mirtha?” Becky was attempting to climb her way into the social pecking order through the argument. Unfortunately, Alisa out alpha-ed Becky in most instances.

            “Look, the woman apparently studied in some coven that’s considered elite in the magic world. I think it’s a bunch of BS, but I do know that she’s quite protective of her land. We have a few months until we’re off to college, and I don’t want to piss people off in a town this size before I’m outta here.”

            “Oh who cares,” Parker stated in a hurried tone of voice, “Let’s just get going. Alisa’s route is fine.”

            With still plenty of sunlight left, the girls left Alisa’s house just a hair past 7 ‘o clock p.m.

            “I think we should have left a little later,” piped Becky as the group walked down Spruce Street. “It’s always good to be fashionably late!”

            “Screw that, I want to start drinking,” replied Alisa. “Besides, Parker wants to start making her presence known early to get Jeremy thinking.”

            A smile came across Becky’s face. “Nice Parker, Jeremy’s definitely a hottie.”

            “It’s not like that,” said Parker with indignation. “I’m just going to work my way in slow. You can’t be too available. We’ll teach all of this to you, young padawan, soon enough.”

            As the three girls walked further down Spruce Street, it became apparent that Alisa and Becky were the more mobile of the three.

           “Are you having trouble there?” asked Alisa as she turned around to see Parker 50 feet behind.

            Parker had a look of displeasure on her face. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have picked this skirt. My movement is totally restricted.”

            That’s alright,” said Becky with a smile, “We’re just going to be fashionably late.”

            Alisa retorted, “I don’t know. She’s really slowed down on this street. The bike path is going to really suck to walk on being constricted like that.”

            Becky saw the opportunity not to deal with Deckard’s dog. “Well, why don’t we just…”

            Alisa stopped her friend before she could even finish the sentence. “Forget it. We’re not going on old lady Mirtha’s land.”

            Looking to diffuse the situation, Becky asked, “Why do people always refer to people as ‘old lady such and such’ or ‘old man such and such’?” I think she’s only in her early forties. Saying that stuff always makes it sound like you’re in a Scooby Doo episode.”

            “Look,” Parker interjected, “It’s up to you two. I’ll go wherever. If you want to try the bike path, that’s fine with me. If we want to forget the bike path and go down Delaney, that’s also fine. If we want to try Mirtha’s field, then whatever.”

            The de facto leader of the group, Alisa pondered the options for a moment. Going down Delaney Road would add at least 50 minutes to an hour to their travel time. “Okay listen, we’ll keep going, and if by the time we end up at the end of Leigh, it seems like we’re going to be late, we’ll cut through the field. Cool?”

            The two other girls agreed and continued their walk down Spruce with Becky and Alisa slowing their gait in order to remain as a unit with Parker.

            It was a typical Friday evening in Slatestown. Jocks road up and down the roads in obnoxiously loud Fords with lift kits that monster truck drivers would be proud to have on their machines. Middle-class husbands and wives were watering their lawns as the dogs laid out on the patios. The vista on Spruce was so idyllic that it was cliché. Leigh Lane was much more sparsely populated. Only a few houses dotted the no outlet, single-lane street. At the end sat Mirtha’s property – a mix of trees and an open field. On the left side, before Leigh Lane ended, was the bike trail. The bike path went away from Mirtha’s property for about a mile, straightened out for about a half a mile as it went past Deckard’s house, then snaked its way back towards the dirt road that crossed between Mirtha’s field. The bike trail was the long way around, but it was public property. The dirt road was township right of way, so most people took that route when traveling to the normal party spots on the edge of Slatestown. There have been numerous stories about people trespassing on Mirtha’s property, but none of the tales had actually been confirmed. Miss Mirtha seemed nice enough. Most of Slatestown’s citizens knew her as a quiet and reserved widower who occasionally made trips into town to buy feed from the local Farm and Fleet. She was always polite if somewhat mysteriously. Why did impressionable teens avoid her property like a haunted graveyard, and why did elders talk about Miss Mirtha as though she were a voodoo priestess?

            “Well, a 20 minute walk has turned into a 45 minute walk,” acknowledged Alisa while the three girls stood at the end of Leigh Lane. “We have about another hour and 15 minutes of light, and I don’t want to be stumbling along that bike trail without being able to see.”

            Parker straightened her blouse out with her hands and looked towards Mirtha’s property. “Well…I guess we could take our chances and cut through. I usually don’t even see her around, so I imagine that we’ll be safe.”

            “What I thought was a bad idea is turning into a pretty good idea now,” said Alisa in agreement. “Well, let’s do this then. We’ll stay closer to the rocks and further away from the house. That way, we won’t be as easily spotted.”

            Alisa, Becky, and Parker stepped onto Mirtha’s property, the lady’s house sitting ominously on a small rolling hill in the background. They walked, without incident, 2000 yards by a wall of natural rock that cut through the field.

            “Do you think she’s home?” asked Parker looking up at the house.

            “It doesn’t look like it,” said Alisa with some relief.” I think if we can get to the patch of trees up ahead, we’ll be golden.”

            The group trudged forward, keeping a low profile, towards a wooded area that expanding out against the width of the property.

            “Okay, when we get to the woods, we’re going to have to be quiet,” Becky stated with an air of adventure.

            Upon reaching the wooded area, the girls breathed a sigh of relief. The chances of them being spotted before the dirt road were now nil. They continued through a small cut in the forest.

            “Ahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!” screamed Parker, who was following closely behind her companions. A sound of rustling brushed echoed through the woods.

            Becky and Alisa looked back in surprise. Parker had fallen into a small ravine that was covered by overgrowth. The fall had only been about two feet, but it startled all of the girls.

            Alisa asked the obvious question to Parker, who was lying down in the recesses of the ravine. “Are you alright?”

            “Yeah, I’m just going to have to dust off my ass. I’m going to need a hand up though, so I don’t have to crawl.”

            Becky and Alisa nodded to one another and reached for Parker’s hands. They pulled the brown-haired girl up out of the ravine.

            “Thanks a bunch. That sucked,” Parker said while brushing herself off.

            “Shit happens,” responded Becky as the two girls faced Parker.

            “Well, you know…oh shit…” The “oh shit” was said under Parker’s breath as she looked past her friends.

            “Well, I see that you girls got into a little trouble there,” said a voice behind Becky’s back.

            Becky and Alisa jolted around to see Miss Mirtha standing behind them. For a woman believed to be an old witch, Miss Mirtha was actually attractive. A woman who aged well, she held a Madonna-like wisdom in her face. It looked as though Miss Mirtha had just arrived back home from town in relative proximity to the time she found the three girls. She had on a simple burgundy t-shirt tucked into a pair of straight-legged jeans. Her brown hair was simple and plain, but it added to her idyllic beauty.

            “We’re very sorry. We kinda got lost,” quivered Parker in an attempt to earn rapport with the woman.

            “Yeah, we were trying to find the bike path,” corroborated Becky.

            Miss Mirtha gave an ambiguous smile. “Well, it is quite harsh to administer death on something as harmless as trespassing…”

Becky and Alisa gave a nervous laugh. They were not sure where the woman was going with her dialogue.

           “However, one should respect property rights. Property was a pretty big thing in the early days of America, you know. You girls do read American history in your classes, right?”

            All three girls answered, “Yeah, we do!” They had largely ignored their history classes, but all of them had enough social intelligence to understand that they needed to agree with Miss Mirtha in order get out of such a predicament.

           “Well, you see, you girls just don’t respect what one works hard for. I’ve seen you’re kind before – yuppie middle-class suburban kids. You don’t know an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. You’re parents, who were once idealistic thinkers, but probably now vote for any neo-Republican on the ballot, have instilled an entitlement mentality in you.”

           Parker was clearly getting agitated, but again, knew that letting Miss Mirtha go off on her spiel was the best course of action for self-preservation.

           The woman went on, becoming more dominant in her tone of voice. “You’re not girls…you’re pigs.”

           “Now wait just there…” stated Parker with an air of indignation.

           “You’re not girls; you’re pigs,” Miss Mirtha repeated. The Willow reference was still lost on the girls. “If you’re going to sit and wallow, might as well do it right,” the woman crackled as she pointed a finger towards Alisa. An invisible force knocked into the girl and forced her back two steps.

           Alisa cried out, “Uggg! I don’t feel right.” The other two girls stared at their friend in confusion.

          “Don’t worry, “ assured Miss Mirtha, “You’ll be joining her soon. We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

           A visage of discomfort overtook Alisa’s face. “Ahhhhhhh!” The girl screamed as she bent over and grabbed her lower torso.

          “Are you alright?!?!” said Parker as she came over to comfort Alisa with a hand on her shoulder.

          “I feel…uh… bloated!” said the girl as she looked at Parker.

           Parker gasped. “Your nose doesn’t look right at all! It’s turning all upwards and flat!” A wave of panic set over Alisa’s face.

          “That’s right,” bellowed Miss Mirtha, “I told you that you’re pigs. And so you don’t try and run away, why don’t I do this?” Mirtha waved her hand at Parker.

          “Shit, I can’t move!” yelled Parker. A metaphysical force of bondage had overtaken her. “Run, Becky. Crazy shit is going down.” Ambivalent on whether or not to bolt, the blonde hesitated.

          “I’m telling you: Run!!! I can’t move anything past my neck right now!” Becky listened to her friend’s order for the second time and ran from the scene.

          “Hmm…,” mused Miss Mirtha. “Oh well, I’m having fun with you two right now.”

          Changes – physical changes - were obviously beginning to take hold of Alisa. Her breathing became heavier as periodical snorts emanated from her being. Parker watched in horror as Alisa’s ears spurted upwards into two floppy spires of cartilage. What was happening to her friend?

          “Ohhh!!!!” Alisa cried out in a sound that was hard to decipher. Was it pain? Was it pleasure? The answer was lost in the ambiguity of the moment. Her lower abdominal area began to take on a more spherical look, as her t-shirt slowly slid up to expose the girl’s belly button. Alisa’s face began to contort in multiple directions as she raised her head to the sky. Her jaw began to protrude into a more porcine-like structure…neck swelling…human vocalization almost completely replaced by squeals. 

          Miss Mirtha looked at Parker. “Now comes my favorite part. Your friend may want to sign up for Jenny Craig.”

          “You bitch!” chocked Parker through tears.

           “Squeeeeellllllll…snort…..ugggg……squeeeeeeel.” Some human vocalization was still present in the sounds that Alisa was making. Her arms began to swell. The white t-shirt pulled more taut across the pig-girl’s fattening body, her stomach flowing over the top of her pants. Pop!!! The button on Alisa’s capris went flying to make room for her expanding hips.

           “Uhhh…snort…”

            The seam across Alisa’s left shoulder bursts apart, exposing a plain beige strap and offering for the first time so far, a glimpse upon the unmentionables Alisa had chosen to wear this particular evening.

            Despite the changes washing over Alisa, she still retained some intelligence. It was with this intelligence that the truth became apparent to the girl: She was blimping into a sow. Alisa knew that soon she would be on all fours, wallowing in mud and garbage with no care for cleanliness. Parker saw the emotion in her friend’s eye and could do nothing but maintain optical contact with her friend, knowing that the same fate of being turned into a sow awaited her as well.

            As Alisha’s lower torso again began to expand, she clutched her stomach. Looking down, more horror washed over her porcine face – her fingers were growing dark and morphing into hooves.

            “Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!”

            Alisa’s t-shirt was being stretched beyond its limits. The swelling began to surge up into her torso until it reached her still-pert breasts. Between the pig-girl’s squeals, something that could only be described as the sound of an inflating balloon could be heard. Alisa’s breasts slowly but steadily surged forward, taking on a pyramid-like shape as they pushed at the constraints of her white t-shirt. Shrip! The seam underneath her right arm began to tear, exposing more of the pig flesh underneath. Every wrinkle of the shirt was ironed out as Alisa arched her back. SHRIIIIIIIIPPPPPP! The fabric bondage gave way, exposing Alisa’s swollen stomach and fattened breasts, which were straining a plain-cupped, beige, Playtex Cross Your Heart bra. The pig-girl’s face burned with shame at the knowledge that her own expanding frame from forcing her out of her clothes. In addition to the swelling breasts, a number of breast buds had began surfacing in two rows along the torso.

            Shriiiip! Alisa’s shoes and socks busted apart as her toes contorted into hooves. Without proper feet upon which to stand, she fell back upon her swelling ass. Parker attempted to scream, but had already effectively worn out her voice. The pig-girl’s legs expanded, ripping the left leg of her pants in two.

            “Snoooorrrrt!” All human vocalization had since been lost. Alisa’s transformation into a sow was almost complete. Burst! The other leg ripped apart and the     crotch of her jeans was sheared apart by the expanding girth. A pair of turquoise green panties came into view – panties which would soon share the same fate as the rest of her clothes. Alisa’s additional teats were coming to full size. Her original breasts surged once more, pushing out of her bra cups as the side straps of the brassier ripped apart from her expanding sides. As her hair receded, Alisa instinctively rose to all fours. A curly tail popped her panties.

 

Alisa was not a girl; she was a pig.

 

            Miss Mirtha gave a reserved laugh as she looked over at Parker. “I find that experiencing new things is always easier when you have seen somebody else actually do it. Do you agree?”

            A look of scorn was all that Parker could muster at the women.

            With a thoughtful look on her face, Mirtha said, “You look like the most mature of the bunch. I have an idea. Before I make you a pig…why don’t I make you a woman?” She laughed at herself for having this thought. “People take all kinds of aphrodisiacs, but all you need is some good old fashioned spells.” Miss Mirtha waved her hand at the magically constrained girl.

            Parker felt a warmth begin in her lower torso, which then intensified down into her southern regions.

            “OHHHHHHH…Uhhhhh…..Ahhhhh,.” moaned Parker. The girl gritted her teeth as she soaked her panties.

            “I thought you might have liked that,” quipped Mirtha. “Why don’t I release you?” She waved her hand and Parker stumbled as she became free from the enchanted bounds. “Let’s try that again!”

            Miss Mirtha again waved her hands. This time Parker grabbed her sides and bent over as she came. The woman smiled as she saw that Parker’s breasts and stomach had swollen with the second orgasm. As soon as the girl could catch her breath, she felt another massive surge come through her.

            “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!” As Parker experienced the orgasm, her blouse became untucked from her pencil skirt. Then another orgasmic sensation overtook the girl, causing her to buckle at the knees.  “AHHHHHHHHHH, fuck!!!! I’m cumming again!” Her thighs bellowed outwards and jaw began to protrude upon creaming herself once more.

            “That’s good,” said Miss Mirtha. “I knew you were the freak of the group.” The woman waved her hand once more.

            A tingling sensation tweaked Parker’s nipples, bringing them to attention, yet there was no corporeal hand touching her! “Oooo…Ohhh…Ooooo. They’re so sensitive!!!” Pop! Pop! Two buttons bursts at the bottom of Parker’s blouse to accommodate her thickening stomach while her nose flattened and arms swelled.

            “I bet you like it hard, huh?” laughed Mirtha.

            “Oh no please, no moooooooorrrrrreeeee-Ohhhhhhhh-snort-ohhhhh!” Another button popped off below Parker’s human breasts as teat buds began to form on the exposed flesh. 

            “I hear that anal is the best,” said Mirtha, “I’m not that adventurous, but perhaps you’d like to try.” It was clear in Parker’s eyes that she knew what was coming.

            “Squeeeeeaaaallllll…ohhhhh...I…squeal..can’t…snort…stop…snooooortttt creaming…my-squeal-self.” Parker felt a sensation in her anus that produced an orgasm that about brought her to her knees. The pig-girl’s ass and legs swelled, casing a major rip to form at the basis of the back slit of her skirt.

            “Ooohhh, let’s try that again!”

            “No,” pleaded Parker, “I’m already…snort…wet beyond…snort…belief.”

            The woman laughed as she pointed her finger towards the brunette.

            “Squeeeeeaaaaalllll!!!!” Parker’s ass and legs swelled, causing her black pencil skirt to explode from her now-pudgy body. Parker’s face burned with embarrassment at the sight of her drenched, satin panties, covered across the top by a lacey black garter. Runs had begun to show all throughout her stockings as her legs gained size.

            “Good thing you’re wearing black panties, because I’m sure they’re stained. And a garter?!?!” Mirtha exclaimed. “Now that’s just not very contemporary. We’ll have to do away with that right this instant.” The devilish lady waived her hands.

            As Parker came, her stomach and butt swelled once more, shredding the garter along with 80 percent of the nylons. Her ass and thighs continued expanding, forcing her sopping wet panties further into her sex, intensifying the situation.

            “Now for that blouse!”

            “SNOOOOORT! SQUEEEELLLL!” The final buttons popped off the pig-girl’s blouse, exposing a black, smooth cup, brassier. It once was full-coverage but, now, had been reduced to a demi-bra due Parker’s swollen breasts, which are currently the same size as her ancillary teats, Shriiiip! Her blouse ripped in two at the back due to her expanding shoulders.

            “Now for the grand finale!!!!” Miss Mirtha still seemed logical and rational, despite the situation.”

            “SQUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!” Parker’s breasts swelled, pushing the tight black bra to its limit. Whereas Alisa’s breasts simply pushed their way out of their brassier, due to the stiffness of the underwiring in the cups, Parker’s bra snapped off of her swollen tits and landed three feet away. Her panties almost literally disintegrated due to being so soaked when her thighs and ass pushed them to their limit. As a tail pushed its way from her posterior, Parker’s pumps burst to accommodate her feet morphing into hooves. With her hands following suit, Parker came crashing down on all fours, ready to join Alisa.

 

Parker: Once a poised young lady – now a fat sow.

           

            On the other side of Mirtha’s property, Becky emerged from the wooded area and leaned against a wooden fence by the dirt road.

            “Huff…sigh…huff.” She looked back, uncertain of the fate of her friends…and uncertain that what she experienced was real. Becky could smell the odor of her sweat. That was of little concern considering what she’d have to tell the people at the party. Would they believe her? They had to believe her! Becky may be naive at times, but she is not crazy!

            “Going somewhere?”

            Becky looked up to see Miss Mirtha standing behind her with a half-grin across her lips.

            “I see you’ve made it relatively far. You’re almost to the dirt road, but you know what they say about close and its relation to horseshoes and hand grenades.”

            Realizing that she had to get off of the lady’s property, Becky’s body snapped towards that road. All she needed was a good minute to reach the dirt lane.

            “Not so fast there!” Miss Mirtha snapped her fingers and that same invisible force that had held Parker took hold of Becky, and immobilized her feet.

            “Just let me go! I’ll do anything…for the love…just let me go!” cried out the blonde.

            “Tell me,” Mirtha said,” what sounds does a pig make?”

            “What the hell are you talking about?!”

            “What sound does a pig make?”

            “I don’t know…’oink’.”

            “That’s right: ‘oink’. Say ‘oink’ for me.”

            “What?!”

            “Say oink for me…now!”

            Becky reluctantly uttered the sound: “Oi…oink.”

            “That right.” Mirtha smiled while standing behind the blonde. “Since you’re the cutest of the bunch. I’m going to go easy on you…Let’s make you sexy!” The lady pointed her finger at the back of Becky’s head.

            “Ah…hhhhhhhhh!” Becky’s vision became dizzy as she felt the bones in her head rearrange…tusks growing from out of her bottom lip…cheeks bloating. Her nose became a snout, while her neck expanded to give foundation to her enlarged sow head.

            Mirtha walked up behind Becky and put her hands on the blonde’s shoulders. “Do you feel sexy?”

            “No!” cried Becky. While still retaining her golden locks, her head had morphed completely into that of a pig’s.

            Feeling up her taut breasts from behind, Mirtha said in a sympathetic voice, “That’s because you still have a girlish figure. Let’s give you something a little more interesting.”

            “Uhh…uhhh.” As soon as Mirtha removed her hands from Becky, the girl’s breasts abruptly surged forth as her butt swelled, pulling the fabric of her shirt even more taut across her mammaries. “Uhh…Ohhh.” And then her breasts swelled once again, giving her one more cup size. Ker-pop, pop! Two of the top buttons of her pink polo shirt tore off, giving a modest view of her cleavage as her ass-cheeks peeked from under her skirt. BURST! Her belt tore apart. “Ohhhhhh!” Becky’s back snapped forward, as her tits swelled once again. POP! The final button on her shirt gave way, giving the anthropomorphic pig-girl some deep cleavage with a hint of cream-colored lace peeking out.

            “That’ll do for now,” laughed Mirtha.

            Becky’s breasts were now bulging forward, pulling her polo shirt three inches above her trimmed mid-riff. Her ass and hips had swollen to the point that her khaki skirt no longer covered much of her southern regions, and any onlookers would have garnered an excellent look at her white panty-covered bottom. While Becky always had a quiet beauty about her, her exaggerated hourglass shape, now mixed with her taut polo shirt, pleated skirt, and pink socks simply made her boner-inducing…even if she were turned half-way into a pig.

            “Do you feel sexy now?” Mirtha asked. Becky said nothing. “That’s right. Pigs can’t stand the heat, and it is a pretty hot May evening. Perhaps you need to get out of those clothes.” Mirtha snapped her fingers.

            Becky’s polo shirt began creeping up her body even more. “What?!” wondered the girl. “Am I expanding again?” Her skirt narrowed against her legs as the sleeves on her shirt ruptured. Then reality set it for the anorhmorphic pig: Her clothes were shrinking! Every curve on her body became apparent as her skirt and top shrank. SHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPBURRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTT! In one moment, her polo shirt ruptured from the bottom of her breasts, exploding off of her throbbing body, while her skirt ripped in two, falling to the ground. “What the shit, you bitch!” cried out the girl. Becky stood in the middle of the field, reduced to her creamy, lace Maidenform Classic Letter Perfect bra and white, French cut panties, topped with a horizontal band of lace flowers just below the waist band…and of course, her pink socks. Mirtha was taking delight in changing Becky from a nice small town girl into a sexualized swine, a true porcine pin-up.

            The woman walked up to Becky and placed her hands upon her breasts again, breasts which size was belied by the structural fortitude of her bra. “I made your friend soak her panties,” said Mirtha. Leaning in to whisper in the girl’s pig ear, the witch softly spoke her next plans, “But I’m going to make you…soak your bra.” Mirtha laughed and left go of the tits.

            Becky gave out a quiet moan as she felt a pressure build up in her breasts. This was not the same pressure that was prevalent when she was expanding. This was a different type of pressure! This felt like pressure that needed released. It was then that Becky realized what the woman meant by “soak her bra.” Becky was about to lactate!

            The pig-girl’s nipples became moist, and she looked down to see two wet spots form in the middle of her bra cups. Becky let out a quiet moan. How was this happening? She just wanted to go to a party! Trickles of milk began to soak through the cups and run down her stomach; after which, they were caught in the waistband of her panties. Soon, a steady stream began to form from her swollen breasts. Becky moaned louder as the pressure continued to build. Streams of milk flowed down her body, yet it did not seem as though the torrents would subside. She reached up to her breasts to try and offer herself some sort of relief; however, her fingers had already fused into hooves.

            “Hmm, need some pressure taken off?” Mirtha’s question did not have an altruistic connotation. “Maybe some more valves would help.” She wigged her nose, Bewitched-style.

            Becky’s torso began to expand to match with her inflated ass and boobs. Ancillary nipples began to form and grow. The nipples on her primary breasts began to protrude outwards, creating two extended conical shapes pushing at her bra cups. The ancillary nipples began to lactate, sending torrents of milk onto the ground. Her primary nipples pushed through the horizontal seams of her bra cups, spewing high-pressure milk all over. Becky’s ass became flabby as it expanded, first turning her briefs into bikini style panties. Her barreling breasts gored the remainder of her bra cups’ fabric, leaving her in what could best be described as a brassiere frame.

            “Uhhh…I’m such a dirty sow!” cried Becky.

            Pleased, Mirtha responded, “I knew you’d see the light. Now it’s time to take your rightful destiny as a pig and get on all fours.” Mirtha pointed her finger and a force snapped Becky to the ground. Her legs gained girth, ripping through the socks. The white shoes she had picked out for this adventure split above the heels to accommodate new hind hooves. Becky’s body continued to swell, her torso finally destroying the remnants of her bra. A curly pig’s tied popped her panties.

            “I’m such a dirty sowwwwQQUUUAAAAEEEEEEEEELLLLL!” Becky stood on all fours, while her lactation subsided.

***

            The sun fell over the hills overlooking Slatestown. Another Friday and come and went. The people at the party down the dirt road had wondered why their friends had not shown up that night. Investigations had taken place to locate the girls, but every lead went nowhere. Stories would always persist: The girls were abducted by aliens. They had run away and joined a dance troupe backing the Jonas Brothers. They had plastic surgery and were living the high life in Beverly Hills. People would tell these stories all the time at the parties out by the dirt road. Of course, every one who went these parties knew to take the bike trail. With the disappearance of the girls, nobody gave much thought to the three pigs of Miss Mirtha that had won multiple blue ribbons that summer at the county fair.

 

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