Sow-Chef (Story: F + M Humans -> F + M Pigs)

[thunderwing]

Nathalie and Nick are on their way to France to apprentice at a restaurant renowned for its truffle-based dishes. They're about to find out how they get the truffles.

…

A tall, handsome, beret-wearing Frenchman escorted Nathalie and Nick to the restaurant’s cool, earthy-smelling basement. His name was Pascal; Nathalie wasn’t sure what, exactly, his position was at the restaurant, but he had been the man who’d picked them up from the airport and taken them here, where they would spend the next year as culinary apprentices.

They were in Aeaea, a restaurant in rural France famed for its vegetarian cuisine. It was charming – an 18th-century farmhouse, converted into a pleasantly rustic restaurant. It was quite distant from any major city, but it was a necessary stop on any serious epicure’s tour of France. As Pascal had explained on the way over, the restaurant had been established centuries ago by a prominent Greek family, explaining its unusual name and Mediterranean flair.

He led them to a simple wooden table, upon which rested two covered bowls, two glasses, and one bottle of wine. He motioned for Nathalie and Nick to sit down, and they did so.

He gently uncovered the bowls, revealing they were full of steaming, creamy soup.

The petite, blonde-pixie-cut-sporting Nathalie was beside herself with excitement; she’d barely slept since she got the letter a week ago inviting her here. Her family was French, and she’d always been fascinated by French cuisine, first cooking for her family, then working at a local restaurant before going off to culinary school. She’d done well enough there, graduating near the top of her class, but never in a million years had she expected Aeaea would even read her application for their apprenticeship program, much less accept her!

She’d just met Nick on the plane ride over. He was Italian-American, from New Jersey, with a cocky, brash attitude; he wanted to be one of those punk rock chefs who traded on their masculine bonafides, and it showed. Still, he seemed to know his stuff, and he was handsome, too; she was pretty sure she’d end up sleeping with him at some point, given how things usually went in restaurants.

Nathalie breathed in the rich scent of the broth – despite having eaten on the plane, she was instantly famished. “Oh my god – truffle soup?”

Pascal had already begun to pour the wine with the flawless technique of an experienced sommelier. “Ah, you have an excellent nose, Mademoiselle Nathalie – we chose you well. Please, enjoy this modest repast; we can discuss business when I return.”

Their host had barely left the room when Nick began to dig in. “Oh, fuck me, this is amazing.”

Nathalie delicately raised a spoonful to her face, letting the aroma waft over her, before tasting it.

It was a good thing she was sitting down, because she could feel her knees get weak. It was like a religious experience, or an exhilarating victory, or a really, really good orgasm. She stifled a moan.

It was the most amazing thing she’d ever tasted.

Before long, their bowls were clean, and the bottle was empty; both had been cleared off to a side table, allowing the two apprentices an unobstructed view of each other. Nathalie’s stomach was full…but as a wave of heat washed over her, she had a growing need to be filled in a different way.

Across the table, Nick was flushed and sweating, unable to take his eyes off her. He was clearly of a similar mindset.

Nick finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “So I’m just gonna say it. We absolutely need to fuck, right?”

“Oh god yes. I just…I mean, you’re hot and all, but why now?”

He shrugged. “Good fuckin’ soup, I guess.”

“Good enough for me.” She looked down at the table. “You think Pascal would mind if…?”

“He’s French, this is a restaurant. We probably wouldn’t even be the first people to have sex in here today.”

They were off to the races, frantically flinging their clothes off. Nathalie tried to unbutton her blouse, but found the buttons straining at their holes; now that she thought about it, it hadn’t seemed that tight that morning. Throwing caution to the wind, she pulled it open, revealing her cleavage-baring bra to an impressed Nick as her buttons were scattered to the four corners of the room.

Meanwhile, as he pulled his own shirt off, she caught a glimpse of a dark mark on his not-insubstantial bicep. She squinted, realized what it was, and stifled a small laugh.

“What?” He looked a little concerned.

“Uh, that.” She pointed to the tattoo on his arm. It was a skull-and-crossbones, but with a knife and fork in place of the crossed bones.

“Oh. Yeah, all the dudes I roomed with at college got it. It was my idea, though.”

“I mean, I’m still going to have sex with you, but it’s pretty corny. But still, I didn’t laugh, so you can’t laugh at this.”

She turned around and slid her pants and panties down, revealing three Michelin stars tattooed on her lower back.

Nick, now totally naked, smiled. She couldn’t help but glancing downward – he was well-equipped.

As he kissed the back of her neck, he massaged her back, reached around and felt up her breasts, then thoroughly groped and kneaded her ass.

As she thrust her bare ass against his crotch, he whispered in her ear. “The review checks out.”

She lay herself down on the table and opened her legs, presenting her womanhood to Nick like a charcuterie platter. She’d expected him to plunge his manhood into her, but he surprised her, kneeling down and subjecting her to an absolutely masterful session of oral pleasure.

She ran her fingers through his thick hair. “Oh fuck, Nick…I’m sorry, I thought you were too good-looking to be any good at foreplay.”

Coming up for air, he grinned. “You’ve just gotta treat it like veal. Don’t need to tenderize it…just work it a little.”

“Veal, huh?”

“Sure. Nice texture. Good moisture. Great mouthfeel.”

“Mmmmm…maybe we can skip the mouthfeel, right now? I think I want to get right to the main course.”

“Well, the menu says no substitutions, but I’ll make an exception.”

She moaned as he slid himself into her already-lubricated passage.

God, this was the best sex she’d ever had! And this was far from her first back-of-the-restaurant hookup – maybe it was the romance of being in this rustic French farmhouse, the excitement of the once-in-a-lifetime culinary adventure she was on, or the jet-lag of the trans-Atlantic journey. Or maybe Nick was just that hot.

The true reason for her and Nick’s insatiable desire was obvious to an outside observer, although not to the lust-addled couple themselves. Their bodies were filling out, growing softer, rounder – especially Nathalie’s, while Nick’s was gaining muscle as well as fat. Coarse hairs were beginning to sprout from their bare flesh – flesh that, despite the great deal of exercise they were both getting, was not producing a single bead of sweat.

She finally started realizing that something was going on when her feet, dangling over the table’s edge, started going numb, her toes feeling swollen and stiff. She couldn’t see past Nick’s body to take a look at what was going on – but she could see her own torso, her heavy breasts jiggling with every thrust…

…all eight of them.

Her original petite breasts had swollen to porn-star sizes, and they were no longer alone, as three new pairs had budded beneath them, each a cup-size or so smaller than the one above it. Her eyes went wide with shock.

“Wh…what the fuck is gooooiiiiiiinnnnk!” The word escaped her as a shrill, porcine squeal. Nick responded with a squeal of his own, his lust having robbed him, temporarily, of coherent speech.

Her next change made it even harder to concentrate on anything else – the cartilage in her nose began to crunch as it turned up, her nostrils enlarging as it began to merge with her upper lip. She could see it between her eyes, and even from this angle, it was clear that it was the snout of a pig! But the new sensory organ allowed her to smell so much more than she could have before, and the scent that dominated everything else was the heady, earthy, intoxicating musk of Nick, halfway between man and animal. It was driving her out of her mind – and preventing her from stopping the wild lovemaking that seemed to be accelerating their exit from humanity.

And she could hear him even better, too, as her ears unfolded into new, animalistic shapes, poking out of her hair and swiveling to better hear Nick – his grunts, the meaty slap of his body against hers, the strain of his ballsack as his testicles grew swollen within it.

Nick was as helpless as she was, his hands groping her bevy of fat, heaving tits as he thrust into her over and over again with his corkscrew-shaped cock. Two of his canine teeth began growing beyond his snout, curling into sharp tusks. Nathalie could feel her own growing in – but smaller than Nick’s. His tusks were so masculine – just looking at them made her even wetter, knowing that her mate was strong and virile…

She could feel her tailbone extending into a tail above her massive, cushy ass, even as it was somewhat uncomfortably driven into the table by Nick’s relentless pounding. Maybe next time, it would be more comfortable to have him take her from behind.

She’d never liked that position. It was degrading, and made her feel like an animal. But the thought of feeling like an animal now, in this bestial body – being bent over, fucked, and BRED – was enough to push her over the edge into orgasm.

She squealed, uncontrollably, as she came…and came, and came, and CAME. She could feel Nick’s hot jizz blasting into her, hear their combined animalistic bellows, smell their combined earthy musk. Her body – and god, there was SO MUCH of her body now, she must have gained seventy pounds of ass and tits and assorted pig parts – was wracked with an orgasm that didn’t seem to end. She could feel herself gripping Nick’s tool, feel every part of her endlessly churn with pleasure, feel her mind slipping into mindless bliss. Nick collapsed on top of her – his testicles, enormous as they were, had run dry, but he too was seemingly awash in animal ecstasy like her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the fog lifted, and she slid Nick off her. She eased herself off the table…and promptly fell down. The numbness in her feet had been due to them shifting and contorting into cloven hooves, and she hadn’t figured out how to walk on them.

Pig hooves. Trotters. This hadn’t been a hallucination – she was a fat, hairy, eight-breasted motherfucking pig-woman!

And Nick…Nick was asleep. She jabbed him, angrily, but he barely stirred, muttering something under his breath before rolling over.

“Forgive him, Mademoiselle Nathalie. The transformation often takes more out of men. I understand this has been so since the days of Odysseus.”

Pascal had returned to the room at some point. He was very casually sitting in a chair, looking smug. Or maybe just French.

She stood up, unsteadily, and tottered over to him, furious, her hoof-nailed hands balled into fists. “You…you poisoned us! You turned us into pigs!”

Pascal looked offended. “Poison? Merely our founder’s secret recipe. I assure you, both you and Monsieur Nick are in excellent health, although I’m sure you know this already.”

“Is this some kind of…sick amusement for you people?”

“Of course not – the two of you have just become the two most important employees of Aeaea. You yourself just enjoyed a bowl of our truffle soup – one of the many famous dishes we prepare with those precious, elusive fungi. And to find truffles, you need…?”

She felt a sinking feeling in her voluminous stomach. “A pig.”

He extravagantly gestured to them. “Et voila!”

“Can’t you train actual pigs to do that?”

“Have you ever actually done it? You must train the pig, and then you must go out in the woods with a pig on a leash, and then when it actually finds something you must stop the pig from eating the truffles itself…it is a great hassle, and a terrible waste of a morning. Much easier to have a pig that is smart, like a person – and has a nose for food, like a chef! That is why we always have the best truffles.”

“You’ve done this to other people?”

“Of course, it is a tradition! We have been doing this for centuries, much longer than I have even been alive. Our last two pigs, a lovely British couple, just recently left us. I miss them already, but I’m sure in time I will grow fond of you two as well.”

She pointed at him angrily. “And what happened to them? Did you eat them?”

Pascal scoffed. “Mademoiselle, this is a vegetarian restaurant. Remember, this is France – everyone retires at 57, even the pigs. Sophie and Albert are off in a cottage in Provence, having what I’m sure is completely disgusting sex.”

Her head was spinning. This was impossible! “So you flew us four thousand miles just to turn us into fucking pigs?”

“The restaurant has been around for some time…eventually, people begin to talk. If you are a French culinary student, you have your choice of many prestigious restaurants, most of which will not turn you into a pig. So, we have turned our sights to the world. The British, then the Americans – who knows where our next couple will come from? Perhaps you can give us some of your knowledge of cuisine, as well.”

Pascal gestured to the sleeping Nick. “Now, I can tell that our friend here has a very big ego, but do not be fooled – it is you who will lead the hunt. You see, it is the sow who looks for the truffles, because the truffle’s scent is like that of the boar. Our sleepy ami there is not interested in that scent himself, but he will give you a regular dose of it so you know what to look for, and he will otherwise keep you company. Also, usually, the sow makes him dig them up to earn his keep. So please, enjoy yourselves, and get some sleep – because in the morning, you hunt!”

Pascal gave her a jaunty wave and left, closing the door behind him.

The sound of the door stirred Nick from his torpor.

He frowned. “Are we still pigs?”

“Yes. But they’re not going to eat us. We just find truffles for them. Well. I find truffles for them. You are just here to fuck me so I can be good at finding truffles.”

He shrugged. “Well, I can see the upside of this, at least.”

…

Pascal had told them that the locals knew to avoid the forests around Aeaea in the mornings. And indeed, they were alone out here, in the misty, dewy woods. Nathalie’s new instincts had told her exactly where to go, following the scent that made her rough, porcine womanhood twitch and moisten.

They could have run away, she supposed. But life as a fugitive pig held little appeal – even less than the one they currently led, where they were treated very well aside from the whole ‘transformed into porcine mutants’ thing. And for all she knew, the locals were on the restaurant’s payroll, eager to turn in any fugitive pig-people for a free dinner. So they would stay, for now.

With his new, rough hands, Nick had clawed out an impressive hole in the earth; from it, he produced a single, perfect black truffle, the size of a fist.

Nathalie inhaled its complex aroma, her knees growing weak. “Oh god. It smells so amazing.”

Nick sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Yeah, no, it’s…hey, you up for a quick one? Like, right out here?”

He smiled, and tossed the truffle in their basket.