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It’d been a long time since we’d had a good rainy day like this.

On any other day I wouldn’t particularly have minded, but today I’d walked to the library and didn’t quite look forward to the idea of carrying my load of books home in the wet.

At least I wouldn’t have to spend a couple of hours under a fur dryer afterwards. (Yeah, folks tease me sometimes for being human, but I tell ‘em, a bar of soap goes a lot further than a bottle of shampoo. All in good fun.)

I walked up and down the aisles, exploring more books in hope that the weather would pass: shelves of books on object-oriented design patterns led on through a certain Argentine tiger’s tomes of poetry to textbooks on invented languages from the era when people still fervently believed that a little more regular grammar would pave the way to world peace…

People tease me about books, too, at which point I go through their daily routine and point out all the reading they do through their day—the blogs, the news, the texts and tweets, the whole bottom half of the Internet—we all read, all the time. I just have an extra category of reading.

After the desk I’d commandeered as base camp was starting to be dangerously overfilled with stacks of the books I wanted, I watched out the window to see if the rain was any better.

Oh well.

With a sigh I pulled out my phone to check on the forecast. No end in sight, at least not during library hours.

Oh well.

I piled up the books with some effort and carried the stack to the front desk to get checked out. The librarian on duty was a shy horse who never lifted her eyes from the counter. I stepped back after setting my books and card down so as not to invade her space as she worked, and looked back to the front door, where I caught a glimpse of a heavyset boar just coming out from the bathroom.

Now, I say “a heavyset boar" because I’m trying to restrain myself, here. I could write an essay on his thighs alone, the powerful slabs of muscle that supported his barrel torso and heavy gut—you could tell he was as strong as he looked, but all that firmness was wrapped in a thick layer of softness that did nothing to diminish its effect.

And know I’m still restraining myself. If I said anything further—well, I was raised not to undress anyone with my eyes, and I don’t need to go over my failures.

The boar went to one of the cubbies near the periodical section, picked up a backpack, and hefted it over his shoulder as he walked out.

I turned to find my books already processed, so I stuffed them in my tote and went out the door as well.

When I went outside, the boar was waiting for me.

“It didn’t look like you had a car out here," he said, indicating the mostly-empty parking lot, half of which was underwater. “I thought I’d see if you wanted a ride? Or were you more prepared than I thought?"

I shivered a bit at the deep sound of his voice with its faint Slavic accent. To tell the truth, the crotch of my pants immediately felt somewhat tighter. “I don’t," I said. “I mean, I don’t have a ride. I would…appreciate the help, but I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way. I’m all the way up at Edmonton Hall…"

“It’s no problem then," he said. “I’m in Derry. C’mon." He led the way towards his car.

I followed him, hoping my growing arousal wasn’t too obvious. “Uh. I’m Tuan, by the way."

“Call me Crew," he said.

Crew was driving an old black SUV that looked like it hadn’t been washed since the turn of the millennium, and its inside was much obscured by deep drifts of fast food wrappers.

“Before you say anything about stereotypes," the big hog said, helping me load the books behind the driver’s seat, “this is my roommate’s car."

I held up my hand. “Wouldn’t have dreamed of it."

“Fair enough," he said, as we got our seat belts on. “It was clever the first time but not…any…more." His speech slowed as he backed carefully out of his parking space, turning to look behind him. My bulging pants only got tighter with the close proximity of the boar’s snout, and I started being afraid I’d get sniffed out. Surely he could tell? Furs always seemed to know…

He pulled out of the parking lot and got onto the main road.

And it was only a couple of blocks before he said, “It’s all right, you can let it out."

Even though I was half expecting it, I still flinched.

“C’mon, man. I’d been waiting for you to get done in the library for a while. I wouldn’t have waited as long as I did if I didn’t want to see more."

The pressure of my dick against the inside of my jeans was unbelievable now. “I…Crew, I mean, you’re hot and all, but I’ve never actually…"

The boar snorted and briefly lifted his hands from the steering wheel, making a strange gesture in the air: with thumbs and forefingers together, he pulled his right paw down.

My dick suddenly felt a lot freer.

I looked down and found the obvious reason for this. “Did you—did you just pull my pants open?"

My zipper was down, and a cock I barely recognized as my own was jutting out at least nine inches, with hefty balls to match. That was not the size it had been this morning…was it?

“Of course not," Crew said. “That was all you." He lifted his right paw and moved it up and down in the air, and I shivered as I felt my own cock responding as if it were being touched.

“Nnf—but you’re—"

He didn’t stop moving his hand. “Of course I’m not."

“I’m looking right at you!"

“So? Look at yourself."

My hand was stroking my oversized cock in time with Crew’s movements.

“I’m not doing that—" I faltered. “You’re—"

The boar snorted expressively. “You haven’t even tried to stop it though, have you?"

I pulled my hands from my cock without any effort whatever.

“See?" Crew said, still moving his hands. “Idle hands are a devil’s plaything, and you just need to be…more careful with yours."

I yelped out as my cock doubled in size and girth, landing on the dashboard with a thump under the pressure of its weight.

“Crew!"

The boar pulled over to the side of the road, where trees covered a gravelly area that looked like the head of a trail.

“What’s wrong?" he said.

I have an enormous dick that keeps growing didn’t seem to be the right answer to the question. That…wasn’t a problem anyway, was it? Aren’t dicks supposed to get harder and longer around sexy boars?

“…help," I said.

He took it as an invitation, and immediately he had both hands wrapped around my girth—it took both hands!—and was stroking it slowly.

“You’ve got a nice cock," he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to see a human with a foot-and-a-half third leg. “I shouldn’t keep you all squinched up in this car though—you might want to open the door a bit in case it wants to grow any more."

—and with a sudden surge it did, my dickhead punching against the windshield with such force I was surprised it didn’t shatter. I shoved the door open as quickly as I could and turned my body so that my oversized member jutted out into the rain.

Crew immediately hopped out of the car from his side and came around to continue stroking my shaft, which was now a hefty armful for him.

“Ooh, poor fellah," he said. “You’ll be less man than dick at this rate if you keep growing! How much bigger does it get?"

I tried not to be unsettled by the wicked gleam in his eye, but I really couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. This wasn’t normal, was it? My cock was so heavy I was having to lean against the doorframe so as not to fall out of the vehicle. “You’re…you’re doing this…" I panted. It was an effort.

“Impossible," he said. “If this were my doing, I would have definitely gone for more."

I felt the van shift as the big boar on the end of my cock was pushed back by another three feet of growth. He started making out with my cockhead, which was big enough by now to rival his face. It felt incredible: the thickness of his tongue along my piss-slit, the softness of his fur and the cool of his tusks wet with rain…

My dick was definitely as big as the rest of me by now. This always happens. I knew if Crew kept it up he’d soon have an enormous faceful of cum. Like …last time? There was a last time, wasn’t there?

“MORE!" Crew grunted deeply.

The massive weight of my twelve-foot cock jutted out in front of me, and Crew continued to make out with it, even though it covered him to the point he could barely wrap his arms around it.

Around *me,* I thought. Cock rules by majority vote.

It was surprisingly easy to make the mental transition from “human with a big dick" to “dick with a small human".

The porker sliding his tongue into my piss-slit practically made certain of that. The thrill of pleasure running through me overwhelmed all other sensations—I was about to blow, and Crew knew it.

The boar clamped his lips around my head, at least as much as he could fit, and started working as much of my length as he could reach with that soft furry body of his.

I lost it immediately, my whole self convulsing as I blasted hot seed into Crew’s muzzle.

With every shot I could hear him burble “MORE! MORE! MORE!", and I felt myself helplessly growing outwards and upwards till I physically couldn’t take it anymore.

I lost consciousness with the comparatively-tiny boar still holding tight to the patch of my glans he’d been able to get a grip on.

---

I woke up in a strange bed—but feeling human again, at least.

The ceiling and all four walls of Crew’s room were hung in tapestries and flags and Persian rugs; the abundance of cloth made the room unusually quiet.

The door was shut and the boar was nowhere in sight.

I lay back and breathed in the scent of the place—deep, aromatic and musky.

And I tried to remember what had happened, but it’s hard to remember being mostly a penis when penises mostly don’t have all that great a memory.

I heard a rustling somewhere in front of me, and was shaken out of my thoughts. It took probably longer than it should have to notice that the sound was coming from under the same covers I was under.

The sound of my own cock being stroked by my own hands.

The boar stood naked in the doorway. “Ooh, someone’s up, I see—ready for more?"