{"sf1_id":574842,"sf2_id":"rn9EpM9n","title":"The Boars at the Ball","author":"FakeMan","words":1879,"posted_at":"2013-08-11T04:05:00.000Z","tags":["Anal","Boar","Cork Screw","Costume","Growth","High Class","Hooves","Kissing","M/M","Mask","Pig","Quite so","Transformation","indeed","masquerade","screw","taste","truffle","tusks"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/574842-the-boars-at-the-ball","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/rn9EpM9n","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/d0/0e/d00e17a4-0085-4ac3-acc5-f1bab08fa394","description":"#3 of Verse and Other Nonsense!\n\nA man at a masquerade meets a man who's mask is not a mask. They end up becoming chummy and savoring a peculiar truffle.\nThis one was a lot of fun to write. It was tough to keep things seemingly classy, but I still love the idea of this one and think it turned out nicely.","content":"Disclaimer - This one gets steamy. It's also in rhyme. If that don't excite you. Then don't waste your time. (This is a work of pornographic fiction. Please do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.)\n\nThe Boars at the Ball\n\nWelcome to the masquerade\n\nYour costume is quite cunning.\n\nA plague mortician's coat and mask\n\nIs nothing more than stunning.\n\nWhat about my own you ask?\n\nI'll tell you a strange fact.\n\nThis porcine visage that I don\n\nIs not a simple act.\n\nWhile walking in a glen one night\n\nI stumbled past a hag.\n\nShe laid quite a hefty curse on me,\n\nThough I'm not one to brag.\n\nI don't know how it's broken\n\nAnd I don't even wish it.\n\nIf I lost my Boarish body\n\nI am sure that I would miss it.\n\nYou see these tapping cloven hooves\n\nThat now serve as my feet?\n\nThey make me nimble, even spry:\n\nI never miss a beat.\n\nThis middling bulge beneath my vest,\n\nThough it may seem unneeded;\n\nIt helps with my digestion\n\nAnd my strength is unimpeded.\n\nAnd although my coat seems stubbly,\n\nJust have yourself a feel;\n\nIt's smooth and warm and soft as silk\n\nA very lucky deal.\n\nI know my hands look clumsy,\n\nWith digits only three,\n\nAnd hardened nails for the last joint,\n\nBut my dear friend trust me:\n\nI now can thread a needle,\n\nAt least on the second try,\n\nAnd I never burn a finger\n\nEven eating shepherd's pie.\n\nBut my dear friend, we haven't got\n\nYet to my favorite part.\n\nThis twitching wide flat snot of mine\n\nMakes smelling things an art.\n\nI can sense a baking apple\n\nFrom at least a mile away.\n\nAnd I can tell how many cloves\n\nwere stuck in it that day.\n\nIf you fricassee a pheasant\n\nI'll be the first to know,\n\nAnd I can sense a winter squash\n\nStill underneath the snow!\n\nAnd now for my profession,\n\nAs I sure that your are curious.\n\nThe demand for truffles as of late\n\nHas turned the nobles furious.\n\nAnd so once a month I set back out\n\nTo where the things are found.\n\nAnd I sell off what I gather for\n\nA thousand pounds a pound!\n\nSometimes I choose to eat one;\n\nThe temptation's always there.\n\nI can taste the finest nuance:\n\nEvery detail I'm aware.\n\nOf cardamom and duck fat\n\nAnd of freshly drying hay.\n\nGarlic chive and jellied eel\n\nMixed in a perfect way.\n\nSo now I frequent ballrooms.\n\nI thrive in masquerades.\n\nWhen I deal with high society\n\nI do it all in spades.\n\nBut I'll admit, though glamorous\n\nMy life can be quite lonely.\n\nThere's only one that's like me:\n\nIt's me and just me only.\n\nBut alas I've said too much,\n\nI won't bore you with my woes.\n\nWhat, You found it interesting?\n\nYou don't mind my upturned nose?\n\nWell that's a huge relief then\n\nYou're much more kind then most,\n\nAnd here, I'll let you have this:\n\nA present for the host.\n\nIt's a very special truffle\n\nFrom where the witch once stood.\n\nThe aroma is amazing\n\nAnd the taste must be quite good.\n\nOh my, now you've devoured it,\n\nI thought that you might save it.\n\nIt was worth five hundred pounds or more,\n\nBut it's my fault that I gave it.\n\nHow was the flavor, might I ask?\n\nI can smell it on your breath;\n\nWith wisps of chive and cardamom\n\nAnd herbs that do impress.\n\nIt's making my mouth water,\n\nAnd I know this sounds amiss,\n\nBut I really want to taste it now\n\nSo may I have a kiss?\n\nI'm sorry to unmask you\n\nAnd end the masquerade\n\nBut for me, I told you earlier,\n\nIt was more of a charade.\n\nUnderneath you mask there,\n\nYou're actually quite stately.\n\nSo just lean back and purse your lips,\n\nYes that would please me greatly.\n\nThe porcine tongue is smooth but tough,\n\nFor tasting it's bar none.\n\nThe notes that linger in your mouth\n\nJust make my senses run.\n\nA hit of barley and chipped beef\n\nA dash of fine red wine\n\nA truffly blend of musk and spice\n\nWith a hint of humankind.\n\nBut you taste a little different\n\nAs your eyes grow wide and stare.\n\nThat distinctive well known flavor . . .\n\nI tasted boar in there.\n\nOh dear, now tusks are growing,\n\nAnd peeking past your lips\n\nAs your body starts to bulge and swell\n\nWith meat around your hips.\n\nI did not think it'd happen.\n\nYou have my sympathy.\n\nAlthough as I've said it's not that bad\n\nSo please just trust in me.\n\nYour snout is pushing out now\n\nAs your nostrils start to flare.\n\nThe end turns wet and shimmering\n\nAs your face blooms out with hair.\n\nA brilliant brown, if I may say,\n\nMuch nobler than my gray.\n\nA brushy mane runs down your neck\n\nBlack as the end of day.\n\nJust calm down, and take a breath.\n\nYes there you go, that's right.\n\nI bet you can smell every scent\n\nThat's at the ball this night.\n\nWhat? Oh that. Why that's just me:\n\nMy noble porcine scent.\n\nI can see your eyes begin to gleam\n\nWith hunger evident.\n\nYou might want to remove you shoes,\n\nYour legs will shift and move\n\nAnd push and pull and swell with strength:\n\nYour feet will end up hooves.\n\nAnd how well formed the cloven ends,\n\nThey're dainty and yet broad,\n\nAnd now your clothes do bulge and rip\n\nYou'd best undress, my god!\n\nI don't want you to hurt yourself\n\nOr choke yourself to death.\n\nMy, just see those muscles swell\n\nJust underneath your flesh.\n\nDon't mind as I massage you.\n\nI just want to ease your passing.\n\nAnd I can see behind you\n\nWhere your sprouted tail is thrashing\n\nAnd pulling longer with a twitch\n\nAs it sprouts a brushy tip\n\nWhile your tusks both pull up and curl\n\nJust pressing up your lip.\n\nYou really are quite regal\n\nAs you rub with hooven hands\n\nOver widening nipples,\n\nSo well rounded for a man's.\n\nYour entire body's covered now\n\nIn a burly brownish coat.\n\nYour arms have grown out broadly,\n\nBut I'm glad you do not gloat.\n\nWhat's that? You seem distracted . . .\n\nAh, I see the reason why\n\nAs your black smooth fingertips\n\nBrush past your inner thigh.\n\nI'm afraid that boars are virile,\n\nMaybe more than any other.\n\nThat's why your orbs do churn and grow,\n\nThey're looking good, my brother.\n\nTo the point where they hang taut\n\nFor your wide hands to grasp\n\nMaking your brown tufted ears\n\nPull backwards as you gasp.\n\nI can see the passion rising,\n\nIt was there when I was changed.\n\nBut I had no one to help me,\n\nAnd for you I can arrange\n\nTo help lessen the burning need.\n\nI know just the right way.\n\nJust through this door there is a place\n\nMore private we can stay.\n\nNow I know it seems absurd\n\nAs you watch your manhood grow,\n\nBut there are some things about it\n\nThat a fledgling hog should know.\n\nIt's supposed to have those ridges\n\nAnd look something like a screw\n\nMade of pink and glistening flesh;\n\nThe feelings bold and new.\n\nJust run your hand along it\n\nAnd feel the twisting turns.\n\nIt's best to just deal with these things\n\nBefore it grows and burns\n\nWith roiling passion: maddening lust\n\nAnd bestial sense of mind.\n\nMy good sir, we may be beasts\n\nBut we are still refined.\n\nAnd so my sir, my grand idea\n\nFor problems of this kind:\n\nI think that I might offer up\n\nMy tender boar's behind.\n\nNow I know that it sounds vapid,\n\nBut I can see it in your eyes\n\nAs your tongue licks past your tusks\n\nYou stare towards my bared thighs.\n\nNow we don't have to be lovers.\n\nJust consider me a friend.\n\nI'm just the man to help you,\n\nAfter that it all depends.\n\nBut for now come closer\n\nAnd grasp around my hips.\n\nThere you go my good man,\n\nWith a grin upon your lips.\n\nOh lordy, I can feel it\n\nAs the heat leaks from your spire\n\nWhile you just arrange yourself\n\nTo meet your heart's desire.\n\nOur breath stops as you press under\n\nMy pulled up twitching tail\n\nAnd then slide in your pulsing rod\n\nSo quintessentially male.\n\nIn and out you're grinding\n\nAs your spiraled ridges tease\n\nMy pink and clenching orifice,\n\nMy writhing boarish need.\n\nWe both grunt out as I contract,\n\nMy own rod swelling out.\n\nThe air is filled with musky scents\n\nOf maleness all about.\n\nAs you sink inside of me\n\nAnd push up to the hilt\n\nYour belly rests against my cheeks,\n\nYour muscles nicely built.\n\nNow you nibble at my neck\n\nAnd huff against my ear.\n\nYour building porcine lust\n\nIs overwhelming, that is clear.\n\nWith a rock your swollen orbs\n\nDo slap against my own\n\nWith lancing jolts of pleasure\n\nThat I very much condone.\n\nYour hands grow tight, your body stiff\n\nI feel your racing heart\n\nAs your cock begins to throb\n\nBut this is just the start.\n\nYou moan and bellow, as you jerk\n\nAnd press inside my rear\n\nAs molten waves of boarish heat\n\nLance from your twisted spear.\n\nWith every jolt of fiery lust\n\nAnd smoldering Porcine need,\n\nI can't help but wag and clench\n\nAnd feel your manly seed.\n\nDon't think that this is stopping.\n\nNo, you don't know pigs too well.\n\nThe throes of boarish lust can last\n\nFor quite a lengthy spell.\n\nYes, oh god, it feels quite good\n\nOn my end and on yours.\n\nSo let's just let the time drift by\n\nAs we rut like boars.\n\nThat lasted a half-hour or more!\n\nYour stamina was immense.\n\nBut you never tapered off.\n\nThe whole thing was intense.\n\nYou slide out from behind me.\n\nYour tugging ridges yank\n\nAt my flesh as drops of seed\n\nDo dribble down my shank.\n\nLet's find a water closet\n\nAnd get ourselves scrubbed clean.\n\nI know there's one back here\n\nThat we can use unseen.\n\nYes, we're pigs not slobs here,\n\nSo let us both stay tidy.\n\nWere regal manly beasts us both\n\nWith postures high and mighty.\n\nHere, take this linen bathrobe\n\nYour old clothes will not do.\n\nYou've grown a lot, my dear sir,\n\nAnd stretched with muscled thew\n\nBut I know a tailor\n\nWho's very fond of me.\n\nWe'll visit him tomorrow\n\nFor clothes, and hmm, let's see . . .\n\nIf you don't wish to be seen\n\nOn the streets in such a state,\n\nMight I recommend that you\n\nCome sleep at my estate?\n\nIt's no problem, I've a growler\n\nWith more than room for two,\n\nAnd we can speak and then discuss\n\nWhat we then plan to do.\n\nI think that we should join in force\n\nAnd be each other's friends.\n\nI find I like your company\n\nBut of course it all depends\n\nOn what you think, and so my man\n\nWhat is it that you say?\n\nWill you leave alone here?\n\nOr together should we stay stay?\n\nA perfect choice! You lovely man,\n\nA rather stunning call:\n\nFor although we are both Boarish\n\nWe are not boorish at all. \u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Verse and Other Nonsense!","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/570689-the-hunter-s-ninth-tail.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/651675-cats-and-dogs.json"}}