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Piggy Pizza By gwydion78

Commission for Vaughn Blondetail

The flop.

The simple explanation of the con was just throwing yourself at a car that was coming to a complete stop to maximize dramatic impact while limiting injury. Most of the time, the driver would panic and in lieu of filing a claim, just give the flopper a bunch of cash for medical expenses to keep their mouth shut. In the event that the hospital was needed, a previous fracture somewhere on the body was prized as it'd appear on an X-ray and pressure the driver into making a settlement offer to avoid any big payout. Generally a good flop would provide for living expenses and pain medication for 2-3 weeks.

Then again, in order to accomplish it, one would have to be willing to throw themselves at a moving car.

Another arm of the flopping spectrum was the staged slip-and-fall, a safer scam with a possibly bigger payday, though much more difficult to pull off given the wide marketplace of piss-slippers stalking wet floor signs like sharks that just smelled blood. The method was easy, just walk amicably, nonchalant, and then whoops! Most of the time the exploits would be caught on the store cameras, and "pain and suffering" would kick a settlement into the five figure range.

For Vaughn, the "slip-and-fall" wasn't so much an artform, he didn't deign to be pretentious about sliding out of balance on a puddle of piss or off-brand soda and falling on his ass for money, but there were definite procedures involved. The first rule was to avoid the big box chain stores. There was temptation to be sure, they had plenty of money, but that also meant more security and fraud investigation which would likely reveal the number of slip-and-falls he'd pulled off in his lifetime. It was better to stick with smaller places with lapsed insurance (to insure a quick payout to avoid a claim), or regional chains that didn't have as much pull as the national brands. The second rule was to keep moving, never more than one in the same county, and after a bigger payday, to leave the state and try somewhere else. He was fully aware this wasn't a lifelong career choice, but it was either this or get some sanity-taxing 9 to 5 job like his cousin Price who worked for the health department.

But it had been eight weeks since his last settlement check had been cashed, and living out of motels had started to take its toll on his savings, so it was time to look for a new target. The local grocery stores were all national chains, plus one of his larger settlements, for slipping on spilled milk over Memorial Day weekend, had come from one of the aforementioned chains, and he hadn't waited the self-imposed three years before going back to the well.

Let's face it, anyone could get lucky and step in a puddle of piss, slip, crack their head on a floor and walk away with a six figure settlement, that's why the lottery was always won by idiots, but to do it again and again? You had to be smart, and Vaughn was well aware of that. He tried to think of it all as one big vacation, like how guys a few years younger than him would take a year off after high school to "see the world" with nothing more than a backpack and a couple credit cards. Unfortunately, a "job" like his didn't really inspire a fantastic credit rating, so he had to rely on cash, which was quickly running out.

And that was what brought him to his chosen target of the season: a family-themed restaurant that was an obvious knock-off of a more recognizable national brand, right down to the cartoony mascot, Mordecai Mozzarella, a slightly pudgy brown rat in a green denim jacket and Stetson, as opposed to say, a gray mouse with a red vest and bowler. The layout was generally the same, about half of the place set aside for booths for dining and larger tables for birthday parties and hourly "shows" by kids in sweaty costumes who lip-synched to whatever pop music was age-appropriate, the other side of the place filled with arcade games, skee-ball and ball pits.

Places like this were just lawsuits waiting to happen, and not the kind that Vaughn would threaten, but more the "cease and desist" variety. It was the kind of place that would want to avoid attention on anything more than a regional level. He'd done his research beforehand, checking its advertising, presence on the internet, all that, which only took a couple of hours, to show that it wasn't a chain, and what limited chatter there was about it online was primarily about how the food wasn't all that healthy, though a place like that was more about changing twenty dollar bills into piles of tokens than haute cuisine.

Of course, not having any kids himself, Vaughn needed a viable reason to be in the place, and the tried and true justification of nature's call had been successful. The hard part was staying in the bathroom stall until he was sure it was empty, as a birthday party was in attendance and while witnesses were always nice to sell it, he also neither wanted some kid walking in on him smearing blood on his head, or worse yet, walking in on some guy lying on the floor bleeding all over the place and possibly traumatizing the brat. He was a crook, sure, but he didn't want to be *that* much of an asshole.

He exited after he heard a few kids finish washing up, which was strange enough as he knew most adults didn't even bother with washing their hands, but it supplied a window where it could be assumed that water had splashed onto the floor from the sink, he'd inadvertently slipped, hit his head or wrenched his back, and a quick settlement would be on the way. He decided to go with the hit head, as blood was more immediate and made an injury easier to prove. Vaughn leaned against the sink, splattering water on the floor with his hand, looking in the mirror and taking a deep breath, rubbing some fake blood into his short black hair and then pouring a small puddle onto the floor. He looked into his reflection's brown eyes gave himself a nod, and then practically yelped as he did a controlled fall onto the tile floor, resting his head in the puddle of fake blood, groaning, clenching his eyes, putting in the occasional whimper as he heard people outside rushing in.

"Oh god, is he alright?"

"He with one of the kids? Looks like he slipped..."

"Who was on cleanup in here?"

"Mister, you okay?"

"Keep the kids by the stage, and call Frank, he's got the first aid kit."

Suckers.

***

It had gone about as expected. An ambulance was never called, mostly to keep from driving off the kids, likely. He was pretty good at faking a concussion, slurring his speech slightly, generally trying to act like he was okay while showing some stagger and stumble in his walk. The manager got his contact information and told him to send any medical bills to them after noticing all the water on the floor. It was relatively simple to print up an official looking medical bill with scary terms on it with a total figure that was up there but not ridiculous, "only" eleven grand, an amount that would keep his endless summer going another six months, a year if he kept things cheap. Vaughn was aware that a rinky-dink operation like Mordecai Mozzarella's likely couldn't handle a ten thousand dollar hit, but hey, it was better than a lawsuit from the chain they likely didn't want knowing about their operation.

It was almost a week before he heard back, and for a while he thought the jig might be up, considering that a motel address always added a level of shadiness to all dealings, but after returning from a walk around the small town, keeping the act up in that he favored one side, and lingering here and there to imply aftereffects of the fall, he returned to find a message for him at the front desk: an envelope and a large sheet pizza with cheese and pepperoni. The envelope, unfortunately, contained a note of apology instead of a check, but it did inform him that they'd received the bill, and would be taking care of it, and hoped he got better soon. The pizza was complimentary, of course.

He didn't mind that the check was being sent directly to the "doctor" instead of to him, seeing as it'd be shuffled through a few P.O. boxes here and there before showing up at the motel to be cashed by him anyway. It'd likely take another week and a half, though, and he wasn't fond of spending any longer than he had to in that crappy little burg. At least they'd ponyed up for a free meal, and honestly, the note was pretty stupid on their part. Any personal injury lawyer would have a field day with an apology or "get well soon" note, as it implied guilt, and could ramp up the punitive damages. They were lucky that he wasn't the litigious type, and was happy with just the eleven grand. Well, eleven thousand and ninety-six bucks. Car needed an oil change.

Pizza had never been his thing, Vaughn was more a barbecue guy, but there was an enticing scent to the pie as he carried it back to his room, maybe garlic butter or something on the crust. The downside was that it was pretty greasy as pizzas went, so he could only imagine how many chubby kids that place would produce after lengthy birthday parties, but he was honestly starving, as he didn't want to show his face at too many places, should he decide to target them at a later date, and in a town this small, everyone usually knew everyone, so even a minor slip-up on his part would backfire.

The crust was a mite doughy for his liking, but in the end still pretty tasty despite all the grease. He flipped on the TV, checking the news to see if there were any local events that should concern him, but outside of a tractor pull coming up in the next two weeks, it was just another day in the sleepy little town.

"Who goes to those things, anyway," he wondered aloud, "Just seems like a waste of money pimping out a truck that'll only be good in the real world for pulling tree stumps or some shit." He picked up another slice and started on it, the weathergirl on the screen serviceably attractive, blathering on about the coming weekend's decent picnic weather. "Nice boobs, at least, score one for local talent." He usually didn't talk to himself like that, but two weeks stuck in a motel room could get anyone chatty with their reflection. He glanced down at his groin seeing that he was properly saluting the weathergirl, and sighed.

"Fuck, really? I knocked one out this morning, she ain't even that cute!" Still, he dropped a hand down to grope himself through his cargo pants while he continued eating. "Got a pretty mouth, though, and she probably used it to get that job. Urrrrrrrrp!" He patted his stomach a couple times. "Good one. 'Za ain't too bad after the fifth slice, heh." He reached behind his waistband, into the sweaty nest of his groin, scratching his nuts and then pulling out his fingers to grab another slice.

He then looked down at his hands. "Fuck, which one was I scratchin' my balls with?" A couple seconds of contemplation later, he shrugged and ate the slice, ripping another wet belch as his belly quivered in response, pooching out an inch or two, but his waist was yet to be restrained by his pants, as he'd already undone his fly with his free hand, massaging the tent of his briefs as he watched the screen. The news was getting a little boring, mostly because the anchors were older women that were a drunk six at most, so he flipped the channel, laughing out loud and pointing at the screen as it was a reality show about local law enforcement, he couldn't place the name, but it was always full of dumbass rednecks getting' busted for some truly stupid shit.

He leaned to the side as he loudly expulsed gas from a different orifice, and waved the smell away with another slice of pizza before chowing down again. "Cheap bastards," he muttered, looking down at the pizza box that was nearly empty now, "Who sends half a slice? Most of it's pizza bones, they thought I wouldn't notice? BRAAAAAAAAAP!" A dopey grin crossed his face after the belch, and he patted his belly, much closer to a gut now, his T-shirt starting to ride upward on it, the fly of his pants spread wide enough that it'd never close now, the seam of the seat of his pants feeling the strain as his buttocks started to soften and spread.

Vaughn returned his attention to the screen, the officer an older dude with a trimmed beard and a pot belly that hung well over his belt, the result of too many stakeouts, donuts, and likely a patrol car in a calm neighborhood. The crook on the screen was getting his rights read, face blurred out, pushed down against the hood of the police cruiser by the overweight cop, that belly pushing into the criminals back to keep him pinned. Vaughn felt a twitch in his pants at the sight, licking his puffy lips as he watched the scene, reaching down to grope his crotch again. "Fuck, why ain't I ever rubbed one out to a dude? That fat ol' pig is *hot*." He grunted, pulling his sweaty, sticky briefs down, the moist air of the motel room making his cock twitch as his wrapped his thick fingers around his pole and started stroking up and down. The scene had moved on to something else, but all Vaughn could imagine was being pushed up against the wall, that big fucker behind him, pressing his gut into his back, telling him he was going down for all his petty scams, and then being pushed onto his knees to...

"Weeeeeeeeeeeee!" He convulsed as he shot his spunk, his cum firing like a fountain, heavy gouts of white rope flying through the air away from him, splattering into the carpet, but what surprised him was that his climax was a lot longer than usual, plus he didn't make sounds like that when he came. Actually, that was a lie, he wasn't thinking about any of that, he was just thrusting his widening hips at the air as his thickening body starting to take on a pinkish tint, his grunts of ejaculation more bestial as he just kept shooting, not abating for another two minutes, a duration that should have caused him panic, but a gut-rattling belch and rumbling flatulence distracted him from such petty concerns. "Shit, I don't wanna have to get up an' clean this shit up." He snuffled at the air. "Don't smell that bad anyway, actually pretty good, like a fuckin' *man* should smell."

Pretty damned good pizza too, now that he thought about it, 'specially for a knockoff place, 'cept it was the kind of pizza that'd probably get ya fat or somethin'. He poked his shirt-clad gut, pushing out a wet belch. "Good thing I ain't that fat. I'm a fuckin' stud. Wonder if that ol' pig works in this area, wouldn't mind disturbin' his 'piece'." He even made the air quotes with a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a grunt. "Fuck, I gotta stay out of the sun, look how pink I'm gettin'. Damned sunburns... Wait, my skin shouldn't be pink... right?"

In response, he felt his dick twitch, demanding attention, and while reaching to give his poke a "daddy's here" kind of squeeze, it occurred to him that he couldn't see his cock, as his gut was obscuring the view of one fine lookin' piece of meat. "Wait, wait, hold on, when'd I get so damned fat?" His fingers closed around his shaft, which felt a little different to his touch, but the strokes were even better than a few minutes ago, his head hurting a few seconds but clearing up as he regained his train of thought. "I mean, I'm hot as fuck, but when did I pack on the lard?" A sound erupted from his mouth as he kept stroking, a soft, animal "weeeeeeeeeeeee" that seemed to perfectly vocalize the arousal he felt at the sight of his body, but, was that supposed to be his body?

He forced himself off the bed, leaning forward putting enough pressure on his stomach to elicit another explosion of flatulence as well as a belch when he was upright. Vaughn moved into the bathroom, his hand never ceasing its masturbation as he gazed upon his reflection in the dirty motel mirror and almost screamed. Almost, because the sound that came out of him wasn't human, but seemed more appropriate coming out of a pig's snout, a thing that he was currently in the process of growing. His nose had upturned, widening, his nostrils flaring into thicker and thicker circles, each snorting sniff assaulting his brain with highly detailed olfactory reports that the sexiest hog alive was in his bathroom havin' a good ol' time with himself. "Naw, naw, what the fuck is happenin' to me? What's doin' this?"

He belched again, tasting pizza for the second time, and his mind started to put the pieces together before another belch shook them apart again, his strokes wet and slapping as he jerked off. "I... I gotta stop and..." He watched his ears migrate upward, losing their human shape and flopping slightly, a rich pink shade as his hair fell out. "Shit, that's hot... Naw, naw it ain't! I gotta stop tuggin' my..." He squealed as his cock seemed to twist and reshape itself into the corkscrew shape of a porcine pecker. Vaughn glared at his reflection. "Dammit, you gotta stop jerkin' it, yer only makin' it worse! Ya shouldn't be doin'..." He oinked in sexual bliss as he felt a stubby finger push into his asshole, a curly appendage growing from just above, finger-fucking himself while he stroked off. "That wasn't... what I was... Aw shit, that feels too damned good."

Vaughn watched himself thrusting at the sink, his expanding belly bumping into the porcelain with every hump. He leaned forward just enough to spit, his mouth feeling full of something for a moment, only to watch his teeth tumble and clink into the sink, the horror not abating as his tongue rubbed against the newly grown replacement. "Stop, dammit... Stop... Uhnnnn... Oh shit, that shouldn't feel that good." He slumped backward, beholding his corkscrew cock rubbing against his eager fingers and greasy underbelly, another long squeal sounding from him as his reflection was painted with hard splats of hogseed. The ecstasy was too great for his panic to surmount, and he leaned against the wall, his finger still jammed under his piggy tail, his ass clenching rhythmically with every squirt of pungent pig cum. Even though he'd climaxed mere minutes before, the load seemed even more voluminous, his dick a veritable firehose that soaked the mirror in sticky spooge, obscuring his transformed reflection from his view.

When it finally died down, he staggered out of the bathroom, his cock still pulsing weakly, leaving a wet trail of spunk along his path. He flumped down on the bed, the springs creaking and protesting loudly from his increased bulk, the pigman staring at his musky altered hands in disbelief. "It's gotta be a dream, a fucked up dream or some shit."

"It's not a dream, Piggy!"

Vaughn stared at the source of the voice, the television, where the mascot, Mordecai Mozzarella, for that pizza place was on the screen, grinning cartoonishly, flanked by the other characters, Cheddar Crock, a crocodile with exaggerated bayou clothing and Swissy Skunk, a, well, skunk in a European business suit. They all looked happy and smiling, like they did in all their commercials, but it was a little disturbing the way they looked directly into the camera, how their eyes followed him however he seemed to move.

"You were a bad boy, weren't you Piggy?" The voice was chiding, like a parent, the mouse folding his arms across his chest while the skunk wagged a finger at him, the crocodile only shaking his head in disappointment. "You didn't really trip and hurt yourself, and all the kiddies got so scared when they heard a man was bleeding in the bathroom. Little Frankie just wanted a nice birthday, and you ruined it!"

"She was turning ten!" The skunk furrowed his brow.

"All her friends where there to have a good time!" The crocodile snorted at the screen.

"Oh shit, this can't be real, this can't be..." He looked down at his pink belly, felt his snout of a nose. "You did this to me!"

"Mm mm, Piggy. You did this to *yourself*." The mouse sighed again, and beckoned for the other two to follow him as they started to walk off camera.

"No! Come back! You've got to change me back! I can't look like this, I'll be a freak!" As if to accent his situation, his body expelled a fresh bout of gas from both ends. "I'll do anything, I'll tear up the check when it arrives and I'll never do a slip-and-fall every again, I swear it!"

The mouse turned and arched a brow at him. "I don't know if you're fibbing or not. How can Swissy and Cheddar and I know if you really want to be a good boy?" The three animals got into a huddle, each of them occasionally peeking at the pigman through the television as they whispered to each other, Vaughn trembling and on the verge of tears that it all just might be a reality.

"Okay," Mordecai nodded once at the screen, "If you come down here and say you're sorry and promise to be a good boy and not be mean to people, we'll see about helping you. We'll send someone to get you and bring you right here, just to make sure you really want to apologize. How does that sound, Piggy?"

He nodded quickly at the screen, any thoughts of working a scam or running out of town dashed by the fact that he was a friggin' *pigman* and he could hardly go outside, much less pull slip-and-falls looking like *this*. He sat on his bed, poking his belly and occasionally belching, trying to calm down, knowing all that was standing between him and being normal again was just saying he was sorry, and as someone who'd been caught a few times throughout his life, he'd learned how to craft a sincere sounding apology, and he doubted three cartoon characters would be able to gauge his truthfulness when he delivered.

Ten minutes later his head was a bit cloudy as the smell of the motel room was getting him horny again, but luckily there was a knock at the door, and when he checked outside, there was a windowless van with the back opened up for him, no one appearing to be outside. He opened the door and jumped into the back, a divider obscuring the driver from him, and the doors were closed, leaving him all alone in the back, and for a moment he was afraid he might be on his way to jail, or a government lab, or even worse, a slaughterhouse that was curious about how pigman bacon would taste.

The van lurched into motion, leaving Vaughn with nothing to do but consider his situation, and inspect his new body more thoroughly. His belly, when he lifted his over-stretched shrt, was pink and hairless, bloated outward, vague bumps in two rows that were in line with his nipples, his pecs having already started a downward sag into mobs. His arms were coated with blubber, just as pink as the rest of him, his fingers fat and his nails dark and dirty and blunt, like miniature hooves. The sight of them was enough to make him push off his shoes, where he beheld that his feet were also misshapen, and while he had to lift them with some effort to see them, it was clear that they were no longer human, his toes pushing together into two thick hooved toes. His legs had grown much meatier as well, his size so great that simply moving his limbs about so he could see them was a wheeze-inducing effort, the grunts and squeals and whines coming out of him, somewhat muted but still bestial in nature.

He reached up to feel his face and found he'd grown a second and third chin, his cheeks wide and plump, and he could see the length of his altered nose, feel the blunt flattened front of it which only seemed to amplify his porcine grunts. His ears had migrated upward, the flaps of skin there sensitive to his touch, and despite the shock of his transformation, he felt some relief that all of his hair wasn't gone, a lock of it between his ears and down the back of his head, similar to a Mohawk style but not standing upright, thankfully. For some reason the idea of that hairstyle seemed wrong to be on a pigman, and the fact that he was worrying about proper hair maintenance for a pigman only worried him further.

"You'll be back to normal soon." He immediately covered his mouth, his force much gruffer, gravelly, like a truck driver that have been drinking and smoking since he was four. It was a little scary how exaggerated it was, almost cartoonish in a way, which only made him squeal with anxiety even more. He was being made into one of them, wasn't he?

The doors to the van opened suddenly, Vaughn not even realizing that the vehicle had stopped moving, and no one said a word, only an open set of doors in front of him, leading into darkness. It took over a minute for him to summon up the courage to get out, his nose only catching whiffs of pizza and, thankfully, no slaughtered animals or bacon. He stepped through the doors, which promptly closed behind him with a loud clank, and for a few seconds he was in pitch blackness, the only sounds his nervous wheezing and constantly shifting his weight from hoof to hoof to keep his balance. When a light came on, a bare bulb, low wattage, that only illuminated a dim circle, he was drawn to the beacon, and the door it showed.

He put his hand on the knob, turned it, and pushed his through the doorway into...

"And let's give a hand to our newest friend, Parmy Pig!"

Vaughn froze as he found himself on stage with the other characters, a crowd of kids in the audience cheering, some laughing at him, the skunk directly in front of him while the crocodile pushed him down into a sitting position, his belly sagging enough to cover his exposed groin. The three characters then flanked him, the mouse standing directly behind him, motioning toward him while the children cheered, Vaughn looking down at himself, his clothes having vanished and replaced with a denim vest and overstretched pizza-stained T-shirt and denim shorts that were rather short, a mesh cap on his head, a blonde ponytail sticking out the back.

"Wh-what's goin' on?" He covered his mouth, his voice even cartoonier than before, his tonality completely different than what he'd intended, sounding like he was being genial and all... "Boy, howdy! Ah sure am got me a pow'rful hunger, Mordecai!" What was THAT? Did that come out of him? "Now just a darn tootin' minute, why'm ah talkin' like, ah say why'm talkin' like..."

His silly accent only drew more laughter from the children, and before he could protest or perhaps tell some of those kids that their parents were never married, a slice of pizza was pushed into his mouth, an easy grin settling on his face as he obediently ate it, feeling warm and good inside while he tried to fight off the urge to just kick back and enjoy the good times.

"Now kids," Mordecai stepped forward. "As you can see, Parmy here likes to eat like, well... like what, kids?"

"A PIG!" They all shouted in unison, some giggling afterward as the crocodile pushed another slice into the pigman's mouth.

"That's 'cause he eats too much pizza, kids, and too much of anything, even good things, can be bad for ya! That's why we're changing our pizza recipe so it'll be better for ya, but still taste great! We're also addin' in some jungle gyms and playgrounds in a couple months so you can take all that energy from lunch and play! What do you think of that, kids?"

The announcement was met with cheers, both from the kids, who were in favor of the playground, and the parents, who were happy about the healthier food.

"But Mordy!" The skunk spoke up, "What about all the unhealthy pizza we got in the back? If the kids can't eat it, what're we gonna do with it?"

"That's why we got our new friend Parmy to visit! He doesn't mind getting fat, do ya, Parmy?" Another slice was stuffed into the pig's mouth, the porker dazedly shaking his head in response, unsure whether the was trying to refuse more pizza, or if he was agreeing that he didn't mind getting even fatter.

And he had, his body having swollen outward, his vest spreading and his stretched shirt riding up a bit, gas making its way out of him, the children laughing at the easy humor. He just ate and ate, Parmy, no, Vaughn, or was it Parmy? He couldn't really remember, it was like his brain was getting smothered in fat.

"Well, we'll be back in a few minutes for the rest of the show, kids! We gotta get Parmy started on all this pizza!"

More cheers resounded as the curtain was closed, and the pig was pulled back through the door, into the previous room, now brightly lit and revealed to be filled with hundreds of pizzas, all sitting in boxed stacks. Surrounded by the three characters, the pig looked up at the mouse, oinking inquisitively.

"Now, Parmy, do you remember why you're here?"

The pig thought hard, tapping his head as he did so, looking around the room. He WAS here for something, he just for the life of him couldn't figure what that something was...

"Ah'm here t' eat alla them there pizzas, right?" That certainly made sense, and he hoped it was true, he was still pretty hungry.

"That's right, Parmy!" The mouse stroked his face, kissed his nose, and the pig blushed. "You embarrassed, Parmy?"

"Ah... Ah jus' think yer a fine lookin' mouse, Mordecai. Wouldn't mind gettin' a piece of yer poke." He leaned forward to nuzzle at the mouse's plushy crotch, snuffling there a few seconds before he pulled back, finding a rather large penis there, erect, dribbling.

"That *really* what you want me to do, Parmy? You only get one favor, you sure want that to be it?"

Parmy thought about it again, and he suddenly realized his stupidity, the opportunity he was missing. It was so obvious! "Yer right, Mordecai. Ah don' want yer poke." Grinning widely, he continued, "Ah want *all three" of yer pokes!" He nodded proudly, impressed at his cleverness as he was pushed onto his hands and knees, his belly pushed into the hardwood floor.

The mouse moved around to the back of the pig, yanking down the shorts with some effort, the porcine rear wide, pink, and fleshy, wobbling and jiggling, even more so when the mouse slapped it with his furry paw, causing Parmy to grunt in delight. In the meantime the croc and skunk had begun rubbing their plushified groins, a pair of large red phalli emerging from the fuzz and leather that made Parmy lick his chops hungrily. Without prelude, they stood on either side of his face, pushing their cockheads into his greedy maw, the pig already lapping and suckling at them, his eyes closing in gluttonous bliss.

The mouse wasted no time, shoving his dick straight into Parmy's flabby ass, eliciting a muffled squealing grunt as the pig was stuck on the poke, happy as a hog in slops. None of them spoke, the only sounds being wet slurping and slaps of thighs against rumpcheeks, largely because of the short amount of time available. The pig pushed his face into the twin erections, the skunk and crocodile stroking his head, their small bellies rubbing against his face and each other as he learned fellatio as he went. All too quickly they came, the pair sharing a passionate kiss with each other as Parmy's mouth was flooded with sweet, sticky cum, which he guzzled down his gullet, his own gut gurgling as it began to swell again, spreading along the floor.

Mordecai gripped his chubby love handles seconds later, blasting his climax into the cushy rump, the pig only stopping his chugging of semen to suddenly rip a giant belch at the influx of liquid, his arms and legs groaning as mass was piled onto him, his neck shrinking into folds of fat as he gained his fourth, fifth, and sixth chin. During this, the three climaxing males watched the fat melt off their bodies, the skunk's previously chunky build slimming into a svelte but healthy figure, limited definition in his muscles visible. Cheddar on the other hand seemed to widen and expand even as his belly disappeared, his arms and legs ballooning with muscle, his abs cut sharply, even his tail seeming to possess great strength. Mordecai watched his thighs thicken with strength and speed while his middle remained relatively trim, giving him a sturdy runner's build while the pig underneath him swelled into the ranks of those who had to be removed from buildings with forklifts and a crane.

Once their orgasms finally abated, their genitals vanished back into their "costumes", the pig denied satisfaction, at least sexually, as Parmy was too busy oinking and squealing in delight at his titanic girth and the knowledge of how it was put on him. They helped him upright, the former man now wobbling, though still strangely mobile, his belly having the sort of give often found with plush animals, but the sight of himself in a mirror, still in his trucker gear and long blonde ponytail sticking out the back of his mesh cap was enough to dissuade any concerns. After all, he was here to help his friends get rid of all this pizza, for the kids.

"Now we'll be back after the show, Parmy, and feed you some more pies, and then maybe we'll teach you the dances so you can be in the show too! Won't that be nice?" Mordecai nuzzled his piggy snout and kissed his forehead, the sight of his three muscular friends making Parmy feel all woogly inside. He nodded quickly in response.

"That sure would be, Mordecai! Ah can't wait t' help alla them little tykes learn 'bout eatin' proper an' havin' fun!" And he really meant it, why wouldn't he? "Jus' watch out fer puddles! Wouldn' want ya to slip an' fall!"

The three of them had a good laugh at that, a really good laugh as they went to the stage, leaving him behind.

"Wonder why they was laughin' so hard at that... Didn' seem that funny t' me..."