Circe's Funhouse Story
Scrofal was driving home from work. It was close to the weekend and
he decided to try out a different road. As he drove he noticed a strange
building ahead. The building had an animated pig constantly sticking
its face into a pie. The sign near it read:
gasped, and his fat belly (now larger than it had been a moment before)
jiggled under the stretched fabric of his shirt. A halo of fudge surrounded
his mouth and spread outward over his cheeks, chin and nose, where a
sizeable smudge of fudge was balanced. It slipped off and Mark instinctively
opened his mouth to catch it on the way down. Mmmm
The shirt button atop his bulging stomach gave way and went flying behind
the counter, and his bloated belly fell into view. Mark realized (while
licking as much of the thick fudge off his face as his tongue could
reach) that his entire body was growing thicker as he watched. His pants
were covering his increasingly blubbery legs like a too-tightly stretched
wrapper on an overstuffed sausage, and his already pudgy toes were beginning
to grow together into hooves.
turning into a pig!" Mark thought, watching his ears grow longer
and floppier unti they were dangling off the sides of his head like
pocket flaps. He realized he was holding a cookie in each pudgy hand
and was eagerly stuffing both of them into his face simultaneously.
He heard himself snort loudly through his nostrils (that he could see
growing larger and more prominent right in front of his eyes) as he
stuffed two more cookies into his already overstuffed mouth. Globs of
the chocolately fudge fell into his lap. "I can't stop eating these
cookies - and THEY'RE TURNING ME INTO A PIG!"
see you like my cookies. They are irresistable, aren't they?"
Mark looked up to see Circe smiling down at him. He swallowed guiltily
and gave out with an exceptionally loud, involuntary exhalation that
was halfway between a belch and an oink. "Do have some more,"
she urged. Mark looked down to see the plate had replenished itself;
if anything, it was piled higher with cookies than it had been before
- and they looked bigger and smelled richer than the first batch.
couldn't believe it, but he felt hungrier than ever! He realized must
have consumed dozens, maybe hundreds of the bewitching cookies since
he had sat down - and he still wanted more, even though he knew they
were relentlessly transforming him into an enormous hog! He stared at
the beckoning sweets, his mouth watering, trying to resist their lure,
even as he felt his pudgy hands inch towards them. Another button popped
off the shirt now barely covering his ever-expanding stomach. 'We're
so yummy,' he imagined them calling to him. 'You KNOW you want to eat
us, go ahead, why resist
so, SOOO yummy
know, once you're a pig you can eat anything you want." Circe's
whisper derailed Mark's train of thought; he looked up to see her just
a few inches away. "As much as you want, anytime you want."
much as I want?" Mark thought delightedly. "What could be
better than that?!" Any thought of resisting his transformation
or the siren song of the cookies vanished as he scooped up as many as
he could between his arms and brought them up to his face. "It's
time to PIG OUT for real!" he snorted in laughter, stuffing his
face as never before.
felt a strange, growing sensation at the base of his spine that made
his pants feel tighter than ever. With a noisy RIP!, the pants' rear
seam split wide open, letting his enormous porcine butt spill out onto
the oversized stool (which was now just the right size to contain him)
as the ragged remants of his pants fell down around his hoof-like feet.
Mark oinked in pleasure; it was great to finally get out of his constricting
pants. He felt a pleasant tickle, a whisking against his rear end that
he realized must be his curly tail wiggling about in delight at being
freed. Mark looked back up at Circe "You know, these cookies really
GROW on you," he grunted, and Circe laughed as he crammed a few
more into his mouth.
Mark's belly was now large and round, and continued to roll further and further out the more he ate. His arms were thick and piggish. It was becoming harder for him to lift the cookies to his mouth, as his fingers were quickly thickening into hooves. Finally, the last button on his shirt gave way just as its entire back seam ripped open, and the two pieces of fabric slid down and bunched up around his wrists. Mark felt much more comfortable without it on, and took just enough time away from eating the cookies to lift his arms and let the shredded fabric fall to the ground. His fingers seemed to have fallen asleep, but rather than stop eating the cookies, he pushed his face down to the plate (still piled high with cookies) and started gobbling them right into his mouth. "This is great," he thought, "I can eat even more even faster!" His chubby cheeks, now thickly coated with smeared fudge, grew even fatter. Mark could feel his face grow longer and snout-like. He wondered what his feet looked like and tried to look down at them, but couldn't see past his now enormous belly. He shrugged nonchalantly (sending blubbery layers of fat jiggling in all directions); who cared about feet - when there was still a piled-high plateful of Circe's fudge cookies right in front of him? Mark dove into the plate with resumed gusto, swallowing overstuffed mouthful after mouthful without pausing for breath. He could hear himself grunting louder and louder with each swallow; he never realized how much fun it was to be a pig!
face still buried in the cookies, Mark lost all track of time trying
to eat every last one. Finally, after snuffling and licking the entire
surface of the plate, Mark realized - to his disappointment - that he
had achieved his goal. He let loose a resigned sigh - which turned into
a rumbling, awesomely loud and amazingly sustained belch.
there any -OINK!-more?" He asked Circe, who seemed very
"Of course there is." She said, walking around the bar. "Just follow me." Mark tried to stand, but found he couldn't - he was just too rotund for two legs anymore. (Had he asked, Circe would've told him he now tipped the scales at an impressive 947 pounds and 12 ½ ounces.) Instead, using one of his now-hoofed hands he slowly pushed himself away from the counter, leaned forward and slid off the stool on his belly.
touched the ground his arms became forelegs that hit the floor with
a pair of loud 'clop's. Mark quickly got the hang of walking on four
legs, his massive bulk waddling from side to side as he followed Circe
out the Dessert Parlour's back door.
In the shaded back yard there were several large, neatly wood-fenced pens, each filled with a different thick substance. A handful of pigs (all every bit as corpulent as Mark) were happily wallowing in each pen, with (Mark was glad to note) plenty of room to spare for new arrivals. He noticed a sign fixed to the gate of each pen: "FUDGE BOG" "MOUSSE MUDHOLE" "PEANUT BUTTER BOG (ALL NATURAL)" "PUDDING WALLOW" with each sign reading "Open 24 Hours" at the bottom.
Mark couldn't believe his piggish eyes, and he felt himself growing hungry all over again. Without thinking twice he headed for the fudge bog. (The others could wait until he FINALLY got his fill of that incredible fudge!) Mark planted his forelegs in the fudge and watched as they slowly sank into into its sludgy thickness. He wallowed in deeper and deeper until he was almost completely buried under the surface, then rolled from side to side, covering himself from head to tail in the gooey fudge. Mark surfaced with a loud "OINNNNNK!" then, mouth open, buried his face in the fudge to see if he could make an even BIGGER pig out of himself as Circe watched and laughed with pleasure.