"Yawn! Hell I slept halfway through my one day a week I have off from work!" Alan said with a growl as he stretched and yawned again.

Working a six day a week schedule of picking up garbage cans can make anyone sleepy! Yet at least he had one afternoon per week to stroll along the ravine behind his house. He found this a quiet calming place to wander along the creek, and on varied an occasion to sit and enjoy the calm.

As memory has it what would be a horrific a day began in the month of October, with leaves falling and all nature getting ready for a long wintry nap. Alan walked that time worn path, this day seemed special and he felt there was a twinkle in his eyes and a new bounce to his step.

Walking, he happened to look over at the burbling stream and there stuck in the creek mud he saw a brightly shining object. He stopped to give it a questioning look, he knew to be careful as if he fell into the chilly water and became wet the cold air would cause hypothermia in just minutes.

Being ever so careful, Alan reached but still unable to grasp the bright object, he thought to do his reaching differently. As careful as seemed proper and possible he stepped on a large rock to give him help in balancing himself as he reached. He groaned as he stretched to reach his hand down into the cold creek water. Fingers strained outward and as he just took hold of the bright bobble when that expensive waterproof work boot did slip off that moss covered and as slippery a wet stone.

A mighty yell of “Oh shit,” was what echoed the surrounding hills, that other than a large splashing sound when Alan fell into the icy cold water.

Awkward was his usual self in many ways, but this being no different, Alan did a sideway flipping full gainer, falling in he still made his mark a grabbed the bright and shiny bobble.

One rude awakening, falling into the creek, even with his treasure in hand, went head first into the water. He splashed about trying uselessly not to get completely soaked, he cussing a few choice words he came out of the water like a moose in rut.

Standing there he was beginning to shiver, he was wet and chilly air made him feel the cold. Home was from there a good two miles upstream. The adding of a breeze directly coming out of the north made the shivers all the worse. He looked along the path by the creek, seeing nothing where he could stand out of the wind and in the sunshine to dry his clothing, Alan decided to climb to higher ground.

Jogging and then having to run up hill to get above the creek bed, Alan felt his body warming naturally, as from exertion and the still warming sunshine. A minute or two and he was at the hilltop, stood there looking again for some safe haven.

Somehow and for some unknown reason the forest below and all around him looked different, almost as if it were prime-evil. He walked a few steps along the hill ridge only to stop again and he listening, heard then singing!

Turning his ear to listen even better he walked toward whomever and of fond hope there might be someplace as shelter. A quick look down, he still had in his grasp the bright bobble. His predicament he had forgotten his grabbing it, that being what caused his chilling problem. A silver challis made to sniff and drink wine made his situation feel somewhat worth the effort and problem. He tucked the silver item into his jacket pocket and walked on, listening to the singing, it growing louder.

Closer he got to the sound of someone singing the more he smelled cooking or baking scents wafting in the air. As to him right then the having of a stove meant heat, warmth, as to dry his clothing before he might soon freeze. Walking to stand upon a small rise, what was there below stood a small house surrounded by a bright yellow orange grove of Maple trees. The sight of a small stone cottage made him feel glad.

Alan rushed down the hillside, he jogging and as getting closer to the house the sound of singing stopped. He slowed his canter and then stood by the corner of the stone house and called out, said, "Is anyone there?"

Suddenly peering around the corner of that cottage was a wrinkled elderly woman. She smiled a rather toothless grin at him, suggesting her lack of wealth and poor dental health among other more obvious physical infirmities. She staggering with a bum leg and club foot, stepped out into the sun rays peeking through the trees. She with her one hand raised up above her head did give a friendly wave for Alan to come closer.

"Why young man you are soaking wet, why in this weather you can catch the death of a cold, come into the house and warm yourself!" She said, offering just what Alan had in mind to want and doing.

Alan needed no urging to get warm and stepped into the cottage. A quick look around found it to be as he rather expected, a one room multipurpose cottage having one bed, one table, two chairs, a fireplace, iron wood burning stove with an oven, and several cupboards. As he squatted down near the roaring fire inside the cast iron old stove he shivered again.

"Oh you'll catch your death in those, here take this cloak and put it on and remove those wet things!" The Lady said as a suggestion.

Alan did as suggested, and did it quickly, he removing every stitch of his clothing socks and those waterproof boots. He turned to look for the old woman but she was suddenly not there, as if she walked out of the house to grant him his privacy while getting undressed. His clothes off he wrapped himself up in the coarse cloak made of matted hair and having a tanned hide which quickly helped warm his skin. He sat all huddled close to the hot stove warming as his clothing hung over the two chairs to dry.

His jacket pocket let loose the bright bobble that began this sordid mess, Alan not noting it had fallen from the pocket to lie on the floor by the chair.

A few minutes of needed privacy and then with a knock she walked back into the cottage. A friendly smile and she reached to pick up Alan’s wet clothes. Suddenly she stopped, and with looking down to the floor her eyes caught sight of one bright object.

"Where did you get this, did you find it?" She asking, her tone of voice as if excited, almost like Alan had there a fine gem of something quite valuable.

"That, yea that is what got me all wet, if you want it, go ahead and take it, it is just more garbage to me!" Alan grumbled he damp still, embarrassed and about a half frozen man.

Cupping her hands about the object she looked up at Alan and said, "This is not a piece of garbage," she would wish to argue.

"Oh, well it to me my dear Lady it is little better than the peoples garbage, their junk is what allows me to live from day to day! As my job makes me little money, I have to smell and be around what other people consider as junk, I would be better off as a pig!" Alan grumbled, as he turned again to face the warming hot stove.

Seemingly as if stunned by what she heard Alan say, the elderly woman repeated her questioning of Alan she said, "You would rather be a pig, than as one alive and eat that which people toss away?"

She stood there acting as if nervous, her arthritic fingers fondling the silver cup. She waited for an answer but Alan ignored her curious questions and thought only of gaining warmth and comfort. Alan knew she was still standing there, and she having not said a word in several minutes, what Alan said then he spoke figuratively, even if she did not take it that way.

"Yes,” Alan began to say, he then paused, said, “I would, even after falling in that cold creek water be far better off as if I were some big boar of a hog, fat as my insulation against the cold, a pelt of bristles too, and having hooves rather than half frozen fingers and toes, yup the true essence of being a garbage man!” Turned away from the old woman Alan began to listen, he hearing her talking softly, she chanting. He shrugged his aching shoulders, did ignore her and turned to thinking more about getting warmer still. He sat there feeling his head ache, a shivering shuddering shake begin about his neck and rattle the length of his torso, sending a strange tickling through his groin and to his legs.

The ache in his head began to extend down his arms and then making his neck to feeling stiff. Grumbling at the thought he might have strained his spine with falling and getting up so quickly, Alan tried to change his sitting position there close to the stove.

A mild headache meant he soon would come down with a cold. As he wrapped the cloak around himself even tighter the old lady reached past his aching head and offered him a cup of something to drink. One sip of it and Alan spit the liquid out into the fire.

"What was that poison?" Alan asked, he doing so now in a gruff voice.

Looking Alan right in the eyes, the Lady put the cup into her hands and said, "Drink!"

Down it went as Alan did as if her asking of him was his mother ordering her son to take his medicine like a man. He did cough and tried to spit. As he thought to reach to slap a nasty old lady he saw his fingers. They looked swollen, being large and thick there were not four fingers and a thumb, but two horny digits and one smaller thing stuck out the back of what was his hand.

Alan tried to speak only of what he could utter and heard made his fears worse as he hearing the nasal snorting like a hog rooting for food. He thought next to stand up and defend himself, but his making a quick move made him to fall forward on those changed hands.

The lady stood there with that silver challis then more than just a bright bobble, it glowing, shining silvery beams at him.

She looked at Alan, and using her most loving grin. He did not appreciate her smile at that moment. He felt as if used, his naked self sprouting coarse feeling bristles, his as a pig being his furry pelt was as much an itchy tangle to him and his thinking right then.

What would seem or should as being uncomfortable seemed quite the opposite to Alan. He knew what she was doing to him, but for some odd reason he could not work up the appropriate level of hate. The becoming an animal, of knowing he would live quite the bestial a life, seemed as if a fantasy come true. In his mind he wanted to argue with his ideals this form and life was better than being human, something stupid, but he could not find a reason to disagree.

Befuddled, Alan stood there! He then as on all fours, having four legs, four sets of cloven trotters, and then poked out over his round big butt beget there his tail.

Twinkie tail, it a trademark of being an animal, for him it seemed all but something near to worthless. Why his tail did not even cover his anus against the onslaught of insect. The whisker bristles at its end did give a pleasant tickle to his anus, brought shivers up and down his spine. The tingling helping the pig bristles to wiggle out his skin until they went pop!

If he felt of anything that he might consider as pleasurable other than being a pig was relaxing, it was he felt his sheath and the weight of his massive testicles protruding out and behind his big butt. Although he had not seen his new tool, what he knew from having read about pigs and big boars reminded him his pig cock was long, and had a keen sort of corkscrew head to it.

Kinky as was the thought, Alan began to want for his first mounting of a sow butt, and the sooner the better. He might have become agreeable to masturbating in front of the elderly woman, had he not begun again to feel the body changing aches and pains. More each passing moment it seemed to come from every part of him, as from bones, joints, and worse, from his groin all had their style of ache. As he groaned, Alan tucked a chin tight to his bristly chest.

Everything in Alan felt strange, as if growing or shrinking, but most certainly all was becoming different. As his head felt odd from change, so began his mind to falter remembering what he did as his type of work, or then unable to think of names to friends, then of his family, last of all he held a thought of she who bore him as having two rows of hefty big teats.

Slowly he turned his head and tried to gaze up at the old woman, but looking at her did not have with it any recognition, her scent was not something he had in his tainted memory.

Squealing from a nervous concern for his safety, Alan bean to oink and grunt, snorting as his making these sounds became easiest for his mouth to form and speak.

The human stood over him as she continued chanting. Her song finally finished, she said then,” Outside Alan, out now, pigs have no place inside the house unless they go into the oven. Go now, you find what thrills you, learn to love it well!"

Out the door walked Alan strode, first slowly, but with a hard kick to his meaty round butt, he ran as if his life depended upon him running. He ran to the top of the hill where he first saw the small house. He stopped to look back at her, she who seemed as much as his own as what in his brain he had some memories very vague of living somewhere else.

Sniffing and grunting he sauntered down the next hill the same way he came. As he reached the top and turned then, the thought to again look back, seeing the cottage, it did not look all that bad a place to reside, a sniff of the breeze turned Alan once more, this time it sent him marching onward, longing to sniff at a hot sow.

They from the old world, come over from Europe where farmers bred swine for centuries, she smiled, knowing that she had helped a man feeling down on his luck, she gave him a uncountable great fortune, maybe, if he could tally his sperm count?

"Oink!"