The Scent of Pork

Sometimes you want to go out and eat someone. Other times it just happens.

I was only trying to get some studying done. The dormmates were having another of their rowdy parties, so I decided to duck out and hit the library instead.

I’d never spent much time there myself; I figured it might be a little quieter. But the main floor was half taken up by the computer lab, which was stuffed with people typing away and murmuring to each other as they too tried to get work done at the end of the semester. It was no rowdy party, but it was loud for a library at least; I went right past everyone and headed for the stairs.

The books get less popular the further down you go; the second basement consisted entirely of historical documents related to Ko City itself, and was thus usually deserted.

I took a seat at a carrel in a back corner, out of view of any casual passerby that might manage to make it down this far, and got to work.

And I was doing good, I really was, till five minutes later I heard soft, steady panting from somewhere nearby.

I sighed loudly, and the panting stopped for a few moments, as if afraid of being heard, but then resumed again. The source was clearly trying to be quieter, but that only made hearing it all the more obnoxious.

I put my book down and headed towards the aisle where the noise was coming from, moving silently as ancient tiger hunting instincts kicked in.

My prey was huffing harder again, and I smelled it before I saw it — porcine, male, young adult, sexually aroused. I peered around the shelf corner and caught a glimpse of a pig sat leaning against the books, jerking off in front of a phone mounted on a tripod, presumably recording video.

Oh, someone’s having fun. He was cute, too. Dark teddybear eyes that looked a little small on his chubby face, a gut that was a bit bigger than mine, perfectly round but still looking soft to the touch, hefty balls that rested heavy on his thighs…

Normally the response to such a discovery — at least, if you’re not actually offended or something — would be to give him the jumpscare of his life. But this was a library, and the mental image of the pig yelping loud enough to grab everyone’s attention (or worse, falling and knocking over every bookshelf with a comical domino effect) warned me from that course of action.

Instead, I tried a more tactful approach. “Psst!” I said.

The pig froze mid-stroke and looked at me. I was crouched down, looking around the corner, hopefully giving the impression that *I* was the one who didn’t belong here, who was trying not to be seen.

“…Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t answer; he just kind of watched me, petrified, as I scrambled closer and sat next to him.

“It’s okay to say no,” I said. “I really should be studying. But if we all did things we should, we wouldn’t end up in situations like this. Oh, uh…” I pointed to the tripod. “Are we live? Sorry if — ”

The pig lunged for the phone, turning it off. “No,” he said. “Um…you’d really want to play with me?”

I rolled over on all fours in front of him, burying my nose in his crotch and sniffing deep. “Mm yeah. You smell really good.”

His thin bristly fur did nothing to hide his blush at the compliment as I took his cock into my muzzle.

“Oh…oh fuck…”

He must have been really inexperienced, if just the touch of my mouth could make him react that way — bracing himself against the bookshelf, panting, muttering soft curses. I eased back a little so as not to set him off, unable to resist one slow lick as I pulled away.

“You didn’t have to stop…”

I smirked. “Sure…but I wanted to have a little more fun with you than that.”

His blush returned, deeper this time. “Oh?”

I nodded. “Turn around.”

He complied, turning his rump towards me and leaning on the bookshelf. He may not have played around with a lot of guys before, but he clearly knew how to put on a show: he let those hefty balls of his slip between his legs as he turned, keeping them on display behind his chubby thighs.

“You look so tasty,” I said, taking hold of his soft rump and kneading it eagerly. “I’d love to eat your ass.”

“R-Really? I’m — ” He faltered with the hesitation of someone trying to raise an objection but afraid of looking uncool. “Well, it’s been hot and I might be really sweaty. I hope you don’t — ”

I rammed my muzzle between his big soft cheeks and buried my tongue in his hole. Cute of him to think it wasn’t the musk of that sweat that brought me to him in the first place. The scent of him would be on my facefur for a while.

Not like I wouldn’t be carrying the rest of him around, too.

He moaned out low, trying not to be heard across the building as I chowed down on his ass, savoring that pork hole as my hunger rose. He took hold of his arousal and started stroking himself again, timing himself to the deep thrusts of my tongue, before I eased off, realizing I was going to push him over the edge again.

“Dude…” he said, looking back at me. “How the fuck’d you learn to be so good with your tongue?”

I pulled back from his ass and gave him a grin — that knowing grin that makes prey animals uneasy.

Smart ones, anyway. The scent of this pig’s arousal only intensified.

I took it as an invitation.

He yelped as I took his ass into my maw again, this time engulfing the whole of his cheeks between my jaws. (There’s no feeling like the colossal stretch of the jaw you get when swallowing someone whole.)

My tongue slid back between those cheeks briefly, teasing his hole as I grabbed his torso, pulling more of him into me.

I noticed he didn’t struggle, and wondered if he was one of those guys who jerks off thinking about disappearing down a predator’s throat.

He moaned. Oh yeah.

As his ass stretched my throat, my tongue found the base of his cock through that hefty ballsack, so hard and throbbing. This guy had definitely spilt some seed thinking of someone like me having my way with him and sending him back to his last save point.

Inexperienced, though. I wonder if he thought it would be an easy death.

I held the pig’s body up and sat back, letting his weight push him down my gullet. It’s a lot harder to swallow a guy folded over like this, fat thighs and fat balls and fat belly at the same time stretching my body out to a cartoonish degree, but I did tell you how fucking good that stretch feels.

Swallow after swallow I took him down. Most of him was in my throat when splurts of his cum started shooting into the back of my mouth, a shot of flavor for me to gulp him down all the harder.

Reaching forward to grab hold of his face, heedless of his comfort, I crammed him in harder. He grunted out little oinks as he tried to hump my throat, so turned on by being treated as nothing more than a quick dinner.

And a quick dinner he was — it wasn’t more than a minute before that pudgy little snout disappeared down my throat and I was panting, recovering my breath against the bookshelves while cradling my overfull gut.

I let out a belch that rang across the entire floor, and the wriggling in my belly turned more frantic as the pig got more excited. Whether he was trying to get himself off again, or panicking now that he realized the consequences of his submission — well, it didn’t matter.

Meals don’t get to escape your stomach just because they wimp out at the touch of stomach acid, pounding at the inner walls of your gut and shouting for fresh air and freedom.

Meals get digested.

I sat there hugging my gut till the pig quit his struggles and started mumbling about dying in the dark. It’s funny, if you don’t answer your prey while it’s yelling in your stomach, it’ll decide you can’t hear him. After all, if you could hear him, you’d answer — you’d help, wouldn’t you?

Nah. Meals get digested.

The lights were turned out as closing time passed. Nobody came by to see if anyone was still here. I turned his phone camera towards me and my gut and took a few cheeky pics — something to remember me by.

And when the last sobs of pain and solitude in my gut had finally subsided into the silence that meant I was fully alone now, I pulled out my cock and blew a quick load in memory of…whoever he was.

I didn’t want to risk setting off any alarms, so I spent the night there between the bookshelves, sleeping deep as the load in my belly changed from the remains of a pig to the waste of a tiger. Plus a couple inches of fat around the belly, to be sure, but a body’ll never put on too much from a prey date — as they say, you can’t get fat from just one bite.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much studying in. I rolled into my morning exam nearly half an hour late — the library toilet was not built for what I’d had to do to it — but fortunately the teacher only looked viciously down at me over her beak and let me take a seat.

The test went worse than I expected. The finer details of Middle Eastern history eluded my memory as I stared at the questions, and it didn’t help that I kept getting distracted by the delicious scents of fear from various ill-prepared corners of the room. Nothing you wouldn’t ordinarily find in a roomful of nervous students, but my keen nose was sharp enough to pick one out in particular, the one still in my nostrils from the night before — a familiar sweaty porcine whose terror was reinforced by an extremely inappropriate musk of arousal, coming from a few rows behind me.

He knew I was there. Did he know I knew it?

It didn’t matter. Either way, I’d already decided on lunch.

Find me elsewhere: https://linktr.ee/muskwalker