Chapter 9 - ch 7 epilogue for a pig

In the clear moonlit night just after dusk, I dream a most wonderful dream. I sigh and grunt in my sleep at the pleasure of it all. It is a dream of a big soapy warm bath in a huge metal tub as a beautiful dark-haired woman scrubs my skin clean and pink with a horsehair brush.

I dream of barely squeezing into her kitchen chair as she brings tray after tray of special meals and desserts to the table for me.

What a wonderful dream for a pig to have! I then dream of her leading me to her warm soft bed. Suddenly, I wonder, "Is this the same huge bed I once shared with her - 'our' bed, hers and mine together?"

I remember her now. Circe is her name I think.

Surely not the same bed we have been in together. It's much too small for us to share. She seems so sad that she can't lie on the bed beside me. I am so big that there is no room for her.

My legs - my four stubby thick legs! - stick out over the edge of the soft mattress. The bed barely accommodates my huge round torso and head. Even my bottom sticks over the edge, my long curly pink tail hanging out in the space between the bed and dresser mirror.

I see the voluptuous olive-skinned woman - Circe, yes, Circe is her name -- in the mirror preparing a trough of food for me. I try to turn around to look at her, but I am too big to turn around easily. I grunt and exert some effort to move, but I can't.

I see tears forming in her dark soulful eyes, and for some reason, my mind fills with dread as I struggle to raise myself up but can't. I snort and squeal in horror.

The pleasant dream turns into a nightmare of despair. My heart is racing, my breathing is heavy, then I awaken.

What a dream that was!

I am now on the cold ground, snuggling in a small pile of soft straw and grass. It is night. I am safe in my pigpen off to the side of a small house in the woods. I can see the front door of the house about 100 feet away.

I have always lived here in my pen, outside like this, haven't I? I'm confused. Or did I have another life -- the warm tub, the warm bed, the warm kitchen? The warm woman and her warm food. It seems so real. Was all that just a dream?

I wonder. But now my thoughts of that dream fade into the night. I hear footsteps on the road. A full moon is coming up over the hilly horizon, and shafts of moonlight shine through the woods.

I see a tall slender man walking up the road. He moves with strength and confidence. He sees a light in the window. My snout senses heavenly smells of chocolate and pasta sauces and cheeses and sweets and lasagna. The man appears drawn to these aromas, walking faster now.

A woman begins to sing a pleasing familiar song from the kitchen. I hear her preparing food, the oven door opening and closing, the handmixer twirling, a spoon scraping against a bowl.

I see in the moonlight a smile on the man's face as he hears her song. His pace quickens as does my heartbeat.

I become very worried, as if something is wrong, some danger is waiting. But I know not what it is.

I feel like I should squeal out loud for some reason, to warn him before -- before - uh, before . . . Before what? I don't know. Before it is too late!? Too late for what?

Just then, my nose picks up a scent which makes me forget squealing out a warning of danger. The aromas from the kitchen fill my body with an irrepressible appetite. My huge belly growls hungrily.

Grunting with a lot of effort, I pull myself up. I stand and waddle over to my trough. I plunge my snout greedily into the cheesecake and lasagna waiting there for me.

Behind me, I hear a door opening to the stranger and a woman's warm greeting, but I don't look back toward the house.

Eating is all I can think about right now.

*****
Readers, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was all inspired by a roleplay with a beautiful feeder with a Circe-like attitude.