“Ah, I love the smell of the Holidays,” Mongrel chuckled, as the hogboar bustled around his kitchen busily. The scent of cooking food was thick in the air, seasonings, garlic, sage, and the sweet scents of baking pies all wafted about the hog as he cooked. The kitchen rang with jazz versions of christmas songs, and the soft, nervous grunts of the second hog chained and strapped down to the large, steel topped table in the middle of Mongrel’s kitchen. 
	
“Now now, this’s whatcha wanted, ain’t it?” Mongrel asked the other porcine with a chuckle. He was vigorously whipping egg whites for meringue, whisk scraping rapidly against the steel bowl. “Don’t tell me I paid alla that money to getcha here and yer gettin’ cold trotters now, boy?” 

The other pig, blond-headed, fuzzy with body hair the color of straw, shook his head. “N-no, just...excited...and got the butterflies…” he admitted, offering a small smile. He nodded toward his groin, where his prick stood solid between thick thighs. “I’ve been stiff since you picked me up from the airport…” 

Mongrel chuckled, pausing in his whipping to give the other boar’s tool a squeeze. “So I noticed!” he said, feeling the younger pig’s prick twitch in his grip. Precum beaded at its head, and Mongrel scraped it up with a thumb and sucked it from his digit with relish. “Mmm...yer gonna be a damn good Christmas dinner, hog, I c’n already tell.” 

The blond pig blushed hotly, his pink, scruffy cheeks turning deeply red. His cock throbbed at the words, drooling on the pig’s fuzzy belly. Below it, his large, handsomely round porcine nuts pooled on the table. “You...you really think so?” he asked, his heart pounding, voice tinged with hope. 

“Nicky, lemme tell ya, I’ve had m’ share o’ christmas dinners. Horse, beef, mutton, all the good stuff. But I ain’t never been a cannibal, not until ya came along and answered m’ ad online. See, ain’t never tasted pork. So yer special.” Mongrel said, stroking the younger pig’s cheek affectionately as he spoke. “So don’t be nervous. Just lay back, and let ol’ daddy Mongrel make a helluva meal outta ya.” 

Nick shuddered happily as the hogboar spoke. Excitement tinged with extreme lust coursed through the younger pig. He had turned everything over to Mongrel, his will, his life, his flesh. All of it. The knowledge that his meat would be the first hogflesh the older boar ever tasted only thrilled Nick even more. That part was more than lust. It was need. Nick more than wanted to be a meal, he felt it was his destiny. To be food for a greater, older male. And the fact that that male was Mongrel, another hog, only made the need that much greater. 

--

A short while later, Mongrel was carefully running a straight razor over Nick’s naked balls. He had already shaved the pig from stem to stern, all of his fine blond hair shorn clean. Now the red boar was busily shearing the other pig’s manhood, the straight razor making broad pink swaths in the hair covering those apple sized balls. Nick trembled, the feeling of the blade running all over his body, his arms, his chest, his belly, round his nipples, over his ass cheeks, it had been incredibly erotic. Now, with the older hog carefully turning his nuts this way and that, running that razor edge over them, Nick couldn’t stop himself from moaning. Mongrel chuckled as Nick groaned. “Enjoyin’ this?” he asked, smiling up at Nick. 

“Y-yessir…” the younger pig groaned, looking down the length of his spread-eagled, naked body on the table. He had only been released earlier long enough to lie on his belly to be shaved, and then to turn over once more. Now, bound down again, he could do nothing but watch Mongrel shave him. That straight razor looked like it was an antique, amber handle set with a stag-bone inlay and brass fittings. The blade had been sharpened so many times it had a very slight scythe-like curve, perfect for taking the fuzz off of Nick’s weighty nuts. 

“That’s good, because ya know I’m makin’ a barrow outta ya when I’m done, yeah?” Mongrel said bluntly, giving those balls a playful squeeze as he ran the back of his razor across the neck of Nick’s ballsack. The hog shivered. 

“You...you are?” he gasped, his prick jerking as that blade mocked its cut across his sack. He stared down at Mongrel, his eyes wide. 

“Mmhmm,” the older boar chuckled, nodding. “Takin’ yer pecker off too. I find those meats work better in other dishes, than stayin’ attached t’ the main course. Kinda like turkey giblets, heh.” 

Nick gulped, throbbing cock dancing. “Y-you’re the Chef, sir…” he said, submissively. His cheeks were red with blush, watching Mongrel’s calloused, hairy hands work on finishing his shave. The razor stripped the last bit of fur from his taint and nuts, leaving his prick, backside and balls completely shaven, like the rest of him. A quick rinse later, and Mongrel grinned at Nick and showed him the bander tool that the hogboar used on his livestock. 

“This here’ll keep ya livin’ once yer nuts and dick are off,” he explained, stretching the small green rubber loop between the tines of the tool. “Don’t wantcha bleedin’ out, keeps ya juicy in the oven.” 

“Ooooh fuck,” Nick moaned, swallowing with a dry mouth. “Can...can I cum one last time, please? Before...before you cut it off…?” he stared at his prick as he said it, drooling with precum, rock hard. He had loved his dick, it had served him well in his twenty-five years. Knowing that it was coming off both thrilled and terrified him, like everything else that was going to happen to him today. 

Mongrel laughed, slapping his own gut as he guffawed. “Well of course, piglet! Ya think I wouldn’t pop off yer last cork beforehand? I ain’t no monster!” 

The older boar picked up a bottle of olive oil from the counter and began pouring the rich, green-gold oil over his palm. He smeared it over Nick’s cock, the pig snorting at the sudden slickness and stimulation on his prick. His hips bucked, only able to excitedly hump an inch or two into Mongrel’s grip due to the straps. The older boar tugged, his fingers sliding over Nick’s stiff, twitching shaft. The pig moaned, sweat beading on his freshly shorn skin. The red hogboar grinned around his tusks. “Lets make it interestin’,” he said, reaching over to the huge oven that stood about right in front of Nick’s snout as he lay on the table before it. He opened the door, a blast of heat from within washing over the naked pink hog. He gasped, wincing as the heat coursed over his face. Panting, he stared into the hotbox, Mongrel’s fist flying over his shaft. “Oh my god, oh my god, that’s my oven? That’s my oven?!” he asked Mongrel frantically, looking at the red boar with terror and lust warring in his features. 

“That’s yer oven, boy,” Mongrel growled, snorting himself as he rapidly jacked the pig off. He cradled Nick’s balls with his other hand, massaging them and nudging the heavy orbs around with solid fingers. Nick hunched harder, the table creaking under his jerking hips. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, FUCK!” Nick stammered, staring into the oven. “That’s my oven, oh my god, that’s my oven. Yer gonna cook me and eat me and...I’m...gonna....CUM!” Nick squealed. Mongrel was swift with a nearby bowl, scooting it under Nick’s cock just as the pig shuddered and blew his wad. The first thick glob spurted out, hot enough to steam in the cold steel bowl as the rest of his thick seed flowed forth. Nick was true to his porcine heritage, his prick pumping and pumping in Mongrel’s hand as the older boar continued to jerk and stroke it. Mongrel knew intimately what he was doing, able to handle the other pig in a way that only another porcine could have. Nick groaned, gasped, and squealed as the older boar milked him. His loins shuddered and shook, his nuts churning as he disgorged a massive load into the bowl. Even for a boar, the amount of seed that Mongrel milked out of Nick was enormous. By the time the pig was done cumming, the bowl was over half full of his milky get. 

“Goddamn, boy,” Mongrel chuckled, squeezing the last dregs into the bowl from Nicky’s cock. The pig squirmed, jerking spasmodically as he finished. Finally, he sagged back onto the table, spent, and Mongrel closed the oven. Nick’s face was ‘sunburned’ by the heat of the oven, and that sting and redness only made the young hog tremble with arousal even though he had just cum. 

“Holy fuck, I never came so hard in my whole life,” Nick panted wearily. Mongrel grinned at him. “Last one oughta be the best one, eh?” he teased, as he picked up the bander. “Ready to be a barrow hog for the table?” the red boar asked, winking. Nick gulped. “Y-yessir…” 

Mongrel smirked and reached down, grabbing Nick by his heavy balls. The boar’s scrote was tacky with sweat, his cock still slick and hard from his handjob. It took some work to get that heavy pair of nuts into the small ring, but finally Mongrel popped the ring off the tines with a snap. Nick yelped, the band snapping down hard on his scrotum, sealing his cords shut immediately. His nuts started to ache and churn, tingling as they were strangled by the elastic. He could only watch as Mongrel prepared a second loop and slid it oh so slowly down the length of his prick. 

“Oh fuck…” Nick breathed, swallowing dryly as Mongrel buried that band into his groin, clearly planning to cut off as much of Nick’s tool as possible. His cock bulged obscenely as Mongrel snapped the band off onto it, Nick jolting as the rubber bit into his shaft. His dick twitched solidly up and down, the blood trapped in it trying to get out. He couldn’t have gone soft now if he wanted to, his prick throbbing slowly into numbness. 

“When ya blew yer load a minute ago, ya gave up the last moments of bein’ a person, pig,” Mongrel said, as he picked up a large slender filet knife. “So now, I’m gonna butcher ya up like I would any meat, any of the cattle out there in my pasture. Yer gonna go in the oven live, don’t worry, just like y’ asked, but I need some o’ yer meat separate fer other dishes. Yer weddin’ tackle included. Any last words before ya start down the path to bein’ Christmas dinner?” 

Nick was quiet for a long moment. He closed his eyes as he savored the moments he had left, knowing he was about to experience his fantasy first hand, and that he’d only be experiencing it once. He opened his eyes. 

“Thank you.” he intoned. 

“No, thank you, pig, thank you,” Mongrel replied, before he began cutting off Nick’s balls. The first cut sliced into those big pink balls without a hint of resistance, such was the knife’s edge. Nick’s right ball was loose in his sac before the hog even felt anything, his eyes watching the long, slow strokes of the blade as Mongrel carved him into sterility. His flesh almost fled from the razor edge, a deep ache in Nick’s guts as the older hog castrated him. Another few strokes and Mongrel’s blade made quick work of Nick’s left nut, and the formerly-blond, formerly-male, pig watched the red boarhog lift up his large, weighty balls from the table between his legs. There was little blood, the bands having done their work perfectly. Nick goggled at the sight of his severed testicles dangling from the boarhog’s fist, looking almost as they had when they’d hung between Nick’s legs. 

Mongrel turned and placed Nick’s cods into a nearby bowl filled with crushed ice. “Those bad boys are gonna make such a nice sausage for the stuffin’,” he said, informing Nick of his plans for those huge testicles. Nick groaned and his stiff, strangling dick flexed between his legs. 

Losing his balls had been a cementing of reality for Nick. As he had watched Mongrel carve off his nuts, the hog realized that he was not coming back from this. His nuts were now meat to be consumed, nothing more, and that meant…

Nick was meat to be consumed, nothing more. 

“You...you’re really going to eat me…” Nick panted, squirming. 

“Yes Nicky boy, I am,” Mongrel growled, rubbing the bound pig’s belly. “Ya gettin’ scared?” 

“N-no...excited...it’s like...it’s real now. You’re butchering me for the table…” Nick gasped, trembling. 

“I certainly am, pig,” Mongrel chuckled, giving Nick a little pet on his head before he picked up his filet knife once more. “And right now, I’m about to butcher yer dick.” 

Nick gulped as Mongrel took the head of his cock in one hand and put the knife to the root of his shaft. His heart was still pounding a mile a minute, and Mongrel could feel it pounding in his dick even though his shaft was long since cold and numb. Nick had a flickering instinct to look away as the boarhog started to cut, but as that first slice was made into the meat that was his dick, Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away. He stared, watching the other hog slowly and methodically slice his prick away from his groin. Every cut widened the slice, Mongrel smoothly slicing the long, slender blade back and forth through that tender male flesh. Nick squirmed a little, watching himself be emasculated by the older hog, his body tingling in perverse pleasure. He knew his dick was going to be eaten like the rest of him, and as Mongrel lifted that hefty piece of pork away from his crotch, Nick had the sudden urge to want to taste it himself. He blushed at that thought, watching Mongrel admire his severed cock. 

“Wh-what are you gonna use it for?” Nick asked quietly. 

“I’m gonna dice it up and fry it, make crispy little bits to put in the mashed ‘taters, like bacon,” the hog chuckled, wobbling Nick’s prick lightly as though testing its resilience. Mongrel grinned and put the other pig’s dick into the bowl of ice with his nuts. 

“And now, m’ little piglet, it’s time to dress the rest o’ ya,” the older hog grunted, as he started loosening Nick’s straps again. “Hop off the table fer a sec.” 

Nick nodded, and with wobbly legs, he stood up. The other pig looked down between his thighs, seeing nothing but the banded off remnants of where his manhood used to be. He felt strangely empty without them, and the long pink expanse of his hairless and nullified groin and gut reminded him tantalizingly of every dressed and processed ham or turkey he had ever seen. He blushed intensely, his entire face turning beet red, and even without the rest of his prick, or his balls, he felt his groin tighten with that shameful excitement. 

Mongrel produced a massive baking pan, carrying it with both hands, and he placed it on the table where Nick had been tied down. “Not all my meals are as cooperative as ya are,” he said, nodding to the straps. “Sometimes I gotta butcher ‘em proper, slit their gizzards ‘n all, t’get ‘em in the hotbox. I think yer gonna be a good boy though, huh?” he said, smirking at Nick. For an answer, the barrow climbed into the pan on his own, assuming the quintessential belly-down, ass up position of a roast pig. “Y-yes, sir…” 

The red boarhog beamed, slapping Nick’s upturned ass. “Thatta boy,” he praised. Mongrel began by pouring olive oil from a large steel can all over Nick’s back and ass, spreading it around with his palms. Nick moaned as the other hog oiled his naked skin, the touch both perverse and erotic. He squirmed as Mongrel smeared the oil over his empty crotch, his thighs trembling as those fingers manipulated his stumps. It stung a little, but the touch also tingled with pleasure deep in the barrow’s groin. 

Mongrel then took a few moments to dice up some onions, carrots, some herbs and a few apples and saute them, mixing up a stuffing with some bread to make stuffing. With the steaming bowl in hand, he came back to the hog. “Ya cleaned up like I asked, yeah? Didn’t eat fer three days?” he queried. Nick nodded. “Yes, sir, I did. Clean as a whistle back there…” 

“Good hog,” Mongrel praised again, opening a drawer. He removed a speculum, extending its prongs a few times like one might clack a pair of tongs. “Gonna stuff ya, handsome. Believe me, I’m tempted to shove more’n this stuffin’ up yer ass though.” He teased, pulling his apron aside and showing his fat, stiff hard-on to the other hog. Nick swallowed, his heart pounding. “You can! I...I’d be honored…” he admitted, staring at that fat, heavy porcine prick jutting from Mongrel’s red pubes. He lingered over the other hog’s fat, hairy balls, so much more a male than he was now. 

Mongrel seemed to consider the idea, “Ya know what? Why not? It’ll add a little unique flavor from the chef,” he announced, grinning. The table was far sturdy enough to hold them both as Mongrel climbed up. “But I’m on a dinner schedule so...we’re gonna multitask…” 

The next thing Nick felt was the tines of that speculum pressed against his hole, sliding in on the coating of olive oil. He squealed lowly as he felt it stretch his hole wide, gasping sharply as he then felt Mongrel press a blob of the warm stuffing into his innards with his fingers. “Normally, I’d use an injector to get it deep, but we’re gonna improvise this time,” Mongrel said as he packed that stuffing into Nick’s guts. The other pig had been truthful, his innards were clean and pink, a perfect cavity to be stuffed like a turkey. Nick groaned, feeling his belly grow tight as the other hog shoved that stuffing in with his fingers, pressing the warm, sticky food deep inside him. “Oh gods that...that feels...amazing…” he gasped, panting. 

“Just ya wait,” Mongrel promised, as the last few crumbs were shoved into Nick. He pulled the speculum out. “Were gonna get that gut nice and packed.” Nick’s hole couldn’t quite close all of the way, stuffed as it was with the apples, and onions and bread filling him up. The warmth was pleasant against his prostate, the remaining sexual organ filling his groin with tingling as it was stimulated. Even with no manhood, the other pig found his hips arching back against Mongrel when the red hog pressed the fat, drooling head of his prick against Nick’s winking ring. 

“Oh fuck...yer gonna screw it into me…?” He asked, looking over his shoulder. Mongrel winked, and pressed his cock into Nick. The barrow jerked, gasping as Mongrel’s heavy cudgel tamped the stuffing into him. He felt that hard shaft mashing the stuffing into his guts, filling him up, making his innards stretch around it. The red hog started to thrust, his prick smeared with oil and bits of stuffing as he began pounding the barrow’s backside. 

Mongrel’s heavy balls thudded against Nick’s upturned rump. His strong hips powered that wide shaft deep, mashing the stuffing in deeper with every thrust. Nick’s guts were hot and slick around Mongrel’s prick, the bread in the stuffing moistened to softness by the butter and stock he had cooked the veggies in. Mongrel watched his shaft plunge in and out, grunting as he squeezed Nick’s hips tight. He was squatting over him, his apron pulled to the side as he power fucked the barrow. Nick’s empty crotch clenched and trembled as the red hog fucked, his prostate mashed over and over by the broad doorknob head of Mongrel’s dick. 

Nick’s eyes rolled as the other hog fucked him, feeling the power of Mongrel’s thrusts, the throb of his cock inside him. Even full of the dressing, the barrow could feel the pulse of the hog’s prick against his walls, jabbing the stuffing deeper and deeper into his belly. Cockless, castrated, and about to be cooked, Nick felt his groin contract as his prostate shivered an orgasm up his spine. He came, stump twitching in a mockery of ejaculation as his emasculated body orgasmed. Not a drop escaped him, the bands keeping his prostate’s fluids trapped inside him. His groin ached, stung, and burned, but the orgasm was far more than worth it. Mongrel slapped his ass. “Atta boy, Christmas pig, cum for daddy,” he teased, feeling the barrow trembling under him. “Ain’t an inch ‘o meat between them thighs, and yer so horny for the hotbox ya still popped off anyway!” 

Mongrel continued to fuck, grinding against Nick’s backside to feel his shaft throbbing in the midst of the barrow’s guts. His own heavy pair was starting to get tight, his dick tingling in the rise to orgasm. Mongrel snorted, sweat beading on his brow, and trickling down his hairy neck as he bucked short, deep thrusts into Nick. The barrow squealed, his prostate being squished by each short hump. “Gonna stuff ya good, pig, getcha  bellyful of hog broth to go with that stuffin’,” the red hog drawled, panting himself. He slammed home deep, snorted, and shot. His weighty kegs twitched between his thighs as he blew his wad deep in Nick, pulsing and flexing as the hog’s copious orgasm flowed and gushed. There was just enough room in Nick for Mongrel’s flood to soak into the stuffing and fill him properly, not a drop spilling out around the red hog’s pulsing shaft. 

The boarhog rode out his orgasm, the chef pumping his meal full over the course of ten minutes. Pride of being a hog, Mongrel always said. Eventually, he eased his prick back out of Nick, wiping it clean on the barrow’s oily rump. “Whew...goddamn, gonna have to do that more often…” he grunted, his dick still stiff as a brickbat. He climbed down off the table and went around the kitchen, collecting things. Rosemary sprigs, a paring knife, pineapple rings, cloves, spices. 

“This part’s gonna sting a little, pig,” he warned. Despite the stuffing, Nick’s rear was starting to leak bread and hog spunk. Using the paring knife, Mongrel sharpened the tips of the rosemary sprigs to points, and carefully nicked a few holes around the edges of Nick’s ring. The pig squirmed, gasping, shivering, as Mongrel stitched his hole closed with the rosemary sprigs, threading the woody stems of the herbs through the small nicks he had made around the edge. More and more Nick began to feel less like a person, and more like food. He had noticed Mongrel had stopped using his name. With his guts full of stuffing and the chef’s broth, and his hole closed up by herbs, Nick knew he was food now, and Nick no longer. 

Mongrel kept working. The barrow trembled and snorted in little frantic gasps as Mongrel began scoring a lattice pattern into the cheeks of his ass, turning them into the hams they so resembled. It took awhile, and the barrow squealed when Mongrel smeared and massaged the spice rub into the freshly finished lattice pattern. “Easy there, pig, easy, ain’t gonna hurt for much longer,” he promised, as he affixed those pineapple rings to the barrow’s hams with the stems of the cloves. Juice, blood, and oily spices dripped down the barrow’s thighs, into the pan. Mongrel kept going, scoring and cutting the pig’s skin with shallow marks, and rubbing in the spices. The barrow squirmed, and yet never once did he try to leap from the pan. He knew his place. 

The red hog chopped up some more onions, some red potatoes, and some carrots, adding them to the pan around the barrow’s legs and belly. “Alright, ham, hotbox time,” he said, admiring his work. 

The barrow was covered with brown spices, his skin resembling the cured edges of a spiral sliced ham. His juices were already soaking into the veggies. Mongrel picked up an apple. “Open wide, pig,” he ordered, and the barrow wasted no time in opening his mouth for his final garnish. He bit down on the apple and lowered his head back into the pan. Mongrel opened the oven. The pig that was once named Nick, stared into the shimmering heat and swallowed excitedly. 

“Yo, Grimm, gimme a hand with this pan,” Mongrel called out. Grimm, the hog’s honey badger partner, came into the kitchen, beer in hand. 

“Oh fuck that looks good enough to eat now,” Grimm commented, licking his lips. “Smells amazing in here.” 

“Thank ya! This one’s goin’ in the oven though, since we got company comin’. Not everyone likes their meals as...fresh... as we do,” Mongrel chuckled, grabbing one of the sturdy steel handles of the pan. “Grab the other side, it’s time for this barrow to become a bar-roast.” 

“Yer such a dumbass,” Grimm laughed as he took the other handle. They lifted together, and as they slid the pan, and the pig it carried into the oven, Mongrel took a moment to smooch the pig on the snout. “Night night, Nick.” he murmured. 

The oven door shut with a bang. 

“How long’s it take?” Grimm asked, sipping his beer. Sizzling and squealing echoed through the door of the oven. 

“It’ll be ready around six,” Mongrel said, watching the oven door. His dick was still hard, and it twitched at the squeals echoing from within the oven. “I got some time t’ kill before I start on the rest o’ dinner and the guests start arrivin’.” 

“Oh yeah?” Grimm asked, setting down his beer. He stepped up, hand grabbing Mongrel’s stiff cock. “Wanna enjoy this dinner music?” he asked, nodding toward the oven and its squealing interior. 

“Fuck yeah I do, let’s see if we can both cum before the music stops,” Mongrel said, as he began ripping the clothes from Grimm’s body… 

The End…?