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campto · 1 year

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Piggification Stage 3: Bargaining

"Hello there, Mister... Jones, is it? That's original. No matter. You've signed your confidentiality agreements and everything?

"Sure Doc! I've been vetted and cleared... filled out my tax forms... health insurance... 401K... all that. I'm ready to start work right away!"

"Splendid. Splendid! I always like to give every new employee a personalized tour to show them just what we do here. Although I'm sure you have a pretty good idea and are OK with it, or you never would have found out about us. We only put our job postings on... ahem... UNIQUE websites."

"You got me pegged, Doc. I've been a fan of your work ever since I stumbled on it online. Then they shut down the auto plant in Mahwah late last month, and that was my chance to follow my dream and join your organization."

"And don't feel bad that you're not in veterinary medicine or research. I respect every employee in my organization. Your might be putting out the food and water and cleaning the stalls, but you spend more time with our... charges than anyone in the compound. I'm sure you'll find the time you spend with them... quite rewarding!"

"I'm looking forward to it Doc. I really am!"

"Splendid! Let's get started!"

"Hey Doc, what's the story with that sowgirl over here? She's got a collection of junk laid out like I've never seen!"

"This is very interesting, Jones. You've got a good eye. Now this... young lady has reached what we call the "Bargaining" stage in her transformation. She realizes what has happened to her, she has found that fighting us does her no good, so now she is trying to BRIBE us into changing her back.

"But what does she have to bargain with? We've already seized all her worldly assets. And even if she had title to them, it's not like she can go to the bank and make A withdrawal looking like THAT, can she? So she just collects stuff that tickles her piggy fancy. Interesting rocks, a bone from last night's slop, a pumpkin that's JUST starting to rot, a shiny, sweet-smelling Mr. Pibb can..."

"Looks like she has a dollar bill there too, Doc."

"She does indeed. Somehow she retains some distant memory that those pieces of green paper hold some kind of value, though I'd bet this farm that she doesn't remember why or how much. I'll bet the smell fascinates her as much as anything else."

"The SMELL?"

"Remember, pigs have hundreds of times more sensitive noses than we do. She could probably tell you a story about every one of the thousands of people who have handled that bill since it was printed. Too bad her grunts and oinks can't express those kinds of thoughts very well these days. Every day she's here she's more focused on the moment: mealtime, wallowing in the mud, pooping, how her poop smells..."

"HAW! HAW! And how it TASTES! I've SEEN your videos, Doc."

"You know, Jones... she still is human... in a way. She can still understand everything we're saying. We ought to show a LITTLE more respect and not talk right in front of her. Especially since she's in a bargaining mood. We should say hello.

"HELLO Daisy! Those are VERY PRETTY THINGS you've got there! Where did you get a Mr. PIBB can in this day and age? That might be worth some money to a collector. Not enough to finance a reverse piggification procedure, though. SORR-EEEEE!"

"HI THERE DAISY! MY NAME'S JOHN! I'LL BE FEEDING AND CLEANING UP AFTER YOU! NICE TO MEET YOU!"

"Now that was nice, Jones. One thing. It doesn't help to YELL at them. Their EARS are a lot more sensitive than ours, too. They can understand a whisper as well as a shout."

"Sorry Daisy. Do you mind if I scratch you behind the ear? Haven't met a critter yet don't like a scratch behind the ear!"

"GRUNT! GRUNT! GRUNT!"

"There you go, Jones! Looks like she LIKES you! A week ago, if you'd tried that she would've bit your hand off. But they're much more agreeable when they get to this stage."

"The BARGAINING stage, Doc?"

"Ironic, isn't it? The only thing she's really got to BARGAIN with that any of us might want? She's sitting on it. Of course, anybody who wants THAT would want to keep her just the way she is. I trust I'm not SHOCKING you, Jones? That sort of business does go on here, I'm afraid."

"HELL, Doc! Why did you think I wanted to WORK here?"

"I'm glad we understand each other, Mr. Jones. The... err... FRINGE BENEFITS are what keep most of us working here. Speaking of which. If my nose isn't fooling me, I believe Daisy here will be coming into HEAT in a day or so. It will be the first time for her since her... procedure. That first time is always amusing to watch.

"So... word to the wise! She already LIKES you. You might find out she wants to be... more than just FRIENDS. Just be ready."

"HELL... I'm ready right NOW Doc!"

"Splendid. Just a couple of things. Be discreet. No humping the sows right out in the middle of the field in broad daylight."

"Okay, Doc. Anything else?"

"Be NICE! No hurting or humiliating them. I'm SERIOUS. I might be a madman, but I'm not a MONSTER! These gals have been through enough. I don't need PETA on my ass."

"Okay..."

"I'm SERIOUS. It might sound crazy, but I actually LOVE every one of these ladies. It's like having a whole farm full of cloven-hoofed daughters! I find out you're mistreating them, you're FIRED. It's in the contract you signed."

"Okay Doc. I guess you're right."

"Splendid, Jones. Remember... keep your nose clean and you'll have the most rewarding, unique career ever. What's that they say? 'Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life!'"

#pig #forcedtransformation #photomanipulation #piggirl #pigtransformation #piggirltransformation #pig_girl_transformation #pig_girl_tf

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bill-y · 3 years

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𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second.

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them.

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height, ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain. I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

#hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #male reader #hunger games #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #katniss everdeen #male x male reader

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