Our hero was fond of the sisters for two reasons.
The first reason was that they fed him. Twice a day, the sisters threw ears of corn and soy bean pods into the pig pen. The pigs would saunter from their poorly-built shed, which barely kept away the elements, and devoured the sisters’ produce. Our hero followed them, as he had been using their bodies for warmth, to find that most of the food was eaten by the time of his arrival; he had only the corn husks and the shells to eat. The pigs would then file back to the shed and sleep the day away, or fight in the pen, which our hero avoided by covering his head and raising his hindquarters, which gesture appeased them.
The second reason was that they were beautiful. Our hero did not see much Amazonian in them, and likened them more to Woman’s Basketball. He longed to one day be free, become the adventurer he longed to be, with the abs he longed to have, and win one or all of their hearts over, in spite of their height, their elongated canines, and their hairy armpits, and have one or all sit on his face.
The sisters kept our hero in the pen by tying a silk cord around his neck, so he could not stray far. Our hero thought this was for the best. Though he did not like the other pigs, did not like their snoring, did not like the bruises they inflicted on him, did not like wading through their feces, he knew that fate decided to keep him close to the sisters as otherwise he would have ran away from these primitive females.
This was not untrue. Had our hero met their brothers, he would been ravished, disemboweled, and eaten, not necessarily in the same order, some steps more than once, and the sisters had many brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles that prowled the forest in various states of mind, of various degrees of humanity, and were colored with various shades of brutality.
The eldest sister woke up one day with a good plan, so good she began conversation with it. Our hero, compared to the other pigs, was scrawny and small. She was also sick, and her diarrheal stools made the other pigs sick as well. They intended to sacrifice her as soon as possible, but the rain had not let up for days, sacrifices could not be made on rainy days, and the new moon had passed. Worst of all, she had a protuberance over her genitals that disallowed her from mating. She would cut this protuberance, allowing our hero to mate; and if she died, there would be no loss.
Without a word in reply, not willing to wait any longer, she took a cleaver, our hero, and a male pig to a back room bloody from the slaughter of other pigs. She raised the dulled, blood-crusted cleaver up, with an eye toward our hero’s genitals, which effect, oddly, aroused him. Just as she were to bring it down, she recalled today was the first song of the season, and left with little sense of caution in her mind.
Our hero believed fate saved him once more and he could now escape with his manhood intact. Unfortunately the other pig in the room had long been drawn to our hero, his demureness and his slenderness, and seized the opportunity presented to him. He pinned our hero down with his legs. Our hero felt something long, thin and worm-like poke his behind. He imagined a train passing through a tunnel, a thermometer placed into a turkey, a Q-tip thrust into an ear, and a hot dog slid into a bun.
The boar thrust. The worm bounced off. The boar thrust again. The worm bounced off again. To the boar’s horror and our hero’s delight, his bottom was too narrow to fit in the boar’s worm. Frustrated, the boar set his mind to what he intended to do, regardless of his being unable to accomplish it; a liquid then covered our hero’s back and stomach, and the worm detumesced.
Our hero ran. The boar returned to his friends to complain about his awful date.
He ran and ran, through a landscape that, happily, ceased its rain. He ran to the horizon that once painted a blue sky, now mellow with a sea of clouds, through meadows and fields, through glen and grove, until he was fortunate to see, as he hoped there to be, as he saw in movies, the walls of a great city in the distance.
He was so happy he became hot with excitement, then he laid down for he was hot with fever. He rested by a tree, where he felt he might die.
© 2025 François-Marie Lee