A Stranger Comes to Town, Part 1 (Multi TFTG) (Patreon)

The first of our ongoing TF biweekly story, as voted by you! Enjoy!

By FoxFaceStories

Friendly Oaks is just an ordinary rural town, full of common people and professions. But beneath that kind surface there are all manner of rivalries, tensions, hypocrisies, and love affairs. When a Stranger wanders into town, the people of Friendly Oaks find themselves changing - literally - after encountering him. Some transformations are small, others massive, some well-deserved, some not at all. But the town won’t be the same once the Stranger is done with it.

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A Stranger Comes to Town

Part 1: Welcome to Friendly Oaks

There’s a legend, or a myth, or an apocryphal story, of a dark stranger who wanders across the earth with the power to make changes. No one can quite describe this character or what he looks like - it changes in the retelling - but a few facts remain consistent. He always wears a dark cloak, for one, and his voice rumbles like a far-off earthquake, coarse and deep and whispery all at once. The second is that he travels with no known destination, and when questioned on where he is going, will give some answer like ‘just passing through.’ The third, of course, is the power he possesses. The Stranger is said to be able to change people, physically and mentally, into how he sees fit. He could turn a man into a duck and a duck into a man, make a woman bark like a dog for the rest of her life or have another dog speak like an Ivy league professor. One thing that seems to remain consistent in the legends is that he cannot erase a person’s mind or kill them, but can leave them with certain . . . inclinations.

Why does he do it? Well, the legends are unclear on this point. Sometimes, the stories make the transformation karmic. An abusive farmer is turned into one of his own livestock, or a mistreated wife is given gorgeous looks and the confidence to walk away. But other legends make him more arbitrary, and these seem to be the more common tales. The Stranger is just as likely to bestow good change as bad, karmic change as the undeserved, and often make transformations seemingly just for the hell of it.

Some kids, especially out in rural areas, get spooked by stories of the Stranger. Parents scare their children by claiming the Stranger will change them into nicer girls or boys - whatever the opposite sex is - which often shuts them up and makes them eat their vegetables. But most know the Stranger isn’t real, and is just an interesting story passed down among rural folk to make the time pass by quicker, and to have a good old yarn to spin with friends. The Stranger isn’t real.

Right?

***

Officer John Prisket was eating a donut. It was a highly stereotypical image, but not one that he cared about: after all, a jelly-glazed donut was to die for. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of his patrol car beyond the edge of town, taking a moment to enjoy a good beer. Technically, that was not allowed, but the great thing about being one of the only cops in Friendly Oaks was that he could damn well do what he liked, especially in the wee hours of the morning when his night shift was nearly over.

“Nothin’ like a good beer and donut to finish out a shift,” he said in his grunting voice. “Not that Sue will care. Bitch will just claim I’m putting on more calories. God, being married to that old cow is an anchor around my damn neck.”

He patted his gut, which was not exactly small. In fact, it was quite obviously rounded from many a long night eating donuts and drinking beer at this very spot, just below the sign that welcomed visitors to their little rural town. Not that many visitors came, especially when the highway came through across state. That was just fine by John Prisket, though. Anything that made his job easier so he could just eat and relax on shift was A-ok in his book. The only problem was that easy shifts meant that Sue was always henpecking him when he got home about why he wasn’t around. Well, maybe if she didn’t have the voice of a shrill shrew and hair that was already going grey in her thirties maybe he’d pay more attention. God knows she was just as absent when it came to matters of the bedroom.

“Never shoulda married here,” John mumbled to himself, taking another swill of the can. “Ah well. At least she makes a mean casserole.”

He was just about to throw the can out the window - who cares what the damn environmentalists thought, right? - when suddenly he noticed a long figure walking down the road. The sky was still quite dark, and so it was hard to make out the individual, but he certainly wasn’t a local, John was sure of that much. For one, he was tall as a damn giraffe: he had to be 6’3 at a minimum! John knew everyone in Friendly Oaks, or at least just about. It only had a population of eight thousand, so it was a close community, and no one that tall was forgotten. But this guy wore a dark long coat and a broad brim hat like an old school Baptist preacher, and it was impossible to see his face. Not a style John would soon forget.

“Damn strange, damn strange. And arriving at this hour? That can’t be good news.”

John smirked to himself. Maybe the shift would end up in an interesting manner. Maybe if he apprehended a tall, scary perp on some ready charge then Sue would actually throw him a bone and let him drink beer around the house for a day. He turned on the patrol car’s lights and hit the car into gear, driving forward before looping around the figure so that his driver’s side window was adjacent to the slowly walking man. He wound down the window.

“Morning to you,” John Prisket said, smirking. “Not often we get strangers come to town at this early hour.”

The figure nodded. He looked to be Caucasian with a short, somewhat messy brown beard. Probably in his forties.

“Morning, officer.”

“What brings you to Friendly Oaks?”

“Is that the town I’m at? Ah, I see the sign. Good name for a town.”

“You intend on staying long, Mister . . ?”

“Just passing through,” he said. His voice was like crackling glass, and it made John uncomfortable.

“Look fella, we’re a nice town here. We don’t really go big on outsides, especially homeless ones that wander in during the early hours of the morning looking all suspicious. I’m gonna have to ask you to stop now. I said stop.”

The figure stopped. John smiled. The uniform had power. He turned off the patrol lights, and got out of the car. The figure loomed over him, but he threw his own beer belly weight around like he owned the damn place, which was just about true for an officer in a tiny city.

“Listen, buddy, when I turn on the lights, you stop, okay?”

“Am I being detained, officer?”

“Keep the attitude up, and you damn well will be. I was saying that Friendly Oaks is just that, a friendly little town. I don’t want to see it spoiled by some greased up drifter coming in stirring up trouble. Just won’t do. Best to turn around instead. You understand?”

The stranger paused, and that pause seemed to make a chill go down Officer Prisket’s spine. He turned slowly, looking down at the shorter, and much tubbier man.

“You have crumbs on your uniform.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you have crumbs on your uniform. And you smell of beer. Have you been drinking on the job, officer?”

John went red. “That’s it. You’re under arrest.”

“On what charge?”

“Loitering. Trespassing. Disrespecting an officer of the law. I’ll make something stick for the next twenty four hours and you can enjoy a night in a cold cell before we drive you out tomorrow morning.”

The stranger considered this. “You don’t think this is unjust?”

John grinned. “Just got nothing to do with it. I’m a police officer. That means my word is law.”

“Hmm, but from my perspective, all I see is . . . how do others put it? A pig in uniform. Pink skinned, fat, and a messy eater who makes a lot of noise. Yes, a pig in uniform.”

At this, John drew his baton out. “Ain’t no one calls me a pig and gets away with it, y’hear? I’ll show you whose -”

But then he stopped. Because the stranger had lifted the brim of his hat and was staring at him. And those eyes . . . those eyes looked so deeply unnatural. Wrong. Strange. Not meant to be. They were yellow. Not jaundiced but actually yellow. A bright acidic shade that stared deep into John Prisket’s soul.

And that was when the change began.

John fell backwards in fear as something wrenched in his gut. He reached to grab his weapon, only for it to fall out of his hands as he was caught in the stranger’s stare. He felt hot, flushed, and all kinds of wrong. His nipples burned, and his thighs too.

“Wha-what’s happening? I’m having a heart attack! You need to help m-me!”

“You’re not having a heart attack, Officer Prisket. You’re just becoming something more . . . appropriate.”

Prisket swallowed, trying to get into his patrol car to get away, but another series of lurches trapped him. His skin altered, and in the low light of the patrol car’s beams he almost looked like it was becoming . . . pink.

“What the f-fuck?”

He had little time to think about that, though, because his nose began to swell. It flattened, nostrils growing and rounding out, and as he tried to breathe he found himself snorting again and again like a pig.

“Are you doing - SNORT - this to - SNORT - me!?!?”

“You did this to yourself, I’d say,” the stranger replied. “But I think you’ll be much more fitting in this form. A pig in uniform, as I said.”

“What are you - SNORT - talking about!?”

But then the officer squealed - sounding just like a pig - as his hands and feet began to change. He stumbled over, falling out of his shoes and his toes fused and merged, leaving him with porcine hooves at the end of his legs. His hands similarly changed, though his digits were still capable of human movement. He now had two hoof-like fingers and a thumb. They were hard and unfeeling, and he couldn’t get a sense of how to work them. He screamed, snorting again, but that only seemed to accelerate the changes. His ears rose, shifting up on top of his head and becoming pink and floppy and slightly hairy. His thighs became softer, his arms too, and he gave another squeal as a small but noticeable curly tail sprung out from his backside, peeking through his uniform. His belly grew, expanding like that of a pregnant woman’s, and he could only groan as it rose like a souffle, becoming larger and heavier. Soon his beer gut was stretching diamonds of skin between the buttons of his uniform shirt, and his trousers were far too tight as well: his hips had cracked wider, giving him a pear-like shape.

“P-p-please! I’m sorry! Change me back! Don’t m-make me a pig! I don’t wanna be some boar!”

“Very well,” the stranger said. “You won’t be a boar.”

At that, another change occurred, one that worried John even more. Suddenly an enormous pressure rose in his chest, and two large mounds rose. He screeched, still snorting as they burst the upper buttons of his uniform, until they were undeniable a huge set of head-sized pink breasts. His nipples were huge and dark pink, like thimbles, and they were surprisingly sore as they throbbed.

“Ohhhhhhh!!!” he whined, rubbing his thighs together. “Not t-tits! And not my - UGGHH!!”

His manhood pulled back inside of him, leaving a wet tunnel between his thighs. As soon as his new vagina was completed, there was another lurch in his belly. Then another. Then another.

“Wh-what’s happening n-noooow!?” the new pig woman cried, her voice high and soft and overly sweet.

“That would be your litter kicking,” the stranger said. “Don’t worry, Officer Joan Prisket, I hear the police have fantastic maternity schemes.”

And with that, the stranger turned and began to walk away. The new Joan sank to the ground, trying to take in all her changes. She was now a curvy pig woman with a full on baby belly, and she had no idea how to even walk on her new hooves or use anything with her changed hands. Her cleavage was sweaty and flushed, and her litter continued to squirm inside her new womb. How many were even in there? Worst of all, she was as hungry as a pig. She needed donuts. A lot more donuts. But she’d have to skip the beer for a while, that was for sure.

The Stranger left the pig woman behind, satisfied with his efforts. She was still squealing and grunting and snorting. It would be interesting to see how she ended up. Perhaps he would drift by again, or perhaps this time the Stranger would stay in town for a day or two, and see what other interesting changes could be made. He looked up at the big sign welcoming him in.

“Friendly Oaks? Hmm. Let’s see how friendly it is, then.”

The Stranger continued walking. The first change had already finished, but there were plenty of other changes still to administer.

To Be Continued . . .