Some time earlier…
It had been ten or so years ago, when it had started. He’d been younger then, a corporate climber, always working, fighting for raises and promotions. He’d thought that life was about status, and looks, and money. His one vice, had been men–and he’d resented it. It was the one thing about him which…was abnormal. Which cut him off from the rest of his cohort, and while most places were fairly progressive, being gay was still a liability he couldn’t afford. He kept it a secret as best he could, especially at the business where he was at the time, whose management board was quite a bit more conservative than others. He’d go out on the weekends to bars on the other side of the city, or purchase a few hours with discrete call boys if he needed to stay home and work. For a long time, it was enough, even if he knew it wasn’t satisfying.
That was the most frustrating part, in fact–the lack of satisfaction. As wealthy as he was, as important as he was, he still wasn’t happy. It never seemed to be enough. Wealth and prestige only seemed to create stress, rather than relieve it. It made him a bit cruel, and it made him drink, and so, when an older fellow had come onto him at a bar one weekend, those two traits combined into a perfect storm, and he ended up publicly berating the fellow. What he didn’t know, however, was that he couldn’t have chosen a worse target–the man he was shouting at was a wizard, and one with a particular talent for curses.
He had expected the man to slink away from him, but instead Joel, as he introduced himself, took a seat beside him at the bar, and the two of them carried on a sizable conversation–of which he recalled very little. It was so long, in fact, that the bar was closing, and he hadn’t found anyone to take home with him. He was horny enough that he would have even settled for Joel, even though the older, portly fellow was hardly his type, especially with the pipe he had spent the entire evening smoking, but Joel shot down his suggestion, told him goodnight, and left him to call a cab and go home alone.
He had the first dream that night, and it remains one of the most intense he’s ever had. He’s certain that it lasted all night, from the moment that he laid his head down on the pillow, to the point when he finally woke, mid orgasm in the midmorning sun, his sheets soaked with sweat and cum. In the dream, at first, he was a man. He was himself, but he was behaving…like a dog. Joel was there, and Joel was his Master. He knew, in his mind, that he should feel utterly humiliated, but with each passing moment, he just felt…happy. Content. He felt satisfied, in a way that he’d never really been before, and it just made him…ecstatic. They went for walks, and even though the people they passed by stared at him in disgust, he didn’t feel humiliated–they just didn’t understand, is all. This is what he needed. This is what he’d been looking for this entire time, and he’d never even known it.
In that single dream, he lived with Joel for what seemed like weeks, or maybe even months. He lost count of how many times he pleasured his master, and his master pleasured him. He was losing his grip on himself, he was certain that his entire life as a person must have been a false memory, just a mistake. He found himself changing, his hands becoming paws, hair sprouting and covering his body, his mouth and face pushing out into a proper muzzle. He was finally becoming himself. He was becoming everything he needed to be. By the end of the dream, he was just a dog–a rather perverse dog, of course, who took great delight in licking his master’s cock, and begging for him to plow his doggy hole–but certainly not a man any more. And he was happy, so happy, he was certain he’d never need anything else again in his life. And then, just as he lost the final bits of his humanity, just as he convinced himself that his prior life as a man must have been a fabrication, that he could remain here, happy, for the rest of his life–that’s when he woke up.
He sobbed for the rest of the day, uncontrollably. What had he been doing with his life, up to this point? How could he have been such a fool? He didn’t want money, or status, or a good job with a corner office. He wanted to be a dog! It was so simple, and yet he’d missed it entirely. Worse, he’d been so close in his dream, and yet he knew that this desire was unattainable for him. He couldn’t be a dog. He couldn’t just…change like that. Even pretending to be a dog wouldn’t be enough, he could already tell. The depression was crippling, and he needed to take a few days off of work–the first sick days he’d ever taken in his entire life. But what did it matter? Rich or poor, his life, from this point on, would remain unfulfilled, no matter what he did.
The dreams returned each night, never quite as intense, but they didn’t have to be. The sharpness of the feelings over the first couple of days eased off, and he was able to return to work, but everyone could see that something was different about him. The fire was gone, the ambition. He would take these long lunches, some days, and no one would know where he went for them–but every time, he was sitting in a park a few blocks away, watching the masters and their pups play, and run, and bark…and wishing he could join them, but knowing he never would.
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