A Dog’s Tale (Part 3)

So yeah, the story is fucking crazy, like I’d expected. Wizards? Curses? Wanting to be a fucking dog? Well, I believe that last part, given the suit he’s wearing. I keep trying to interject and get out of here–I do have a train to catch, after all, and a conference call to make, but the guy talks so fast, and with such energy–it’s like he desperate to keep me from getting a word in at all…so I end up just listening. I don’t notice the sun setting outside, the street getting dark, until another voice pipes up beside us.

“Sir? Sir!”

The dogman I’m with actually stops talking for a second, and I blink a couple of times, then look over. There’s a woman in a fast food uniform looking down at us–well, down at me really, scowling a bit. The badge on her shirt has the name Courtney, with the title Assistant Manager.

“Yeah? What is it? You don’t have to yell.”

“Sir, you can’t have animals in here. It’s against the law.”

I just stare at her for a second, then look over at the other guy, then back at her.

“Look, I know he’s a bit of a freak, but that’s fucking mean.”

“Is it a service animal?”

“No, it’s a fucking person, ya cunt!”

The anger in my voice surprises even me–especially when I stand up, ready to get in her face over some homeless guy’s dignity, and she backs up a step.

“I will call the police sir, if you don’t leave the premises right now.”

“It’s ok, let’s just go, sir. I can tell you the rest on the way home!”

The man in the suit is still grinning through all of this–if anything, he looks even happier.

“Fine, let’s go then.”

He gets out of the booth, and I notice that there seems to be…a lot more trash on the table than there should be–at least three or four hamburger wrappers, and two bags which might have contained fries at one point, which were now empty. But I swear I’d just had a salad–a salad I don’t even remember eating, but whatever. We leave the joint, I look down at my watch, and curse under my breath–it’s quarter to eight–there’s no way I can make that call now, and I can’t do it on my cell phone. I need to get going, and quick–maybe I can hail a cab?

“So where are we going now?”

“We aren’t going anywhere–I have to go home.”

“But I’m not done with the story yet! We’re getting to a really good part. I know you want to hear the rest, right?”

He sounds…almost desperate, in a really strange way, and lets loose a whine that actually is a pretty good imitation of a dog–but even if I am curious, I don’t have time.

“Look Fido–”

“Is that my name? You gave me a name!”

He’s jumping around like a fucking idiot again, and I have to actually grab him, and settle him down, before someone starts staring at us.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“I just get really excited when I hear my name, is all! But the story! Let me tell you the rest of the story–you have to hear it all now! You gave me a name!”

I scan the road for a cab, but there’s none in sight; a cab wouldn’t even get me home in time for the call anyway. I get out my phone and send a text, feigning an emergency and asking a partner to handle it for me.

“Fine, Fido, but I have to catch the next train so I can get home. You’ll have to walk and talk.”

“Ok! I like walks, walks are awesome!”

So off we went, and Fido figures out where he left off in his tale, but I’m having a hard time focusing on him, as we walk–mostly because I feel a bit…sick. Bloated even. I rub my stomach, and it definitely doesn’t feel right–kind of swollen, and even a bit soft, like…like a gut.

I stop walking and look down at myself, and sure enough, where there had been gym toned abs not hours before, I now had a sizable paunch–enough that it has untucked my shirt, and I could see my undershirt peeking through the gaps between the buttons. The rest of my outfit is tight too–my suit coat isn’t sitting right on my shoulders, like they are wider all of a sudden, my tie is too tight, even my shoes are hurting my toes, which feel like their curled up against the end of the shoe. I walk over to a shop window and look at my reflection, and I start to freak out even more. I have at least six or seven days of stubble all over my face–and my face looks as chubby as my gut. It’s no wonder my tie is too tight, with how much my neck has grown, and my usually well groomed hair is too long and shaggy–greasy even.

“You’re not listening to the story, sir.”

Fido is beside me, looking a bit concerned.

“But–I didn’t look like this before. What happened to my body?”

I don’t know why I’m asking him, exactly, it’s not like Fido would have an answer, right? But he gets close to me, and looks me in the eyes, and it’s really intense, his stare.

“Just relax, sir. You already started listening to my story, and once I get to the end, everything is going to make complete sense. You have to trust me, though. You do trust your doggy, right? I’m the best doggy in the world, after all.”

“The best…doggy in the world…”

“And I’m your doggy. I’m Fido.”

“Mine…Fido.”

He lets me go, and I realize I blanked out for a second, but I do feel a bit better. Fido…really is a good dog, you know? Still, I–we–have a train to catch, so we keep going. I do my best to ignore my uncomfortable clothing, and focus on listening to what Fido has to say, as he continues his tale, and by the time we’re sitting in the train, my attention is with him completely, as he tells me what happened when Master Joel found him one afternoon in that park, a few months later.

This may be a tmi question, but do you get horny while you’re writing erotica? I’ve recently tried writing while horny, and I was surprised about how much it got me off! And if not horny, how do you feel while writing?

Yeah, writing gets me very horny, generally. I do my best to avoid shooting as long as I can, so after a day of writing three or sometimes four thousand words, I’m generally aching and antsy after edging myself for that long. However, if I do shoot, I usually don’t feel like writing much after the fact. I have, on occasion, thought about investing in a chastity device for while I’m writing (as well as whenever else it might come in handy) but haven’t felt the need to yet.

Leaving aside the kink stuff for a bit, what genres do you like to read for pleasure?

Sci-Fi, generally. I enjoyed Ann Leckie’s Ancillary trilogy and the Remembrance of Earth’s Past Trilogy by Liu Cixin most recently, but honestly, most of what I read is smut of one sort or another. I really enjoy more literary erotica, like the stories of Dennis Cooper, and the really intense stories of Samuel Delaney like “Hogg”. 

A Dog’s Tale (Part 2)

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.

My apologies if you’ve answered this in the past. Do you ever run your ideas off of anyone else before writing or posting a story? Or do you just write and post without getting a third parties feedback?

Everything I post is either a commission, which means it necessarily gets run through a third party, or it’s an original idea of my own which I usually don’t share with anyone until I post it for everyone to read. People who give at a certain level through Patreon get access to my drafts, which means they can read and potentially comment on stories as I work on them, but few do. 

I’ll chime in about city of bears of why I’m fond of it. I had been reading on mcstories for a while and… I found it hard to find a story I really enjoyed most of the parts of it. Then I found big bears on campus and was ecstatic. It’s probably one of the first stories of the type I found that I really enjoyed. Also the one I’ve jerked off to the most. So perhaps for me, it’s a bit nostalgic?

Yeah, I can totally understand that, trust me. For me, those first few stories that really popped for we were some of @peircedskin‘s earlier stories, mostly off of Malestrom X’s old story archives, as well as the Black Magic series by Onix. I’m still upset that he never ended up finishing it, especially as close to the end he got (or at least, it *seemed* like the end). Alas! It happens to the best and the worst of us.

Not so much a question jist an I love your work. I discovered you on fa a few years ago and just recently rediscovered you here. So glad to be able to get to see your amazing stories grace my eyes again.

Yeah, I kind of gave up on posting to FA to be honest–most of my writing just didn’t quite fit the furry theme of things, and the site is heavily focused on visual art–which is another way of saying I got really sick of designing thumbnails for all of my stories, just so they’d pop a bit on the site. I’m glad you found me again in any case! Thanks for reading.

Hey :). I was curious what is your writing process? Do you create and write a story all in one sitting? Do you sit on a story and edit it later?

At this point in time, most everything I write and post is essentially a single draft. I have an idea, I write the idea–give it a light edit, and then post it. Since most of the stuff I post to tumblr is done in around 1000 word chunks, I try to keep the pacing the of the story fairly even over that length, so each chunk will have a decent amount of action without dragging too much. I don’t usually finish a story in one sitting–I try to write around 2000 words a day, so most stories usually take two or three sessions to finish depending on how efficient I am. I usually edit the story before I post it, which can be a few weeks after I’ve written it, depending on how large of a buffer I have built up of content.