Taming the Beast (Part 6)

The good thing about Cumrag, was that he had the stamina and the vitality to take pretty much anyone Mark brought down here–and Mark had a feeling this beast was going to be a rough fucker. He took one look at the beast standing in the central room, and had a feeling he knew what his Master wanted from him…and he was looking forward to it. He hadn’t been used in weeks now, and he hated it. Hated how lonely it could be down here, just jacking off, fantasizing about his Master using him–needing him–though why anyone would need a cumrag like him was beyond his limited comprehension. “What do you need, Master?”

“Get in the sling cumrag, and don’t talk. Your voice is grating.” Cumrag nodded, and hopped up into the sling, cape hanging under him, and Mark secured his legs up in the holsters, before stepping to one side and displaying him for the beast. “I know you were used by other patrons, on occasion, but please–have your way with the thing. I assure you–it can take anything you want to give, it’s more resilient than it seems, physically at least.”

The beast didn’t hesitate. While it had often serviced people in the bar, it had only rarely gotten the opportunity to fuck…and the few times it had, had been incredibly enjoyable. He assumed that the doctor was telling the truth, and rammed his cock in roughly, not bothering to worry about Cumrag’s feelings, and while he had to muffle a gasp of surprise, his hole opened easy and wide. In less than a minute, the beast was gripping Cumdump’s thighs, slamming his massive cock in up the the hilt, listening to the sloppy sounds of the one-time-hero’s now totally loose hole, the cumrag’s eyes rolling back in his head, helplessly jacking off, so thrilled to be used again, even if it wasn’t his master using him.

“Just think–this hole could be yours at any time, whenever you desire it,” Mark said, coming close to the beast, stroking his burly, hairy arm, leaning in to sniff at his foul musk. “You could indulge your every base desire, explore all of the pleasures of the Earth, right here. His isn’t the only hole I possess either. There are others, and if you please me, you can fuck as much as you want, my handsome beast,” He turned the beast’s muzzle to him, stood on his toes, and licked at his snout, the beast extending his tongue and kissing him as best he could, breath hot and panting as he fucked harder, getting closer and closer to the edge. “You’re have no idea what you’re capable of, you have no idea what you could become. I can help you–let me help you. Let me free you from the man’s shackles, and live here, as my beast, indulging in every profane desire you can imagine. Be mine, and I’ll give you pleasures you have never thought possible.”

The beast came soon after, letting loose with something between a grunt, growl and a roar, unloading a massive load of cum deep into the hero’s hole, and the orgasm was nothing like he’d felt before, when he’d been with Bacanal. Back then, everything had felt good, all the time–but this was a pleasure unlike anything the beast had experienced before, and it lasted for ages. He ended up sitting on the ground while Mark rubbed and pet him, pulling out his own cock, and coaxing it into the beast’s mouth. After all, it was only fair, wasn’t it, that if the beast got to use one of Master’s holes, that he allow master to use his hole as well. It was the price of his freedom down here–that when Master wanted him, he would have him as well, just like he had all of his other Supers down here.

Was it worth it? The beast, in the end, was convinced. After all, it was going to be owned one way or another, and the idea of ownership Jacob had for him was somehow more humiliating–using his strength ang his speed, but never allowing the beast a moment of gratification or pleasure…no, what the doctor was offering, what master was offering, was far better. They went back upstairs together, and Mark put the beast away in Jacob’s mind again, watching the bestial form fade away, and return to Jacob’s usual body. Only then, did he breathe a sigh of relief, and relax. The hard part was over now–he had his inside man. Everything else would be much, much simpler now. He brought Jacob back from his deep dream, but didn’t wake him yet–no they had quite a bit that they needed to discuss. A while later, Jacob woke up feeling refreshed…and famished. Mark offered him dinner, and Jacob was more than happy to take him up on the offer, though he admitted afterward that he made a bit of a pig of himself, eating as much as he did. Still, Mark hadn’t minded in the least–he’d just kept piling Jacob’s plate higher and higher, watching, cock half hard, already excited to watch the rest of his plan fall into place.

Taming the Beast (Part 5)

The beast looked around the room, perhaps a bit confused. It was, after all, the first time Mark had woken it outside of the hospital, so it was likely wondering where, exactly, it was. “This is my home,” Mark said, “The prison where you were has decided that Jacob is…less of a risk, and allowed him to leave.”

The beast gave a few snorts, almost like laughter, and then leered at Mark.

“Remember, you would have never gotten out of there without my help, and if you harm me, there are much worse prisons where they could place you. No–I have something else I would like to…suggest instead,” Mark said. “After all, I know what you want. You want to be free–and you want all of the earthly pleasure you had before, isn’t that right? Most of all though, I know that you do not like being subservient to Jacob.”

The beast snorted again.

“I would offer you something else, other than the occasional moment of freedom. I can give you a life here, with me, one that I think you will enjoy. After all, you liked your life before, didn’t you? In the bar?”

They had discussed it before, but the beast had always been…on the fence, for reasons Mark could understand. The beast had traded complete subordination to Jacob’s ego for a different kind of enslavement, to a very different master. It was reluctant to admit it, but Mark could sense the truth–the beast had liked it, very much. The pleasure, the gluttony, the revelry, the sex. It hadn’t mattered that the beast obeyed a master, so long as it was satisfied. The pleasure made the collar bearable. But more than that–the beast might long for freedom, but it had never known it–it had only ever existed under someone else’s control–and Mark wasn’t about to give it a chance to know any better any time soon, before it knew what it could be.

The beast nodded, hesitantly. It knew Mark wanted something–but Mark had been upfront about that. He had discussed it somewhat, that the beast was…wasted here. That it was meant for something more, and Mark could help it understand its true purpose.

Mark stood up, and crossed the short distance to the beast, enjoying the musk rolling off the thing’s hide. That had been a pleasant surprise as well–Mark had a certain…delight in that. He ran his hands over the beast’s belly, gentle circles, waiting until it relaxed under his hands, and then worked lower, both hands stroking its cock. “You can have that life again. All the food you could want, all the drink. Holes to fuck and dominate. But you can’t do that outside of here–they will find you, and trap you in another cage…and you can’t do it with him, so long as Jacob holds any sway over your body. No–we will have to deal with him, seal him away like he sealed you away, all those years. He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The beast snorted its approval, but whether or not it was listening to what Mark was saying wasn’t clear. It could have simply been enjoying the hand job–but it certainly wasn’t resisting.

“After all, we can both agree that you are the strong one. You’re the one who should be in charge, the one whose needs are paramount. But you won’t be able to do it without me, and if you want my help, then you are going to have to do as I say.”

The beast hesitated, and Mark stepped back.

“You don’t have to decide right now. But downstairs, I can give you a taste of the life I can offer you. Follow me.”

The beast heaved himself up from the sofa, and followed Mark around the corner and down a hallway, to a locked basement door. It was a tight squeeze down the staircase for the sizable animal, but at the base, it opened up into a open area outfitted as a sex dungeon–slings, paddles, bondage racks. Around the walls of the room were several doors, all of them locked as well. Mark went to one of them opened the door, “Hey Cumrag! Get out here–I have someone for you to entertain.”

After a couple of moments, a man stumbled out of the room, wearing nothing other than a cape around his shoulders–or at least, something that had been a cape at one time. Cumrag was one of Mark’s earliest acquisition from the hospital–a strongman Super with a rather weak will, who had been mind controlled and turned to a life of crime for a few years until he was freed. He’d struggled a lot at the hospital in Mark’s care–he didn’t know how to regain his moral center, and felt like he couldn’t trust himself. Mark agreed. Slowly, he’d worn him down, convinced him that everything that had happened was all because he was too weak to know better–that if anything, it had been good for him to be controlled by someone with some sense, good to keep his power away from the world, where he could hurt someone. He’d needed a new purpose in life, a new direction, and so Mark had suggested he help him out around the house, degrading him more and more until he, at last, accepted he was little more than an object. A cumrag. He’d been without a shower for years, at this point, and his skin and hair was caked with layers and layers of cum. The cape he still wore was rigid at this point, and when he was in storage down here, all Cumrag knew to do anymore was masturbate into his cape, his life as a hero forgotten forever–until his services were needed.

The Carnival (Part 3)

I already announced that the winner of the first poll was the cow option, and the victor of the runoff poll, by two votes, was the gator option! Hope you enjoy!

“Cowboy!” the audience shouted, and Adam let out a moo of surprise, as his cock and balls began to inflate in front of the entire audience. It was clear he was trying to say something, or object, but the only sounds he could make were low and mooing, and as his genitals inflated, his cock bulging out and filling out with his balls until they were more udder than cock, two short horns pushing out from his forehead, and a thick brass ring appearing in his nose with a click of Dr. Watch’s fingers.

He gave a tug on the ring, and Adam stumbled forward, the intellect draining from his eyes as the rest of his body shifted, losing muscle and gaining fat, especially around the hips, until he had a thick, wide ass, his hands and feet growing together into heavy, useless hooves that he stared at dumbly, certain that something was wrong with him, but no longer smart enough to understand what was even happening to him. The one thing the cowboy was certain of, was that his udder was full–so full that it hurt.

With another moo, he gripped it with his hoof-like hands, hefting it up and letting it all–the slapping sound it made against his thighs was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire auditorium. “Now Mr. Addison, you said you were a farmer, right?” Dr. Watch said to one of the townsfolk.

A man in a suit stepped forward, but when he stepped and nodded, “Yes sir, been on a farm all my life!” The audience laughed–he’d gone up on the stage a banker, but accounts were now the furthest thing from his mind.

“Well, why don’t you help out our cow here. You can milk a cow, can’t you?”

Mr. Addison nodded, Dr. Watch handed him a bucket, and he started squeezing the cowboy’s new udder, and Adam moaned in delight, humping his wide hips as Mr/ Addsion squeezed out his fresh manmilk into the bucket, the whole audience either shrieking in disgust or laughing at the absurdity of it. When the bucket was full, Dr. Watch told Mr. Addison to take a taste–and as he guzzled it–he too began to inflate, the suit bulging against his growing waistline until it could hold no more, and it shredded to pieces, leaving Mr. Addison as naked as the cowboy next to him, weighing almost 400 pounds, licking his milky lips.

Roger had watched all of this in horror, and had tried to move off the stage, but his feet were rooted in place. “One more animal everyone–what do we have to say to Roger here?”

“Gatorboy!”

Roger shuddered, and the first thing everyone noticed was his skin. It dried out immediately, and started to flake and turn into scales, his nails growing into long claws. His frame bulked up substantially, filling out with muscle as his neck disappeared, his face broadening and growing out into a short snout, his mouth filling in with tight rows of sharp fangs, his eyes turning yellow. His legs bowed slightly as a thick tail grew out above his ass, but he ended up taller than he’d been to begin with, and as his human mind faded, a hunter’s instinct took over, and he gazed hungrily over at the cow still full of milk next to him.

However, before he could lunge and go for the kill, someone else slammed into him–the third member of the townsfolk, dressed in only a pair of muddy overalls, tackled him with a whoop and a holler, got him into a headlock and rolled with him all over the stage, to the thrill of the audience.

“See? And you all thought I was crazy for giving our hypnotized hillbilly here a penchant for gator wrestling! Look at Billy Bob go–think he’s gonna break that big ol’ gator, or is the gator gonna break him?”

In the end, Billy Bob came out of top, Dr. Watch handed him a collar, and he forced it around Roger’s neck. Immediately, the gatorboy grew calm, and the big hillbilly hauled his cock free of the muddy overalls, and slid it into the gator’s ass, the lizard humping the stage, his own slimy, reptillian member sliding free of its sheath to rub against the wood of the stage, until it spewed a load of cum in a spectacular climax, along with Adam and Jared still sucking his own cock in a grand finale–and then the lights went down, and the stage was empty.

The frat bros, none of them quite able to believe what they’d just witnessed, hurried out of the tent. Jared, Adam, and Roger were nowhere to be seen…and somehow the group knew that they needed some time to be debriefed by Dr. Watch before they could be released back into the wild again. They would catch up with the group later in the carnival, maybe, or they’d find them back at the house the next morning.

In the meantime, the remainder of the group ended up splitting into two smaller groups, who each headed in a different direction. One group of three headed for the tunnel of love ride, thinking they’d seen some sorority girls head in that direction, while the other three went into the funhouse across from it, to see what they might find in there.

This next poll is going to be a short one! We’ll get to both locations eventually, but which would you like to see first?

The Twitter Poll!

The Patron Poll!

This poll is only live for a day!

Faceless (Epilogue)

Someone commissioned me to write a bit more to Faceless from last month, picking up with Ash and one of the two drones he took back home with him, to experiment on.

That night, Ash couldn’t home fast enough with his two drones in tow. His apartment was near the bar at least, a sizable space in an old warehouse. Everyone who lived there seemed to be connected with Rod and the bar in one way or another–it made it easy for Ash to practice his craft, as he called it, without having to worry about too many prying eyes. All around the room, hanging on mounts, were the faces of men he’d taken off–either at the bar, or on occasion elsewhere in the city, when the opportunity had struck. These two, in particular, had been a pair of wealthy business men, who Ash had seen harrassing one of Pigtown’s whores on the street one night–a whole who Ash had always considered a friend. He’d stolen their faces, and had been using their bodies as his drones for a few weeks now–he’d…sensed that he was keeping them around for a purpose, but he didn’t quite know what. But now–well, now he knew why, didn’t he?

He fetched their faces off their hooks, and put them both on two mannequins–so they could see clearly, if not speak. One of the two young men had been the instigator that night–and this was mostly about him, so he sent the other drone to wait. Then, without saying anything to the two masks watching what he was doing, he began to work on the drone, reshaping it like he had the man’s nephew back in the bar.

As he worked, he could…sense the feelings of the two faces watching him, even if they couldn’t say a word. At first it was simply confusion. Then, it became disgust. Then, horror and terror as the drone’s figure moved out of the human and into the bizarre. Ash had begun by forcing the drone onto its hands and knees, and reshaping its body, filling it out until it was a long cylinder. Then, he began work on the back legs, filling out the thighs and the rump, forcing the knees backwards, and the same with the arms, making them similar in shape and form–and clearly designed like an animals to be incapable of walking upright. The feet and hands were next–and that was when the real horror set in, as the two watched Ash mash the fingers together and reform them into thick, solid hooves, the same with the feet, and lastly, he fetched from the wall a replica dildo of a horse’s cock and balls–one he enjoyed giving to his drones on occasion, but he figured this would be a nice, permanent home for it–and adhered it in place over the drone’s currently smooth crotch.

“There we are–what do you think?” Ash said, looking over at the two masks. “Now, I’ve only done this once before, so far, but I think you two scumbags would make excellent test subjects. I have other plans for you,” he said, pointing at the accomplice, “put you know that whore you beat up? He has a name–it’s Anton. He’s smart, and sweet, and a great lay–and do you know what he loves? Big, fucking cocks. You wanted to fuck him up? Well trust me–you’re going to be his fucking pet here soon enough.”

He pulled the mask free from the mannequin, almost certain he could feel it squirming in resistance, and walked around to the drone’s face, which he had purposefully left untampered with. After all, Anton had confessed to Ash that he’d kind of thought he was cute, which was why he’d propositioned them at all to begin with–why ruin a good face, if you didn’t have to? He put the face back on the drone, feeling it reattach to the body, and after a moment, it shook. “You fucking freak! What the fuck did you fucking do to my damn body!”

It was clear he was trying to move, but the flesh of his neck was only just beginning to spread lower. Ash figured it would be better to collar him now, rather than later. He took out the first of the two collars he’d gotten from Rod before leaving the bar–he’d been…reluctant to let Ash have them, but figured it was for the best–and ash secured the first one around the bully’s neck, watching his eyes go a bit out of focus for a second. “Now stay calm, and don’t fight back, got it?”

The man nodded slowly, and instead tried to twist his neck and look back at himself, but it was difficult to do. Instead, Ash got a mirror off the wall and brought it over, giving the man a better view of what was happening to his body. The flesh continued growing down over the rubber, extending down the man’s new front legs. It was disconcerting because he didn’t have any hair like a horse–just normal, human skin with the same smattering of hair he’d had in life, just spread across a very different form. The most hair was running down his thick belly, and coating the bottoms of his front legs, where his forearms had been. The rubber hooves shuddered a bit, but didn’t break–they just hardened into something between nail and rubber, because the flesh wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. The flesh covered the dildo well enough, and it came to life, hardening and slapping against the man’s belly as the flesh ran down his back legs as well–and then it was finished. Standing before him was something altogether new–some odd mix of horse and man–and something he was somehow certain Anton would love.

He attached the leash to the collar, and led him downstairs to Anton’s apartment–thankful it was early enough in the morning for no one else to be in the stairwell right now…though things equally as strange had been spotted around here before. Anton was awake, and when he saw the gift, his jaw dropped, first in terror, but after giving Ash a chance to explain, it gave way to delight. By the time he left, Anton had the leash in hand, his new pet mounting his master for the first time of many, driving his horse cock deep into his hole, and Ash already had so many ideas for his other drone–but first, sleep. There was always tomorrow, right?

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 4)

“Are you done yet?”

“Would you relax? I’ve never done something like this before. I don’t even know if it’ll work. It might just fuck up everything–who knows if it’ll even fit right.”

“It stretches though.”

“Well yeah, it stretches, but–look, if shit goes screwy with this? It’s not my fucking fault, got it?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ash just shook his head, and focused on the dummy in front of him, adding the last few details.

“It looks fucking ready to me–I love the look of that sack on it. Gonna be real fun kickin’ that shit with my boots on.”

“Alright, I think we’re good–or at least, we should be good,” Ash stood up and admired his work–he was surprised he’d never thought of this before, actually…usually when he took a man’s face, they never did end up getting them back. He liked to keep them tucked away, a nice collection of limp masks to mock and tease, tell them where their bodies were, and what men were doing to them. On occasion, he gave a man or two their faces back, usually once their guts were brimming with cum and piss. He…loved the look of their faces turning green, as they felt their bellies sloshing–usually right before stealing their face back. However, he’d never altered the dummy like this before. If it worked…he looked over at the two gimps behind him, and thought of their stupid fucking faces, hanging from hooks in his room. If this worked, he’d have to experiment a bit. He went over to the table and picked up Trey, slipping his hands up inside his face, and testing how flexible he was. More than enough to make it work, he supposed–but whether everything would line up properly was another question altogether. He rolled it up from the neck, so he could be as accurate as possible, pressed the crown of the face to the dummy’s head, and felt it stick.

The ears were tricky, making sure the rubber molds of the dummy pushed out into the ears of the mask–but they did, and the result, as he pulled down the rest, was an odd mix between Trey’s original ears, and his new, floppier ones sitting a bit higher on his head. The same with the nose and mouth–It stretched out over the snout he’d crafted, and it ended up somewhat shorter than he’d made it, but once the mask slipped down to the neck and rejoined with the body, the oddly bulging snout split open, and Trey let out a growling, panting, snorting heave of pain.

Wrong–it was all wrong. Trey hadn’t been able to tell much of what was going on, from where he was lying on the table, but when he’d felt Ash putting his face back on his body, he’d been so thankful, but once he was back, he realized that his body was not quite the same as it had been, when Ash had taken him off. He tried to move his hands to feel what was wrong with it, and why it hurt so much, but he couldn’t. Even though his face was back on, the rest of his body was just numb–he couldn’t feel it, or move it…though there was some progress, actually. His neckline was tingling, and as it did, he could feel sensation spreading down slowly, and he looked down, where life was slowly returning to his dummy body–but what he saw made him groan in horror.

This wasn’t his body–what the fuck did that fucker do to him? His skinny frame was gone–instead, it looked like someone had attached a tire pump to his navel, and pumped him full of lard. He had two massive moobs and a huge gut hanging down, covered in wiry doll hair and swirls of color. Sensation crept down, and he saw the hair and skin turn to flesh, the swirls becoming tattoos embedded in his skin. He tried to speak and protest, turned to his uncle and plead…but that wasn’t his uncle, looming over him. It looked a bit like him, but those eyes, and that sneer–this was someone else entirely.

The words didn’t come out right–there was something very wrong with his mouth, but he didn’t know what, exactly. Dick took his fingers and shoved them into Trey’s mouth, feeling around, checking it out. “Feels right–looks like it figured out what we wanted.”

“Good, I was hoping it would work like that,” Ash said, “Gotta say, it’s pretty fucking sick, man. In a good way.”

“Hell yeah it’s fuckin’ sick! Nice ‘n wet too. Gonna feel pretty fuckin’ great on my cock.”

The sensation in Trey’s body was coming back faster now, and had almost reached his fingers. He just…had to wait a moment more, but when Dick rubbed the head of his cock against his…mouth or nose, or whatever was wrong with his face, he couldn’t let it happen. He shoved him away, the force of it sending him toppling backwards. He rolled over, tried to force himself up, but his legs weren’t cooperating yet. So he crawled away, as best he could, until he could force himself upright. There, standing a few feet away from the bar, he saw his reflection in the mirror behind the bartender, and froze. It…it couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. That thing, it wasn’t him, it had to be wrong, some cheap trick.

Dick came up behind him, and caught him in a hug, grinding his cock against Trey’s ass. “What do you think pig? Suits you, don’t it?”

Marv’s Doghouse (Part 6)

Benji had a great time on the walk–smelling, peeing, looking for squirrels. Everything felt normal. Everything felt right, for the moment. The doubts were beginning to recede, and Benji could tell that they would be gone before too much longer. They walked for about half an hour, and were coming back around to the cul-de-sac where they lived, and where some of Marv’s neighbors were finally up. Benji was excited to meet some new people, and he dragged Marv over to a young man getting the mail, and Master seemed a bit…aggravated at being made to interact with them, but they liked Benji, and that’s all he really cared about. They kept walking, and were almost back to the house, when he smelled someone, whipped his head around, and looked back at a house across the way.

He smelled someone.

Someone…someone he knew, someone he knew well. The doubts welled back up, suddenly, and while Marv was focused on unlatching the gate, Benji took off, yanking the leash from his grip and sprinting after the smell. He couldn’t see the person until he got closer, but it was a woman heading down to get the newspaper–and he…he knew her. He knew her because…because he was married to her!

With that. Ben felt himself, his real self, come roaring back, and leapt onto her, knocking her down, licking her face while she screamed, and he barked at her, tried to tell her, tried to focus on himself, tried to remember what he’d looked like…but it was so hard! She shoved him off him and tried to run for the door of the house, and before he could follow her, Marv had come sprinting after him, caught his leash, and yanked him back hard enough to make him yelp.

She screamed at him, and Marv apologized profusely while Ben kept barking his head off, thinking about her, about his life with her, and he could…feel it happening, could feel his old body pushing out, but it wasn’t fast enough. Marv dragged him back to the gate, and the woman, shaken, went back inside the house, and then he was back in the yard, back with Marv–and back with that damn doghouse.

Still, it was coming faster now, he could feel hands starting to form from his paws, he could feel the hair pulling back in, his human senses returning. Marv was growling and shouting at him, dragging him across the yard to the doghouse by the leash while Ben fought and crawled back away from it, but to no avail.

“Well I’ll give you credit, boy–you got spunk!” Marv said, grabbing Ben and planting him in front of the doghouse, his nose close to the old wood, smelling the stink of it. “Plenty ‘o spunk. Well don’t worry–we’ll break you of that right quick in another couple of days–figured it was too early to have you out and about.”

“You fucking bastard!” Ben managed to cry through a misshapened mouth, “She’ll know, she’ll remember me! She…she has to!”

“Benji–you’re already gone from that world, trust me. There’s no trace of you anywhere. She wouldn’t recognize you even if you got to her–you’re mine now, you’re my pup, and this is going to be so much easier for you if you just relax and accept that, trust me.”

“I’m not going to be your fucking dog, you fucker, you can’t fucking do this to me!” Ben shouted, but the words were already losing substance. He was losing, he could feel his body shifting back, losing track of his humanity, losing track of himself.

“Now now, you aren’t going to be my dog all the time, boy. I’ll let you be human on occasion, when I have some friends around who like playing with a pupslave–but as far as you’ll know, soon enough, you’ll have always been a dog. Yeah–you’ll think you’re a dog who can turn into a human! How about that? Now, though, I think you need the alpha of the pack to remind you who the fuck’s in charge around here, boy.”

Marv undid the front of his jeans, hauled out his cock, and shoved his cock into Ben’s hole, making him howl and try and claw himself away, but…but he wanted this, didn’t he? He loved playing with Master–loved pleasing Master. He could feel his own cock start throbbing underneath him, in the grass, and after a couple of minutes he stopped struggling and let Master have his way with him. He’d…he’d been a bad dog, running off like that, he realized. The funny thing was…he couldn’t even remember why he’d done that. There’d been…been a smell, or something, but the only smell that mattered was his house. Well, that and his Master, but they were the same smell, really. It was the smell of where he belonged. By the time Marv came, Ben had faded away again, and Benji was in control, and he felt…terrible about disobeying his master like that, for letting the doubts take control of him like that. When Master told him he’d have to spend a few days staked out here, with his doghouse, he…he knew it was the best thing to do, but the doubts swirled up again, but before they could do anything, the stake was driven into the earth, and the chain was set up, connected to his collar, and there was nowhere he could go.

The doubts came back a few times, but never as strong as that first time. Benji could keep them away–all he needed to do was take a nice nap in his doghouse, and when he woke up, the doubts were further and further away, until at last…they weren’t there at all. He was just Benji, just his Master’s dog, and that was all he ever wanted to be.

Marv’s Doghouse (Part 5)

“Yeah, who’s a good boy?” Marv said, a bit out of breath, “You are, you’re a real good dog, ‘n I can already tell we’re gonna be real happy together, you and me.” He drove in deep, and came, filling Ben’s tailhole with his load, and Ben could feel it inside him, hot and sticky…but more than that. It felt…final. He felt complete, somehow, in a way he’d never felt before. His master slipped his cock out of him, and Ben, panting a bit, turned around and started licking the shaft clean while his Master praised him and scratched him between the ears…but he was feeling exhausted all of a sudden, and Marv could see it in his now doggy eyes. “Alright boy–that’s enough play for now. You need to take a nice long rest. Go on–get in your doghouse.”

Ben turned, and saw the doghouse–his doghouse–across the yard, but when he did…he also felt a pang of fear. There was something wrong with it, wasn’t there? He could smell it from here, across the yard, the same scent he’d noticed…carrying it in? He hadn’t been carrying anything, had he? He was a dog, after all, dog’s didn’t carry things…

“Go on! Get in there,” Marv said, and slapped Ben on the ass, sending him off to the doghouse, and the closer he got…the more comfortable it seemed. He went inside, a bit hesitant, but the scent…it was so powerful here, especially on his now much stronger nose. He was safe here–this was his home. Why…why would he want to be anywhere else? He padded around a moment in a circle, and then plopped down, and he was asleep in less than a minute. Marv checked on him a couple times, making sure his new pup was settling in properly, and then went inside for dinner. They’d play again tomorrow, for sure, but for now, it was best to just let the magic work.

***

“Benji! Benji, come on boy, time for breakfast!”

Ben lifted his head blearily, looking around himself. Where…was he?

“Benji!”

Something was wrong–something was wrong with him. The space was too small, or he was too…too big. In a bit of a panic, he pushed his way through the doorway in front of him, squeezing through until he popped through and into the long grass, where in the morning daylight, he could see better what was wrong with him.

Something was wrong with his body–he looked down at his front legs, disturbed to see not fur covering them, but instead he saw…flesh. Just pale flesh! Flesh like his master’s flesh, but that…he wasn’t supposed to have that, right? He was a dog! He…he was supposed to be a dog, wasn’t he? Some of him was a dog–he still had his paws, mostly, at the end of two fleshy arms and legs, and his cock was right…the fur covering his body in haphazard patches.

“Looks like someone’s having a bit of an identity crisis,” the voice said–master’s voice said, and Benji looked up at him, panting, and whined, wondering what he should do–trying to figure out what he was supposed to be. He could…remember one thing–he could remember being human, couldn’t he? Or had it just been a dream? It seemed so real, but that couldn’t be right, could it–no, of course it couldn’t! He was a dog! Just a dog, nothing more–something was wrong with him, but Master would help him out, wouldn’t he? He looked up at his Master looming over him, and he seemed…so much more colorful than he usually did, and he couldn’t quite smell his as well as he should. It was still happening, he was changing more–how did he stop it?

“Now now, boy, calm down,” Marv said, crouching down beside him in the grass, petting his back. “You know what you are boy–just relax. You’re mine, ain’t ya? You’re my pup–you’re Benji. Focus on that–think about your fur, about that bushy tail of yours, about walking around on all fours, all your favorite smells…Just focus, and everything will be alright.”

Being close to Master helped him relax some, and if Master thought he could do it…then Benji knew he could. He focused, thought about it, about his body–his real body, about being a dog. He pushed those other thoughts away as best he could. He wasn’t a person, he knew that! No, he was a pup, just like Master said. Slowly, he felt his body start to shift back, the fur filling back in, his legs changing back until he had to shift from sitting in his ass, to lying in the grass like he enjoyed doing in the afternoons, just smelling the air while Master was at work, waiting for him to get home so they could play.

“Good boy!” Marv said, scritching Benji behind the ears, and he barked in excitement. He was doing it! This was right–he knew it was right. It had to be, because it…it felt right. Sure, there was a piece of him trying to tell him he was wrong, that something…something was wrong, about Marv, about this house, but that voice didn’t seem like someone Benji should trust. No–better to just trust Master, and if Master thought he was doing right, then that meant he was. After a couple of minutes, he was back to normal, and after licking Master’s face for a bit, thanking him for helping him sort everything out in his head, he followed Master onto the patio, where he had a long drink from his bowl and ate his breakfast like a good dog, because he was a good dog, wasn’t he?

There was still doubt, and that, confused him. There shouldn’t be…doubt. He wanted to tell his master somehow, but he didn’t know how to even begin to communicate what he was feeling. Still, when Master suggested a walk around the neighborhood, Benji wasn’t about to object to that. He loved walks! He barked and barked while Master went inside and got his leash and collar–Benji could barely believe he hadn’t been wearing his collar the whole time! That alone made him feel better, with it around his neck. Marv hooked the leash to it, once it was on, and then they left by the gate and started off on their walk.

Marv’s Doghouse (Part 4)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, boy?”

His heart froze, and he looked over his shoulder at Marv, who had returned to the patio carrying…a metal dog bowl.

“What the fuck did I say? I told you to sit, and stay, isn’t that right?”

The shame that welled up in Ben’s was as inexplicable as it was powerful, but he had to get out, he had to get help. He kept batting at the latch, close to getting it open, so close.

“Stop that, and come here.”

Ben’s body froze. He fought it, he fought it as hard as he could, but there was nothing he could do. He fell back down onto his hands and knees, head down, and crawled back over to the patio, where he saw Marv had come back out with another can of beer–and a dog bowl. “That’s a bad dog–a very bad dog!” he said, scolding Ben, and the shame ripped through him. Why had he done that? He should have never done that, he shouldn’t have even thought about it! What was wrong with him? He looked up at Marv and heard himself let off a pitiful whine of apology, tried to say something else, but his mouth…he couldn’t quite get it to work right. What came out of his mouth…it didn’t sound like words at all. “Now, drink your beer, boy,” Marv said, set the bowl down and poured the can into it, “While I get those stupid clothes off of you–I don’t think you’ll be needing them anymore, do you?”

Ben stared down at the bowl, confused, and went to try and pick it up with one of his hands…only to realize that what he still considered to be a hand wasn’t one–not anymore. The fingers had shrunken down considerably, and his thumb had pulled away from the rest of his fingers, higher up on his wrist. The nails on each finger had grown, and were all turning black, like…claws. He took one paw and brought it to his face as best he could and felt it–the snout pushing out from his smaller head, the hair growing in all over. He…he was turning into a dog.

“Go on boy, drink already.”

Ben instinctively pushed his head to the surface of the beer, and started lapping it up. He didn’t know how he knew to do it, he just…knew. Just like how he knew Marv was…his Master, and that this backyard was his home, and that…and that he was a dog. He pushed back against that, as hard as he could. He wasn’t a dog, he was a person! A human! His name was Ben, and he wasn’t some mutt, he was Marv’s neighbor, and he had to get out of here, somehow. Marv, meanwhile, had taken out a knife and started cutting away Ben’s clothes from work, tearing them off his body, and he could see that the changes, which had begun slowly, were now accelerating. Ben’s back legs were narrowing and growing shorter–without realizing it, Ben had gone from being on his hands and knees, to being on his front and back paws–all four legs now fully raised. “Yeah, now that’s a handsome lookin’ pup right there. I’ve really missing having one around, you know, but no normal dog is really satisfying, once you’ve had a special one in your life, like my uncle made. Smarter than any normal mutt, loyal, completely obedient, and willing to do anything–absolutely anything for their master’s pleasure, right boy?”

He felt Marv grab…something. Something attached to him, right above his ass. It took him a moment to realize it was his fledgling tail, just starting to grow in–now a few inches long, mostly nude, but with hair rapidly filling in. He gave a yelp, when he felt a finger probe into his ass, and tried to pull away, but Marv wrapped his other arm around his hips, and hauled him back.

“Now now, boy–you want this as much as I do. This is a mutt’s ultimate service for their master–now hold still!”

Ben heard Marv unzip the fly of his jeans, and a moment later something much larger than a finger pressed against his hole–it was Marv’s cock. But while the disgust was still there, it was quickly eclipsed by something else…he was happy. Thrilled, really. Eager. His master slid into his tail hole, and Ben gave a yip, eager for his Master to fill him up, eager to serve him.

“Yeah, that’s a good boy–you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You won’t be trying to escape ever again, I can promise you that–you’re going to be on a very tight leash, not that you’d want it any other way, right mutt?”

The hair was spreading faster now, filling in all over Ben’s body. On his front legs (his arms he tried to tell himself, but that wasn’t right! They were legs, weren’t they?) the hair was a light golden tan, all the way down to his new paws, and looking back, looking up at his master, his handsome master fucking his tail hole, he could see that over his back, in a saddle, the fur was black. He’d seen dogs like this, like him, before–one of his next door neighbors when he was a kid, who’d been a police officer, had had one. He was becoming a german shepherd. His tail kept growing longer, the hair on it filling out and turning bushy. Marv…Master…he was close. Ben could sense it, and it was getting him excited as well, the heat in his own crotch increasing as his cock, the last human part of him, began to shift. The skin turned into a bright red, and it shrank somewhat–the head becoming narrow and flared, a furry sheath growing up over his balls and the shaft, though he was much, much too horny for it to slide in at the moment. His master–his master was fucking him, and he loved it when his Master fucked him, it was the greatest feeling a pup like him could feel, and he loved it.

Marv’s Doghouse (Part 3)

Ben nodded, and Marv slipped into the house, leaving Ben alone in the grass. He eyed the gate, knowing he should leave, that something about this man, and this house, and this yard, was very strange, and somehow very wrong…but he’d been told to stay. He’d been told to stay, and so he had to stay. Still, he didn’t have to stay exactly here, right? He looked at the patio, and the only feature was a dirty table and a couple of chairs, and he walked over to take a seat…but as he did, he noticed that, for some reason, his feet were hurting in his shoes. He sat down and tried to ignore it, but the ache was there even without putting any pressure on him–and his hands hurt too, oddly enough. Was it from carrying the doghouse? It had been awkward more than heavy, but maybe he was more out of shape than he thought.

Marv returned after a couple of minutes with two cans of beer in hand. He set one down in front of Ben, and then sat down at the table across from him in the other chair with a grunt. Ben grabbed the can, but the pain in his hand was intensifying, and he found it a bit…difficult to grip it, and when he brought it to his mouth to take a drink, the cold liquid made his teeth ache as well–and that ache didn’t fade after he’d swallowed. “You know…I’m not…feeling very good,” Ben said, “I think I might be coming down with something. I should probably go.”

“No Ben–you’re going to sit, stay and drink your beer,” Marv said, that grin on his face a bit wider. “That would make you feel good, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Don’t worry about the rest, Ben. Just relax.”

“A-Alright…” he said, still feeling confused, and took another sip of beer from the can, feeling a bit of it run down his chin and onto his shirt, which was awkward, but if Marv noticed, he didn’t seem to be bothered by it–he was too busy filling the silence, with nothing in particular–talking about the dog house for a bit, about how much it meant to finally have it back. Pontificating about sports for a while, about how much better the teams were back where he’d grown up, and Ben–despite being a local fan–found it hard to get a word in edgewise. His mouth…didn’t quite seem to work right, and his tongue would get in the way. He checked the can to see what the alcohol level was, but it wasn’t particularly strong, but even then, his vision seemed a bit…off. Words were a bit blurry, and everything seemed less…vibrant, like the color was slowly draining from everything around him, particularly the red hues of Marv’s shirt.

Still, he had to sit, and stay, and finish the beer, right? But that was proving harder than he’d expected for some reason, because after sitting with Marv and listening to him for fifteen minutes or so…he found it surprisingly difficult to pick up the can of beer in front of him. His hands were cramping badly now, the pain growing, and he couldn’t get his fingers to wrap around the can, and his thumb was refusing to work. With a growl, growing frustrated, he gave the can a bat, tipping it over and spilling beer all over the table.

“Having some trouble man?” Marv asked.

“I…I ‘eally don’ heel good…” Ben said, “I can’ pic ap the ‘an.”

“Yeah, I can see you having a bit of trouble there, boy,” Marv said, and hefted himself up out of his chair. “Let me get you something else–I’ll just be a second.”

Ben tried to object, hoping Marv would actually understand his distress, but the words wouldn’t quite come to his mouth. All he managed in the end, after Marv had shut the door, was a high pitched whine. What in the world was wrong with him? He looked down at his hands, and they didn’t…look right. His fingers seemed a bit too short–especially his thumbs, and they had somehow slid down his hand, closer to his wrist. Had…had he somehow broken his hands, without even realizing it? He needed to get out of here–he had to get help, since it was clear that Marv wasn’t going to do anything for him. He steeled himself, and stood up, feeling…a wave of dread and horror wash through him for standing up and disobeying Marv’s order to sit, but he did it. He was wobbly, and felt almost drunk, and for some reason he couldn’t…drop his heels to the ground, leaving him stuck standing on the balls of his feet. When he tried, the tendons at the back of his legs screamed in pain–he’d just have to balance as best he could. He pushed back the chair and nearly fell over, tried to take a step, and his foot slipped right out of his shoe. He looked down at his foot–and through the sock, it looked…even more deformed than his hands did. He looked at the shoe, abandoned under the table, but there was no way he’d be able to bend down and pick it up with his hands contorted like they were–he’d have to abandon them. He stepped out of his other shoe, and started across the yard, shaking and unsteady for a few steps, until he lost balance and fell into the grass on hands and knees.

Fine–he’d just crawl, he told himself. It seemed a bit easier actually, than walking had been, and he moved through the tall grass to the gate, looked up, and saw the latch. He tried to get his knees underneath him, so he could stand back up, but like his heels, the tendons and muscles of his body were screaming at him, refusing to move in any normal direction. Unable to get onto his knees, he had to try and reach up with his hands, crawling up the side of the gate, but even when he got high enough to touch the latch, his paralyzed hands were worthless.

Marv’s Doghouse (Part 1)

It was a nice life–the sort of life Ben had always wanted. A nice job that he only hated some of the time, a house of his own on a quiet, suburban cul-de-sac, and last year he’d gotten married to a lovely woman, and they were planning on starting the rest of their family soon. He’d made it–from here on out, it would be smooth sailing, and maybe an early retirement. Boring, safe, pleasant and happy. That’s what he wanted. So when their new neighbor moved in–an older fellow by the name of Marv–he couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. He was probably twenty years older than Ben, but it was clear his life was not nearly as on track as his own. From the look of the truck he drove up, he worked in construction or something similar–no wife, no family. He was just…alone.

Of course, Ben didn’t really have much interest in his neighbors. He was pleasant, and he expected pleasantness in return, but beyond that, he preferred everyone else stayed out of his business. He especially felt that way about Marvin, though he found it difficult to explain why he felt uneasy around the older man. It was, perhaps, because despite the fact that his life seemed rather unfulfilled, he was, all the same, rather…happy. Or if he wasn’t happy, he could put on a very convincing happy face. And so, Ben found himself thinking and watching and wondering about Marv more than many of his other, much more normal neighbors. The others were like him, and in their normalcy, more transparent. He didn’t know the details–he could infer the rest from the jobs, the wives, the pets, the children. But over the next few months, as Marv settled into the cul-de-sac, it was clear that he was not cut from the same normal cloth as the rest of them.

The lawn was overgrown, and where everyone else conscientiously watered the grass all summer, he let his grow too long and it browned it several patches from the heat and sparse rain. The rest of the landscaping went unattended, and by early fall it was also overgrown and full of weeds. A few of the neighbors tried to mention it to him, and hint at the fact that his growing eyesore was possibly wounding their own property values, but as understanding as he would appear, nothing would change, and without as all powerful HOA there was little anything anyone could do but watch, and gossip, and wonder. No one could really know, what took place inside that house. There were no symbols of normalcy, no wife, no kids, and no conventional job, and so all that remained was speculation around the rotating neighborhood bar-be-ques, which Marv always courteously declined the attend.

“He’s a slob, and have you seen how many beer bottles are in the recycling?”

“”He probably works himself to the bone; I feel sorry for him. If I worked in construction the last thing I’d want to do is do a bunch of heavy lifting once I got home.”

“He seems so lonely–I don’t think he’s had anyone over since he moved in.”

“I wonder why he won’t come over? I’ve asked him to come by a few times, but he’s always said no. He seems like a snob to me.”

Ben could guess along, but none of his neighbor’s convictions seemed to move him. In all honesty, he had found himself reaching a space where he could stop caring. After all, he was much more focused on his wife, Katie, and trying to get her pregnant, to really worry about some strange, eccentric neighbor of his. The others could fret, and worry, and do their best to bring him into suburban line, but Ben had his path, and his plan, and he had no intention of letting anything upset it.

And so, when Marv waved to him across the cul-de-sac one September Saturday, Ben was confused. He hadn’t done anything to deserve a wave, had he? Picked up the mail? Dropped a newspaper at the porch? No–he’d simply resolved to let Marv have his strange life, a life Ben would never want to have a part of, and he assumed, in return, that Marv would show him no interest as well.

Still, he waved back. It’s what you did, after all. And instead of leaving at that, Marv smiled and walked across the street to where Ben was standing at the end of his driveway, wondering, what, in the world, the man could want.

“Hey there–it’s Ben, right?” Marv said as he came up. “Glad I could catch you–I was wondering if I could get your help with something real quick. You seem like the kind of fellow who isn’t afraid of a bit of heavy lifting.”

In fact, Ben was a bit of a scrawny fellow, and had never really been suited to much hard work. He generally hired help to do most of the heavy lifting around his house–and Marv…well, Marv seemed like he could tackle pretty much anything on his own. A few inches over six feet, broad in the shoulder, packed with muscle and a hefty gut–what could he possibly need anyone’s help with, much the less Ben’s? At the same time, you didn’t say no to a neighbor, either. Without asking for details, he said yes, and followed Marv back to his home, and around to the back of his truck. Inside, covered by a tarp which Marv unfurled, was a doghouse.