The Neighborhood Bitch (Flash Commission)

It’s crazy, is what it is. No one on the block seems to think it’s the least bit strange–but it sure as hell isn’t normal! My wife and I moved in here a couple of weeks ago, and were so busy getting everything unpacked, we didn’t have much of a chance to meet the neighbors–but the ones who came by seemed nice and normal. The one neighbor we didn’t meet was the one who lived across the street–and when we asked about them…no one seemed to have anything to say, really. But there I was, on my my new porch enjoying the evening, when I see the guy leaving the front door…and following him, wearing just a collar and a lead, is some freaky fucker pretending to be a dog!

They walk down the drive like whatever shit they’re pulling is completely normal, and I’m not about to stand for something like this. I charge across the street, howling at them both to cut the faggot shit out, and he just looks at me with surprise for a moment, and then…irritation. Without saying anything, the creepy fucker pulls out this…medallion from under his shirt, and as soon as it catches the light…it’s like everything in my mind flies away, and all I can see is that shining light. I fight it though–and when the medallion goes away, and my…head tries to tell me this is normal, and I should accept my nice neighbor and his…pet, I decide to take matters into my own hand, and I slug the faggot across the chin, like I always did with the fags back in school.

Now the dog-man didn’t take too kindly to that, and leapt on me, both of us rolling around on the ground. Then the medallion was back out again…and this time I knew what was happening, as I stripped off my clothes and got down on my hands and knees on the sidewalk…and the fucking dog-man mounted me! Right there in the middle of the street, in view of all of my new neighbors, and I was just thankful my wife was at the store so she couldn’t see it. The man said something about making me the neighborhood bitch…but then everything faded away again, and when my head was clear, I was alone in the street…but I had to crawl back to my house naked before I could manage to stand upright again.

I think the fucker is fucking with us, with our heads. With everyone on the damn street! Nothing…has been right since that evening. My cock…seems smaller, and it refuses to get hard, much to the frustration of my wife, who usually likes a good fuck every evening. I think…word has been spreading too, about what happened, but it wasn’t until today I realized something was really wrong. I went over next door to borrow a tool I hadn’t been able to find in my boxes. Jerry, the guy there had been nice so far, seemed on the level with everything…but when he got close to me, and…I think he smelled me. He sneered at me in the garage, called me a bitch…and when he did, I couldn’t stop myself.

I took off all my clothes like before, got down on my hands and knees, and he fucked me right there, hard and rough like the dog-man had…and fuck, if it didn’t feel so fucking good! I was moaning and panting, begging for more, and when he shot in me, it was like everything was normal again. I got dressed, we said nothing more of it, and I borrowed the tool like I’d hoped…but he still had that sneer on his face the whole time, like he knew my secret.

Every guy on the block has been the same! They’ve all called me a bitch, and fucked me…and hell if I wasn’t thinking about it still, wishing I could get hard, wanting…wanting all of them to dump their seed in my bitch cunt. I…I have to see him, I have to get him to fix this, I can’t keep feeling like this, I can’t!

He didn’t fix me. He just made everything worse. Now, at home, I have to…do all of my business outside, in the yard. I can’t wear clothes in the house, and I crawl around like a fool. I think he’s been talking to my wife too, because she just treats me like some mutt–feeds me out of a bowl, gives me a naked walk in the evening…and she’s talking to all the guys in the neighborhood, flirting with them right in front of me…and sometimes she even brings one home, and fucks them in our bed…and I’m not jealous of them, but of her–I…I’m the bitch, I should be getting their cum, not her!

My body is changing too–my dick really is smaller, just a nub now, and I can’t tell if I have balls anymore or not. My body hair is all gone–it just fell out over the last week, and I feel…fatter, somehow, especially around my hips. I can’t talk anymore, I just bark and yip like a fucking animal, and she treats it all like the most normal thing in the world. At least…after fucking her, they usually fuck me too. I’m…the neighborhood bitch after all, I get used by everyone…and I like it, fuck, I live for it, and I’m so fucking ashamed of it, I don’t know what to do with myself.

It can’t be true.

It fucking can’t. I’m…I’m a man, I know I am, I was.

I can’t be pregnant, I can’t.

But I can feel the thing inside me…I can feel it. My cock disappeared, and it…it turned into a pussy, and fuck, the first time I got fucked, it was the biggest orgasm of my life, and I hadn’t cum in months…I just wanted more, I wanted every man I could find to fuck me. The neighbor, with the medallion, told my wife (my owner now, I suppose–she doesn’t even remember being married, and the ring is gone from her hand) that I was probably in heat, and to be careful. But every man in the neighborhood fucked me anyway, I couldn’t say no, and now…now I’m some pregnant bitch, and everyone knows it…and I think it’s his.

The guy with the medallion, the way he looks at me, the way he…fucked me, that one time…it has to be his, and I feel so fucking dirty…but I want to feel him in me again, I want them all in me, I don’t care anymore. I’m a stupid bitch, and that’s all I will ever be now.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 6)

“Come on, get up,” Geoff said.

Angus stood up, but it was harder than it should have been. He could…see his gut sticking out from his waist, and it seemed so much larger than it had been, but it also felt…right, somehow. They went into the bedroom, and stood in front of the mirror on the wall. Angus was shocked. It wasn’t at all the reflection he was expecting, his body mostly covered with tan fur, his fat gut hanging surprisingly low, his face misshapen, more muzzle than mouth now, teeth…sharper than he remembered them being.

“You look like a mean dog, don’t you?” Geoff said, “I wouldn’t want to tangle with you on a dark night in an alley.”

“I…I guess so, sir.”

“Go on, growl, bare those teeth for me.”

Angus did, and he even scared himself a bit–not only because he did look a bit fierce…but also because it felt kind of good. It made his dick jump. Not as much as when he obeyed Master, of course, but…but Master was right, he did look like a mean dog.

“Yeah, that’s it–I don’t have to worry about you though. Around me, you’re just a good little puppy dog, aren’t you? You’d never bite the paw that feeds you,” He pulled out a doughnut he’d brought along, and slid it into Angus’s mouth, watching him devour it. “Yeah–that’s a good boy. Still, you could be a bit more imposing, I think. Let me see that collar.”

Angus was a bit worried that he might take it off him, but all Geoff did was loosen it a couple notches, making it feel loose around his neck–though it didn’t stay loose for long. In the mirror, he watched his frame start to swell, all of him growing evenly, until he was a few inches taller than before, and almost too wide to see himself in the mirror. He looked down at Master, and was surprised by how small he seemed to him now–he must have towered over him by a foot and a half or so…and while he knew he was probably stronger than him, and could take him in a fight, he stamped out that idea as quick as he could. He’d never hurt his Master, never in a million years–no, but if his Master didn’t like anyone…well, Angus knew what he could do to them.

“Yeah, that’s fucking hot, look at you,” Geoff said, “A big stupid, feral mutt, that’s what you are.”

“I…I thought I was a dingo…”

“Shut up. Get on your knees boy–I think you’ve finally earned this bone.”

Angus dropped to his knees as fast as he could, while Geoff pulled his cock free, and Angus started slobbering all over it. He had to be careful of his fangs now–they were much sharper than they’d been before, and Master had to slap him upside the head when he scraped his cock on them by accident, but he got the hang of it before long, and it tasted even better than he remembered. That, or he could just taste it better. His eyes seemed a bit dimmer somehow, but every other sense was ratcheted up–smell in particular. He found himself snorting in his Master’s scent, wanting to know it, and never, ever forget it.

Geoff got tired of his boy’s muzzle after a couple minutes, and ordered him to bend over the bed instead. The badger watched the dingo’s tail wag high in anticipation, knowing what was coming next. Geoff fucked him, and it hurt at first, but soon he was panting hard and pushing back, his own cock leaking onto the bed sheets beneath him. He never wanted this to end, he never wanted his Master to stop fucking him, even though he was equally desperate to feel the badger seed his load deep inside him. The badger’s thrusts quickened, and then he came deep, Angus letting off a howl of excitement, his own cock exploding, knowing he’d been a very good boy even without Master having to say it. He cleaned off Master’s cock afterwards on the bed, and Geoff pet him, running his claws through his soft tan fur, watching the brown highlights come in on his back, his tail filling out. He wasn’t quite finished, but would be by morning.

As they laid there, he filled his newest pet in on his new life. He didn’t work in an office anymore, and certainly wasn’t married to any human. No–he was Geoff’s partner on the police force, the meanest police dog on the force, at least until they got home. Here, he was Geoff’s chubby fuckhound, desperate to do anything for the badger’s cock. Parts of him tried to fight, but they were fading quickly. By bedtime, Angus was mostly gone–he was just Officer Dingo, now. He curled up beside his Master’s bed, where he always slept, and was snoring before too long, Geoff looking down, admiring the handsome boy he’d claimed for himself. This one, he really did want to keep for himself–it was a pity he came with so many strings attached. He’d dealt with harder cases before, though–it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He dug out Angus’s old wallet from his pants, memorizing the address before burning it, and the clothes, in the fireplace. They’d pay his one time husband a visit tomorrow, with another one of his special collars. Who knows? Maybe he’d get a couple of pliant pets for himself by the end of tomorrow night. Of course, if the husband didn’t come along easily, there were always other solutions as well.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 5)

Geoff led the way up to his apartment the next block over. It was small, but clean and efficient. As soon as they were inside, Angus was back on his knees, whining and pleading for Master to let him have another taste of his cock, but Geoff ordered him to strip. He wanted to see how his new boy was progressing in other ways. Angus did, still panting slightly, taking off his coat and tie, his shirt, slacks and underwear, standing completely naked in front of the badger, red cock jutting from its sheath, knot already slightly swollen. Geoff circled him, noting that he was quite a bit hairier than he’d been before, especially around his cock and ass. Short tan hair, giving Geoff a bit of an idea of what direction to push this new boy. He would be absolutely loyal to his master, of course–before too long, his need to serve wouldn’t even require him to wear the collar at all, but that wouldn’t happen until well after the physical transformation had completely finished. His face, too, was already looking less human. His ears had slid higher on his head,more pointed than round, and taken on the same tan coloring as the rest of his new fur. His mouth was also shifting, pushing out slightly into the hint of a muzzle, tongue longer and flatter, nose starting to blacken slightly. No tail yet, though–but soon. Probably after another hour or two.

“What do you want, boy?”

“I want to be your good boy sir,” Angus said, his ass wiggling a bit, almost begging for a tail to shake.

“Well, we should train you a little bit first, don’t you think? Teach you a few tricks? If you do well, I might feed you the bone you’re looking for,” Geoff said, groping the front of his uniform slacks. “But if we’re going to train you, you’re going to need some treats, don’t you think?” Geoff went into the kitchen, and returned with several flat boxes he had bought at the store earlier, in preparation. He opened the top one, revealing a dozen doughnuts inside of various varieties. “Do you like doughnuts, boy?”

Angus wasn’t quite sure how to answer, because all he really wanted at the moment was cock. “I…I guess so, sir.”

“Well, all of my good boys love doughnuts–after all, I like my partners to have some weight on them,” Geoff said, “Now kneel.”

Angus got on his knees, and Geoff broke off a bit of a doughnut, sliding it into his mouth. It was sweet and sugary, but it wasn’t until Geoff called him a good boy for obeying, and for eating his treat, that it took on a different flavor entirely. It tasted like love and victory. It tasted like his Master’s paw, and his cock, and his adoration and pride. Suddenly, he couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more than another treat–aside from his Master’s cum, of course. He licked his chops with his long tongue, and eyed the rest of the boxes as Geoff set them on the table near him. It was…a lot to eat, but he could do it for Master, he knew he could. He was a good boy, after all.

Geoff started putting him through a few paces, keeling and sitting, making him shake and roll over, ordering him to speak–or rather, bark like a proper dog, which sounded more like a proper pup each time he did it. The pieces of doughnut he fed him got larger and larger, Geoff eventually just shoving entire doughnuts into Angus’s mouth, watching him tear into them with joy, licking frosting from his now short, tan muzzle, looking up at him with delight after each one, knowing he was being good, and knowing that his Master was pleased with his obedience.

After a couple of boxes, Geoff got bored with the tricks, parked Angus on the couch and focused on feeding him. He felt so damn full, but every time he tried to stop, his Master would chasitze him lightly, and the shame would drive him to eat even more. As he did, Geoff would rub his gut, watching it expand with fat, his hips widening as well, the first little bit of a tail poking out above his ass before growing rapidly, his face now more dog than human in many ways–and it was time to start working on his mind.

“Now, tell me what you are, boy.”

“I’m a good boy!” Angus shouted, his voice muffled with a half devoured doughnut.

“Well you are that, but are you a human?”

“Y-Yes?” Angus said, hesitantly. He wasn’t quite sure why he hesitated, but that was the right answer, he thought, until he saw Geoff shake his head, and he realized he was wrong. “I…I thought I was though.”

“No, you aren’t a human. You do get confused though, don’t you? You aren’t a particularly smart boy, after all. You’re a dog.”

“I…I’m a dog…” Angus repeated, and Geoff fed him a doughnut, “Yeah, I’m a dog! Not…Not a human…”

Good boy. Do you know what kind of dog you are?” Geoff said, “You’re not a nice kind of dog–not a lab or a retriever. No–you’re a rough dog. A fighting dog. A mean dog, to everyone else but your Master, of course. No, you’re a dingo. Still a bit feral, rough around the edges–more than willing to snap at someone who looks at you the wrong way.”

Angus hesitated. That didn’t really…sound like him, did it? He liked being nice, and Chance told him he was a nice guy, and smart, and gentle…but Chance seemed so far away now, to him. So easy to…forget, almost. Master was probably right though, Master was right about most everything, and he knew that it he disagreed…that he’d be a bad boy, and he mostly didn’t want to be a bad boy.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 4)

It wasn’t the sort of bar Angus felt particularly comfortable in. Humans and anthros got along well, generally, but there were always spaces, and crowds, who preferred to be among their own. While it wasn’t legal to openly discriminate against anyone, if you wanted to self-select, no one was going to stop you. He stepped inside, and everyone stared at him when he did, making him known he was, if not unwelcome, at the very least a curiosity. Thankfully, Geoff was already there, sitting at a booth in the back, and he headed for him, sliding in across from him.

“There’s the boy,” Geoff said, smiling wide across his whole muzzle. “I was worried you might get cold feet.”

Angus shook his head, “I…look, I need to know…what was…since that night, something’s been happening to me.”

“Oh?” the badger said, still smiling, “What sort of things?”

Angus just looked at him, and realized that, most likely, the badger already knew exactly what was going on with him. He turned red in the face, realized this was a gigantic mistake, and started to get up to leave. He’d figure out some other way to deal with this, tell Chance what was going on, work through it–but he knew this badger wasn’t going to do anything to help him fix it.

“Leaving already? Sit your ass back down like a good boy,” Geoff said, and as hard as Angus fought it, he instinctually dropped back into the booth.

“You–that collar, it did something to me. I want you to fix it.”

“I don’t believe you, boy,” Geoff said, “I think you want something else more, don’t you? You want to put it back on. Feel that…pleasure some more. I haven’t had a dog with me on the force in quite a while, you know–my last partner ended up…well, he was worth more to me as someone else’s good boy, eventually. He was never as eager as you are, though. I had to hunt him down, but you came crawling back in less than a week,” he leaned closer, and Angus could smell his breath, flashing him back to that night on the side of the road for a moment, his own breath quickening, “in fact, I think this is a record. You want to be a good boy that badly, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Angus blurted out before he could stop himself, and all the shame he felt couldn’t mitigate the truth of the statement.

“Well, if you do really want that, here you go,” Geoff said, fished the collar out of his pocket, pulled the collar out, and laid it on the table in front of Angus.

“Can…If I put it on, can you change me back?”

“My Good Boy collars can do lots of things,” Geoff said, “But you still want to put it on, don’t you? Even if I told you in was permanent? It doesn’t make a difference to you boy–so stop pretending like it matters, and put it on.”

“I…I can’t, I’m married, and I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Geoff just stared at him, and then down at the collar. It was clear that going back wasn’t on the table, at the moment, but maybe, if…if he was good enough, Master would change him back…later, right? He could probably do that, after all. He picked up the collar and held it in his hands. He hadn’t gotten to see it at all, that night, and he was surprised by how normal it looked–the ragged brown leather, well worn, and a tarnished silver buckle. It did smell strongly of dog, and the notches for the buckle, for some reason, ran the entire length of the collar, from right beside the buckle, all the way to the end of the foot and a half long leather strap. He ran it around his neck, but had a hard time securing the buckle, because of how hard his hands were shaking, he made it, and as soon as he did, that sense of complete pleasure washed over him again, and his tongue rolled out of his mouth, hanging down to his chin.

“That’s a very good boy, putting your collar on all by yourself,” Geoff said, “You feel better, having that on you?”

Angus nodded, rubbing himself through his pants, so happy to hear Master call him a good boy again. It had been so long–days!–without hearing that from him, and he could feel his heart thrumm with excitement, his dog cock about ready to burst. “Yes sir, thank you sir, for putting my collar back on! I missed it…” Angus said, and then leaned closer, “Can…can I suck your cock again, Sir? I…I mean, if you want…”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to have a beer with me first?” Geoff said, “I thought you said that you just wanted to talk to me about something, when you messaged me?”

Angus whined impatiently. He had said that, hadn’t he? Why had he said that! He hadn’t meant that, that was such a dumb thing to say.

Geoff laughed, “I only live a block from here, boy, so why don’t we go there?”

Angus nodded, and followed the badger out of the bar, the rest of the patrons looking at him knowingly. It wasn’t the first time Geoff had brought someone there in one of his collars, and they all knew that in a day or two, Geoff would bring them back around–only this time much later a night, and usually only wearing their new, favorite collar in the whole world, more than eager to let the rest of the patrons of the bar have their turn. But for now–he was Geoff’s, and as Angus followed him out of the bar, he didn’t notice everyone else grinning at him. The only thing he could think about was his Master.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 3)

His cock. The cock attached to his body. That wasn’t…the cock he should have, was it? He’d had sex with a couple of hounds before, so he knew exactly what he was looking at–where his normal, human cock should have been, he was looking at a bright red dog cock, sliding free of a sheath running up from his balls.

He heard the toilet flush, and quickly scrambled for a clean pair of underwear to throw on before Chance came into the bedroom and fell on the bed, and Angus took his turn in the bathroom. Safely alone, he pulled down the briefs again, and just…stared at it, and then felt it, prodding it as it grew erect, and all he could hear in his head was the badger calling him a good boy, and the tightness of the collar around his neck. It had to be connected, didn’t it? It wasn’t exactly unheard of for someone to change species, of course–but usually it required close contact with that species, and didn’t happen this…suddenly. He did still have to piss, though aiming was a bit strange. The cock was slicker than usual, and didn’t feel at all right in his hand. He managed to not make too much of a mess, and then went to bed, where the lights were already out, and Chance was snoring. He didn’t manage to fall asleep for a while, running the encounter through his mind, and he recalled the card the badger had given him, that he’d put in his pocket. He got out of bed, found it, and took it into the hall to read it.

Officer Geoff Braddock. That was his name. It had a phone number too. Hopefully it would go away in a day or two–he’d heard that these sorts of things usually did. But if not…he’d have to see him again, and figure out what he’d have to do to fix this.

The changes didn’t disappear like Angus had hoped. The next morning, he still had his dog-like cock, and managed to keep it hidden from Chance through the day, keeping his underwear on, and running errands before they both had to go back to work the next day. Chance could tell he was distant, and knew something had happened between his husband and the cop the night before, but it was obvious Angus didn’t want to talk about it…and he was honestly relieved. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and that made him feel a bit guilty, since it was all, really, his fault for getting drunk when he should have stayed sober. But was that really all? Angus flinched in the afternoon, when Chance just laid a hand on his shoulder, and while he apologized for the reaction and said he’d just surprised him…there did seem to be something else going on. He didn’t want to ask though–he’d just get defensive. He’d have to trust that Angus would tell him when he was ready.

Work was easier, for Angus, than just staying at home. Having something to do made it easier to forget about what was wrong with him…though he was slowly realizing it wasn’t just his cock that seemed to have changed, even if that was the most prominent shift. There were other, slighter differences, things that he couldn’t quite be convinced were really different at all. His ears were slightly more pointed. The hair on his body was slightly thicker, especially around his crotch, and instead of the deep brown it was usually, it had lightened, almost into a tan color. He knew he should tell Chance about it–but hesitated all the same. Was it out of shame? Maybe a little, but part of him also…enjoyed it, more and more, as he was growing used to it. He would take out the card he’d gotten from Geoff, think about calling…but he didn’t. He almost didn’t want to know more. He just wanted everything to go back to normal–but it became increasingly clear, as the week wore on, that normal wasn’t going to happen if he did nothing. He either had to tell Chance and see if he could get some treatment–which meant being honest about everything–or it meant going to the cop, and seeing if he would help him get back to normal…though he doubted, somehow, the officer would want to. He had, every much, liked how good a boy Angus had been, hadn’t he? He had been a very good boy…and part of him wanted to be a good boy again.

When it became clear that things were not getting better on his own, and with Chance becoming more obviously concerned about what was troubling him, Angus broke down and called Geoff on Wednesday, after he left work. The badger didn’t pick up, and he left a voice message, telling him that he needed to see him, and not giving him any details. An hour later, he got a text back from the number.

Need more? I had a feeling you’d give me a call.

Should he tell him what was happening? No, it would be better if the cop just thought he wanted sex. If he told him about the changes, he’d probably hold the reason behind it for ransom. So he led him on, telling him he wanted more, telling him he wanted to be a good boy too, for him. They agreed to meet the next day, after work. Angus told Chance he was going to get drinks with some coworkers, and might be out late. He…hated lying to him, but really he was sparing him, right? He could barely focus the next day at work, all he could think about was the badger, and that collar. It had to have been the collar. Maybe it had been worn by some other dog, and that was why it had affected him like this. In any case…he just had to know, but secretly, he was wondering if he also wanted something else the badger was offering–the chance to…feel that again. To feel like a good boy. To…be a good boy. He caught himself at his desk, panting and rubbing his cock through the front of his pants, remembering how the badger had tasted. Remembering how…Master had tasted. He pulled his hand away, disgusted at himself, trying to strengthen his resolve. He finished the day, and then he headed for the bar where Geoff had arranged for them to meet.

VIP Cam Show (Sketch)

WARNING: This one is…weird. Male Pregnancy, dog TF.

“I don’t know, Anthony,” Hugo said, “I still…I mean, the money is good, but doesn’t it make you feel kinda shitty?”

“Just pretend the camera isn’t there. You’re doing great–and we pull in way more cash together than I ever did alone,” Anthony said and came up behind him, pulling him into a hug, “Besides, this new site is a fucking goldmine from what I’ve heard. Invitation only, and they requested us both. We get 5000 up front just for doing a show–not counting what we get in tips.”

Anthony and Hugo had been dating for around six months, after they’d met at the gym one morning–glancing at each other across the gym floor, then in the shower, and finally in the sauna. Things had been going well, but a month into the relationship, Anthony fessed up that he made most of his money working as a cam model, filming videos of himself and putting them online, taking requests from followers, and…other things. It didn’t bother Hugo at first–at least until Anthony started pressuring him to participate with him. Hugo had been game to give it a try, and the chunk of cash he made off it was…more than he usually made at his usual job, but it was hard to shake the feeling of humiliation that washed over him each time he did it. Still…money was money, at the end of the day.

Anthony got the cam set up and logged into the site, called VIP Cam Show. After a couple of moments, the screen changed, displayed a message saying, “bidding begins in one minute. Open requests.”

“What does that mean?”

“The guys watching can see us, and are bidding right now on what they want us to do.”

“Do…we have to do it?”

“Of course not–they can’t make us, after all.”

The timer ran down and struck zero, the message changed and read, “Bid accepted! Processing scenario, please wait….”

Both Anthony and Hugo felt a jolt run through them, and without being able to help themselves, they both fell to their hands and knees. “What–what the fuck, Hu–Huwwooof!” Anthony tried to say, but his words weren’t coming out as words, but as barks and woofs. Hugo tried to respond, but he was suffering the same problem. As they looked at each other, clothes and gear began to appear on their bodies–leather hoods, fist mitts, rubber chaps and heavy chain collars. They heard a ding, and unable to control themselves, they began to kiss each other, fighting against the compulsion, but unable to resist.

Both of them were still changing though–they could feel a stirring in their groins, but both of them were feeling something…very different. Hugo could feel his cock and balls aching, like some invisible force was cramming them against his body and shoving them inside him. Anthony, on the other hand, felt a heat stirring in his cock and balls–that, and a desperate, aching need to fuck. He went around behind Hugo and sniffed at his ass–and smelled something…amazing. He mounted him, and after a couple of thrusts found a hole…but it didn’t quite feel like Hugo’s ass usually felt. Still, it didn’t matter–he had to fuck. He kept hammering into Hugo’s hole until he came deep inside him–only for his cock to swell, and he found himself locked to him, unable to pull his cock free, leaving him whining and whimpering for several minutes, before he could finally pry himself free.

It felt like a dream. The gear disappeared, both of them felt their ability to stand and speak returning–and without the hoods obstructing their vision–they could finally see what had happened to their groins. Where Anthony’s cock had been, he now had a bright red dog’s cock sliding back into a sheath running up his belly–and Hugo didn’t have a cock anymore. He had a full fledged pussy…and Anthony could still smell it…and he wanted to fuck it all over again.

“Why…why the fuck haven’t we changed back?” Hugo stammered, running his hands over his groin–and also noticing that he seemed to have several extra sets of nipples–and that all of them were starting to swell. He went to the computer and tried to click around–and saw that the session countdown timer had to be wrong. It was reading 90 days–three months long, and the payout had risen to several million dollars–dependent on successful delivery.

“D-Delivery?” He said, and looked down at his belly, and then back at Anthony, who was stroking his dog cock, and coming closer, unable to resist the scent of Hugo’s new pussy, and he fucked him again. At least he got to end up on top, he supposed–and since Hugo didn’t work, he was free to stay at home and let their…puppies grow. He suppressed a shiver, wondering what, exactly, would pop out of Hugo’s body in a few months…but if they wanted that money, they were going to have to find out.

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.