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Fear and Loathing in Dog Cages

This story is based off of and inspired by the image "Cynophobia", by Danaume, as well as by the short description, by Dabler595, that accompanies it, which one may find at this link:

An account (free, and totally worth getting) at HentaiFoundry may be needed to view it.

If you're just here for the doggone dog on dog-girl sex scene, please proceed directly to parts 8 or 9.

1 - The Attack

A shrill, high pitched scream of pure panic and terror rang through the house. Mr. Matheson, who had been on his favorite recliner, having a nice, lazy, Sunday afternoon nap, jolted out of his seat at the sound. He stumbled up and looked around for a moment, confused, his body ready for action but his brain still catching up, when the second scream, one that was even more panicked and insistent than the first, tore trough the air.

It was coming from the back yard.

Mr. Matheson leapt forward at the sound of the second scream, sprinting towards the rear of the house and the back yard. His heart surged, racing as adrenaline flooded into him, as he burst out of the home. From the amount of noise being made by whoever was screaming, he expected to find a scene of mayhem and chaos, perhaps even a pool of blood and a body or two.

What he found instead was his teenage daughter, cowering on top of the picnic table, as the neighbor's dog frolicked and ran around the yard, happily exploring and snuffling everything he came across.

"Samantha, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Mr. Matheson exclaimed, his voice a little rough from fear and the short, rapid sprint.

"What on earth are you yelling about?" he asked.

"Daddy!" Samantha cried. "Make him go away! Make him get out of the yard!"

The girl was covering her face, cringing really, with one hand, while the other pointed towards the object of her apparent fear: the neighbor's dog.

Said dog was currently rolling and squirming happily on the lawn. His short tail was wagging, and his whole body was wriggling in delight, at the feel of the cool, green grass against his pelt of short fur. When he noticed that Mr. Matheson's attention was on him, he issued forth a little joyous bark towards the man, his mouth open in a doggy smile, and wagged his tail and squirmed his body all the harder.


"Oh, of course." Mr. Matheson said, as his body deflated from its adrenaline fueled fight or flight instincts.

The neighbor's dog had jumped the picket fence, yet again. His daughter, who had probably been sunning herself on the grass, if her bikini top and brief, cutoff shorts were any indication, was scared of dogs. Naturally, instead of doing the reasonable thing and simply retreating into the house and asking someone else to deal with the canine intruder, she had utterly panicked and started screaming bloody murder.

Granted, the dog was quite large, probably even heavier than Samantha herself, but that was no reason to startle ten years of her father's life from him, and make half of the neighborhood think that someone was apparently being brutally murdered at the Matheson house.

"Samantha, come down from there." Mr. Matheson said, frowning at his daughter, his irritation as being so rudely shocked awake from his nap obvious. "And quit your hysterics. I know that you don't like dogs, but there are limits, young lady, and you are testing them."

Actually, saying that his daughter didn't like dogs was something of an understatement, sort of like saying that the ocean was a bit wet. Samantha was absolutely terrified of the animals, even of the smallest, most harmless of terriers, and couldn't stand to be near them at all.

"Daddy, please!" Samantha said, her voice tight with worry and fear. "He'll get me! Get him out of the yard first!"

"Oh, for goodness sake." Mr. Matheson said, rolling his eyes.

"Bruno, here boy!" he called, a moment later, to the dog.

Bruno perked up at once, and leapt up, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end was moving in time with it, and raced towards Mr. Matheson. The dog ran several excited circles around the man, his clawed paws digging into the turf and kicking up bits of grass, before he finally came to a halt before him.

As Mr. Matheson reached down to pet the dog, Bruno bounded up on his hind legs, planted his front paws on the man's thighs, and stretched up to give the man's face a doggy kiss, slobbering all over him.

Samantha cried out again at this, clearly expecting the dog to do something like go for her father's throat.

"Daddy, watch out!"

"Blech!" Mr. Matheson spat, half amused and half disgusted, as he wiped the dog spit from his face with one hand and ruffled the happy dog's ears with the other.

"Bruno, you are a menace!" he said, his tone light and clearly not serious.

Mr. Matheson then spent the next minute or so rubbing and petting the ecstatic dog all over, ignoring his daughter's continuing stream of fearful warnings and cries of alarm.

"Alright, boy, lets go." he finally said, hooking a couple of fingers under the dog's collar. "Lets get you back home."

Mr. Matheson led the dog towards the neighbor's fence, which really wasn't tall enough at all. The young dog had the power and energy, with a lot left over to spare, needed to make the short jump over it whenever he felt like it. Samantha, still crouched on the picnic table, was almost directly between Mr. Matheson, Bruno, and the fence, and he and the dog passed within just a few feet of the girl on the way.

Samantha looked increasingly alarmed as the dog approached, and started begging and pleading with her father.

"Daddy, no! Keep him away, please!"

Mr. Matheson paused, sighed, and gave his daughter a level look as he held firmly on to the wriggling dog's collar.

"Samantha, Bruno isn't going to hurt you. I know that you're scared of dogs, but this is ridiculous." he said.

"Daddy, please, get him AWAY!" she cried in response, backing as far away as she could from them while still staying on top of the picnic table.

"Samantha, why don't you try coming down from there and petting Bruno?" her father asked. "I guarantee that he won't hurt you, promise."

The girl's only response was to start hiccuping in fear, her chest hitching rather alarmingly. It looked like she was nearly in tears.

Mr. Matheson shook his head, clearly disappointed with his daughter. He then led Bruno to the fence, hoisted the heavy hound over it, and received one last doggy lick to the face for his trouble.

"There, you're safe now." Mr. Matheson said to his daughter, his words dry. "Really, Samantha, this is getting to be a bit much. We need to do something about this irrational fear of yours."

"Daddy, he's huge!" Samantha replied, as she cautiously descended from the picnic table. "He could eat me in, like, two whole bites."

"Daughter mine, if I've said it once, I've said it a million times: please don't exaggerate. It just makes you sound silly."

"Oh, ha ha, dad, very fun.." Samantha started to reply, shaking her head. She interrupted herself though, giving out a frightened squeak, her eyes widening dramatically. Then she darted towards the house's back door, in full, rapid retreat.

Mr. Matheson turned around, unperturbed, to see what had startled his daughter so.

Bruno's head, peeking over the fence, was what. The dog let out a happy bark, pleased with himself, as Mr. Matheson snorted in amusement.

"Yep, we need to do something about that girl." he said quietly to himself, as he walked back towards the house. "I think I know what might help, but I'd better have a talk with her mother about it, first."

2 - Facing Your Fears

Mr. Matheson brought up his idea at dinner that evening. His wife, who had cooked the excellent meal his family was currently engaged in eating, looked up curiously as he cleared his throat. Christopher, his son, looked at his father as well, his expression mildly interested. Samantha, who had been picking listlessly at her food, and who still seemed to be a bit shaky and traumatized by her encounter earlier in the day, also looked up.

"Samantha, your mother and I had a talk this afternoon, about your reaction to Bruno." he said.

The girl shuddered at the dog's name, clearly uncomfortable talking, or even thinking, about him.

"From what we understand, most fear stems from ignorance, from a lack of understanding." Mr. Matheson continued. "People are scared of the dark, for example, because they can't see what might be in it. Shining a light into that darkness, though, illuminating and revealing the unknown, makes that fear go away."

"If one comes to know and understand something, even something that might seem terrible, then one is much less likely to be so afraid of that thing afterwards." he finished, looking pointedly at his daughter, and then to the window overlooking the neighbor's yard.

"Um, okay, I guess.. I guess that makes sense." Samantha slowly replied, looking warily back and forth between her parents.

"So, if you spent some time trying to understand dogs, how and why they act the way they do, then you might not be so afraid of them, right?" Mr. Matheson asked.

"I know all I need to know about dogs already!" Samantha replied, heatedly. "They're big, they're mean, and they're scary."

"And, they've got huge teeth!" she finished, pulling on the corner of her mouth with a finger, revealing her own teeth, in demonstration.

Mrs. Matheson sighed, then spoke.

"Dear, take your finger out of your mouth. That's disgusting."

"That is exactly the kind of response that has your mother and I so worried." Mr. Matheson said, looking serious. "You're blowing your fears about dogs all out of proportion. Dangerously so, even."

"Daddy, please." Samantha said, with a small, derisive snort. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration."

"Dear, you screamed so loud this afternoon that your father thought you were being murdered." Mrs. Matheson said, reasonably. "He could have tripped and broken his neck while he was sprinting out to go "save" you. And from what? From a friendly dog, one that was still a puppy less than a year ago, that wouldn't hurt a fly."

"He got there just in time!" Samantha said, her face growing red. "B-Bruno could have killed me!"

Christopher rolled his eyes and snickered at this, chuckling softly, his opinion on Bruno's dangerousness quite evident.

Samantha rounded on her younger brother, glaring at him furiously.

"Oh, what do you know, you little..!" she started to say, before being cut off by her father.

"That's enough." he said, firmly. "Samantha, you can't go on like this, reacting completely irrationally and panicking every time you come across a dog. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we think that if you took some time to really understand dogs, that you might be able to overcome your fears about them."

A look of sheer terror crept slowly across Samantha's face, as she looked at her father in growing horror.

"You're.. you're going to get me a dog, aren't you?" she asked, her voice small, almost whimpering in fear.

"What? No, no, nothing like that." Mr. Matheson replied, shaking his head. "How would that help?"

"No, Samantha, YOU are going to be the dog."

Both Samantha and Christopher blinked at this, apparently completely nonplussed by their father's casual statement.

"Um.. what?" Samantha ventured, after a moment or two. "What do you mean?"

"I think that if you spent some time as a dog, living as they do, you might understand them better." Mr. Matheson said, nodding at his daughter. "You might even lose your fear of them entirely."

"I.. what?" she replied, her evident confusion only mounting.

"I talked this over with your mother, and she agreed with me: we think that this might be the best thing for you." Mr. Matheson explained. "I had her pick up a few things for you, to help you adjust to being a dog, while she was out shopping earlier today."

"You're.. you're going to make me into a dog?" Samantha asked, disbelievingly.

"The family dog, yes." Mr. Matheson agreed, nodding again. "Hopefully, after being a dog for a while, you'll have more empathy, and feel much less fear, towards other dogs."

"Oh, that makes sense." Christopher said, nodding his own head in agreement.

"It.. It does?!" Samantha asked, looking incredulously at her brother.

"Of course it does, dear." Mrs. Matheson said.

"But, I don't want to be a dog!" the girl cried, wringing her hands.

"Well, of course you don't." her mother replied, shaking her head. "That's what we're trying to fix, isn't it? Your irrational fear of dogs and anything to do with them."

"But.. but.."

"No 'buts', Samantha. It's settled." her father said, firmly. "This is your last meal as a girl, as a human. After dinner, your mother is going to take you to the laundry room and put your new doggy accessories on."

"Then, after that, you're going to stay a dog until you've lost your fear of them." he finished.

Samantha looked at her father, stunned, her mouth hanging open.

"How long do you think that will take, dad?" Christopher asked, absently, as he resumed eating dinner.

"Not too long, I think. A few days, or a week, or two, probably." Mr. Matheson said, waving his hand in a vague, dismissive manner. "Or a year. However long it takes."

"But.. But I.. don't want.. to be a.. be a.." Samantha said, weakly, her shock at her sudden demotion to family pet quite evident on her face.

"It's decided. No 'buts'." Mr. Matheson said again, his tone iron. "Now, eat your vegetables, Samantha."

"This really is for the best, dear." Mrs. Matheson said to her daughter, reaching over to pat her on the arm.

"And besides, you'll make such a beautiful dog!" she continued, smiling fondly at Samantha.

As the rest of her family returned to eating their meal, Samantha sat rigid in her chair, still not quite believing the conversation that had just taken place.

Surely, she thought, surely they couldn't be serious.

3 - The Transformation

They were serious.

Mrs. Matheson led her daughter, who was still stunned enough to not resist her mother's commands and instructions, to the laundry room after the meal was over.

Her mother had a bag, which had the logo of a local pet store emblazoned across it, sitting on the washing machine, waiting for her. The very first thing that Mrs. Matheson pulled out of the bag was probably the most shocking to Samantha. It was a dog collar.

It was HER dog collar.

Samantha started trembling all over at the sight of it. Her mother mistook Samantha's trembling for excitement, and beamed at her daughter, proudly showing her the thing which would render her from a human girl to a mere pet.

"I got you a nice one, dear. It was very expensive, but I think that you're worth it." Mrs. Matheson said, setting the collar aside.

She then pulled out more things from the bag. There were what appeared to be crude, mitten like gloves, as well as a fluffy, dog-like tail attached to some sort of large, black, pear shaped object, and finally, several straps and odd flaps of various sizes, thicknesses, and designs. Everything seemed to be made out of the same heavy, brown leather.

"Paws first, I think." Mrs. Matheson said, sorting through the pile of pet gear.

"Mom.." Samantha started, sounding more than a little lost and out of her depth. "I don't want to be a.. be a dog."

"Well, I wasn't so sure about this idea myself, dear, but you know your father." Mrs. Matheson admitted. "Once he gets set on something, there's no changing his mind."

"And, you have to admit, he made some good points, too. You really do need to learn to relax around dogs, Samantha." She finished. "I mean, having my daughter scream and go into hysterics every time she sees a chihuahua is a bit embarrassing for for me. Surely you can see that, right?"


"No. No more 'buts', like your father said, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, firmly. "Now, let me see your hands."

In but a pair of moments, Samantha's mother had the vaguely paw shaped leather mittens on her daughter's hands. They had straps that, when secured around Samantha's wrists, locked them into place tightly.

"How's that, too tight?"

"I guess they're.. okay?" Samantha answered, uncertainly.

"Good. Now, try to take them off."

Samantha, who was already growing to dislike the feel of the rough leather against her slim, un-calloused fingers, eagerly complied with her mother's instruction. Unfortunately, the gloves allowed her almost no finger movement, and she was unable to so much as budge the straps securing them to her wrists.

"I.. I can't!" Samantha said, alarmed.

"Perfect, then." her mother replied, satisfied. "Lets get the rest of these things on you."

"They sell this kind of stuff at the pet store?" Samantha asked, shaking her head in consternation at the pile of gear that it seemed she would soon be wearing.

"Oh, they had quite a large selection, actually. I got just the basics for you." Mrs. Matheson answered. "The clerks there were very helpful when I told them what I needed. Such pleasant girls."

"They even told me that, if you don't work out, they could sell me a replacement for you, quite cheaply." she continued. "Apparently, they're a bit over stocked at the moment."

Samantha eyed her mother, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. Before Samantha could ask for clarification on just what she meant, though, her mother gave her daughter a new instruction.

"Okay, now, down on your hands and knees, please."


"Well, dogs don't go around walking on two feet, do they?"

"I have to be on my hands and knees the whole time?!" Samantha asked, her tone outraged and offended.

"Yes.. er, no. What I mean is that you'll be walking on your paws and knees. Dogs don't have hands, after all." Mrs. Matheson explained.

Reluctantly, Samantha complied with her mother's command, and knelt down on the floor before her. Samantha's face flushed with embarrassment as she looked up at her mother's form, which loomed tall above her, from her new, lowly position.

"Good. Now, hold still."

Samantha's mother then slipped two wide, heavy straps around her daughter's legs, and used them to secure her ankles to her thighs. This left Samantha balanced on only her knees and her new paws, with her bare feet wiggling uselessly in their new place at the bottom of her rump.

"Hmm." Mrs. Matheson hummed, looking at the remaining items in the pile of gear. "I think that the gag is probably the best thing to do next."

"And before you ask, yes, you have to wear it." she said, looking down at her daughter severely. "Dogs don't talk."

"Mom, please.." Samantha begged, looking up at her mother hopefully.

She was, somewhat ironically, unconsciously making puppy eyes as she did so.

"Shush. Hold still." Mrs. Matheson commanded.

The gag was a deep red ball, which was mounted on yet more leather strapping. Without any ado, Mrs. Matheson simply inserted it into her daughter's mouth, lifted her medium length hair out of the way, and tightened it's straps securely around the back of her head.

"There we go. Now I don't have to listen to any more whining." Mrs. Matheson said, sounding somewhat relieved.

Samantha whimpered at this, her large eyes still begging her mother to undo what she had done.

"Well, except for that kind of whining." Mrs. Matheson said, laughing lightly. "But that's okay, because that's the proper way for a dog to whine when it wants something."

"Okay, just ears, tail, collar, and leash to go."

The ears, which turned out to be the odd leather flaps, mounted on what was essentially a hair band, slipped onto Samantha's head easily enough, but the tail came as something of a shock to the girl. It quickly became apparent that it didn't simply strap on to her.

Samantha first knew something was wrong when her mother started cutting her clothes from her, using a pair of large scissors. Samantha squirmed at this, but her mother simply ignored her daughter's feeble protests, and snipped her bikini top, cutoff jean shorts, and finally even her panties cleanly off.

Soon enough, Samantha was as bare as the day she was born and flushed beet red with embarrassment, gagged, naked, and kneeling at her mother's feet.

"No, dogs don't get to wear clothes, either." Mrs. Matheson said, answering the obvious question on her daughter's face. "Now, turn around so I can put your tail in."

Samantha complied, slowly, looking over her shoulder the entire time, her worry easily readable on her features.

Then her mother stuck the bulbous, rubbery end of the tail into her bottom.

It was, thankfully, already lubricated. Due to it's shape, it slipped into her rear entrance without too much fuss, though it's size still stretched her out far more than she could have prepared herself for. Her shriek of surprise at the intrusion was muffled by her gag into a simple, yipping sound of protest, and she collapsed on to the floor afterward, shaking. The girl's hips squirmed and rolled, in a futile effort to dislodge the tail now set deep into her bottom.

"There we go. Just one last thing to go, Samantha, and then you'll be a dog."

Mrs. Matheson picked up the collar and showed it to her daughter again.

"The girls at the pet store said that this is the perfect collar for a new, untrained dog." she said, stroking the heavy, strong leather proudly. "It even comes with a remote control of some kind."

"Well, lets get it on you. We've spent enough time in here; I'm sure that your father and brother are eager to see just how well you've turned out." she continued. "Lift your head up, dear."

Samantha just shook her head at her mother, her eyes beginning to water, as she looked up at what was about to become the only symbol of her status in the world.

"Now, now, don't be like that." her mother chided. "It really isn't as bad as you seem to think. Just imagine, in a few days or so, you'll probably be cured of your silly fear of dogs completely, and you'll be able to go through the rest of your life with a new, improved outlook and a better appreciation for them."

Samantha looked up at her mother for a few more moments, her eyes still begging, then gave up, her body sagging limply in defeat.

Mrs. Matheson patted her daughter on the head, stroking her hair for a moment. Then, she slipped the collar around Samantha's neck, threaded the end through the buckle, and cinched it secure.

The collar wasn't too tight, but it certainly wasn't going to slip off over the girl's head; it was obvious that it wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.

The last thing Mrs. Matheson did, after attaching a leash to Samantha's new collar, was to collect girl's discarded clothes and casually dump the now unneeded and useless scraps of garment into the trash bin. Then, tugging on the leash firmly, she left the laundry room and Samantha behind, and led the family's new dog out into the world.


4 - It's a Dog's Life

Her family's reaction was not what she expected.

Samantha, gagged, crawling, and nude, expected to hear laughter at her plight. Her brother's snickering amusement as he mocked her, and her father's low, rumbling chuckles of belly laughter that he only produced when something tickled his sometimes odd funny bone.

Instead, they barely acknowledged her at all. Her father's only reaction was to nod approvingly and say, "Ah, good." when he saw his wife lead his bound daughter into the living room, and then go back to reading his novel. Her brother's reaction was even less than that: simply a raised eyebrow as he turned, briefly, from his video game to eye her for a moment. Then he went back to playing his game, apparently unimpressed by the fact that his sister was collared, leashed, and wearing fake doggy ears.

Her mother then unclipped the leash from Samantha's collar, coiled it up, hung it by the door, and asked: "Who wants dessert?"

"I'll take a little, dear."

"I do, mom."

Mrs. Matheson bustled off to the kitchen to prepare dessert, leaving Samantha on her own.

The girl turned dog looked around, a little confused, wondering what she was supposed to do next. Normally, at this time during the evening, she would have been on the phone, talking or texting to her friends, or on her computer, playing games of her own or browsing the internet. Now, though, she couldn't do any of those things, and all the people around her were ignoring her completely, busy with their own pursuits, as if she was completely unimportant. As if what she wanted didn't matter at all to them.

As if she were just a pet, one which no one felt like playing with at the moment.

Sniffling and shivering a little at the tide of powerful, melancholy emotions that passed through her at the thought, she made her way over to her father, crawling awkwardly on her hands and knees. She knelt at his side, holding her arms shyly over her nude flesh, her eyes pleading with him.

His book must have been quite engaging, because he apparently failed completely to notice her.

Finally, she lifted up one leather encased hand and pawed at his leg, trying to get his attention. She even tried to speak, though her plaintive "Daddy?" came out rather muffled, after passing through both her throat, which was thick with emotion, and her mouth, which was thick with rubber. It ended up sounding less like a word, and more like a whine.

Absently, without looking away from his novel, Mr. Matheson raised one hand and stroked it across the side of Samantha's face, then ran his fingers through her hair, ruffling it up and then smoothing it back down. He petted her like that three times, then went back to reading his book, apparently dismissing her from his thoughts once again.

Disappointed, Samantha left her father, and crawled her way over to her brother's side. Christopher glanced at her briefly as she sat herself down next to him, then looked back to the action on the screen at the front of the room.

"Chris, would you take one of these gloves off, please?" Samantha tried to ask, as she put one of her paw hands into her little brother's lap.

The other she held over her chest, in a futile attempt at modesty.

What got past her gag probably didn't count as speech, and seemed completely unintelligible to the boy, who looked, nonplussed, over at his former sister. She repeated her request, trying to enunciate the words more clearly. It seemed to work, because her brother paused his game, took her paw covered hand in his own, and then turned to their father.

"Dad, Samantha's trying to talk. Should she be doing that?"

"Hmm? Oh." Mr. Matheson said, looking up from his book. "Oh, no, not at all. Dogs don't talk."

He picked up a small rectangle of black plastic from the lamp table by his chair, and tossed it to his son.

"Use that if she tries to misbehave in any way, such as talking."

"What's it do?" Christopher asked, setting his sister's paw aside and examining the device.

"It's the remote for her shock collar." Mr. Matheson said, simply.

"Shock collar?!" Samantha tried to exclaim through her gag, though all that came out was a high pitched burble of fear.

"Oh, neat." Christopher replied.

Then Samantha's brother pointed the remote at her, pressed a button, and shocked her.

It wasn't a big shock; no more than a stern pinch, really, but Samantha had not been expecting it, and she let out a squeal of surprise when it bit into the back of her neck.

"Whoa, that got her attention." Christopher said, smiling.

"Only use it when she does something she shouldn't." Mr. Matheson instructed. "And keep it on low, for now."

"Okay." her brother said, absently, as he returned to his video game. "Hey, do we keep calling her Samantha? Or are we going to give her a new, dog name?"

"Hmm, that's a good point." Mr. Matheson said, frowning and tapping his chin in consideration. "Samantha's a human name, so that won't do at all."

"Lets just go with Sammy from now on." he stated, after a few moments.

Sammy, the family's new pet dog, looked from her father, as he casually renamed her, then to her brother, who had gone back to ignoring her, and then to the remote sitting in his lap. Then she sighed, the exhalation almost turning into a shuddering sob as the emotions of the past half hour threatened to overwhelm her.

She wasn't allowed to wear clothes, she wasn't allowed to use her hands, she wasn't allowed to stand, and she wasn't even allowed to talk. She had the feeling that if she tried to do anything that wasn't dog-like, she would be feeling the pinch of her shock collar quite soon afterwards. She slumped over in despair, laying on the carpet, cradling her paws against her bare chest, miserable.

She couldn't do anything.

Really, the only thing she had to look forward to, at this point, was dessert.


Apparently, dogs don't get dessert.


The rest of the early evening became an endless series of failed attempts at living her life as she normally did, followed by a shock as someone in the house reminded Sammy of her new place.

Overcoming her despair, she finally got up and, ignored and bored, tried to knock down a book from the bookshelf to read. She'd got about two sentences into the first paragraph when she got shocked.

Dogs can't read.

After that, she tried to climb up onto the couch, so she could take a nap, and got shocked.

Dogs aren't allowed on the couch.

Then she tried to climb the stairs to the second story of the house, so she could go to her room and maybe find something to do, and got shocked.

Dogs aren't allowed upstairs.

After that, hungry from not finishing her dinner, she tried to go into the kitchen, to find something to eat, and got shocked.

No dogs in the kitchen.

Then, after failing to accomplish any of the things she had set out to do, she decided to go to the bathroom, to answer the call of nature, and got shocked.

Dogs can't use toilets.

Becoming desperate, the pressure in her bladder only growing, she went to the back door and tried to open it, her paws fumbling clumsily at the knob, and got shocked.

Dogs can't open doors.

Finally, she was reduced to crouching before the back door, whimpering and whining, hoping that someone would open it for her, growing more desperate with every passing minute.

Eventually, her father walked past and noticed her, hearing the frantic whining she was producing. He reached down and patted her head, which was bowed in both the effort of holding in the contents of her bladder, and with her crimson embarrassment at her condition.

"Gotta go, huh, girl?" Mr. Matheson said, sympathetically, as he opened the door easily with his human hands. "Well, go on, then."

Sammy crawled, as quickly as she could, out to the lawn. She looked around for a moment, seeing if anyone was watching, then lifted one of her legs up as much as she could, eager to relieve herself.

And got shocked.

Dogs don't pee on the lawn.

"Over there, Sammy, in the dirt between the roses and the hydrangea bush." called her father, who had followed her outside.

Nearly in tears at the need to release the pressure in her bladder, Sammy crawled over to the spot her father had indicated. She made it, barely, but managed to splatter herself liberally with muddy pee when her control slipped at the last second and she was unable to raise her leg in time.

Still, the relief of having an empty bladder was euphoric, and she sighed in pleasure as the last drops finally dribbled out of her and down the insides of her legs.

Sammy's pleasure faded, and her embarrassment returned, after she turned herself around and found her father, who had apparently watched the whole incident, shaking his head in amused disgust.

"Well, made a mess of yourself, didn't you, girl." he said, chuckling. "Come on over here by the faucet, and I'll hose you off. We can't let you back inside the house like that, that's for sure."

Sammy slunk over to her father, her head hung down, not looking at him, and crouched on the concrete pad by the faucet. She spread her legs out wide, so her father could spray the filth from her, trembling in embarrassed shame.

With a startled whine, her trembling turned into shivering, as her father played the cold water from the hose over her body. He was thorough. He even knelt down and sprayed her underside, the water feeling like ice against her unprotected skin, the pressure deforming her breasts as it washed over them several times. Finally, he ran the stream up and down the inside of each of her thighs, washing away the pee and mud, before spraying one last powerful jet directly onto her sex, cleaning it and forcing a small amount of cold water directly into her, making her gasp and start in surprise at the unexpected sensation.

"There we go, all clean." Mr. Matheson said, satisfied.

As Sammy shivered on the concrete pad, completely soaked, her father coiled the hose back up and put it away. Then the girl crawled behind him, as well as she could, as he walked, easily on his human legs, back to the door into the house. Just as she made to follow him inside, she got shocked.

No wet dogs allowed in the house.

The backdoor closed in her face, shutting her outside in the growing darkness of twilight.


It wasn't until several hours later that her mother let Sammy back into the house.

It was well past full dark, probably nearing eleven o'clock, when the back door finally opened, spilling a glowing halo of light out into the darkness of the back yard.

Sammy had been curled up, mostly dry by this time and shivering intensely, on one of the outdoor lounge chairs. The chair had been the least cold place the girl had been able to find, in the growing gloom and chill of the advancing night. Though the summer weather had been pleasantly warm during the day, even hot, that warmth had quickly faded after the sun had set.

"Sammy! Sammy girl, come on in!" Mrs. Matheson called, whistling softly.

Sammy, who had been nearly asleep, despite the cold, started awake. She fumbled and flailed for a moment, confused and forgetting her bonds, before she remembered that she could no longer walk like a human.

Then she made her way to the lit doorway, earning herself a pat on the head and a "Good girl!" from her mother. The praise, faint as it was, gave her a little spark of pleasure in what had been an otherwise miserable evening. It wasn't much, but she had earned it. Earned it by being a good dog.

Because good dogs come when they're called for.


Sammy didn't sleep in her bed that night. She slept on a pile of old towels and blankets, in the laundry room, that her mother had prepared for her.

Her last sight of the night, before her mother turned the light out and shut the door on her, was of the empty shopping bag from the pet store. It seemed surprisingly small, considering that the little bag had contained everything her mother had needed to reduce her from a human to a dog in the space of just a few minutes. It rested in the full trash bin, on top of the cut up clothes her mother had snipped from her.

The last clothes she had worn as Samantha the human.

Sammy the dog huffed out a long sigh through her nose, then closed her eyes, which had begun tearing up again, and tried to go to sleep.

5 - Morning Munchies

Sammy was awoken early the next morning by her mother, who bustled into the room carrying a hamper full of laundry to be washed. Without a second glance at Sammy, Mrs. Matheson loaded the laundry into the washing machine, set it to work, and bustled her way back out again, shutting the door behind her.

Sammy, with nothing to do but listen to the washing machine rumble and gurgle, stretched as best she could, given her current bound state, and got up off her bed. Her bladder was nagging her again, but considering that she hadn't had anything to drink since dinner the night before, she didn't think that she needed to be overly concerned about it just yet.

Once she was completely awake, she quickly grew antsy, agitated even, as she began to turn her current plight over and over in her head. She tried to distract herself from her own morose thoughts, by exploring the laundry room from her new, lower height, but quickly realized that she had been confined in what was probably the least interesting room in the entire house.

Her unhappy thoughts returned, with company, as she grew more and more bored in her plain, unadorned cage of a room. If this had been a normal morning, she would have been still asleep, most likely, or lazily getting up for breakfast. After that, she would shower, dress, then maybe go to a friend's house, or to the park, or watch television, or play a game, or read a book. She could have done anything, anything at all, that she wanted to do.

If she were still human.

Dogs, as she was learning first hand, seemed to have a more limited set of options available to them. No wonder all her friend's pets, those who had one, were usually flopped out, sleeping all the time. They had literally nothing else to do.

Thankfully, Sammy's mother returned, just after the washing machine buzzed its done signal, and left the door open after she moved the clean, wet laundry to the dryer and once again left the room.

Sammy poked her head out of the room warily, moderately worried that she might get shocked for leaving the room before she was told to, and looked around. Her mother was in the dining room, pouring what sounded like cereal into a stainless steel bowl, and her father was at the front door, already on his way out of the house, off to work.

Mrs. Matheson set the bowl down on the floor, in one corner of the room, then turned towards Sammy and called to her.

"Here girl, here Sammy!" she said, pitching her voice high, like she was talking to a small child.

Or a pet.

"Numnums, Sammy!" Mrs. Matheson said, smiling brightly and tapping her foot next to the bowl.

Sammy frowned at her mother's behavior toward her, but crawled over to her none-the-less. She received a couple of quick pats to the head, then felt the straps at the back of her head, the ones that held her gag in place, being unbuckled.

Having the gag removed was far more of a relief that she would have believed, just a day ago, and she worked her jaw and mouth around, trying to stretch the stiffness out of them, so she could talk.

"Mom, can I please.." Sammy started to say, before being interrupted by her mother shocking her.

"Ow!" she yelped. "Stop that! Mom, take these dumb paws off my.. OW!"

Mrs. Matheson looked down at Sammy, a patient, slightly amused expression on her face as she shocked her daughter once again.

"Mom! Sto.. Ouch!"

"Dogs don't talk, Sammy dear, so please stop trying to." Mrs. Matheson said, after shocking her daughter yet again.

Sammy glared up at her mother, opened her mouth to speak, then paused for a moment, obviously considering her options. Then she got a mulish look on her face, and tried to speak again.

"Mo.. OW! Ow, ow, ow!"

Mrs. Matheson shook her head, as she pressed the shock button several times in a row, interrupting her daughter before she could even finish her first word.

"Now, those were all on the low setting." Mrs. Matheson said, looking down at Sammy. "The next time you try to talk, I'm going to switch your collar to medium. If you persist even after that, we'll move to high."

"And I guarantee you, dear, that you will not like the high setting. Not at all." she finished, as she leaned over Sammy in an intimidating manner.

Sammy closed her mouth and looked away from her mother, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"Good. Now, eat your kibble. I know it's only dry food, but you'll manage on it for a few days, I'm sure."

Sammy, her head still hung in defeat, looked into the bowl her mother had set on the floor for her.

It was full of dog food.

Sammy glanced back up at her mother, who had turned away from her and was pouring water from a pitcher into another steel bowl, just like the one already on the floor.

"Dog food!? I'm not going to eat dog fo.. AhhheeeeEEk!" Sammy tried to exclaim, her outrage overcoming her fear, before being interrupted by the worst shock yet.

It snapped across her slim neck, making her arch both it and her back in surprised pain, as she gave out a wordless sort of shriek. She fell to the floor, on her side, and just lay there, trembling at the after effects of the electric sting she had just experienced.

"Well, that worked even better than the girls at the pet store said it would." Mrs. Matheson said, her tone one of satisfaction. "Sammy, I'm leaving for work in less than fifteen minutes. Before I leave, I'll be putting your gag back in."

"So, you have until then to eat and drink however much you think you need." she continued. "I advise you to finish both bowls completely, though, as you're not going to be getting anything else until later this evening."

With that, she set the bowl of water down beside the bowl of food, and left the dining room.

Sammy ate the food, though it tasted like dog breath smelled, and drank the water. She managed to finish every bit of it just before her mother returned and lived up to her word.

Sammy's gag was reinserted, despite her begging, pleading expression, and her mother led her to the back door. Mrs. Matheson allowed her daughter a brief moment to relieve herself in the back yard, which Sammy managed to do this time without splashing or dribbling on herself, much to her own relief. Then her mother called her back inside, closed the back door, and left for work, leaving Sammy alone in the house.

Alone, except for her younger brother.

Christopher stumbled down the stairway about an hour later, yawning and stretching, and promptly plopped himself down before the television in the living room. Rather than watch regular TV, though, he elected to continue with the same game he had been playing the night before.

Sammy had been exploring the house, which seemed alien to her now, viewed from her lowered perspective, looking for anything she might be able to use to free herself from her predicament. Unfortunately, it seemed that either her mother or father had anticipated her, and moved anything even remotely sharp or pointy up onto high shelves and cabinets some time earlier that morning.

Sammy, utterly bored and frustrated by this point, crawled over to her brother, watching him play his game for a few moments. Then she used one of her paws to tap him on the shoulder.

"Uh, what, Sammy?" he said, blinking his eyes at her in surprise a few times, after pulling himself away of his game.

"Take my paws off, Chis!" Sammy demanded, through her gag, as she held her leather encased hands before her.

"Sammy, you know you're not supposed to be talking.." said her brother, frowning a little at her muffled speech.

"This isn't funny any more." Sammy complained. "I want to stretch, shower, and eat some real food! Please take my paws off."

"Oh. Dad said that you might do this." said Chris, who rubbed his chin, clearly understanding at least some of her words this time. "Look, I think it really might be for the best, Sammy. You should try to just go with it and accept it. It could cure you of your doggy-phobia even faster if you embrace this."

"I don't wanna embrace it!" Sammy yelled, into her gag. "I wanna wear clothes. I wanna be a person again!"

"Sammy, I know you're upset about this whole thing, but you need to calm down." Chris said, his frown deepening. "Quit trying to talk and go do something doggish, and let me play my game."

Sammy growled in frustration, and thumped her little brother on his shoulder, her anger overflowing on to him.

"Okay, that's it." Chris said, his voice going flat. "You've earned this, Sammy."

Then her little brother shocked her again. It wasn't one of the low shocks either, but another medium strength zap, and it made her arch in a spasm of pain as the electricity briefly flowed through her flesh.

She fell on to her side afterwards, curling up into a ball and whimpering.

"Wow, what was that?" Chris asked, surprised by his sister's reaction.

He peered down at the remote in his hand, which Sammy had not even noticed he had been holding, perplexed.

"Oh, someone left this on medium." he said, after a moment's examination. "I'll have to remember to check it before I use it on you, next time."

"After all, I wouldn't want to give you a high shock you didn't deserve, right? Ha ha."

Chris, chuckling, went back to his game, and back to ignoring his pet sister.

A few minutes later, Sammy picked herself up and crawled away from her younger brother. She briefly considered trying to sneak upstairs, but looked back at her brother fearfully, worried that he might catch her and shock her for it. The idea of risking another medium shock was too much for her, so she simply retreated to the only place she could call her own, sort of, which was her doggy bed in the laundry room.

She lay there, being quietly but thoroughly unhappy, for nearly an hour, until the phone rang.

6 - Walkies

Sammy poked her head out of the laundry room just as Chris answered the phone in the living room, which was an old style land line. She could clearly hear her younger brother's side of the conversation.

"Hey mom. What's up?"


"Oh, she's around here somewhere. She's been a bit of a pain, this morning."


"No, I haven't walked her yet.."


"Well, I'm busy playing my game."


"Ugh, I know it's going to get hot soon."


"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it before noon."


"Ugghhh, okay, okay! Jeeez..."


"Alright, bye mom."

Sammy heard the click of the phone being hung up as her brother's conversation ended. Then she heard him stump up the stairs, grumbling quietly to himself.

Five minutes later, dressed in normal street clothes rather than pajamas, Chris descended from his room once again. A moment later, he appeared in the door of the laundry room, which Sammy had once again retreated to, with her coiled leash in one of his hands, and a set of velcro strapped knee-pads in the other.

"Come on, Sammy. We're going for a walk."

Sammy just looked at him, bewildered. If her mouth hadn't been stuffed full by a rubber gag, it probably would have been hanging open.

Surely he didn't intend to take her outside, where other people could see her, did he?


Apparently, he did.


Sammy found herself, just a few minutes later, being led by her brother down the sidewalk, in plain view of anyone passing by. She wanted to try to cover herself up, to hold one paw across her bared breasts, and the other over her equally bare sex, but the pace Chris set precluded that. She needed her hands free just to keep up with him. Her best crawl was only barely enough to keep pace with her brother, just behind him and at his heel, and only being able to breath through her nose wasn't helping matters any.

She had tried resisting him, when she first realized what his intentions were, but, after strapping the knee-pads onto her, he had simply dragged her out of the house by her leash. If she fought against his tugging too hard, he simply gave her a shock. She had received so many of the little shocks by that point that they didn't seem to phase her much anymore, and it took Chris threatening her with a medium dose of electricity before she finally relented, allowing her brother to lead her down the driveway and onto the side walk.

Dogs get taken for walks.

People passed them by constantly, and Sammy hung her head, hunched her shoulders, and refused to look at any of them when they did. Having the older adults see her as she was, crawling nude behind her younger brother, was embarrassing enough. When she saw people closer to her own age looking at her, however, either just in passing or with a more curious, lingering gaze, she shrank and cringed in shame, doing her best to hide behind Chris' legs.

She had hoped that someone she knew might see her plight, and come to her rescue, maybe even free her right there on the spot, but, much to her disappointment, no-one seemed so inclined.

Chris greeted everyone amiably, nodding to those he didn't know, smiling at those he was only faintly acquainted with, and laughing and chatting with those he knew well. Often, he'd stop and talk with one of his friends, most of them male but also a few females, and Sammy would simply hide behind her brother, trying to be unseen, until he led her onward once again.

Sammy herself was the topic of quite a few of the conversations, but not in the way she might have hoped or expected. The people on the street she lived on seemed remarkably unimpressed by the sight of a teenage girl being treated and led around like a dog, for some reason. A typical quick chat went something like this:

"Hey Chris, didja get a dog?"

"Yeah, just got her yesterday."

"Cool. Are you taking care of her for someone else, or keeping her?"

"I think we're probably keeping her. For a little while, at least."

"Where are you walking her to?"

"I was thinking about going on down to the park."

"It's a nice day for it."

"Yep. Hey, I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Sure, see you later."

Sometimes the person passing by would ask Chris what Sammy's name was, and she'd receive the occasional pat on the head from them as a conversation ended, but mostly, people seemed to ignore her.

Exactly as if she'd been a normal dog, just like any other, out for her morning walk.

Perhaps worst of all, there were indeed other dogs out being walked by their owners. Several times, Chris stopped to chat with another dog owner. While the two humans were talking, the other person's dog would inevitably come over to Sammy, snuffling curiously at her.

Sammy, frightened almost out of her wits by her fellow canine's approach, would retreat as far away from the dog as she could, whining and trembling in fear. Usually her leash was long enough to let her escape, but not always. Several times, the other dog's leash turned out to be longer than her own, and she could do nothing but huddle down in terror she was sniffed and inspected, cradling her head in her paws and hoping she wasn't about to be mauled.

"Nervous little thing, isn't she?"

"Yeah, that's one of the things were trying to work on with her." Chris would reply. "She's definitely a fixer-upper."

"That's why I always get my dogs as pups. It's a lot less hassle than adopting an older one with baggage."

"If we ever get another dog, I'm sure we'll probably do that, too."

Eventually, after an amount of time that seemed almost interminable to Sammy, she and Chris reached the park.

Unfortunately, from Sammy's point of view, the park was full of people. It was a beautiful summer morning, after all. Even more unfortunately, it was also full of other dogs.

Dogs were everywhere. They were running around with their owners, playing fetch, catching frisbees, begging for food, laying on the grass, panting and watching the goings on, or even just snoozing.

Chris, who seemed tired from the walk to the park, rather than invigorated by the minor amount of exercise, found an unoccupied tree to sit under, leaning lazily against it and crossing his legs comfortably. He soon started dozing off, his hand was still idly curled around the end of Sammy's leash.

Sammy, for her part, huddled against the tree herself, in a futile attempt to hide her naked body from the view of anyone else at the park, be they human or canine.

The park was one of those places that Sammy almost never dared venture. Like today, it was usually host to at least one or two dogs and their owners, and, like today, they were often let off their leashes to play. The idea of loose dogs terrified the girl.

One such dog, along with a gaggle of younger kids, was approaching her and Chris even now.

"Hey, can we play with your dog?"

Chris blinked his eyes open, then yawned and looked around to find who was speaking to him.

The speaker, and apparent leader of the group, was a girl who must have been only ten or eleven years old. She was looking back and forth between Chris and Sammy hopefully, with a questioning eyebrow quirked up.

"Umm.. why?" Chris asked, still looking a bit out of it.

"Well, Crystal brought her dog today, but it's more fun if we've got two dogs to play with. You know, one for each team." the girl said, holding up a frisbee.

"Oh. Well, why not?" Chris conceded. "Here you go."

Sammy watched, disbelievingly, as her brother casually handed her leash to the girl. He hadn't even bothered asking the girl's name before he gave her his sister.

"What's her name?" the girl asked.


"Hey Sammy! Are you a good girl?" the girl asked, bending over to let Sammy smell her hand before petting her a few times.

"Don't take her gag out, though." Chris instructed.

"Oh." the girl responded, looking disappointed. "How come? Does she bite?"

"What? No, no." Chris replied. "She just won't shut up if you do. She's very whiny."

"Oh, okay." the girl said, nodding in understanding. "We'll bring her back in a little while, okay?"

"Sure, have fun." Chris said, waving his hand dismissively.

He was already closing his eyes to return to his nap as the kids dragged Sammy off to go play.


They returned Sammy to Chris barely fifteen minutes later.

"Thanks, but your dog's kinda lame." the lead girl said, as she tossed the end of Sammy's leash to Chris.

Chris just chuckled at this, smiling.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She's so slow! She can't catch a frisbee, or play fetch even." the girl complained, frowning down at Sammy. "And I think that she's scared of Angel, Crystal's dog. Whenever Angel tried to play with her, Sammy'd just curl up into a ball on the grass and whimper."

"Well, she's not used to being outside much, just yet." Chris replied.

"If I was you, I'd probably want to get a new dog. One that wasn't such a scaredy cat." the girl said, before leading her group away once again.

Chris just chuckled again at her words, and waved lazily to them as they departed.

"Well, girl, I guess it's about time we went home, then." her said, after standing and stretching. "We'll just visit the doggy area before we go, so you can do your business."

Sammy looked up at her brother, her eyes wide and incredulous, after he spoke.

The doggy area was a little section of the park that had been fenced off and filled with sand, and it was always full of dogs. It was also meant to be the place that any dog in the park was supposed to use when they needed to relieve themselves.


"Look, we're not leaving here until you go, Sammy, so you may as well just do it and get it out of the way."

Chris was looking down at his sister, who was crouched down, shivering in fear, on the sandy ground of the doggy area. It had taken several low shocks, then a medium shock, followed by the threat of a high shock from her collar, to get Sammy to follow her brother into the small, fenced off part of the park.

They were currently surrounded by other dogs, most of whom were in the process of relieving themselves into the sand.

Chris, who had nonchalantly pulled Sammy's tail plug from her bottom, making his sister's eyes bulge out in shock during the process, was now frowning down at her expectantly. He was tapping his foot impatiently, as Sammy whined up at him, her eyes huge and begging.

"Mom told me not to bring you home until you had gone potty, so that's all there is to it." Chris said. "So you can either do it yourself, or I'll just start shocking you until you lose control and it all comes out anyway. Apparently that can happen after a couple high shocks, from what mom said."

"It's your choice." he finished, looking down severely at her.

The worst part about the whole situation was that she DID have to go. Sammy had felt the pressure building up as Chris had led her towards the park, then build further when she was being drug around and played with by the kids and Angel a few minutes ago.

What was stopping her from simply doing as Chris instructed was the fact that she was surrounded by people, both her brother and the owners of the other dogs in the doggy area. The thought of voiding her bowls in front of dozens of people, some of whom she even knew, was so embarrassing that she thought she might curl up into a ball and die. It was already bad enough that they could see her, naked, bound, and gagged, being lead around on a leash by her younger brother.

Sammy crouched, frozen in indecision, on the sandy ground for another couple minutes, before Chris finally snorted and held up the remote, pointing it at her.

"Wait, wait. I'll do it!" she cried, her fear of her collar finally overcoming her embarrassment.

What got past her gag wasn't particularly coherent, but she must have made herself understood, because instead of shocking her, Chris merely narrowed his eyes and waited, an expectant expression set on his features.

Sammy, flushed crimson and feeling more shame than at any point previously in her life, spread her legs as far as she could. She couldn't really squat, like the other dogs were doing, since her ankles were still bound to her thighs. What she could do, though, was to lower herself as close to the ground as she could, the insides of her bare thighs almost brushing the sand, as she balanced clumsily on her hands, elbows, and spread knees.

Then, just like all the other dogs around her, she relieved herself into the sand.

Chris watched her as she did, his expression both amused and repulsed.

"Ugh, dogs can be so disgusting, sometimes." he said, shaking his head after she had finished. "But, good girl. I guess."

Then, to her further embarrassment, he knelt down behind her shivering form and unfolded a little waxed paper baggie. He used a small, disposable plastic scoop to flip her waste into the baggie, then dropped the scoop in as well, before folding the top of the bag up and holding onto it carefully, with just the tips of the fingers of one of his hands.

He deposited Sammy's waste into one of the sturdy receptacles meant for it, by the entrance to doggy area. He then led his sister, who was still trembling in both shame, at what she had been forced to do in public where everyone could see, and fear, of all the other dogs around her, back to their home.


Chris led her straight to the back yard, through the gate in the fence by the side of the house. He led her to the little pad of concrete by the faucet and hose, removed her leash and knee-pads, then proceeded to spray her down very thoroughly indeed. He even used the stiff bristled, long handled scrub brush and soap, which had been left there for exactly that purpose, apparently by one of her parents earlier that morning, to scrub her down in all the areas he felt might be a bit extra dirty.

He ended her little scrubbing session by running the coarse bristles of the brush roughly across her sex a few times, while spraying a blast of cold water into her, causing Sammy to flinch and shiver at the rough sensations. He repeated his actions with her bottom, then gave the girl one final, quick, full body rinse. After that, he plugged up her bottom with her tail once more, set the soap and brush aside, coiled the hose, and went into the house, leaving Sammy, dripping and shivering, alone in the back yard.


7 - Evening Entertainment

Sammy was let back into the house around dinner time. She had heard first her mother, then her father, return home from work during the late afternoon. Apparently, they didn't feel any particular need to check on her when they got home, because it was more than an hour later before her father opened the back door and called her into the house.

She was led into the dining room, which was set for three people at the table. Sammy's usual seat was empty of plate and cutlery, but her bowls in the corner were full and waiting for her.

Her mother had filled the table with the food that she had made for the rest of her family, which consisted of bowls and trays of vegetables, meat, and bread. As Mrs. Matheson settled down with her husband and son to eat the food she had prepared, Sammy sighed miserably and started in on her own, considerably less appetizing, dinner.

She crunched kibble and lapped up plain water unhappily, as her family enjoyed their usual evening feast. The blandly disgusting, almost stale seeming kibble was particularly unappealing when contrasted with the seared meat smell of the marinated and broiled steaks, the buttered and salted sweet corn, and the heavenly smelling bread rolls the rest of the family was eating.

"So, how was your walk with Sammy today, son?" Mr. Matheson asked, mid-dinner.

"S'okay, I guess. She was kind of a pain, but once I shocked her a few times, she came around." Chris answered, absently, as he chewed a mouthful of corn.

"How did she seem around the other dogs?" Mr. Matheson asked, apparently keenly interested. "Was she still as frightened of them as she normally is?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty scared of them, all right. Any time one came close, she'd start whining and trembling, and go hide behind my legs."

"Hmm, that's a bit disappointing, but I suppose it was too much to hope that only a day might cure her of it." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "Thank you for taking her out today. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like you to do it again tomorrow, and probably every morning for the rest of the week."

"Alright. It wasn't too bad. It was kind of nice to get outside for a little bit, actually." Chris said, smiling at his father. "And you should have seen the outfits some of the girls were wearing today, dad. I sure do love summer."

"Hah! That's my boy." Mr. Matheson laughed, merrily amused, as he reached his hand up and ruffled his son's hair affectionately.

"If this is going to become a more permanent arrangement, we should probably take a good look at dog food brands." Mrs. Matheson interjected. "The dry food she has will last another week or two, but we'll probably need to get her something a little higher quality after that."

"Well, we can't afford to feed her the expensive canned stuff for every meal." Mr. Matheson said, frowning, as he chewed a bite of his steak. "That'll add up quick."

"I think if we alternate the better food in with the dry kibble, she'll be well enough fed." Mrs. Matheson said, agreeing with her husband.

Sammy, hearing her future being planned out for her, added nothing to the discussion. She'd tried to talk to her father, once, when he unstrapped her gag so she could eat her dinner. He had promptly shocked her for her troubles, before she could get out more than a couple of words, with a medium strength zap of electricity from her collar.

She hadn't tried it again.

Dog's don't talk.


Later that evening, after everyone had finished dinner and partaken of their share of dessert, none of which was offered to Sammy, the whole family gathered in the living room, to watch a movie.

As the film started playing, Sammy's father had called to her and beckoned her over to him. He had her kneel by his side, within easy reach, as he sat in his comfortable old reclining chair. He began stroking and petting his daughter's face and hair, running his hands gently over her head, smoothing and soothing her.

Sammy had held herself rigidly at first, incensed that her father thought that such a meager display of affection could make up for the fact that he had turned her, his own daughter, into a mere pet. Into just an animal.

Into a dog.

Every bit of embarrassment, every shock of electric pain, every indignity, and every moment of boredom or terror that she had experienced in the past twenty-four hours were the direct result of his decision to do that to her. Even her mother and brother, with whom she had interacted with the most during the past day, were only acting in accordance with her father's wishes.

Sammy was furious with her father, and very much wanted to remain so.

But, her anger became increasingly hard to maintain. Her father's pets, careful scratching, and soft strokes were so nice, compared to the misery she had experienced over the course of the past day, that she soon found herself anticipating them, moving her head to prolong each caress, and leaning heavily against his leg, resting her cheek on his thigh, as they watched the movie playing on the screen together.

She began shivering against her father's leg as he stroked her. Each pet brought her just a tiny bit of pleasure. Measured against what she was used to feeling, in her old life as a human, that pleasure was insignificant. Measured against what she had gone through after her transformation into a dog, just a day ago, though, even feeling merely nice was.. was..

Well, it was wonderful, actually.

Sammy began weeping silently, her shivering increasing, as she realized what was happening to her. Kneeling here, with her head on her father's lap, being slowly stroked by him on the head like a favorite pet, was the absolute high point of her day. And tomorrow, if it happened again, it would be the high point of that day as well.

The only thing she had to look forward to, in her new life, was someone in her family deigning to notice her, to pet her, to sooth away some of her boredom or fear by merely reassuring her with a brief touch, before they went back to getting on with their own day, once again ignoring her unless it suited them to do otherwise.

Well, if being petted was the only thing Sammy had available to her, then she supposed she would have take it.

Dogs get petted, after all.

8 - Vacation Time

Sammy's life, such as it was, quickly settled into a routine.

Early every morning, Sammy's mother would wake and feed and water her. A few hours later, her brother would take her for a walk, usually down to the park, then bring her back after she had done her doggy business. After a brief scrub down, she would be left to her own devices in the back yard for the rest of the day, during which time she would generally nap in the shade under the eaves. She napped because she had absolutely nothing else to do, and was always completely bored, having explored the back yard in its entirety the first afternoon she was left out in it.

She would be brought back into the house each evening, and once again be fed and watered, while the rest of the family had dinner. Occasionally, her kibble would be replaced with more expensive canned dog food, which often somehow tasted even worse than her usual fare.

The rest of the evening would be spent snuggling up to various members of her family, in an attempt to get as many pets and scratches out of each of them as she could, before she was put away in the laundry room for the night.

Any time during the morning or evening that she had to pee, the only thing she could do was wait by the back door and whine, hoping that one of her family would eventually notice her. If she needed to pee during the night, when she was put away in the laundry room, then she had to hold it in until morning. If she couldn't, then she would receive several medium strength shocks from her very irritated mother, as she cleaned up her daughter's mess the next day.

The only variations to this routine was on the weekends, when either her mother or father, or sometimes both, would be the ones to take Sammy for a walk in the morning. She would also get a much more thorough scrubbing down afterwards than her younger brother usually provided, and her mother would remove her gag so she could brush and floss her pet daughter's teeth for her. Also, it was usually easier to go between the house and the backyard, if she wanted, because more people were home to open the door for Sammy.

She grew so accustomed to this routine that, when her mother led her to the back yard one morning instead of out the front door for her walk, she was immediately confused and worried.

"Here she is." Mrs. Matheson stated, while looking at her husband, who was pounding a long, thick metal stake into the center of the lawn with a short sledge hammer. "Are you done with the stake?"

"Just about, dear." Mr. Matheson said, as he slammed the heavy hammer down on the head of the stake several more times, until only a few inches of it remained above the ground. "I think that'll do it."

"Do you think it will be strong enough to hold her all weekend?"

"Honey, I pounded nearly five feet of steel pole into the ground. It would take a backhoe to get it back out now." Mr. Matheson said, reassuring his wife. "She's not going to go anywhere, I promise you."

"Well, I just worry about leaving her outside, that's all."

"We can't leave her inside while we're gone." Mr. Matheson said, firmly. "Just imagine the mess we'd be coming home to. No, it's best if she just stays in the back yard."

"She'll be fine." he finished, dismissively.

"If you say so, dear." Mrs. Matheson said. "Everything's packed up and loaded into the car. We can leave anytime."

"Good. Just let me tie her leash to the stake, then we can go."

The stake had a thick loop welded on one side of its head, which Sammy's father threaded her sturdy leather leash though. He spent several moments tying a rather complicated, but solid looking, knot out of the end of the leash.

"You're sure that won't come loose?" Sammy's mother asked, peering down at the knot with a worried frown creasing her brows.

"I was in the sailing club in college, honey, if you'll remember. I know my knots." Mr. Matheson said, rising and dusting his hands off. "I'm sure."

"Now, lets get rolling!" he said, nearly shouting and obviously happy. "I've been looking forward to this trip!"

"Yes, dear."

Sammy's parents began walking away from her, leaving her leashed to the stake in the center of the lawn.

"I spoke to Mrs. Singlethorn's daughter, Victoria." Mrs. Matheson said, as they left. "She said she'd come over and feed and water Sammy once a day, in the mornings, so that's that taken care of. I'd hoped for twice a day, but she apparently has ballet classes in the eve.."

Her mother's words were cut off in mid sentence, as Sammy's father entered the house behind his wife and closed the back door behind himself.

A few minutes later, Sammy heard her father's car rumble to life, then pull out into the street and drive away, apparently carrying everyone in her family, save Sammy herself, away on vacation.

9 - Hounded

Sammy's parents may have left her outside for the weekend, but at least the didn't leave her without any shelter at all. Her bed of old blankets and towels had been moved to the edge of the concrete pad by the faucet. She could reach it, barely, if she went to the end of her leash. A little framework, made up of fabric and thin metal tubes, held up a small awning over her bed, so she would have some shade from the heat that would come in the afternoon.

Other than her bed and the awning over it, though, Sammy was completely on her own. Which mean that, just like every afternoon when she was left out in the yard, she had absolutely nothing to distract her from her own boredom.

Sighing, and depressed about being left behind by her family, Sammy flopped down onto the cool, comfortable grass, preparing to nap, if she could, before the day grew uncomfortably hot.


Later that day, in the hottest part of the afternoon, Sammy was laying, miserably bored, on the relatively cool concrete under the awning by her bed. The high heat, a product of mid summer, kept her from sleeping or even dozing.

Like always, she had nothing to do, and nothing to distract her from her boredom.

Except, she realized, that there WAS one thing she could do. Something she wasn't usually allowed to do, in fact, by either her parents or her brother.

She could masturbate.

Normally, she could only pleasure herself at night, and even then only quietly. If she was caught, she got shocked. She had tried, several times, to get away with playing with herself during the day, but always seemed to get caught out at the worst possible moment. Then, whoever had caught her would either shock her, or spray her with cold water from the hose if she was outside, or both.

Now, however, with her entire family gone away on vacation, she was alone. Truly alone, for the first time in what seemed like weeks, at the very least, and she could finally do as she liked with herself.

Her paws, unfortunately, presented something of a problem, though it wasn't an insurmountable one. As a human, she had usually slipped one or two fingers into herself, then used her thumb to rub little circles around her clit. With her other hand, she would stroke, caress, and tease at her breasts and nipples. Her method was good enough that she could usually get the result she desired in just a few minutes, if she was in a hurry.

With her fingers locked away behind thick, stiff leather, however, the best she had been able to come up with was propping one of her paws on top of the other, then grinding her sex against the hard leather that they were made up of. It took longer than her old method, but usually achieved nearly as good of results in the end.

Thus, with nothing else to do and with no one to stop her, Sammy spent most of the rest of the afternoon masturbating. She rubbed her little clit against her paws, laying face down and thrusting her hips gently and rhythmically to do so, and slowly drug her sensitive, erect nipples back and forth across the rough concrete beneath her, biting her lip in pleasure the whole time.

She was very near to her third orgasm of the afternoon, pre-climax thrills shooting through her body and making her shiver in pleasure and anticipation, when she was suddenly interrupted. Interrupted by something terrible.

A loud, happy bark, from the fence next door.

Sammy gasped, her orgasm shattering and dying as fear and adrenaline flooded through her. Though she had been exposed to dogs nearly every day since her own transformation, her fear of them had not abated in the slightest, and hearing the bark dropped her brain straight down into panic mode.

Sammy, her eyes wide, looked up to see Bruno's head poking up above the fence that separated their two yards.

The dog, seeing her see him, barked again, excited, then disappeared from view. A moment later, there was a series of rapid thumping sounds, as the dog sprinted for a run up, then Bruno jumped the fence. His leap was so high and powerful that he cleared the toothed, zig-zagged top of the fence by over a foot, and he landed, heavily but gracefully, easily on the lawn only a few yards from Sammy.

Sammy froze at this, her entire body rigid with fear. Her brain, with its panic driven, fight-or-flight reflexes and survival instincts on high alert, instantly analyzed her current situation. She was alone at the house, tied to a stake in the back yard, unable to use her hands, unable to run or even walk, and unable to call for help. A large predator had just invaded the space she had assumed was safe and secure, and she had no way to fight it or flee from it at all.

The deepest, most primitive part of her brain, the one that only came out when a dire emergency demanded it, told the rest of Sammy that she was about to experience what she had always most feared: she was going to be eaten by a dog.

While Sammy was busy panicking and quite thoroughly losing her shit, Bruno shook his body, and then trotted around in a little circle, obviously pleased with himself for accomplishing his goal of jumping the fence. He snuffled the grass under his feet for a moment, then turned and bounded over to the person he had jumped the fence to come and see.

He snuffled the trembling girl thoroughly, first and foremost noting the smell of fear that poured from her, the way water pours from a tap.

Bruno looked around, curiously and a bit warily, but couldn't seem to find whatever it was that she was so afraid of, despite his keen doggy senses, so dismissed her fear from his mind and went back to sampling her scent.

He could smell the type of kibble she'd been eating. It wasn't the type he was usually fed, but it was an acceptable brand, one he would happily eat if given the chance. He could also smell the soap she been recently scrubbed with, something he was a bit disapproving of, as the smell reminded him of baths, which he didn't like at all.

Finally, and most interestingly, he could smell her arousal. Bruno was a large dog, but he was also a young dog, and this was the very first time he had been able to smell the sex of a fertile female up close. Sadly, virtually all of the dogs in the neighborhood, aside from Bruno himself, had been fixed by their owners.

He stood behind her and snuffled at her sex for several more seconds, inhaling and examining the scent of her thoroughly, like an aural gourmet sampling the bouquet of a fine wine.

Then he gave her a curious lick.

This was too much for Sammy, who was already quite convinced that the big dog was about to eat her, rump first, and she scrambled away across the yard as fast as she could, her muffled screams of terror turned to shrill, high pitched whines by her gag.

As the female crawled away from him, in obvious distress, Bruno realized that she might, in fact, be afraid of him. This was completely silly, of course, but one never knew with people. They could be awfully odd, sometimes.

He'd just have to prove to her how friendly and harmless he could be.

To Sammy's terrified dismay, the big dog bounded after her. He was barking in a friendly, happy way, but her fear addled mind interpreted it as vicious snarling and growling, and it only made her try to move faster. This was somewhat unfortunate, because, in the panic of her flight, Sammy had completely forgotten about her leash.

It stopped her cold, nearly strangling her and crushing her throat, when she hit the end of its length. Sammy fell over on her back, choking and gasping for air, her collar digging hard into her flesh. She managed to squirm back a few inches, towards the center of the lawn, which allowed her to breath once again. Then she simply lay on the ground for a few seconds, stunned and disoriented.

Bruno would have winced, if he could have, when he saw the female reach the end of her lead. Having experienced the unpleasantness of a short leash first hand himself, he had quite a bit of doggy sympathy for what she must be feeling. So, in an attempt to comfort her, he began licking her face.

Sammy remembered why she had been fleeing so fast when the dog appeared over her, and tried to bite her face off. Despite the pain in her throat, she quickly flailed herself upright again, and resumed her frantic attempts to escape.

She fled at a right angle to her original path, which, since she was already at the end of her leash, turned her rapid crawl into a less than graceful arc. The thick cord of leather kept her distance from her stake constant, despite her attempts to scramble away from Bruno in a straight line.

Bruno cocked his head, watching her progress with curious interest. He knew, since he was smarter than the average dog, that the shortest path between two points was not a curve, such as Sammy was making, but a straight line, and he wondered just what the female thought she was going to accomplish. Still, chasing her around the yard was a fine game, even if it was an easy one, and he leapt in pursuit of her once again, barking in happy eagerness.

When the dog caught her yet again, Sammy knew, even through the fog her panic was clouding her mind with, that she would have to try something other than running away, if she was to have any chance at all of survival. So, she turned towards her stake and made for it, as quickly as she could. Maybe she could somehow untie her leash from it, or, failing that, perhaps even pull the stake up entirely. It was her only remaining hope.

Bruno followed behind the female, trotting easily, as she crawled over to her stake and started yanking clumsily on it. Bruno, who had managed to slip several leashes, chew through even more lines, and even pull up a few stakes himself, knew that her efforts would be in vain. Some stakes simply couldn't be pulled, just like some leashes, usually the shiny, hard ones, couldn't be bitten through.

Sammy couldn't untie her leash, and she couldn't pull the stake. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide and rolling with fear, to see the dog approaching her again. Out of ideas and out of breath, she simply collapsed down to her chest, with her rear still sticking up into the air, cradling her arms protectively around her head, shaking and trembling in terror.

Maybe, just maybe, the dog wouldn't eat all of her. Maybe it would just eat one or two of her legs, and perhaps an arm. It was the only hope she had left, and she clung to it as the dog came to a stop behind her.

The female had finally stopped running from Bruno, though she was still shaking and reeking of fear and panic. The big dog just looked at her for a few moments, his head cocked, wondering why she was evidently so afraid of him. Almost no-one else reacted to him with such a large amount of fear. Oh, sure, there was the odd person who was intimidated by Bruno at first, but he always warmed them up to him, if he got the chance.

It was easy as giving them a few friendly licks.

He snuffled her bottom, picking through her various odors again, before his attention once more returned to her most interesting aroma. The aroma that had, in fact, been the one that drew him over the fence in the first place.

The smell of her aroused sex.

She clearly wasn't aroused now, of course, but Bruno, being the intelligent dog that he was, thought that he could fix that.

Sammy knew the end had come when she felt the dog sniffing at her rump, and then start licking her once again. Surely, she thought, it was only a matter of seconds before he took his first big, slavering bite out of her bottom.

Imagine her growing surprise then, when instead of eating her, Bruno kept simply licking her.

At first, he only licked at the skin of her rump and legs, exploring and tasting her with his tongue. After a few moments, however, he began focusing his efforts more precisely, moving to her inner thighs, running his soft tongue over the smooth, sensitive flesh there repeatedly.

Then, he zeroed in on the source of her enticing aroma, and began, gently but insistently, licking at her sex.

As the dog worked his tongue across the folds of her cleft, Sammy, her panic slowly subsiding, came to realize that maybe what Bruno wanted wasn't to eat her. And that what he might really want was, in some ways, even worse.

Bruno felt the female in front of him squeak as he began digging his tongue deeper into her, exploring her, tasting her. The flavor of her wasn't quite like anything he had ever tasted before, but his instincts were telling him, quite urgently, that he was doing the right thing, the only thing, and that he desperately needed to continue.

Sammy was quite confused by what was happening, and was, after her panicked, frenzied fear reaction and aborted, unsuccessful flight from Bruno, feeling very weak and trembly. She didn't offer more than a few token noises of protest as the dog behind her began pushing his nose and tongue into her quite forcefully, digging into the flesh of her sex with apparent relish. When his tongue, on one of its many licks, flickered forward and back over her clit, she gasped and arched her back, instinctively thrusting her hips and bottom out, as if offering herself up even further to the dog.

Bruno, apparently noticing her reaction, licked her in the same spot again. And again the female, HIS female, as he now coming to think of her, jerked and arched her back, gasping. The dog's sensitive nose, which was mostly buried inside of the girl before him, quickly noted the increase in her arousal as he licked her in that particular place.

So that was were he focused his efforts.

Sammy, whose arms were no longer wrapped defensively around her head, but clasped against her chest, began gasping and squeaking through her gag, as Bruno's soft, warm tongue began flickering repeatedly across her clitoris. Her hips jerked and bucked, building momentum, as the dog continued lapping at her, digging his nose around inside of her as he did.

Finally, after several minutes of growing fervor, Sammy felt a tide of sensation sweep over her. It wasn't an orgasm, at least not like one she had ever experienced before. The powerful surge of pleasure, which only seemed heightened by the fear she had experienced so strongly only minutes before, built, and surged, and, finally, flooded throughout her entire body, erasing the thoughts from her head and leaving her shaking and quivering in ecstasy.

She came, laying bound, naked, and gagged, face down in the grass, with a Bruno's nose in her sex and his tongue on her clit, harder than she ever had in her life.


She came back to herself a few minutes later, her mind putting itself back together slowly.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of the grass pressed against her face, tickling her nose.

The second thing she noticed was that Bruno was still licking her, causing little trembling jerks and lightning threads of pleasure to course through her body every time he ran his tongue across her sex. His pace had slowed, however, and he seemed to sense that Sammy had become as aroused as she was ever going to get.

Which was when he mounted her.

Sammy didn't understand what he was doing at first. Even Bruno seemed a little confused about what exactly he was supposed to do, but his instincts were apparently urging him on, and he managed to figure it out after a few moments. His swollen, tumescent member poked her in the bottom several times, as he bucked his hips against hers, before he found his mark.

Then Bruno slid into her, causing her to gasp and and buck her own hips, as he crouched over her and held on to her with his front legs.

Each of his thrusts was a little more forceful, a little better aimed, and went a little deeper inside of her. Sammy, utterly unprepared for what was happening to her, only lay on the grass, shocked into immobility, as she had sex for the first time.

With a dog.

She knew that she should be fighting him, that she should be at least trying to get away, but after the events of the past few minutes, the terror and then the ecstasy, she felt like she had no strength left to do anything at all.

Besides, given how large he was, she wasn't sure she could stop him, even if she weren't bound and leashed to a stake.

And finally, given that what he was doing to her felt so amazing, and so right, she wasn't sure if she even wanted him to stop.

It took only a pair of minutes before Bruno's thrusting surged into a final frenzy, then he buried himself as deeply as he could into Sammy. The bulb at the bottom of his member swelled, sealing in the flood of ejaculate that flowed from him and into the moaning, quivering girl beneath him.

Sammy felt Bruno finish, felt his cock swell inside of her, and orgasmed again, her own hips continuing to buck against his.

They stayed that way for nearly fifteen minutes, locked together by their sexes, each enjoying the bliss of their shared afterglow.


A bit more than half an hour later, just as Sammy was beginning to feel like she could move of her own volition once more, Bruno mounted her again, apparently eager for round two.

Sammy didn't try to fight or resist him at all. There was nothing she could do to stop him, so she just lay on her chest, with her rump up, moaning a mix of pleasure and fear into her gag, taking whatever the dog wanted to give her.

It was, she realized, probably going to be a very long weekend.


10 - A Farm Upstate

The first indications that the Mathesons had, that something wasn't quite right, was the note they found pinned to the front door when they returned home from their vacation early Monday morning. It read:

"I thought you said that your family only had the one dog that needed feeding, but there were two in the back yard when I popped over on Saturday morning.

I un-gagged the female and let her eat for ten minutes, like you said to do, then put her gag back in afterwards.

I left some extra food and water out for the other one. (He sure was friendly!)

They went through more food than you said they would over the weekend, but there was enough.

You can drop my twenty dollars off at the house any time you like.


"Other one? What in the world?" Mrs. Matheson asked aloud.

"Well, we'd better go check, I suppose." Mr. Matheson said, sighing.

Mr. and Mrs. Matheson trooped straight through the house and out into the back yard. The sight that greeted them was entirely unexpected.

Sammy lay on her doggy bed, still curled up and sleeping.

And Bruno was laying down right next to her, spooned up against her backside. The large dog lifted his head up and yawned sleepily, then let his mouth fall open in a doggy grin of greeting as he caught sight of the two humans entering the back yard.

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, as she saw Bruno snuggled up next to Sammy.

"Well, I suppose that I should have seen this one coming." Mr. Matheson said, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck, his chagrin evident.

"You don't think that he..?" Mrs. Matheson began, giving her husband a knowing look.

"Of course he has." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "He's probably been at her all weekend."

"Ohhh, dear." Mrs. Matheson repeated, looking worried.


A few hours later, after the car and luggage had been unpacked, Mr. and Mrs. Matheson were sitting out in the back yard, on the lounge chairs, eating lunch and looking at their pet, Sammy, who was dozing in the sun.

Bruno had been unceremoniously hoisted up and dumped over the fence earlier by Mr. Matheson, and Mrs. Matheson had spent nearly twenty minutes scrubbing the residue of the weekend's misadventures from Sammy, which was why their dog was now flopped on her side in the warm noon sunlight, sleeping while she dried off.

"Is Christopher around?" Mr. Matheson asked.

"He's playing his game in the living room." Mrs. Matheson answered.

"Good, that'll keep him busy for hours." Mr. Matheson said, nodding. "I don't want him overhearing this conversation."

"You mean, about what we're going to do with Sammy?"

"Yes, exactly." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "I'm not sure if we're going to be able to keep her, after this."

"Do you really think Bruno might have.. have impregnated her?" Mrs. Matheson asked, her voice quiet.

"They're both young and healthy." Mr. Matheson replied. "I'd say that it's longer odds that he didn't."

"Well, we could wait, to be sure.." Mrs. Matheson said, her voice a little uncertain.

"If we wait, and she is pregnant, the shelter will charge us five or ten times the amount they normally would." Mr. Matheson stated, disgust in his voice. "I'm sure it'll be over a hundred dollars just to drop off Sammy like she is now. If we bring her in swollen with puppies, who knows how much it'll cost."

Both of the Mathesons were silent for a few moment, each looking at their pet, considering their alternatives carefully.

"Well, I suppose we could just keep her, and try to give away the pups after they're born." Mr. Matheson said, frowning.

"I'm afraid there's a problem with that option, too, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, shaking her head. "The Home Owner's Association agreement we signed when we bought the house."

"Damn, I'd almost forgotten about that." Mr. Matheson said, grunting in annoyance. "What's the fine for keeping dogs again?"

"Two hundred a month."

"Feh, we should have never signed that agreement." Mr. Matheson said, bitterly. "It's been nothing but trouble."

"They wouldn't sell the house to us otherwise." Mrs. Matheson said. "I wonder how the neighbor gets away with it. Those H.O.A. busybodies are always snooping around."

"Ah, you're forgetting, honey. Jones works at a bank." Mr. Matheson said, his tone dark. "Bankers laugh in the face of fines."

"Besides, he can probably afford it. But we sure can't." he continued. "I was willing to risk it before, because I thought we'd only have Sammy for a few weeks, at most, but now.."

"How long do you think she might take to come to term?"

"With puppies in her belly? I'm not sure." Mr. Matheson said, rubbing at his chin. "Several months, at least, though."

"Do you suppose we could just keep her inside, out of sight, until then?"

"Hmm." Mr. Matheson said, frowning in thought. "Maybe if we hadn't been taking Sammy on walks every morning for the past few weeks, but I'm willing to bet that most of the neighborhood knows that we have a dog by now. I'm actually surprised that one of those H.O.A. creeps hasn't stopped by yet."

"Drat. I'm completely out of ideas, then." Mrs. Matheson said, with a frown of her own. "I suppose we'll just have to get rid of her, won't we?"

"It's a bit of a shame, isn't it?" Mr. Matheson said. "I've really gotten used to having her around. I'd forgotten how nice it is to have a good dog."

"Though, honestly, I was already about to give up on her, anyway." he continued. "Sammy still seemed just as scared of other dogs as she was at the beginning of our little experiment. I was going to give it another week, then offer her the chance to be a human again, if she wanted it."

"Well, if how she was cuddled up with Bruno is any indication, she might have finally managed to overcome her fears, at least." Mrs. Matheson said.

"It doesn't really matter now, does it?" Mr. Matheson said, shaking his head. "Too little, too late, at this point."

The Mathesons went silent again, each thinking about what they were about to do to their pet.

"Dear, you know what happens to dogs that don't get adopted out after a few weeks, don't you?" Mrs. Matheson finally asked, several minutes later.

"I've been trying not to think about it." Mr. Matheson said, sighing.

"It's something we should take into consideration, I think, before we make a final decision."

"I.. don't think that it'll come to that, for her." Mr. Matheson replied, after a moment's hesitation. "She's a young, healthy, attractive dog. Someone will pick her out, surely."

"Will they still do that if she's pregnant, though?"

"Over the time frame we're talking about, it shouldn't be an issue." Mr. Matheson said. "She probably won't really start showing until after a month, or maybe longer, and by then the issue will already have been settled, one way or the other."

"Well, I suppose that's it then." Mrs. Matheson said, looking a bit sad. "When do you want to take her in?"

"Soonest begun, soonest done." Mr. Matheson replied. "I'll drive her over to the shelter in just a few minutes."

"What on earth are we going to tell Christopher?" Mrs. Matheson asked. "I think he may have grown quite attached to her, by now."

Mr. Matheson grimaced, clearly not relishing the prospect of telling his son that they had to get rid of the family dog.

"We're.. We're taking her to a farm, upstate. One where she can roam around free, with the other farm animals." Mr. Matheson said, his tone a little sour. "That's the line my dad used on me, back when I was a kid, and it worked. I didn't figure out what he'd actually done for years."

"I suppose." Mrs. Matheson said. "Do you think the shelter will give us a discount, if we give them all the food we've already bought for Sammy, when you drop her off?"

"Honestly, I doubt it, but I'll try." Mr. Matheson said. "Get Sammy on her leash, will you? I'll go get some cash and start the car."


A few minutes later, Mr. Matheson led Sammy through the house. He had her on a short leash, held firmly in one hand, and he carried a half empty bag of dog food in the crook of his opposite elbow.

"Taking Sammy out for a walk, dad?" Christopher asked, absently, not looking away from his game, as his father walked through the living room.

"Ah, no, actually." Mr. Matheson said, his face going a bit red. "Um, I'm actually taking her.. upstate. There's this farm, you see, and your mother and I think that Sammy might be happier there.. You know, where she can, um, play with the other animals, and stuff."

Christopher looked over at his father, quirking an eyebrow up, without pausing his game.

"I see." he said, mildly, then returned his attention to his game.

Mr. Matheson, hoping to avoid any follow up questions, beat a quick retreat out to the car, dragging Sammy along with him.

11 - The Shelter

The drive to the shelter wasn't a long one. It was located practically within walking distance of where Mr. Matheson lived, after all. It seemed him that one moment he was loading his dog into the car, and the next he was taking her back out and leading her into the shelter's entrance.

Sammy seemed particularly nervous, and he had to drag her along with more force than he usually needed to employ.

There was, unfortunately, a line, and he had to wait as several other people dropped off dogs of their own, before he could get to the front of the queue.

"Name?" asked the harried, tired looking woman sitting behind the front desk.

She was holding a clipboard and a pencil, and looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, uh, Matheson." Mr. Matheson replied.

"Not yours, hers." said the woman, pointing down at the trembling Sammy.

"Oh, sorry. It's Sammy."


"I just told you, it's Sammy."

"Not hers, this time, yours."

"Ah, right. It's Matheson." he replied, beginning to feel a little flustered.


"Um, mine or hers?"

"Hers, of course." the woman said, rolling her eyes. "Why would I need to know how old YOU are?"

"Oh, well, we're not sure, exactly, but young. Er, young-ish." Mr. Matheson lied, ineptly.

"Mmm-hmm." the woman said, clearly not fooled. "Breed?"

"Uh.. Caucasian, I suppose?"

"The standard drop off fee is one hundred dollars." she intoned, clearly having said the words many, many times before.

"Okay, that's fi.."

"If she's registered." the woman finished.

"Umm, oh."

"Is she registered?"

"Nnnoo. Not as such." Mr. Matheson said.

"Then it's an extra fifty dollars."

"I guess that's.. reasonable."

"She probably hasn't had her shots yet, either, has she?"

"Um, yes. Yes she has, actually." Mr. Matheson lied, again.

"Got the papers to prove it?" the woman asked, eyeing him.

"Uh.. no."

"No shots is an extra hundred dollars."

"Oh, come on, that's outrageous."

"Is she fixed?"

"No..?" Mr. Matheson said, wondering just how much higher the fees were going to pile.

"If you want to get her fixed, it's an extra hundred fifty dollars." the woman said.

"Jeez, it might be cheaper just to keep her.."

"Getting her fixed is not mandatory."

"It's optional?"


"Then why would I do it?" Mr. Matheson asked.

"Because fixed dogs are more likely to get adopted."

"Oh. Um, how much more likely?"

"A lot."

"I see. Um, I brought her food in with her. I, ah, don't suppose I could get a bit of a discount for that, could I?" Mr. Matheson asked, stalling for time as he thought about his options.

"No." the woman answered, her voice completely flat. "But you can leave it over there in the corner with the rest, if you like, before you go."

"..Alright, then."

"So, did you want to fix her, or not?"

"Umm.." Mr. Matheson hedged, looking down at Sammy as he thought.

"Nnno. No, I don't think so. I'm sure that she'll be fine." He finally answered, his concern for his checking balance evidently outweighing his concern for his soon to be former pet dog.

"If you say so."

"Are there.. are there any more fees?"


"Ah, good."

"That will be two hundred fifty dollars."

"Okay, just a moment."

"Cash only."

"Of course.."

"Plus tax."

"Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me." Mr. Matheson complained, outraged.

"I am."

"Y-you are?"


"Ah, aha.. ha.. I see.." Mr. Matheson said, laughing feebly. "..Here's the money."

"Thank you. Here's your receipt."

"So, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. Hand your dog's leash to the attendant, and drop your food off in the corner if you want, on your way out."

"Okay, thank you.. I guess."

"You're welcome. Next!"

The look Sammy gave him, as he handed her leash to the bored looking attendant standing next to the front desk, was almost heartbreaking. Her big, blue eyes were glimmering with tears, and she whined pitifully up at him, pawing him hopefully on the legs, as the bulky attendant started roughly tugging her through a set of heavy, double swinging doors, back into the shelter proper.

As the doors opened, a cacophony of barking washed out from behind them, making the trembling dog cringe and shudder in startled reaction. She pulled against her leash, fighting the tug of the attendant, looking desperately back at her father, her face terrified and pleading, begging him to come back for her.

Mr. Matheson, steeling himself, closed his eyes and turned away from his daughter. He didn't allow himself look back at her, despite his desire to get one last look at his former pet, as he dropped off the remainder of her food and walked towards the exit. His shoulders, which he had been holding hunched and tight, relaxed a bit when he heard the loud barking emanating from the back of the shelter stop. The heavy double doors had swung closed, once again cutting off all the dogs held behind them from the rest of the world.

It was done.

It had been hard. Much harder than he had expected, in fact, but it was done, just as it had to be.

He knew he would feel melancholy for the next few days, and miss petting Sammy in the evenings, or taking her out for her morning walks on the weekend, but he would get over it, eventually.

His wife, too, he thought, would be able to cope well enough, though she would doubtlessly be a bit depressed about the whole sad affair for a week or two.

It was his son that he really worried about. When the boy finally realized what his father had done to the family pet, would he forgive him for it? Mr. Matheson hoped that he would, just as he himself had eventually forgiven his own father, for doing the same thing to their old family dog, all those years ago.

Mr. Matheson sighed, then exited the shelter and got into his car. He then drove back home, leaving his pet behind forever.

Dogs get abandoned.

12 - Epilogue

"Hey, didn't you used to have a dog?"

"Yeah, but my folks got rid of her." Christopher replied, to the pretty girl who had knelt down beside him, next to where he sat on the grass, in the park.

"Oh, that's too bad. She was adorable." said the girl, a little pout coming over her cute features.

"I guess. My dad took her to the shelter a few days ago." Chris replied. "You know what's funny? He tried to use the whole "I'm sending her to a farm upstate." line on me."

"Oh, seriously? Gawd, who'd swallow that old line?"

"I know, right?" Chris said, picking at the grass absently.

"Hey, did your dad take her to the shelter just down the street?" she asked.

"I think so, yeah." answered Chris. "Why?"

"Well, she really was the cutest little thing." the girl answered, putting her hand to her mouth. "Maybe I can talk my parents into adopting her for me, if she's still there."

"Oh. Well, you probably shouldn't bother." Chris said, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"My parents got rid of her because she was probably pregnant. The neighbor dog got into the back yard while we were on vacation, and spent the whole weekend rutting with her." Chris said, shrugging. "They didn't want to have to deal with the puppies, so they dumped her."

"Ohh. Well, I guess I don't want her now, either." said the girl, looking disappointed.

"Who would?" Chris agreed.

"Hey.." the girl said, a moment later.


"Have you, umm.." the girl started to say, hesitating a little. "Have you thought about maybe getting another dog?"

"Ah, well.. Not really." Chris said, honestly. "The last one was kinda nice, but I didn't like having to walk her every day."

"Oh. Wellll, if you ever changed your mind.." she said, smiling at him as her voice trailed off.

Her bottom wiggled back and forth a little, in apparent excitement, as she looked at Chris.

From the way she was moving it, it almost seemed like she was trying to wag a tail.

"I think I know where you might find another one. You could probably pick her up pretty cheaply, if you wanted. Maybe even for free." she finished, her grin turning wicked and her eyes sparkling, as she went to her hands and knees before him.

Christopher's eyebrows quirked up at her actions, then he grinned down at her in return.

Well, maybe he did want another dog, after all.


Author's note:

This one totally consumed my life. I saw the piece of art by Danaume, which I mentioned at the beginning of the story, and the little blurb of backstory that went with it, and it completely fired my imagination up. I knew I had to write out and expand on the story, or I'd never get any respite from the ideas banging around in my head about it.

There isn't a whole lot of sex in this one, which I hope doesn't disappoint people too much. But, most of my stories aren't really about the sex, anyway. The real climax of the story, I think, isn't when Sammy gets hounded by Bruno, but when her parents decide that, since keeping her would be more expensive than getting rid of her, she has to go to the shelter. Exactly the way people in real life often treat their pets, when cash is tight. It was at that moment that Sammy really ceased being a girl, and truly became a dog. Which is what the story was all about, after all.

Writing this story really took me back, to one of the very first erotic stories I ever read on the internet, nearly two decades ago. It was called "My Life as a Dog", by Owned. It was one of those stories that had phrases and imagery that just stuck with me, even after all this time, and it feels very "full circle" to now have written a similar themed story of my own.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, dear reader, as much as I did. I'd love to hear feedback. Criticism, both positive and negative, is always welcome.

13 - Outtakes

"Wait a minute." Mrs. Matheson said, frowning at her husband. "It was two hundred fifty dollars to drop her off at the shelter, and would have been an extra one fifty if you had opted to get her fixed?"

"Yes. Given how much more it would have cost us, I chose not to have her fixed." Mr. Matheson replied.

"If it cost two fifty to get rid of her, but only one fifty to get her fixed, then why didn't you just get her fixed?" Mrs. Matheson demanded. "It would have been cheaper, and we would have gotten to keep her."

"I.. Uh.." Mr. Matheson stammered, looking at his wife and blinking in surprise. "Oh.."

"Umm.. Oops?" he said, a moment later, shrugging sheepishly.

"Dear, I love you, but sometimes you can be a real idiot." Mrs. Matheson said, shaking her head at her husband.

"Uh, should I go to the shelter and try to get her back..?" he asked.

"Ugh, no. What's done is done, I suppose." Mrs. Matheson replied, sighing and shrugging her shoulders. "Besides, if you go back there again, those con artists might swindle you right out of your pants this time."

"I guess I got so fixated on the idea of getting rid of her, that it didn't even occur to me to just get her fixed and keep her." Mr. Matheson mused.

"You've always had a one track mind dear. It's actually one of your more endearing traits." Mrs. Matheson said.

"Most of the time, anyway."



I thought I was getting "My Life as a Dog" vibes from this story.

Great story!


What... the fuck ? What kind of fucked up family is that ?! They abandonned their daughter in a shelter ! She can't have kids wuth a dog you lunatics ! And Even if she could, SHE'S YOUR DAUGHTER, not a real dog ! And how come nobody notice she actually ISN'T A FUCKING DOG ?! That's completely stupid. Even for Gurochan it's fucked up.


It's pretty clear from the ending that turning people into dog-people is normal in this world. But the rest of your points are pretty valid.

Still got off to it though, so w/e.


Oh I hope she get's adopted!


Lovely !


Are you planning on writing a sequel? Would you mind if anyone else continues your story ? This story really hit me.


I haven't managed to finish this story, and I doubt I ever will. This is a HORRIBLE way to treat a phobia! I've had to deal with two for most of my life, so I just can not get into the head space of "it's just to get to the good parts" to enjoy the story.

I have very strong opinions on how to treat phobias, and if I had come accross this family... well, the girl would not be with them for much longer, and they may end up dead.



You have no idea how much I'm enjoying these two comments. Thank you.


Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.


I've got some ideas, which I may or may not have time to ever flesh out and write up. I've also got another story that is along the same lines as this one, just with ponygirls instead, which is about a third finished. If you wanted to do something with these characters or this setting though, feel free. I'd be very interested to see what you create.



Well that's good because I've already written a good chunk of it lol

Ooooh can't wait to read your ponygirl one.
Remember the old story Devil's Island or whatever it was called?


This was a very hot little story. I love the transition into a dog plus the acceptance everyone else did. It was a nice change in the story I usually read, thank you. I enjoyed it a lot.


Cynophilia, a fan-sequel to Cynophobia

Chapter One : August 31st

 Josephine Hudson swallowed over the lump in her throat as she saw her reflection in the glass door to the local shelter. For the what felt like the first time, but was probably the dozenth, she pushed hard against the steel handlebar and heard the familiar jingle of the bell letting the woman at the desk know someone was coming in. Josie turned and blew a kiss over her shoulder at her boyfriend, Christopher Matheson, as he drove away in his dad's beaten-up old car. He had groaned to her for weeks that he was supposed to his own car for his eighteenth birthday but the shelter fee for Sammy had set the family luxury budget back a while, and then it was another thing, and then another. And his Dad was still sticking to that stupid 'farm in the country' story.

 "Welcome back, sweetheart," said Ms. Carlin, the animal shelter's only notable employee to speak of, and Josie's best friend's mother. "Back again to see poor Sammy?"

 Josie nodded and smiled, feeling the heat beginning to flutter in her stomach.

 "You've been so kind to the poor thing over these past months." Ms. Carlin frowned, her eyes brimming with a kind pity. "I shouldn't be saying this, sweetheart, but, perhaps it's best to say your goodbyes today." She paused with her mouth open as if she wanted to say something more comforting, but sighed and closed her mouth. It was understood.

 Josie shuddered. She nodded silently as she signed into the visitor's book for a final time. She casually flipped back through the sign-in pages, seeing her own signature multiple times per week over this past summer.

 'Wow, have I really spent all this time here? I need to thank Chris for driving me all this time,' she mumbled to herself as she closed the book, smirking as she pictured a couple of ways to thank her boyfriend. "Okay! I'll head on back now!"

 "Alright sweetie. Shout if you need anything!" Ms. Carlin pressed the button behind the desk to buzz Josie through the thick metal door separating the front office from the shelter itself.

 As the door shut behind her, the welcoming barks began as the friendliest dogs jumped up in their cages, pacing, panting, and wagging their tails. Josie smiled and petted a few she was familiar with through their bars as she made her way toward the back.

 Stopping short with a happy gasp, "You are so cuuuute. Yes you are! Little babies!" She squeaked as four little week-old puppies waddled their way to the front of the cage. She stuck her finger into the cage for the littlest puppy to adventurously nibble on. "You really do look just like your dad," Josie turned her head to the cage next to theirs, "Don't they, mommy?"

 Sammy whimpered through her muzzle gag, shrinking nervously away from Josie's gaze. 'Oh no.. '

 Josie crouched down to Sammy's level and looked at her kindly. "Come here girl. Let me pet you." She narrowed her eyes at Sammy as she hesitated. "Now."

 Sammy slowly crawled toward Josie, her swollen breasts heavy beneath her. Josie reached into Sammy's cage and gently stroked the new doggy-mother's hair, cooing and shushing to comfort her. "Good doggy... Good girl... Shhhh." Sammy closed her eyes, desperate for the affection, hoping that this time Josie wouldn't-

 "Iiiee!" Sammy yelped, muffled through her gag as Josie pinched and pulled her sore nipple. Josie tugged at Sammy's nipple, forcing her until she was pressed up against the bars of her cage, and grabbed the poor girl's engorged breasts.

 Josie bit her lip, her face flushing slightly as she rolled Sammy's nipples in her fingers, squeezing her breasts roughly, without any concern for the dog girl's discomfort, giggling when milk began to dribble out of her nipples. "Maybe you should have been made into a cow." she said thoughtlessly, to Sammy's dismay. Her heart was pounding in her stomach and the heat from behind her pubic mound was spreading up to her blushing chest and face as she looked around nervously, checking to make sure nobody was looking, although she knew from her dozen or so previous visits she was totally alone. A few of the male dogs began attentively sniffing at the air. Josie kicked off her flipflops to the side and slipped her flowery summer dress over her head of wild brown hair, showing her bare petite breasts and lack of panties. She lifted her arms up over her head, stretching her fully nude petite form lazily before sliding her fingers slowly down her body to her warm, wet lips.

"I'm pretty sure I, like, left a wet spot on the seat of your dad's car when Chris drove me over here today."

 Sammy looked away, red in the face, tears in her eyes at the thought of her old family that had abandoned her here. She hoped now that she had given birth they might take her home. Maybe she could even be human again, although she often bargained to herself that she would stay a dog for the rest of her life if she could just come home again.

 On her hands and knees, facing away with her ass and slit exposed towards Sammy's cage, Josie slipped her left hand beneath her body and began rubbing her fingers around her lips and clit. "Mm... You're so hot Sammy.. You're not a person anymore..You're a piece of property. You got... oh.. pregnant with Bruno's pups.. and abandoned.. fuck.. Left here because you were inconvenient! Oh god..." Josie paused, her eyes closed and her back arched, slipping a couple of fingers inside herself, she let her torso fall down onto the floor, her ass still in the air. She ground her clit hard against her fingers, bucking her hips while Sammy tried not to watch or listen, and not to cry. Josie let her tongue fall out, panting in unison with the male dogs that were scratching against their cages, trying to get at the female that was clearly desperate to be bred, her scent getting them riled up. "So fucking.. hot.. you.. you're.." She whined as she flicked her clitoris between her two fingers, rubbing around it furiously at the thought that, "Tonight... Sammy.. you're gonna.. oh gawd.. you're being put down!"

 As Sammy blinked, her brain trying to process what she had just heard, Josie moaned and slid her fingers out of herself, her body twitching desperately, begging for just a bit more as she hung on the edge for what seemed like hours in her sex-dizzy head. Slowly, Josie collected herself, whining for her self-denied release, as she turned to smile back at Sammy, who was silently sobbing in the corner of her cage closest to her puppies.
 Josie took a few moments to collect herself, fix her hair, and get dressed. Her face was still bright red, her body was shimmering slightly from sweat, and she could feel the heat and moisture between her legs very slowly descending from its peak. She blew Sammy a kiss goodbye, feeling needy, swollen, and more animal than human. Dark thoughts and conflicting, overlapping fantasies swam through her lust-clouded mind as she took a deep breath and pushed the heavy iron door open once again, putting an innocent smile on her face.

 "I'll see you tomorrow morning sweetheart! I'll have to work late with Sammy, unfortunately. Magenta's outside ready to pick you up!"

 "Thanks Ms. Carlin!"

 As Josie walked outside into the early summer evening she was greeted by the loud honk of a pickup truck and a familiar voice shouting, "Heyyy bitch! Happy almost nineteenth birthday!"

 "Oh my god Mags your mom is like right inside."

 "Don't worry about it, get in, get in! Quick, I've got you an early present!" Magenta rolled up the window to the pickup truck to keep the air conditioning in while Josie went around the truck to get in.

 "So what'd you get me?" Josie asked, peering behind her redheaded friend at the inside of the truck as she closed the door behind her. Magenta was holding something behind her back....


Aww, that's sweet and hot. I liked it a lot.



I'm glad you liked it.


Nice. Do all dogs go to heaven? And, if so, do you think Sammy will get to go to people heaven, or doggy heaven? I like to imagine that her plight continues even into the afterlife, ha ha ha.

I'm curious where you'll take this, so definitely post it if you write more.


Awesome! I'm glad you like it.
I've been sick and stressed for a while now but I do intend to continue posting.


The way there's such casual dehumanization is something I very rarely see in stories. Wish there was more - so much more!

Great job, OP.


I keep seeing "My Life as a Dog" mentioned where might I find it?




Huh. Both ended waaay too prematurely. Especially the second one.

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