Puppy Love (part 2 of 2)

by Allen Baker

The next day at work was awful. It was always difficult for me to get back into Monday mode, but that day was worse, complicated even more by the stares that my crotch inspired. I was no more motivated to work than a homeless person on a three-day drunk.

Finally, the work day ended, and as I walked home I wondered what to do. I knew I wanted it, but it was an overwhelming thought. My mind kind of shut down, and I went numb.

Opening the mailbox brought me back to reality. There was another envelope with his return address on it. I rushed into the apartment and tore it open. A sealed brochure dropped out. There was a post-it note attached.

"Mutt, look this over carefully. It's the training camp I will send you to. Every service offered is one I could consider for you. Be sure this is what you want." It was signed K.M.

"Camp Canine – in the Beautiful Adirondacks." The picture showed a line of five collared men on their haunches in a begging position. Below the picture was the line, "Specializing in Training and Surgical Modification."

How I longed to strip off my clothes and whip out a load just looking at that picture and envisioning myself in that line up. My prick tried to harden, but only succeeded in painfully crowding my nuts. I ached, but had no possibility for release.

I threw the brochure down on the bed and rushed to the bathroom, hoping a cold shower would relieve my condition. It didn't. Dried off, I sat nude on the bed and cut open the seal on the brochure.

The first few pages were on puppy training. The pictures there were of "newborn pups" being washed and cleaned. Then forced to suck fresh milk directly from bitch tits. As they grew, they were weaned and introduced to solid dog food. It showed mandogs in cages and on leashes. It told of the techniques used to teach the pups to heel, fetch, etc. The methods were strict, harsh, and had lasting results.

Then came the pages on foreskin restoration and attachment of the top side of the penis to the dog's abdomen. Delicate tongue modification eliminates human speech but allows for barking, panting, and licking. Saliva gland stimulation will produce drooling. Dental work would replace the eye teeth with canine implant fangs. Ears can be pointed and relocated, tail nubs implanted. And things I'd never dreamed, like total emasculation and vagina construction. Would he turn me into a bitch dog? How did I feel about that possibility? I wasn't sure.

Again my cock attempted to erect. Again, my balls ached from the increased pressure. I groaned and realized he was right. This cage did make me see what it would be like to not have control of basic human desires and needs. Then it struck me that human desires were exactly what was to be beat out of me. Did dogs have their own set of desires? I was sure they must. Would I come to know them in time?

With my crotch in discomfort, I turned another page in the brochure. The "Extreme Modification" struck me like a blow to the stomach. I was queasy, couldn't breath, and my head reeled just looking at the pictures. And suddenly I was more excited than I'd ever been in my life. And that scared the shit out of me.

There were mendog with legs amputated below the knee. Arms amputated three inches below the elbow with the stubs remade into paws. My breathing accelerated. Plastic surgery snouts and implanted whiskers and tails. This was indeed extreme. One was covered in furry hair. I shuddered and creamed the inside of my metal confinement.

The next day I called in sick and memorized the brochure word for word as I sat at the window and watched for the mid-morning mail. As soon as I saw the delivery person leave, I ran down the two flights and retrieved the letter I just knew would be there. I was back up the steps and into the apartment before I realized I was nude. That explained Mrs. Ellison's shocked stare on the second floor landing. Shit, who cares.

I tore open the envelope and a sheaf of pages fell out. I sat on the floor and read.

"By now, I think you will have a fair idea of how you will decide. You have until noon on Friday to make a final decision. Then you will need to act. If you decide that this isn't the right time or choice for you, call the enclosed phone number and record the single word ‘No' on the machine. I will send you the padlock keys and that will be the last of it.

"If you choose ‘Yes,' no call is necessary. I'll know. Then you are to follow the enclosed instructions exactly. You will report here in four weeks."

I didn't have to wait until Friday to decide. I knew what I had to do. There really was no choice: I was dog, through and through.

I went on to the next page:

"From now until the end of week two, go to work every day and be an efficient, dedicated employee. I don't want anyone to talk or think poorly of my property. You are to remain disciplined – or you will be disciplined.

"Friday – give two weeks notice at work, if you can leave sooner, do so.

– notify your landlord that you're breaking your lease and leaving at the end of the month. Pay all penalties in advance.

– arrange for electric and phone service to be terminated at the same date.

Next week – spend evening packing up personal possessions to give to friends/neighbors who will appreciate them.

– see that above items are distributed. Visit with straight friends and co- workers to explain you are leaving the area for good (possible cover stories will be mailed next week).

– go to the Post Office and complete "Forward Mail" forms for my address. (Not that you will ever see any of the mail. I'll just take care of lingering bills and pitch the rest unopened.)

Week Two – cash in your retirement fund, insurance policies, etc.

– spend the evenings visiting favorite places; take in movies, theater, concerts; visit museums; any other human activities that you have enjoyed in the past.

Week Three – (you should be done a work by now)

– pay all bills and debts

– close out your checking and savings account.

– sell your car.

– sell anything not already given away. What you don't sell, have Goodwill or Salvation Army pick up.

– cut up your credit cards

– keep $5000.00 in cash in your wallet. All the rest of the money put into a money order and anonymously donated it to a local dog shelter. (Yes, all: savings, retirement, everything – you'll have no further need for money.)

Friday of Week Three you will receive your final mailed instructions for Week Four."

I reread the pages again and again. The finality of the choice began to set in. I slowly walked through the apartment looking at every object. Everything had memories attached. But the longer I looked, the less important the items became. I realized that it would not be hard to leave this all in the past. I would be reborn as a new puppy with a new life. A new adventure. A new me.

Suddenly, I knew I could grab a shower and put in a half day at work and do a great job.

_______________________________________________

The three weeks had flown by, and that Friday morning I found myself again window-watching for the mail. This time I was dressed in running shorts and T-shirt as I raced the stairs down and back.

I tore open his letter with eager anticipation. More pages of instruction and two keys. I stared at the keys a moment and then began to read.

"Final week of instructions: Spend this week saying good-bye to gay friends – sort of a one-last-fling approach. Something like a bachelor party before the wedding night. Fly off to a gay beach in the Caribbean if you like. You have enough money in your wallet to have a great week. (CAUTION: you do need to keep $500 in reserve for the final weekend.)

"There are two keys to the cock cage. Put one in a safe place for any emergency. The other carry with you. Have as much sex as you want. But I forbid you to take the cage off yourself. You can offer the key to a sex partner for him to use if he wishes. Tell him your new master has ordered that you not use the key yourself and that he is to re-lock it when finished with sex. Under no circumstances are you to use the key yourself. Under no circumstances are you to masturbate. If your partner chooses to use the key, fine. Otherwise, you are to service him with no relief of your own urges.

"You will have until 6:00 A.M. Friday to sew your wild oats. On that morning you are to rise early, pack a suitcase with a pair of dress slacks, dress shoes and socks, dress shirt and tie, a dinner jacket, toilet articles, and underwear (optional). Dress in cut offs, T-shirt, and sneakers and proceed to the train station.

"When you leave the apartment, it should be empty or arrangements should have been made with the landlord to have anything left donated to a charitable organization. Put the apartment key in the super's mailslot.

"Buy a ticket to Morgan. You'll arrive there at 1:26 P.M. and check into The Carlisle across the street from the station for two nights. It's gay owned and the bar is a great cruise spot.

"There will be another message for you at the hotel's front desk."

It was a wild week. I had approached it with abandon, carefree and enthusiastic. My friends were intrigued by the key. Some delayed unlocking for hours to torment and heighten the experience. One perversely started to unlock it many times through the evening, but always changed his mine and never did, but took much pleasure in my suffering. I loved it.

But always in the background was my eagerness for the end of the week. Kennel Master had known what he was doing with his meticulous stratagem. He had given me time to mentally adjust. I was more than ready to leave the world of humans.

It had been an exhausting week. I collapsed on the train and slept most of the way. I awoke once and remember thinking I really should enjoy the train ride as it would probably be my last. But it didn't really matter enough to me. Sleep did.

The conductor woke me at my stop. I crossed the street and entered the hotel.

"The room has been reserved and paid for, Sir. Just sign in. Oh, and this note is for you."

It was just a scrap of paper folded over once. It instructed me to give the cock cage key to the desk clerk. I took it out of my pants pocket and handed it over.

"Come around the counter here, Sir."

I left my suitcase stand where it was and followed his instructions.

"Drop your shorts"

I was startled and glanced about the lobby. There were people about, but none close. I obeyed him. He reached down and used the key. He gave my equipment a couple of bounces in the palm of his hand.

"Very nice. Shame to have had it locked away. If you need help with it during your stay, just let me know. My name's Carl. Here's your room key."

I pulled up my shorts. I had to leave my T-shirt out to cover my erection. Confined for so long without room to grow, my prick quickly took advantage of the freedom.

I was surprised when I got my room door open. It was an entire suite. Replete with cut flowers and all. Beautiful. And an envelope on the coffee table marked "Final Instructions."

"Welcome to your final weekend of human existence. Enjoy the rooms. There is an excellent stash of videos in the bedroom. They actually belong to the hotel owners whom I've known for a long time. Knowing their tastes, the tapes should be kinky enough. There should also be an assortment of toys in the bedroom drawers.

"Dress for dinner in the hotel dining room. Spend the evening there and the bar. I've no doubt you'll be picked up in no time sporting that hard-on in your pants." (He knew it be like this; he'd planned it all!) "Enjoy the weekend.

"Sunday noon is check out time. Leave the suitcase and dress clothes in the room. The hotel owners will give them to a local charity. There's a pair of scissors in the desk drawer. Cut up all your remaining items of identification in your wallet.

"Turn your room key in and cross back to the train station. This time go to the bus line's window and buy a one-way ticket to Jackson. The bus leaves at 1:15.

"When you get off the bus, go to the men's room and go into a stall. Put your wallet and its remaining money on the floor behind the commode. It'll be found quickly by someone who can use the money. Drop your T-shirt in the trash and leave the station.

"It's seven and a half miles to my place. You should have a nice last walk. Once you reach the dirt road there's rarely any traffic. Take off the cut offs and fling them into the woods. If you should hear a vehicle coming, you'll have plenty of time to dive into the bushes. At the end of the drive, take off your sneaks and socks and pitch them as far as possible back into the trees. Drop to all fours and romp on up to the porch steps and wait. Never again will you stand upright as a man."

As I read that last line, my hard cock spat and twitched and creamed the inside of my shorts.

_______________________________________________

I had been sitting nude on the lawn at the bottom of his steps for over an hour before I heard the dogs barking far away in the woods. As they came closer, and I heard them thumping through the underbrush. Suddenly they hurtled into the clearing and bounded up to me, yelping and sniffing and licking a welcome home.

Master soon followed with a rifle and a bulging game sack over his shoulder. "Morning, Mutt." He ruffled my head fur and scratched my ears. "Welcome home."

"Come on, cur, ‘round back," he commanded and led the way. He ordered us to sit at the bottom of the steps as he went inside. He returned with some utensils and went about dressing the game as he whistled a gentle tune to himself. We watched patiently. He finished and took everything into the kitchen. He banged about for a while and returned with the huge dog dish. "Supper, all."

My first meal as a permanent dog! I forced a healthy amount into myself. I knew this was all I could ever again expect and had to learn to like it. All the while he gave us pats and scratches and talked to us. Occasionally, we'd stop long enough to give a woof of thanks.

When we were done, he sent the others two off to scamper. He led me to the hose. "Time to clean you up and give my new puppy a thorough inspection." He sudsed me down and scrubbed me twice with the harsh disinfectant soap. He dried me off and took me into the kitchen.

"Hop up here, boy." He patted the table top. I jumped to the chair, then on up. "Ok, mutt, sit." Then he proceeded to search through my hair, inspect my ears, and inside my eyelids. He looked up my nostrils and down my throat. My teeth and gums got special attention. He prodded my neck and shoulders and tested my joints. "All fours, boy." He felt my chest and stomach and flanks. He fingered my ball sack and stroked my cock. He parted my ass cheeks and inspected my hole. "Stay."

When he returned, he had two padded leather pouches. He lifted my left hand, formed it into a fist, and forced it into one of the tight pouches. He buckled and padlocked it before repeating the procedure on the other. He took two pairs of plyers and mutilated the keys to the locks and threw them in the trash. I whined a little and he patted my head. "Don't fret, boy. You'll never have use for hands again. Those are human things."

I was so rock hard I nearly shot then and there.

"Come on, time to do a deeper inspection of that hole." He led me into the bedroom and let me watch as he undressed. I wagged my ass in eager anticipation.

He patted the bed, and I jumped up. He knelt behind me. His cock head plugged me immediately. I whimpered, begging for more. He complied by burying his huge cock to its full length. He held still for a minute or so, savoring the feel. I savored it, too. For the first time as a permanent dog, I was being fucked by my Master's cock! And he did it so well.

"You look to be in pretty good condition, boy. But just to be sure, we're going to take a visit to the vet tomorrow. Now, time for bed, but I'd better let you outside first."

_______________________________________________

The next morning, I was still im my cage while listening to Master on the phone with the vet. "Hey, Mason. Got that new pup I was telling you about. I guess I need to get him over to you for his shots and all. Does this morning suit you?" He listened a short time. "Sounds good to me. See you in about an hour. I'll pull into the back garage door. Meet you soon."

He let me out the kitchen door. My hands were still inside the pouches, but I was beginning to get used to them. We three dogs did our business and romped a bit while Master shaved and showered. He brought his breakfast onto the porch while we ate ours. Then it was hose-down time for us. After, he told them off to play and turned to me. "Well, boy." And away we went around the side of the house. He opened up the tailgate on the truck. There was a cage in the back. "In you go." I jumped up and in. He closed the cage and locked it, then closed the tailgate. I was beginning to be a little concerned about being spotted in the back of the truck as we traveled. But just then he pulled a tarp over the cage and tied it down. Then we were off. He drove fast and hit every pothole. I was bounced about and finally found it best to lie down.

Soon we came to a stop, and I heard a garage door close behind us. "I'll be right back, boy. Just stay put." As if I had any choice.

Soon I heard his voice again with another. The tarp was whipped back, and they stood looking at me.

"Decent looking, for a mutt," was the vet's preliminary evaluation. "Well, John, let's get him in and see what's what."

Master opened the cage, and I pounced to the floor and followed them in to an examining room. Doc Mason prodded and poked, shined lights, and used the stethoscope to listen. He examined my cock and balls, and stuck a thermometer up my ass. I tried to act indignant about that, but it felt so good that I doubt if it really came off that way.

"He appears healthy enough, but there are some things I'd recommend."

"Such as?"

"Well, his canines are underdeveloped. I'd suggest we pull them and do some implants that are more substantial. And the intervening front teeth are going to be in the way, so we should either pull them, too, or grind them down."

"Ok, I'll go along with that."

"Then his genitals. Most dogs' cock sheaths are joined to the abdomen. That keeps their pricks up out the way when they run. And foreskin restoration would protect that meat head from briars and thistles. And since he's not a pure-breed, I'd probably de-nut ‘im. No since having more mutts about."

"Well, Mason, I agree with you on the cock part. But I need to hold off on the neutering a bit yet. I've already promised that when he's mature to breed him with a bitch a friend of mine has. He's been wanting pups for an age and isn't concerned about bloodlines."

"Suit yourself. Shall I hang onto him and start the rest of it?"

"Sure."

"If you have a little time, I could use a hand on those teeth. It'd be helpful to have someone hold him open – reduces the chances of me getting bit as I work on him."

"You bet."

Master straddled my back and stretched open my jaws in his two fists. The vet came at me with a vial and a needle.

"Don't bother with that Novocain, Doc. He can take it. No use spending the extra dough."

I whimpered, but held my place.

Doc shrugged and put them down to reach for his tools. It took about twenty minutes for them to get the twelve of them out. By then, tears ran from my eyes and blood from my mouth. My gums were a bloody pulp. The doc poured a strong antiseptic onto the damaged area, and I howled.

"It's ok, boy, we're done now."

"Okay, John, put him in that cage and let him rest. How about we get some lunch and start on that cock sheath after we get back?"

"Sounds good, Doc. Let's go."

I was dozing off as they left the room.

_______________________________________________

That was two years ago, and I've never had a regret. With all the modifications, I'm as dog-like as I could possibly be. My ears point up and out. My snout is nicely elongated. My tongue has been modified and hangs out to the side when I pant. I can no longer speak, just bark and growl. My arms and legs have been shortened. My hands and feet replaced with paws. Two months ago, I was bred to his friend's bitch. Although she was a beautiful man-dog, I didn't like that much. I had to sniff and lick her twat and then fuck her from behind. Yuck! But I did my duty.

Two days ago, the friend called to say that the bitch is going to have pups. My pups! Hope I get a chance to see them sometime. As soon as Master heard this, he called Doc Mason to arrange for my neutering. So yesterday, he loaded me up and took me to the clinic.

I was excited and frightened. Master has been routinely torturing my nuts. He had vowed to keep increasing the pain, and had kept his promise. So I was ready to be rid of them and stop the torment. I think that was his intent all along. But I was frightened because he had promised to make the process the ultimate pain trip. We arrived at the vet's, and they took me into the operating room. They strapped me on my back on the table, and Doc swathed my crotch in germicide. He looked up at my Master. "Anesthesia?"

Master just shook his head.

Doc Mason smiled and picked up the scalpel. He made two long slices in my nut sack. I howled and whimpered and howled some more. Master whispered a crooning comfort and twisted my tits in an attempt at distraction. Fat chance! Doc popped my nuts out through the new holes. In the mirror, I could see them dangling on their cords. Then Doc took his curved needle and sutured and tied off their cords, close to the cuts. Each new needle punch made me tremble. Then I was surprised that they unbound me and led me from the table to a cage at the side of the room. They sat me on top of it and poked my dangling nuts down through the mesh. Master reached into the cage and used some device to trap them inside and closed the door. Doc reached over and pulled aside a slide covering an opening in the wall.

Immediately I heard a snarl, and a Doberman sprang through the opening. He growled and snapped at the two men. Then he sniffed and caught wind of my maleness. His nose investigated my dangling balls. Then he licked his rough tongue about them, causing me spasms of panic. But I was trapped. In two swift chomps of his massive jaw, I became a neutered mutt. I howled and the tears streamed, but I watched in fascination as my gonads were chewed and swallowed in two swift gulps. The men carried me back to the table. I went into shock and only remotely felt Doc cut away my sack and sew me up just before I passed out.

That was yesterday. Today, I walk funny. Bull Nuts keeps sniffing at my altered crotch. Bitch Lady nudges me to run and play. No way. I hurt. But it's a good hurt. I finally have reached the form that Master had envisioned for me all along. And he tells me that he plans opportunities for me to chew men's nuts off. I can hardly wait to give a man the thrill that I had experienced. My Master is smiling and pleased with his completed dog. He is happy. And therefore, so am I.