Alright, here's the first part of the story. I'm going to post it segmented, for ease of reading and because there may be a post size limit.
Prologue
Ugh, my mom is such a bitch. She needs to chill out before she blows a vein in her head.
Like, I get that she wants me to figure my shit out. But I just graduated a year ago, couldn't have got in to any good school (why apply when I'm not gonna make it in?), and haven't been able to find a job anywhere. Every time I've had an interview, there was something wrong. Either my boss was gonna be an asshole, or the pay wasn't worth shit, or it was degrading work. Fuck flipping burgers, I've got shit to do. Besides, I've got enough friends with decent hookups that I could couch surf for a couple years before I have to do anything anyway.
So, I party. Who the fuck doesn't? You only live once, right? She doesn't even know how often I black out and wind up next to some bitch I fucked the night before. By the way, pro tip: you can make bottom shelf vodka taste top shelf by pouring it through a water filter. I just wish these bitches were less needy. I try to leave 'em a morning after pill and bus fare home before I leave. But they always want to text me after, when I don't even remember their names.
Last weekend, though, I got super fucked up at my buddy's lake house. For once, I remember all of it: the dubstep blaring through the speakers, the taste of the gin, vodka, and Fresca combo I concocted (it sucked, but hey, I had to try it to know), up to the point at three in the morning when I got kicked out for giving the eye to some cockwipe's girlfriend. I staggered a bit on the way to the car, but it's nothing a little coffee and charcoal couldn't fix! Besides, I don't think the sheriff even patrols out here anymore. Nobody really lives in these woods, they're all owned by rich fucks as vacation spots. On the way home, I thought I saw a shadow cross in front of the car and felt it bump under me. Shit, what was that? Oh well, I've got to get home.
I'm lucky I got home when I did because I was ready to pass out by the time I got there. Twelve hours later, I'm holding frozen peas on my head to dull my headache, which isn't helped by the hysterical bitch in front of me. Turns out that bump I felt really happened, and it fucked up the hood and the windshield. She should be grateful I came home at all, but no... now she's going Jesus freak on me (she still goes to church, First Presbyterian, but it's too fucking early for me), telling me to think of others for a change. Why the fuck should I think of them? They're living for the same thing I am: to get by and make themselves feel good. At least I'm honest about it.
Man, will this bitch shut the fuck up? She's giving me a choice: she's either gonna press charges for my accident and make me work off the debt at her work as an orderly (like I'd want to scrub wrinkly ball sacks twelve hours a day), or she'll send me off to live with my aunt Lily, and work with her. She's a dog trainer, and apparently she needs somebody to help clean out the kennels for a couple weeks. I don't even call her my aunt, because she's not really related to us: she married my mom's brother Joey (he was cool, gave me my first joint), and it only lasted a few years before he split. We never saw him again after that, and my mom took it hard, but she and Lily became good friends from it. We don't see her much, but she calls once or twice a month, and every year I get a birthday card from her with a hundred bucks in it, so she can't be that bad. She's a lot more chill than my mom, so the choice is easy: I’ll go visit her and give my mom a chance to get some perspective.
Meeting Lily
My mom called Lily and told her I'd be coming, which she was apparently happy about. She's still a little tense about last night, but she'll get over it. In the meantime, since the car is fucked up I'll be going to her place by train. I grab a duffel bag and put in some working clothes (jeans and T-shirts, mostly), along with stuff for showering and reading on the train. I also stashed some X in the secret pocket, to make things more interesting. With that all set, I grab my phone and wallet and head out for the train station (only a couple blocks away). I try to say goodbye to my mom, but she can't even look at me. Meh, it's not a big deal.
Lily lives up in the country, about two hours north by train. It's a long ride, so I open my GQ magazine and start flipping through. It was all the usual crap: what shorts look better at the beach, who's the most stylish celebrity, what movies are coming out in a few months. It didn't take long for me to get bored with it, though, and I just started staring out the window, thinking about stuff.
The scenery is changing from the suburbs to farmland. The sight of cars and buildings, with people running around, got replaced a while ago by the occasional cow pasture among rows of wheat and corn. We're stopping less often too (thank God). It's like we've totally left civilization, and are heading into some uncharted territory, like in the Yukon or something.
Now we're getting into the woods. The sun's begun to set, and the orange light from the dimming sunlight is being filtered through the green leaves, making the whole thing look like it's on fire. It's pretty, but a little nerve-racking at the same time, because out here anything could happen, and there's no one around to even know it's going on. But that makes it freeing too, like someone could come out here and be whoever they wanted without being afraid of what other people think.
We're finally at the end of the line, where Lily lives. She's the only one at the station when I get there; at least I think that's her. I've never even seen a picture of her, but if that's her, she is a fucking bombshell. She's got to be twenty years younger than my mom, with short strawberry blond hair, fair complexion with a bit of a tan, and an hourglass figure like Scarlett Johansson. Is it weird that I kinda want her? I mean, we're not blood relatives, so...
The most striking thing about Lily (or whoever this is) is her eyes, though. If I had to name a color for them, I'd say they're sky blue; but they also have specks of every other color around the middle. Greens, browns, greys, maybe even a little purple. They're also large enough to be seen from far away and have this determination in them. It looks like they can express kindness or cruelty with equal effectiveness and get what they want either way.
When she sees me, this woman smiles and waves, then signals me to come over.
"Welcome to my neck of the woods. Your mother told me you were coming. I'm Lily: it's a pleasure to meet you."
She has a slight accent from Europe somewhere that I can't place (Britain? Germany?), but her voice is as clear and pleasant as her eyes. Not wanting to keep her waiting, I stick out my hand to shake hers.
"Err... hi. I've got my stuff here, so... is your car nearby?"
With a soft smile, she replies, "Yes, of course. Right this way, if you please." And with that, she strides to the parking lot, no hesitation. I follow her, bag in hand, drop my stuff in her trunk, get into her passenger seat, and we drive off to her house. Lily is totally silent until we get on the main road, then says,
"It's about ten minutes to my cabin from here. I heard about your accident, by the way. Very naughty of you."
Not one minute on the trip and I'm already being scolded. Normally, I'd flip out, but for some reason I don't mind it from her. She's got a little humor in her voice anyways, so I don't think it'd be a problem to talk about it.
"Uh... yeah. I went to this party, and on my way back, I guess I hit something."
"You guess? Do you mean to say you don't know?"
"No... to be honest, I wasn't in the best shape to be driving. It was really late."
"Ah. Too much fun, I take it? A little too much liquid courage?"
My eyes open wide at her bluntness. I'm worried this is going to be a punishment after all. But she laughs after a second.
"Relax. I drank when I was your age. That's what it is to be young, the chance to make stupid mistakes and live life to the fullest. After all, you only live once."
Amazing. I've never even met this woman, and she already knows me better than anyone else in my family. Then again, she did marry my uncle Joe, so she probably knows a thing or two about partying. What happened to him anyway?
"Yeah... true... did you party like that with Joe? I mean... not to butt into your personal life, but..."
Another disarming smile. "Don't worry about it, it's all in the past. Joe was a wild character; that's what attracted me to him in the first place. But after we had our fun, I wanted to settle down, and he... well, he refused to be tamed. So, that was it. We got divorced, he went his own way, and I've heard nothing of him for two years. I hope he's happy, at least."
"Oh... sorry for bringing it up. But hey, if you're both cool with it, no problem, right?"
"Yes, of course. But our marriage did lead me to my profession, in a way. I realized that what I loved wasn't Joe's unbridled spirit, but what he could be if he were propped up a bit. Imagine such energy on Wall Street, or in the White House! Sadly, he was less ambitious than I'd hoped. So, I turned my attention to animals. Compared to people, they are much easier to deal with. Less stubborn and more eager to grow and learn than many men, in my opinion."
"Is that it? Weird connection, but whatever. Hey, speaking of that, what do you want me to do for you while I'm here. My mom said something about..."
"Oh, no need to talk of work tonight, darling. Let's just enjoy the evening and get better acquainted, shall we?"
Our conversation turns to more polite topics. The weather, the news, music, movies. It doesn't matter what the subject is, either; with her, I'm always engaged and fascinated. If the rest of my time here was just like this, I think it might be the best vacation I ever had.
We arrive at Lily's house, and she gives me a tour. The place has a rustic feel, like it's straight out of Plymouth colony. The back yard is huge, surrounded on all sides by the forest. I don't think there's another house for a half mile around. Inside, you have the usual features: living room furnished in leather and hunting trophies, dining room with antique oak set, kitchen with a gas stove. There's nothing electronic, though; no TV, no computer, corded phone in the kitchen. Lily says she likes her life simple and doesn't bother with the outside world much except for her work. Hell, I'd do the same thing, except for the work, if I had the money.
Upstairs, there's just a bathroom, Lily's room, and a guest room where she tells me to put my stuff. After the tour, we head downstairs and she whips up a quick dinner of beef stew. We keep talking during dinner, though I should say that she's doing most of the talking because I haven't eaten all day, and I'm starving. After dinner, Lily fixes me a soda (birch beer, I think), and we sit on the couch and keep talking. It's so good to be on friendly terms with one of my relatives for once. I'm barely even paying attention to the conversation anymore; my thoughts keep wandering around as she keeps talking about her life and her work. I can barely keep my eyes open; the journey must have taken more out of me than I thought. But that's OK... I can just sit here... and drink my soda... and listen... and relax...
Day 1
I wake up in the guest room, my duffel bag beside me, still packed.
What the hell happened last night? I got here, had dinner, and then...
It's not important what happened last night. That was the best night's sleep I've had in months, anyway. Besides, I smell bacon cooking downstairs. Lily must have made breakfast. I put on some clothes (jeans and a T shirt), and head down to the kitchen. I'm hungry as anything, and ---
Collar.
There's a dog collar sitting on the sideboard by the front door. Why didn't I notice that yesterday? I always notice dog stuff like that. After all, I'm obsessed with dogs. Always have been. Deep down inside, I want to be a dog. Every time I see one, I get so jealous. Like, why can't I just live a free, happy life like that?
Wait, where the fuck did this come from? I don't think I've ever felt this way before. When did I want...?
I have so many memories of wanting to be a dog. I can remember dozens of times looking at dogs, and thinking to myself, "I want that." Or being in a supermarket, walking by the pet isle and smiling at the happy dogs on the food packages, or wanting to get myself a rope bone just because. This is just one more time, that's all. Nothing special.
I head into the dining room, and Lily is just setting my place at the table. Bacon and eggs, with toast, not bad. We exchange good mornings, and then I immediately dig into the food. It's so good, my mouth is constantly full. Lily gives me a wry smile, and says,
"Listen, kiddo. I've got some errands to run in town this morning, so I'll be out of the house for a couple of hours. You just eat your breakfast and relax for a while, and we'll get started when I get back. Sound good?"
I nod in agreement since I can't say much with a mouthful of eggs. With that, she's out the door. I finish my breakfast, wash it down with the coffee she poured me, and then decide I'll head back to my room to unpack. I wonder what work---
Collar.
There's the collar again, and with it that rush of secret desires comes back. I walk to the end table and pick it up. The collar is smooth black leather, no name tag, and just big enough for my neck. Why not wear it while Lily's out? She'll be gone for a while, and I'll put it back, so she never knows I touched it. My heart racing with excitement, my cheeks reddening with the combined lust and shame of it, I wrap the collar around my neck and latch it closed.
It feels incredible, the tightness of the leather on my skin, the cold metal of the clasp when I first put it on. It's not so tight that I can't breathe or that it doesn't let blood rush to my head. It's not so loose that it dangles from my neck and chafes. It's just right. Like Goldilocks. Or maybe like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood...
I stand there, ecstatic that I'm wearing a real dog collar, full of energy. That blood is rushing to my other head now, as I think of being a dog, anyone's dog, pleasing them, pleasing myself...
Wait, am I touching myself? Oh my god, I am! Right in front of the door. Not that anyone's going to come in right now, but I should find a better spot for this... the guest room! I head up to my room, and the first thing I see there is the full-length mirror next to the dresser. I see myself in the mirror, and I look like a million dollars right now.
I'm a little short for my age, but I make up for that with a taut physique (5' 7", 150 lbs.). I have short, dark brown hair in a crew cut, dark brown eyes, and a prominent chin. It also helps that I'm above average in my cock size. But my eyes are drawn down past my chin to the shiny, smooth collar around my neck. I feel like it completes my look, gives it a focus it never had before. I love how I look in it.
I look in the mirror, into my eyes, and see myself as that much closer to being a dog. I see the dog inside me, lost in my pupils, whining and howling to get out. That inner beast is in there, and the more I stare, the better I know him. I keep looking there, in my eyes, seeing my true self as I've always wanted to, as the dog I know I'd love to be. The pleasure of that one thought, of being a dog, is better than the greatest buzz, or the sweetest high, or the most gorgeous woman, or the most triumphant victory. It fills me completely, totally, in pleasure, in my own pleasure that comes from inside me...
I see, there in my eyes, everything I love about being a dog. I see the meals from bowls on the floor, messy and raw and satisfying. I see the walks in the park, the oneness with nature, the other animals around me, the other dogs to play with. I see myself training with my owner, following her every command, doing whatever she wants, and getting treats for doing it. It's all the dog, and it's all I ever wanted.
I'm masturbating again. The thought of being a dog is the hottest thing I can think of, and its making me so horny. As my hand slides up and down my thick man-meat, I begin to see a problem: I'm masturbating to the thought of being a dog, but dogs can't masturbate, because they don't have hands. It takes a little will, but I stop stroking for a second and try to calm down and clear my head, to get control of myself.
There's not much of my head to clear. I only have one thought now, one thing I can do to make this even better. I have to get down on all fours like the dog I wish to be. I've gone this far in being a dog, so why not go one step further? I lower myself to my hands and knees. If anyone else saw me, they'd probably laugh: a grown ass man on his hands and knees, wearing a collar, staring back at his reflection. But it doesn't matter, it feels so fantastic. This is the most right anything has ever felt, and the fact that I get off on it makes it that much better. I didn't even know it was possible to feel this good, and I've been trying everything for as long as I remember.
I hear a door creaking open. Then I hear a small slam as it closes. Is my aunt back already? Has it been two hours? Shit that was fast. What am I gonna do? She's gonna find me here with her collar, and I can't explain what I'm doing without her thinking I'm a freak. I've got to get up and take off this collar. If I hurry, I can pretend that I was just being curious with it. I have to move, now!
I don't budge. I'm too nervous. I can't stand up anyway, without giving up this wave of pleasure that I've been riding so long. I don't want it to end! She's coming up the stairs, her heels clacking more and more loudly as she does. The only thing I can do is stay put; If I'm quiet, maybe she won't notice me. Her footsteps are coming behind me now. Shit, it's all over! I'm dead! I'm ---
Ooh, that feels good. Those scritches behind my ear are wonderful. Now she's running her fingers through my hair, petting me, stroking me. I'm leaning into it, loving every second. She knows all the right spots to scratch, and it feels so great. What was I worried about? It doesn't matter now, I'm being petted. Now she's telling me I'm a good dog. I am! I'm such a good dog! As her hands run down my back in full length body pets, I feel like I'm dreaming. But this is real. My dream's become real, and it's better than I ever thought. I don't even have to think about it; I can just enjoy being petted, and scratched, and praised.
Aw, she stopped. Darn it. Is she walking away? Wait!
"Follow me."
She turns and heads down the stairs, patting her hip as she gives that command, coaxing me with her voice. I trot behind her on my fours. It's a little slow going down the stairs, but I manage alright. I don't know what to think at this point: I'm confused about what this could mean, and I'm also so turned on by the whole thing that I don't care. She heads into the living room, and I follow behind.
When I get there, she's sitting on the sofa, beckoning me to her. I walk to her side and sit on the floor in front of her. After all, dogs aren't allowed on the furniture. She smiles down at me with a look of compassion and sweetness.
"Well, this is a surprise. Tell me, what are you doing in that collar? Why are you on all fours?"
I blush with embarrassment as I try to find an excuse.
"Well... um... you see... I just..."
She reaches down and strokes my cheek with one hand. "It's alright, you know. I won't judge you. You can tell me anything."
With that, my doubts about her are gone. She's the one person I can tell my secret. The first person I've ever told, to be honest. My fantasies begin flowing out from me, slowly at first, then with more ease as I get more comfortable and more excited. How I've always wanted to be a dog, how dog things make me want it more, and how great it feels to be in this collar. When I'm finally done, she gives me a knowing glance and says,
"Oh, that's alright. It's kind of cute. You're pretty fetching in that collar, if I do say so myself. Tell you what, if you'd like, you can live as my dog while you're here."
This is too good to be true. "Really? What about the cleaning and stuff I'm supposed to be doing?"
"I won't tell your mother if you won't."
"Well, I'd love to. But what makes you alright with it?"
"My last dog died recently. That's his collar you're wearing. I've missed having a dog since then, and if you want to assume the role, it's all yours."
Part of me thinks she must be joking, as her reason feels... off, somehow. But it makes total sense to me, and besides, I've never had an offer like this before, and probably never will again. It's a no-brainer; I eagerly nod yes.
"Now, don't be hasty. If you are going to be my dog, then I'll expect absolute commitment. You'll be treated like a dog, and you'll only have a dog's rights, not a human's. Are you sure you want this?"
After only a second of considering it, I smile and nod again. I have to jump at this chance. Lily says nothing, but pets me and praises me again, saying how good a dog I am. And I really am, I feel it with every touch of her hand. This electric wave of pleasure all through my body, overriding every other sensation.
"Now, I have some chores to do in the kitchen, but I'll be free to play with you all afternoon. But before I go, there's one small detail we need to take care of."
I try to puzzle out what she means by that, but before I get anywhere, she commands:
"A dog doesn't wear clothes. Take off your clothes and leave them in a pile here by the sofa."
This is awkward. I've never stripped for anyone that I wasn't going to sleep with before. But I remember that part of being a dog, in my fantasy, is dressing like one. So, I stand up, take off my jeans and shirt, and then my underwear. To my surprise, it feels normal being naked in front of her. It feels right, totally routine, to have no fabric touching my skin anywhere. Nothing but the leather of my collar, reminding me of my situation.
Lily takes my clothes and heads through a door to the basement. I guess the laundry is down there. While she's downstairs, I sit like the dog I am, on my haunches, hands in front of me on the ground. One thing I never knew about being a dog is what to do when nothing else is happening. So, I sit and wait for Lily to get back, thinking about all the playing I'll get to do.
When she comes back up, Lily heads over to the kitchen, and I follow her clumsily behind. She's cleaning the stove, then cooking some hamburger and other stuff for later. I just wander over to the corner, lie down (after making it comfortable by circling around), and watch her cooking. After that, until she's done, there's not much to do. So, I just sit and stare at her like any other dog. It's so peaceful: I can just let her take care of me, without worrying about anything at all.
When the hamburger stuff is cooked, she puts some of it in a dog bowl for me, then fills another one with water and puts that next to it. At first, I don't really know how to eat it. I don't want to use my hands or make a mess. But she encourages me to dig in, and I start eating. It tastes wonderful, even better now that it's coming from a bowl. I shove my face into the bowl, getting each morsel into my mouth and swallowing it almost whole. Some of it gets on my face, and a little is stuck to the sides of the bowl, but that's OK. I wash it down with the water, trying to use my tongue to scoop it out. It's a little hard at first, but I build a rhythm and drink the whole thing down.
While I'm eating and drinking, I start thinking that as a dog, this is the normal way to eat. I've always eaten at a table with utensils before, but this isn't any different really. I'm just new to my bowl, that's all.
When my meal is over, Lily takes me over to the bathroom so I can use it before I go out. When I've done my business, she gets a leather leash from the back hall and asks if I'd like to go out to the garden. I'm ready to go, because that must mean it's time to play. So, we head to the back yard, where she picks up a stick from the nearby woods. She waves it excitedly, getting my attention with it right away. Then she throws it, and yells, "Fetch!"
I run after it (as close to running as I can, anyway), pick it up in my mouth, and bring it back. Then I get pets for bringing it back so fast. I did good! Then she takes the stick back and throws it again, and we keep going. I could do this forever. The house, and the woods, don't hold my attention right now: there's only the stick, and Lily, and me trying to get the stick. Nothing is more important than that stick.
Before I know it, it's time to be trained, like obedience school. We go through a bunch of different tricks. She teaches me "Heel," (by following her close as she walks around the lawn), then "Stay," (she walks around, I stay put). "Sit," (I did it before, but now she's telling me to) "Lay down," (from sitting, bring my hands forward and put my chest on the floor), and "Roll over," (from laying down, make my body roll on the ground).
Each one of those needs some practice, but I'm a natural. I do it all perfectly, when she says, without even thinking. And every time I do, she gives me those great pets and words of love. The whole afternoon is a blur of training and attention and fun and work and play.
As the sun sets, Lily takes me over to the hose and sprays me clean with it (all that running and rolling in the grass left its mark). I brace myself for the cold, but it's surprisingly warm, like a shower. Then she dries me off with a towel, while I press up against her (the wind is a little cold after being all wet) and brings me back to the house. I'm happier than I've been in at least five years. The last time I've felt like this was coming home from Little League after hitting a home run. I'm exhausted, but had a great time getting there.
I don't even know I'm hungry until Lily gives me dinner. The same hamburger stuff, but I don't mind at all since it was so good the first time. As I eat it, I realize how much better I'm getting at eating from the bowl: I could eat from there or from a table with equal effort. It's like I've done both my whole life.
Now Lily is bringing me back to the living room, where she sits on the couch and I sit by her feet. She pets me and tells me how good I was today, and how good I'm being now. It's the best feeling ever, and I know from hearing her that I'm good. Her voice is so beautiful, that I hang on every syllable, every movement of her lips and tongue and teeth, as she keeps talking... and I keep listening... and being good... good dog... listening... good...