Bad Dog part 2
I stood on my hind legs, looking out the living room window. My nose was pressed against the glass, and my paws—I mean, my hands—were up on the glass too. A woman was walking her dog.
She was beautiful. Reddish-gold hair shining in the setting sun, long legs with an easy stride, and a regal, almost haughty, upturned chin. I was painfully erect watching her.
She was a collie, I thought, like Lassie. Gorgeous.
Her collar sparkled in the sun. Probably rhinestones or something. I was captivated for the moment by the idea of it—the leash, the collar, the ownership. Belonging. My eyes followed the leash back to her owner. The woman was lovely too.
And just like that, there went my erection. Small and limp again. I sighed.
There! A couple was walking their beagle. A kid went by playing with their Scottie dog. A squirrel! It scurried through the grass and up a tree, and I watched it, panting. A guy passed by with two bulldogs.
I wanted to be out there. I wanted to chase them. To sniff them. To fuck them? I didn’t know! My cock throbbed with every animal that passed by the window. I was in a constant state of horny confusion.
“You better not be getting fingerprints on that window again!” Lily called from the next room.
Those were her words, but I reacted to her tone. Her tone of voice said Bad dog! I immediately dropped to all fours, full of guilt and shame.
“Sorry!” I called, from near the floor. Then I trotted on hands and knees down the hall toward the bedroom, toward the voice—forcing myself to stand upright before I got there, though it was difficult. First, because it was harder and harder lately to remember how humans did things—These paws are able to open cereal boxes and soda cans? Are you sure?—and secondly because I was still painfully aroused, and my boner, small as it was, was pressing firmly against my pants. I couldn’t straighten up completely, for both reasons.
“Hey,” I said to my wife, who lounged on the bed, looking at her phone. “How about some sex?”
“Smooth,” she said. “But sure.”
Of course my erection was gone already, as soon as I saw her. But as we both undressed, I still felt aroused, and was determined to get something out of it. And give ...
Something I guess I never noticed before was how many animal-related expressions we use. And my wife uses, specifically. I was nestled between my wife’s thick beautiful thighs, my tongue working her pussy like a champ, one of my favorite places to be. She moaned, “Mmmm, I love it when you go hog wild down there.”
Hog! And suddenly I was super hard again.
“Gonna ride me like a stallion after this?”
Probably not, but it was nice to think about. My cock surged again.
“Fuck yeah! Ooh you’re so good at that. Remember—uunghh!—remember how you used to be crap at oral? I trained you soooo good.” She giggled. “Oh! Oh! Fuck, your tongue is so fast it’s like a snake’s tongue!!”
I came about the same time she did, without touching it. She kept naming animals! Fortunately, we were both satisfied.
As we lay together afterward, she said, “Sorry we didn’t get around to playing with the worm this time.”
As soon as she said “worm,” it sprang to attention. She noticed. “Oh wow! You want to fuck me after all?”
It withered instantly.
“Huh. Your little worm must have seen a hungry robin.”
Boing!
She cocked her head at it. “Sex?”
Flop.
“Huh.” She blinked. “Weird.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just gave an embarrassed shrug. As I often did lately—I didn’t know how to explain anything that was going on, partly because I didn’t know a lot of it (or couldn’t quite remember it) and partly because I didn’t know how to explain the stuff I did remember. All I knew, really, was that Natasha was behind it—and I kept nervously waiting for her to appear at the door again.
But the next time she interfered in my life wasn’t in person—but through the mail.
I was relaxing on the couch when Lily came in holding a small cardboard box. “Package was delivered,” she said. “I don’t see a return address—do you remember ordering anything?”
I shrugged, and asked her to bring it over. I slit the top and opened it up and drew out a collar. A black leather collar, similar to a dog’s collar but clearly sized for a human adult. I gave an involuntary whimper.
“Oh ho! Kinky ...” she smirked. “So, you ordered something for us to play with and forgot about it, huh? I like it ...”
I opened my mouth to say I was sure I hadn’t ordered it, but all that came out was a whine. I sounded like a dog that needed to go out.
“Oh there’s something else in the box ... is that a leash?”
It was. A length of chain, with a black handstrap. It had a clip at the other end that would clip onto the ring on the collar. She turned it over in her hand, and I continued to make nonverbal, needy noises, completely involuntarily. She didn’t notice, until she picked up the collar again. I pawed at it.
That’s the only word for it. I ... pawed at the collar in her hand. My fingers tucked under, so that I was pushing on it with my knuckles. I looked at her pleadingly.
She finally noticed.
“Well, look at you! You look so needy ... I can almost picture your long, floppy ears, like a little puppy ... Is this what you need? You need to wear this?” She held it up, and I nodded.
“Cat got your tongue, huh?” The expression conjured a mental image, and the image got me hard.
“My my, you are quite the kinkster, I like it ... OK, lean your head toward me.”
She looped the collar around my neck, and I relaxed immediately. She ran the end through the buckle, and a soft roaring sound came through my ears and over my brain. She fastened it closed, and my whole body sagged with relief.
“Ah, that’s better,” I said. Then was surprised. I’d been literally incapable of human speech from the moment I saw the collar ... Now, as soon as it was on, I was all right. And able to tell my wife I was all right! Very strange ... More of Dr Carter’s triggers, undoubtedly.
“You like that, Tom? You want me to treat you like a pet?” I gave her a sheepish grin. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted anymore—how much was my own desires and how much had been implanted by Natasha.
“How about if I give you some scritches behind the ears?” She did just that, caressing my hair with one hand, and I moaned and leaned into it.
“Oh, yeah, I like that. Like, a lot, how weird ...”
“Bad dog,” she smiled, and swatted my nose gently. “Puppies can’t talk. And a good dog should not speak at all when it has its collar on.”
The roaring overwhelmed my brain. I felt my tongue fall out of my mouth, and my IQ drop a few points. And I knew there’d be no more human speech for a while.
“Let’s see ... should we attach the leash?” I nodded, eagerly. “Oh, I see. Does that mean you want to go for a walk?”
I yipped loudly and happily. She laughed.
“Good boy! OK, let me clip it on, then we’ll walk to the kitchen, how about that?”
I slipped off the couch onto all fours, and once the chain was clipped on, I wiggled my butt. Lily laughed again. “You’re really getting into it, I like this game. OK, let’s take a walk.”
I crawled, ambled, at a leisurely pace toward the kitchen. She didn’t know how much I’d been on all fours lately, and I was still somewhat in control of myself—so I was going to try not to startle her. To take it a step at a time. Could I guide her into treating me the way I (suddenly, somehow) wanted to be treated?
“OK, puppy, here we are in the kitchen ... now what?” She looked around, and I sat on my haunches—still fully clothed, of course—and looked around too. “What about a snack? I don’t know if I should give you water, because I don’t think I should let you pee in the back yard ... at least not yet! But ...”
Lily got a bowl and some cereal. “Here, let’s try this. Have some dog food.” She poured some Froot Loops, dry, into the bowl, then put it on the floor. When I put my face in it and started to crunch, she laughed aloud. I laughed too, a nice human laugh. It was fun!
She hugged me. “Oh, I always wanted a dog. Now, I’m sure you were thinking of things like mounting me like a beast, and all that, but can I just play with you first?”
So, after she watched me eat dry Froot Loops for a while without using my hands, she led me back to the living room, and had me get up onto the couch—I looked at her for permission first—where I dozed curled up at one end, while she stretched out full-length, and tucked her bare feet under me.
It was glorious. Something about wearing the collar, and being told “no words,” had absolved me of responsibility. I didn’t have to think about the bills, or work. I didn’t have to make decisions. I just had to do as I was told. Or, that first day, just nap.
It was an awkward position, at least at first, but I got used to it. Grew accustomed to it. I smiled as I dozed off, at peace.
When she got up a while later, I came awake. She gave me a gentle tug and I followed her, on all fours. I noticed she was already talking to me differently.
“Come on, sweetie. You’ve been so good ... Do you want a tummy rub? Need a snack? Who’s a good puppy?” She was gentle with me, and full of baby talk.
She led the way to the bedroom, and I nosed her in the bottom. She squealed. Then went, “Hmmm.” She patted the bed to welcome me up on it, and I climbed up awkwardly while she took off her pants and laid on the bed, spreading her legs. I nosed and sniffed and licked while she held my ears and squealed some more.
I never got hard. But I was a good doggy.
And when she took the collar off me, I actually whimpered. I was saddened to realize I’d have to stand up, and talk, again ...
Lily quickly learned that putting the collar on me—with or without the leash—gave her some peace and quiet. I couldn’t talk while collared. So, while sometimes she triggered my doggy side to play sex games, or obedience training, or fetch ... other times it was just so I’d lie at one end of the couch, warming her feet, while she relaxed, watching whatever TV programs she wanted to watch, without feeling the need to make conversation, or listen to me talk.
I was still sub-par in the bedroom—even more than usual, since I was always horribly limp or cumming in seconds. But that seemed to matter less and less as time went on. My doggy side was content. And growing.
I wondered sometimes if my wife fantasized about other men. About someone who could satisfy her more than I did. But she said my tongue-lapping game was on point, stronger than ever. So she seemed happy enough, and I tried not to think about it.
And after the time she caught me masturbating to Animal Planet, I really tried to keep my growing desire for mammal sex under control. (But really! Just imagine that feeling of fur stretched over tight skin and muscles!! Uunnff!)
It was a peaceful life, for a while. And I felt like we were moving closer to an idyllic situation for both of us, a fantasy come true.
But of course Natasha couldn’t allow that for too long.