Wife and Dog
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My Wife As A Dog free porn video
WARNING: This story has absolutely no transgender elements
in it. Permission was kindly granted from the FictionMania
task force to archive it within the "Miscellaneous Stories"
category. It also was the author's first transformative
story, written ten years ago in 1992, and this should be
kept in mind when reading it.
This story is a loose adaptation/novelization of the "Friday
the 13th: The Series" episode "My Wife As A Dog," which
originally aired on March 3, 1990. Earlier stored versions
of this story inadvertently omitted this credit.
The story was written (on a typewriter!) shortly after the
episode aired in 1990; at that time, the author was in the
middle of his adolescence. If you choose to judge this story,
the age of the author at the time of the story's creation
should be factored into it.
My Wife As A Dog
By Radioactive Loner
It was a cool day at Ricky's Bar, the place where I work.
By "cool" I mean that the heater was down, so we were all
freezing our asses off, you know? Of course, after my love
life and recent marriage, I'm pretty used to cold. Well, I
guess I better introduce myself, so you know what and who
the hell is going on here, eh?
My name is Julie Vetrablik. Before, I was a brunette
thirty-four year old waitress at Ricky's, remarkably well-
endowed (if I do make that remark myself) and with a figure
that men would die for. That is, before. Before the
divorce, I guess, would be the best term to tell you
without ruining the entire story.
It all started with the divorce. I was married to a
volunteer firefighter, whose name I'll withhold right now,
and replace with a pseudonym, "Rob". He was a real weirdo,
but the thing that most attracted me to him was the
mystical look in his eyes. So, we eventually married. But
then he became more mystical than ever, and he started
getting attached to his dog. After I caught him with that
other woman, that was it. I filed for a divorce.
Immediately. Mistake number uno.
It isn't right to mess with a mystical person.
It was twelve-thirty that day. I had moved out from "Rob"'s
house three days ago, and he was having trouble accepting
the fact that I just didn't want to be with him anymore. I
was ringing up two marguerites and a Coors Lite. The bill
came to six dollars and seven cents, I thought, as I rung
it up. The guy had given me a twenty-dollar bill, so I
tried to think what the change would be.
The key word here is "try". My mind balked. I couldn't
figure out that simple mathematical problem. And like it or
not, being able to add and subtract on your feet is one of
the most important things in the "waitress" profession.
Joy noticed my confusion and said, "Hey, dummy, it's
$13.97."
I said a quick thanks and counted out the change, handing
it to the person.
"Hey, lady, all you gave me was $4.97," the guy shouted in
protest.
I took a look at the bills. My eyes blurred and then
focused again. I had given the guy a one dollar bill
instead of a ten dollar bill. I walked over to the drawer,
pulled out a ten, and got the one back from the guy. How
had I missed that simple glaring "10" on the bills in the
drawer?
Well, on your own, you'd think, "The poor girl is tired,
it's natural to make a couple of slipups.
First, I don't make those kind of slipups. I've been a
professional waitress for five years, and I've pretty much
got things down pat on that end. Second, that wouldn't
explain what happened that night. The bar had been closed,
and we had had such a bad rush hour that I didn't have time
to eat even a donut or wash down a cup of coffee. I
collapsed, exhausted, on a stool. Joy placed a plate of
hot, steaming beef stroganoff in front of me.
You know how some things just come naturally? What follows
next was done by my mind naturally -- just like an
ingrained reflex. First, my head perked up and took a
couple sniffs of the rich aroma rising from the beef in
front of me. Then my head went down, and my tongue came out
of my mouth, scooped up a little beef chunk, and rolled it
down my throat. Joy was in the back room, and I lapped up
the rest of the meal, quickly. But the thing was, it was an
automatic reflex. It was like someone had made eating with
a knife and fork alien to my body, and made lapping up food
natural for me... further thoughts left as the food poured
down my throat. Joy had put down a mug of Coke (I don't
drink) next to the food. I stuck my tongue in the glass and
slurped up some of the soda.
Finally, the meal was finished. At that time, it was
perfectly natural to eat that way, and the realization
actually didn't hit me until later of the exact manner in
which I had devoured the meal set before me. It was like
that of a wild animal, like a pig or cat.
The actual truth didn't hit me until that night, when I was
getting dressed for bed. Unfortunately, a bachelorette
who's thirty-four doesn't get many house calls, unless
she's rich, so I was pretty much alone for the night. I
took a look at myself in the mirror. Gravy stains covered
my shirt, while my face had Coke and gravy drying on it.
"Strange," I thought to myself, and replayed my memories
back to the meal.
It hit me then how I had eaten the meal. I should have been
forewarned there. Mistake number two: instead I just
chalked it up to a busy day and too much overwork.
The next day I woke to the sound of a buzzing alarm.
Walking sleepily to the bathroom to get changed, I gave a
whimper when I saw the face in that mirror. My eyes were
dog eyes.
You probably think I'm kidding, right? No. The sclera (the
usually white part) was a dull, dirty yellow. My iris was a
light ring of brown surrounded by a huge black pupil.
"Oh no," the words escaped from my mouth, along with a
whimper. "Oh no," I said, drawing the 'oh' sound out into a
long whine.
I ran crying from the bathroom. I don't know how or why I
did it, but I put on shades and continued the day. During
the occasional dull moments, I reflected on what the hell
was happening. It must be some disease I contracted, I
thought. I'll wait for some money to pile up on next week's
payday, and then I'll take a visit to the doctor's.
That night's sleep was a troubled one, let me tell you. I
tossed and turned the night away. The next day I woke up to
find that the problem with my eyes had not abated. Instead,
the problem had spread. My two canine teeth had grown large
-- like a dog's. A whimper escaped my mouth, as tears ran
down my face. I reached for the phone with trembling hands.
"Joy," I said, my voice muffled by the new teeth, "I'm
feeling sick today. I won't be in, okay?"
"Sure. Want me to come over?"
"No, no, please don't!" I urged. I thought fast. "It's a
really contagious flu bug, and I wouldn't want to give it
to you."
"Sure. Take all the days off you need -- just come in when
you're feeling better."
"Thanks, Joy."
With that, I fell back on the couch, and watched NBC for
the rest of the day. You'd think I would have known better.
Maybe it was the effect of "Rob"'s spell (or whatever it
was). Maybe it was just my own carelessness. But that
night, I found my nails pointed and the same color as my
dull brown eyes. Well, that was it. I knew this was out of
the ordinary, and I decided to go where my mother taught me
to go when you don't know an answer -- books. I walked over
to the public library, with my nails in my pocket and
shades covering my eyes. You'd think I would have known
better. Than to go in public, I mean. Mistake number three.
When I looked up 'Magic', I was directed to go over to a
large shelf with big, fat dusty books on it. I looked up
'Dog'. Not a lot of help there. I looked up 'Domestic
Animals'. Zip. I looked up 'werewolf' on a wild chance.
None of the symptoms looked familiar. All of a sudden, a
huge ripping sound filled the library. The skin-tight
leotard, which I had worn, was now splitting around my
buttocks, to allow a thick, brown tail to emerge. I tucked
it under my coat as well as I could and quickly left the
library.
I became panicked that night, and grabbed a couple Valium
to calm me down. Unfortunately, all that did was make me
sleep. And sleep was evidently the catalyst for this
transformation (although it did seem to go forward during
the day, too). I knew after this tail, I had to stay out of
the public's eye.
Luckily, I had brought the book home so I could research
while this strange transformation happened to me. The next
morning I got out of bed and I stumbled a bit. I was
dreading the look in the mirror.
At first look, I didn't see anything, but then I thought,
"Maybe it's something underneath my clothes."
I flipped my nightgown over my head and took a look. My
chest above my breasts had grown a thick mat of brown hair.
Taking a look at my hands, they had grown a slight film of
hair on top. My feet had grown a slight mat of hair on the
arches. My hands had become stiff and clawed.
A continued look under the different topics looked
hopeless, but I went back to the book. I looked under 'dog'
and read the entire hundred pages. It mentioned that he was
often known as man's best friend, and it mentioned the...
'Leash of Dreams'? I took a look under that heading.
"'Leash of Dreams'", it said. "A device that when looped
around a dog will blur the wishes and hopes of an
individual with reality, thus allowing that person's wishes
or hopes to become true. This can actually alter reality,
giving it one of the most powerful magical rankings known.
However, for it to be active, it must be looped around the
neck of a host body, which must be canine. One murder must
be effected through strangulation using the leash in order
to set the blur in motion."
I thought a bit, which was hard to do in my present form.
My habits and thoughts were frequently being replaced by
dog habits and thoughts.
It had been a busy day, and I walked into the bathroom. I
had been so involved in the book and research that I had
not bothered to get dressed or put on my nightgown again.
Looking in the mirror, a whimper escaped my lips, and dull
yellow fluid trickled down my legs, dripping on the floor.
I had changed again.
My human ears had disappeared, being replaced by smooth
skin where my ears once stood. In place of my human ears,
two gentle pointed ears had grown on the top of my head.
There was a slight tuft of white hair in each of the ears
themselves. Brown hair had spread not only around my ankles
and wrists, but all over my hands, too. I also had grown a
nice little crop of brown hair all over my breasts and
stomach. I pulled on my nightgown.
I cleaned up the mess in there, and flopped on my bed. I
tossed and turned for a couple minutes, but could not get
comfortable. Finally, I got off the bed, pulled a couple
blankets on the floor, and curled up on them. With a
contented sigh I drifted off to peaceful sleep. I woke up
in the morning. Something felt strange -- what was
constricting me? With my claws I ripped off the long cloth
that covered my arms and body. There was a material
supporting my breasts, and with a mighty roar I ripped that
off, too. I realized, all of a sudden, that my body was no
longer used to clothing, and that I would be prancing
around naked for the rest of my life. Whoopee.
I walked into the bathroom to find that my buttocks had
spouted hair all over them -- a very thick mat -- and that
that mat had spread down my legs to cover them. I went back
to my blankets and went back to sleep. Who cares, I'm going
to become a dog, I thought as I went back to sleep.
I woke up to find that my groin had grown a bunch of hair,
now practically covered by it. But that wasn't the biggest
surprise. I walked into the bathroom and involuntarily
experienced a sudden chill. As I walked into range of the
mirror I caught a glance of my reflection and was frozen.
My nose and mouth was bulging -- about half of a dog's
snout, if you know what I mean. I walked out to the car.
About halfway there, I tripped on a stair, and fell down
the rest of the steps, my furry naked brazen-breast body
twisting and turning to get a hold on some step. Finally I
landed on the bottom step. I got to my hands and knees, and
tried to get up. I couldn't.
Now I'm not talking paralyzed here. My body shuffled over
to a car mirror. I was panting and fogging up the mirror,
but even through the fog I could see that hair was covering
my back. I took a look around from this new perspective. If
I used my elbows, maybe I could crawl up my front steps
before anyone saw me.
Amid fervid panting, my tongue hanging out of my mouth, I
used my elbows to walk my way up the stairs one at a time.
All of a sudden, I took a look at my dangling breasts. They
were shortening. My legs felt strange, too -- and they were
shortening as well! Finally, I got to the front of the
steps and pushed open the door with my blunt weight. My
arms were completely hairy. I trudged elbow and knee into
the bathroom, propping my body up on the sink, and pulling
myself up. I was going to lose my balance, but I held onto
the sink. My hair fell off, and my nose and mouth forward
into a full dog snout. A small black nose formed at the tip
of the snout, and my tongue elongated. My hands and feet
became paws. With a mighty yelp, I took a look at my
breasts. They had gone. My hands and feet had become a
dog's hands and feet.
I was a dog.
Madison
- 27.10.2021
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