My Dog Corky free porn video

MY DOG CORKY BY BETTY NOONE ROGER TALKS I don't know what to do. I am writing this in the hopes someone out there can help me make a decision. If I don't make it shortly, then my wife will make it for me, and I am afraid. Trudy, my wife, is a veterinarian. She has her own animal hospital and boarding facilities in a semi-rural area. There are living quarters above the hospital and she is doing quite well. The shop is located on five acres as she has many dog-runs. While it is a long drive for most of her customers, her services are so good that the customers don't complain about it. The 'shop' as she calls it is state of the art. The operating theater would be acceptable in hospitals catering to humans. I am amazed at the amount of money the pet owners are willing to spend in order to save or cure their loved pets. Did I already say that she is doing quite well? The major drawback as I see it is that it is a 24/7/365 type of business. One doesn't know what time of the day or night someone will be at the door with a sick or hurt animal. Trudy loves her work and is compassionate with not only with the pet owners but with the animals as well. She has a dedicated staff of five who have been with her for a long time, and they apparently feel about their work as Trudy does. The shop is open until four PM on Saturdays, and there is someone on duty 24/7 to take care of the boarded animals and to receive emergency calls. It is a rare weekend when Trudy is not called downstairs for one emergency or another. As for me, my name is Roger and I am a stock trader. It is a most stressful job. I have to be at my desk by seven in the morning because we live in the mid-west and are an hour ahead of New York and the stock exchange in NY opens at eight. But I am off and on my way home by four. Keeping up with the ever-changing market and trying to be profitable at the end of each day is taking its toll on me. Like my wife, I too am making a lot of money, but I don't think that I am physically or mentally up to it any more. I have been doing it for fifteen years and I am stressed out. I think that I have enough money now that I could retire, but I am too young to call it quits, and besides, I wouldn't know what to do with my time. Nevertheless I dread leaving for work in the morning. Trudy's non-emergency shop hours end at six. I am home by five so I have been doing the meal preparation. By the time Trudy comes upstairs to our living quarters it is 6:15 and I have her cold martini waiting for her. I make simple meals, nothing fancy as both of us like to eat healthy and eat smaller portions. During the week our entertainment is watching TV and both of us are in bed by nine. Even though we are in our early fifties we act like we are in our seventies. Sex with Trudy is usually on Sunday evening, if at all, as we are both too stressed out in the middle of the week and it takes until Sunday for us to be relaxed enough to have enjoyable sex. Even our sex life is nothing fancy, but we are comfortable with one another, and it seems that we do it because it is part of our routine, not something that we really look forward to. Of course we have a dog. He lives with us in the family quarters. He is a six year old schnauzer, and sometimes I feel he doesn't know he is a dog. One night when watching TV, Marty, our dog was pestering me with his nose, wanting to be petted. I began to pet him and he jumped on the sofa next to me and laid his head on my lap so that I could continue to do so. Even when I told him 'no more' he continued to nuzzle me and demand to be stroked. And I did. I said to Trudy who was sitting on the sofa on the other side of me, "Dogs really have the good life." "How so?" she asked. "Well, first of all, they don't have to earn a living. All of their needs are taken care of. They are fed, washed, walked, played with and loved. All they have to do is give you a couple of loving licks in return. They have no stress, no worries and don't even have to think about what to do, as most of their day is directed by their owners. They really have the life." "If you think so, why don't you try being a dog this week-end?" "What? Don't be silly." "Maybe I'm not silly, Rog. Your work is so stressful maybe being my pet for the weekend will do you good. You won't have to think about anything. I will be your mistress for the weekend and all you have to do is to crawl about on all fours and be my pet for the weekend. The more I think about it, the less crazy I think it is. C'mon, Rog, be my dog this weekend." I was too tired to argue, but I didn't say 'yes' and I didn't say 'no'. On Friday night I found out that Trudy took my silence for a 'yes'. When I entered the apartment on Friday evening I was surprised to see Trudy already upstairs. She took the paper bags of groceries from me, and told me to get naked while she put the food away. Having forgotten our conversation I assumed that she was wanting to have sex, but I soon found out that I was mistaken. She shortly entered the room and I was naked. She told me to get down on my hands and knees, and I am thinking, 'kinky'. She placed a dog collar about my neck, buckled it, and told me that until Monday morning, my name was "Corky". I was so taken aback, I think I went into some form of shock, because anything she directed me to do, I did without protest. She then had me lay on my back and proceeded to attach knee pads to both of my knees. She then bent my feet back so that they were parallel to my thighs and she took a small belt and tightened it causing the lower half of my foot to be attached to my thigh. With difficulty I was able to right myself and found that I could no longer stand up. She then slipped tight leather mittens on my hands and secured them around my wrists with Velcro. I no longer had the use of my fingers. She attached a leash to my collar and told me to walk. I found that walking in this manner was difficult and started to tell her so, but she admonished me that dogs cannot talk, they can only make dog sounds, and I must also do so. That I was not to talk human talk for any reason until the end of the weekend. Trudy brought two shallow bowls, one with food, and the other with water and set them before me. She told me slowly, as if she was talking to a child, that it was Dinty Moore's beef stew, and that it had enough nutrition to sustain me. She told me that I would have trouble trying to lap up the water as dog's tongues are different from humans and it would take more exertion. She pointed to a nipple attached to a pole that had a water bottle and hose at its top end, and told me that if I wasn't getting enough water by lapping, I could use the nipple and suck. I tried to lap, but soon wound up using the nipple. I cannot tell you why it happened, but I found myself with a throbbing erection. It was as hard as I have had it in years. I wanted to cum, I had to cum, and I was unable to tell Trudy. But she already knew and said in a baby voice, "Does Corky want to cum?" And I nodded my head and said, "Woof." With that Trudy sat on the sofa, stuck out her bare foot, and said, "O.K. Corky. You can hump me." I was in such passion that I lost any thought about how strange the act was that I was about to do, but I had to have relief. I wrapped my paws around Trudy's thighs and pumped her leg. I was in such heat that I don't think it took but several minutes for me to ejaculate. And cum I did. I don't think I had such an outpouring since I was 14 years old. When I was through, Trudy calmly wiped herself with tissues, and directed me to lick up what cum fell on the floor. I didn't care. I obeyed her. I never tasted it before. A little salty, but not bad tasting either. Trudy pet me on my head, said "Good, dog." And you know what? I liked it. She left the room to wash herself and when she returned she had me lay on my back and before I was aware of it installed a chastity device to my penis. "Can't have you humping the furniture when I am at work tomorrow," she said. She sat back on the sofa, patted the cushion next to her and had me jump on the sofa. It took me several tries to gain enough height to get on the sofa, and when I did, I put my head on her lap, and as she stroked my head fell asleep while she watched TV. I was still sound asleep when I felt a tug on my leash. Trudy had attached the leash to my collar, and said that it was time to go outside. In the back of the apartment Trudy had built a large deck, to accommodate the needs of Marty without having him navigate the stairs from the second floor. There was a box about six feet square, with bushes and sod. This is the area where Marty makes his business. And I now realize she means for me to do my business there also. One gets an entirely different perspective when one is at almost floor level instead of erect. Objects seem so much bigger. You are always looking up instead of looking down. Smells are different. Up there you don't smell much, but suddenly I am aware that the bushes have their own aroma. The grass has its own feel to it. Not like walking on it with shoes on. The first time I peed I did it like a girl dog. Later on I found that I could lift one leg and squirt like any other male dog. The hardest part for me was having to make a bowel movement. I now know that Trudy slipped a laxative in my food so that I would have to make, embarrassment or not. I went into the box, sniffed the bushes, and turned away from Trudy and went into the squatting position. And I made. I don't know what made me do it, but when I was through I pawed the ground as real dogs do. I saw that Trudy smiled as I did so. Trudy must have ESP. I wondered where Marty was, and I was unable to ask. But she told me that Marty was going to be in the kennel for the weekend as she felt training me would be enough for her to handle. I was led into the kitchen and was directed to get into the large cage that was there. Again, anticipating my thoughts, she told me, that was where I was to sleep as she didn't want me roaming throughout the house during the night, disturbing her sleep. I got into the cage, and Trudy shut and locked the door behind me, turned off the lights, said, "Good night, Corky, see you in the morning," and left the room. In the dark and with nothing to do, I shortly fell asleep. I confess that I had the best undisturbed sleep that I had in years. I awoke with the sunlight streaming into the room, and got up on all fours. My arms and legs were tired not being used to so much crawling. Trudy was in the kitchen and when she saw me get up, came over to the cage, unlocked the front door, attached the leash and led me outside. I found that it helped to sniff the bushes and I began to smell the odors that Marty left. I soon lifted my leg and sprayed a bush with my urine. I pawed the grass to clean myself, and was led back into the house. Trudy gave me another bowl this time with Cheerios and instead of milk, used orange juice. I found that I was prancing around like Marty did when Trudy set the bowl down, and as soon as the bowl was on the floor I attacked the food. I was so hungry that I didn't realize that I was gulping my food down, not chewing, and later realized this is how real dogs eat their food. Trudy told me that she had to go downstairs to her shop at this time but that she would check on me later, and that I was to be a good dog. She patted me on the head and left. With nothing to do, or to think about, I laid on the living room carpet, and soon the sun hit me, and warmed me, and I soon fell asleep. When Trudy came upstairs at what I think was noon-time she checked my water bowl, took me out to the porch where I peed. I found I could not sit like a dog does as my bound feet were in the way. So, mostly when I was tired I laid on my stomach. Being Saturday a short day for office hours, Trudy came upstairs at four. She made dinner for herself and I watched as she opened another can of beef stew, and put it in my bowl. I didn't even realize that I was bouncing around in anticipation of being fed. I never realized how good the beef stew tasted. I also realized that would be what I was getting for dinner each night for as long as I am a dog. And I was happy for it. Trudy made and ate her dinner with me laying at her feet under the table. She cleaned the kitchen. With nothing better to do, I found myself walking behind her wherever she went. Like a dog. She then went to the Family room put on TV and watched the news. I found that I was concentrating on her petting me, and didn't care what the news was. I heard the sounds of voices but paid no attention to what was being said. "You seem to be so relaxed, Corky," Trudy said to me. And I nodded my head. I nuzzled her to keep on petting me. I liked it. A lot. "You know", she continued, "this business of you being a dog on weekends, might be very therapeutic for you. You have been so stressed lately. Do you like being a dog, so far?" "Woof," I answered. "I thought you do," she said. The next day, Sunday, was like Saturday, except that Trudy made arrangements to not be on duty unless there was an emergency. She spent the day with me. She had a rubber ball that she tossed to the end of the room, and I retrieved it and brought it back to her, only for her to throw it again. I didn't realize it but I was getting used to walking this way and it became easier for me to do as the day wore on. I now knew what to expect, and when I was told to get on my back and Trudy took off the chastity belt, I didn't need an invitation to again put my paws around her thigh and pump her leg. I again had a marvelous ejaculation. I was ashamed that I thought of it, but I realized that I enjoyed this more than I ever did having sex with Trudy. I certainly was cumming harder than ever before. I also realized that I hadn't thought about my stressful job ever since I was playing dog. The days were long, but I slept a lot, and my mistress was taking good care of me. I caught myself, realizing that I am starting to think like a dog, calling her my mistress and not my wife. I found that being a dog was as nice as I thought it would be. I had to think of nothing, and I was loved and taken care of. It was early Monday morning, when Trudy let me out of my cage, and for the last time that weekend took me outside to do my duty. She took off my collar, unbuckled my legs, and removed my mittens and knee pads. I found that I could not straighten my legs from their position, and Trudy had to manually pull my lower leg back into position. I also found it very difficult to stand, as my lower legs were sound asleep. Is it easier to be a dog than a man, I thought? Trudy had to help me walk to our bedroom (which I hadn't been in all weekend) and stayed with me while I showered to make sure that I didn't fall. Finally I recovered my balance, shaved, got dressed and went to the kitchen for breakfast. I poured a bowl of Cheerios, and without thinking covered them with orange juice instead of milk as I normally did. I realized I was eating what I ate as a dog, but, shrugged my shoulders and ate it anyway. I kissed my wife as a human for the first time all weekend, and asked her what she would like for dinner. She smilingly replied that she would like a tuna salad, and would beef stew be alright with me? I told her that would be fine, and she said that I didn't have to shop that she would have dinner ready. That night at dinner I was surprised to see that Trudy put my beef stew in my dog bowl. She didn't put it on the floor but instead placed it in front of me at the table. I reached for the utensils and found there weren't any. "C'mon, Corky, eat your dinner," she said. Here I am, a human, but my wife is asking me to eat like when I was a dog. I looked at her, and she nodded her head, and I bent over and gulped my food down, doggy style. When I was finished, she reached over, patted my head, and said, "Good doggie." I told her that we played dog just for the weekend and that I am Roger now. She said she hasn't seen me so relaxed in years, and thinks that we ought to continue this game on every weekend at least for a while. She confessed that she was happy to see me in such good spirits, and frankly she said, she liked me better as a calm Corky than as the Roger who was so stressed out. She even mentioned that she was so happy that I was enjoying humping her so much. She realizes that I am more enthusiastic to hump her than to sleep with her. Shamefully I admitted that it was true. I didn't understand it I told her, but true nonetheless. So the next three weekends were much like the first, except that practice makes perfect and not only did I get used to being treated like a dog, but preferred it. During the week I was Roger except that Trudy began putting my dog bowl on the floor and I had to eat it from that position. I at beef stew every night, and each night it was delicious to me. I once went into the pantry and saw that Trudy had stacked cases and cases of Dinty Moore's beef stew, and I didn't care, because that is what I wanted to eat. By the end of the first month, even during the middle of the week, I got into the habit of taking off my clothes, and getting on my hands and feet as soon as I got home. I went into my cage and waited for Trudy to come upstairs. When she first saw this she acted as if it was the most normal thing. She tied my thighs and mitten-ed my hands and I soon became Corky whenever I was not having to go to work. I found that the stress of the day left me as soon as I became Corky and I was happy. While I was never allowed to talk human whenever I was Corky, there were times when Trudy needed to have a conversation with Roger and she brought me a robe, untied me, and took off my collar, and we then talked. She said that I had three weeks of vacation time coming, that she wanted me to take it now, and that she wanted me to be Corky for all of that time. She asked me, what I thought about it. And even though I was dressed as a human, I said, "Woof." Trudy started to give me a shot in the rear every couple of days, and when I asked what it was, she said it was HGH. Human Growth Hormone. It would make my body lean and muscular. It would give more strength so that I could walk better. She hoped that I would soon even be able to run on all fours with my new- found strength. I did notice that by the end of the first week of being Corky full time, it was considerably easier for me to get around. Trudy had me go downstairs (which is a terrifying thing to do, especially the first time, when you are on all fours.) and we went to the back yard where she began to toss a frisbee at me. I found that I could not catch it, but did chase after it. This was the first time that I was able to run on all fours. Soon I caught one throw, and then another, and before I knew it was having a lot of fun playing frisbee with my mistress. The HGH was obviously doing its job. I got used to not having to talk, and I had nothing to talk about as all I had to do was to wait until I was told what to do. When the three weeks were up, I was sort of sorry to having to go back to my stressful human job. I enjoyed being Corky, and it seems that Trudy enjoyed having me be Corky as well. I was allowed to hump her daily, and the intensity of the ejaculation never diminished. One day, she led me into the kennels and she wiped a rag on the rear end of one of the bitches in heat, and she wiped the smell on my backside. She then brought in a male German Shepherd who, when he smelled me, went crazy. I stood still, afraid of him while he went and mounted me and in a minute I was wet with his cum. Trudy was laughing at the show, and asked me if I enjoyed it, and I growled in displeasure. She said she thought I should see how the female side lives. I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but hoped that she didn't do it again. She unhooked my leash and I ran up the stairs to the apartment. Every Saturday, I was taken out on the porch and Trudy washed me thoroughly. She also hosed my rear end every time I had a bowel movement so that I did not soil the carpet or the furniture. I found that whatever she did, she did lovingly, and I accepted. The three weeks seemed to fly by. I was so content being Corky, eating, sleeping, and being loved that I lost track of time. On my last night as Corky, I was told to get dressed as Roger. All my dog stuff was removed, I showered, shaved, and put on slacks and a tee. I walked into the family room where Trudy was waiting for me. "I have been giving this a lot of thought, Roger," she said. "You really like being Corky, don't you." And I had to admit that I did. Really did. She then said, that she liked me better asCorky than her husband Roger, and what did I think about becoming Corky full time? I told her that I was a human being and that she couldn't keep my legs bent forever. That I didn't mind eating beef stew every night for dinner, but I had a job and I was a husband, even though we haven't slept together in over two months. She said that I had enough earnings to retire from that lousy job of mine, and that as a surgeon she had ideas to make me more like a dog than a human. She admitted that if anyone found out about what she was planning to do to me, that she not only would lose her veterinarian license but could be sent to prison. But as I became more like a dog, she said she developed this compulsion that she could not get out of her head. She said she wanted to do surgery on my to make me into a half dog, half human. I asked her what she meant by that and she refused to tell me, saying that I would have to decide which way I wanted to go. To be an unhappy Roger or to be a happy Corky. And so here I am, at the computer writing of what my decision should be. And I am afraid. I cannot make up my mind. Do I want to be a dog all the rest of my life? Trudy says she will always take care of me and love me. But what happens to me if something happens to Trudy? Do I want to give up being a human being, a husband? I have few friends so that is not an issue, and family relations have long been gone, so that is not a problem. Can Roger just disappear and become a dog? What should I do? Trudy is demanding that I give her an answer. And soon. Please help me. TRUDY TALKS Hi! My name is Trudy. That is doctor Trudy. I am a doctor of veterinary medicine, and as he told you I run my own pet hospital and boarding facilities. I am (or was) Rogers wife. I just discovered the long discourse that Roger wrote a year and a half ago. I checked the 'send' file and find that it was never sent out, although I don't know who he could have sent it to as he had few friends. Having read it, I feel I should bring everyone up to date as to what happened since Roger wrote it. I will not tell you my last name, nor where I live as what I have done is criminal but for those involved it turned out just fine. As I write this, my dog Corky, is sleeping at my feet. My schnauzer Marty has since gone to doggy heaven and I am looking forward to a much longer history with Corky. I knew that Roger was conflicted as to what to do. Should he stay a man and be miserable or should he become my dog and be happy. So I made the decision for him. I also had a compulsion to do this. Just how far can I make a man into a dog? I wasn't sure, but I had to find out. Roger was given a strong sedative and while he was asleep and with the power of suggestion of hypnosis where he was allowed to be mobile so that he would walk where I told him to go one Saturday night I brought him Saturday to my hospital. As he told you, it is state of the art and I am very good at what I do. I first extracted four front teeth, two upper and two lower, and implanted fang teeth in their place. I had to be careful in my placement so that when he would bite down he would not cut his lips or gums. This gave him a doggie look when he smiled. I then sedated him carefully. I had to do all of this by myself as I could not take a chance of having any witnesses see what I was about to do. I removed all of his fingers and medically stapled a soft leather to his palms. This gave him paws instead of hands. Now the hard part. I surgically removed both lower limbs at the knee and stapled soft leather to the bottom of the stumps. I wanted to do more, but this was extensive surgery with a lot of blood loss and he would need to rest before I did any more procedures. I transfused four pints of blood to make up for his loss during the surgery and wheeled him to his pen. This is a room where I board dogs. I left him on the gurney and felt that he needed at least 48 hours of recovery time before I allowed him to waken. And I administered the narcotics accordingly. By the third day, I allowed him to waken, and while he was quite sore and tender, he was no longer in any pain. It would take months before the stumps would heal sufficiently for him to put his weight on them. I showed him his new fangs and told him that I made the decision for him and that decision was dog. He still was unaware that his legs were removed. Long ago we put everything in joint tenancy and gave each other power of attorney for health care so I felt I didn't need any other papers signed by him. We each had access to all of our assets. But I now felt that I was now the owner of all of our assets and he, being a dog, would no longer have any use for them. Of course I notified his employer that he quit, and had his equity in his pension plan and accrued earnings transferred to our (now mine) account. I also had to make sure that none of my employees had any access to the room where Corky was recuperating. I fed him and saw that his bladder and bowels continued to function. I continued administering the HGH and saw that any fat that was on his body was rapidly turning to muscle. After three weeks and after carefully testing the area I felt that Corky (He was now Corky to me) was ready. I had him sit up and he was shocked to see that his legs ended at his thighs and that there was on his stumps what looked like paws. I removed the bandages from his hands and for the first time he saw that he had paws (without nails) instead of hands. He started to say something, but couldn't. Did I forget to mention that I cut his vocal chords and that he couldn't speak even if he wanted to? He could make gutteral sounds, growl, and yipe. But he would even be unable to say 'woof' or to bark. His mouth was moving up and down, and I told him to get over it. What was done was done, and that I intended to make him into a fine dog. There was little I could do with the contour of his human face, but by now his beard was quite long, and I shaped it to a muzzle. It hid most of his face. I could see when he was on all fours that there was no pain, so I attached his dog collar around his neck, and the leash and led him to the exercise yard. Because of the previous training and the HGH shots he was able to move quite easily. I fed him his dinner of beef stew and he hungrily ate it. Since the surgery I was feeding him by tube and this is the first solid food he had in months. He then went to his water bowl and I was happy to see that he now was able to lap the water into his mouth quite nicely. I brought him back to the apartment and that is how it was for the next several weeks. He was Corky, and seemed to accept what I had done to him. At least he didn't try to bite me. ha ha. But his body still looked human. The next step was interesting. I purchased false hair, the kind that is used for women's wigs, and had a shop make them into strips to my specifications. When they were ready, I had corky stand still, and I de-sensitized his skin, and I medically stapled this hair to his torso. I started at the lower end first and when I stapled the next row I combed and mingled the hair. When I was finished he looked just like a golden retriever but without a tail. I read about giving him a tail by pushing a butt plug into him, but I thought that would be cruel, plus it would have to be removed each time he had to make a bowel movement and that would be too messy. For me at least. I stapled soft plastic dog ears to his ears and he now had ears that stood up. Corky really needed to have a tail to be complete, and I felt that I would have to research that to see what I could come up with. And that is how it was. Corky seemed happy when I showed him that I bought a dog license for him at City Hall and clipped it to his collar. Along with the other metal tag with his name on it, he jingled when he walked. I was so pleased to realize that Corky now accepted that he was a dog and was again a happy animal. It wasn't long that he fully recovered from the surgery, and we resumed playing frisbee. He now was able to run quite easily and for long distances, due to the hormones. He seemed happy to be a dog, and acted like a dog. Like all good dog owners there was one final step that I had to do. We call it spaying. But whatever you want to call it, it is the removal of his testicles. That was done and since he was never able to see himself down there I am not sure if he is even aware that I did it to him. He no longer had the urge to hump, and if he did, nothing would happen. He learned to mind me, do all the dog things that trained dogs do, and I found him to be a wonderful pet. I brushed his hair and washed him, and fed him and pet him constantly. I always told him what a good boy he was and he nuzzled me and licked my face. So, I now have a dog that I don't have to replace every ten to fourteen years which is the average age when most dogs die. Corky will be with me for a long time. I have written a statement that should I die before him as to what he really was. Of course he could never go back to being a human again, and I am now sure that he wouldn't want to. He is all dog. So, if anyone ever finds this letter you will know what kind of strange animal Corky is, and hopefully I will never be found out. I don't feel sorry for what I have done. I had this compulsion to see if it could be done, and I did it. Probably the first person in the world to really make a dog out of a human, even if there was little I could do with his face. Having done it I would never do it again. The good news is, Corky is a loving animal. He is healthy, eats his Cheerios and OJ in the morning and a can of beef stew at night. Like any dog he never tires of it. It must be good for him as he is healthy and happy. When I come into the room to let him out of his cage in the morning, he is so glad to see me that he actually jumps for joy. So I feel good about what I have done. I love my dog, and find that his is the best breed ever.