A Close Companion

A young man hypnotizes and physically changes his female classmate
Over 100 of my as yet unreleased stories can be found on my Patreon at: https://www.patreon.com/markgraham

As always, on the first day of one of these new events, I’m anxious.  I’m not good around people but I’ve been trying to get out more.  To put myself out there and make an effort.


My therapist says I’m doing well.  Even that was a difficult first step – seeing a therapist – but she’s kind and patient, even when it took a few sessions before I opened up.  I could go through the laundry list of issues that I think led to my problems but, ultimately, my mother kept me away from people.  That’s it.  Mostly.


She had a hard life, on the constant run from my abusive father.  I could never go out.  I could never have friends over or take pictures for the yearbook or anything.  She was all I had.  For most of my life.


I think I would’ve been a lot worse if it wasn’t for little Gumdrop.  And Sunshine after her when Gumdrop got too old.  They were both mutts that my mother got from, well, I’m not sure where.  She just came home with Gumdrop one day.  She was a scrawny dog with scars but still big enough to scare me.  And yet she was persistent in wanting to love me and I eventually gave in. 


We were inseparable, Gumdrop and me.  When she died, I locked myself away.  To this day it still hurts to remember.  In my dark little corner of whatever place we were living at the time. Reading and ignoring life.  Until Sunshine showed up.  I was mean to her at first because she wasn’t Gumdrop.  She wasn’t.  She was smaller with longer fur and an overbite that wasn’t cute.  And she didn’t even try to be my friend like Gumdrop.


I think loneliness won out for both of us and we slowly bonded over it.  She passed two years ago and it hurt just as bad this time, even though I was on my own and finally in a stable place.  I’d moved out.


Well, no.  My mother moved out.  And away.  I don’t know where she is.  I graduated high school years before and got an easy job in a warehouse where I don’t have to talk to people.  One day, I came home and she just wasn’t there.  No note but she’d taken all of her personal belongings.  It hurt less than when Gumdrop and Sunshine passed.


My therapist says I’m making good progress.  Slow but good.  I’m not so sure but she says that it’s important that I want to go to these things.  These events.  And I do.  It’s good for me, I know that.


But I still sit in the back row of the old community college.  The teacher nods in my general direction but I stare down at the ancient desk, scratched and scarred and inked by thousands and thousands of students.


Others file in slowly and I sneak glances at them as I open my notebook.  And click my pen.  And watch.  And click my pen.  And click my pen.  And click my pen.


It’s a small group, mostly girls and nearly all young but there’s a few older people as well. 


I can see the teacher doing a silent count before he nods again.


“Welcome to creative writing!” he says.  His voice is chipper and he smiles before I look back down at my desk.  And click my pen.  He seems nice.  Smaller.  Thin. Going a little bald but a full, thick black beard.  “Let’s start by introducing ourselves, shall we?”


Oh no.


I can already feel my mouth run dry as I stare at the carved corner of my desk.  I hate this part.  I hate it.  My pen clicks in my hand.  And then again.  And again.


They talk.  I listen, sneaking glances and trying to pay attention but I’ve already forgotten their names.


And then it’s my turn.  The teacher nods in encouragement and they’re all looking at me.  My cheeks burn. And I click my pen.


“I- I- I’m T- Todd,” I stutter, clicking my pen.  “I- I like to r- read and I w-want to wr-write, too.”


The teacher smiles and I grip my pen hard in my hand.


“And what’s going on in Todd’s life right now?” he asks me.


“I- I’m tr-trying- h-hoping to a-a-a-adopt a d-dog soon,” I say.  It’s painful to talk in front of them.  I hate it so much.


“Wonderful,” the teacher says and I almost believe him.  “Now, everyone, let’s talk about goals.”


The class passes quickly and I surprise myself by enjoying it.  I’ve written before, for myself as part of therapy and for fun but I thought taking a class would be good.  A small step in rejoining society, as my therapist would say.


When the class ends, I gather my notebook and pens and then freeze as a shadow falls across my desk.  My hand shakes as I squeeze the pen in my hand.  The release pulls the nub back but I click it again.


“Hi,” comes a sweet voice in front of me.  I look up to see a young girl, maybe a year or two older than me.  She’s slim with long, brown hair but I look down before I can see much more.  A pink – no, I need to practice being more descriptive – a magenta sweater over a white shirt.


There’s a pause and I realize she’s waiting for me to say something.


“H-hi,” I tell her.  Her shoes almost match her sweater.  Almost.  They’re darker with white highlights.  It’s frustrating that they don’t match.  It can’t be that hard to find a color that matches.  If you’re going to try to color coordinate, why wouldn’t you find something that matches it exactly?  It’s so frustrating.


“I don’t mean to be a busy-body,” she says.  At the corner of my eyes I can see her gripping the straps of her backpack.  “I heard you talk about adopting and I think that’s great!  I volunteer at the shelter sometimes.  If you ever need any help or advice, just let me know.  I grew up with dogs and plan to adopt a couple once I have a bigger place.”


“Oh.  M-me too,” I tell her, looking up briefly to see her dimples and her wide, bright eyes.  They’re green but dark and shot with shards of brown.  She’s very pretty and my heart skips a beat or two before I look back down.  “I-I-I had d-dogs, too.”


“They’re awesome,” she sighs.  “I miss mine but I still get to go home and see them sometimes so it helps until I can get my own.”


I don’t have anything to say to that so I just nod.


“Anyway,” she says, pulling at her backpack.  “I’ll see you next week?  Oh.  My name is Bailey.”


“T-Todd,” I reply.


“I know,” she says.  “I remember.  See you next week, Todd!”


I watch her go, finally looking up as the classroom empties.  Her bluejeans are very tight and I wonder how she can be comfortable with them.  Still, I can’t help but stare at the way it accentuates her body.


She waves at another classmate and then exits.  She seems very sweet.  Sometimes people talk to me and it’s obvious that they’re pitying me.  I’m not slow.  I’m not.  I just- I just don’t know what to say sometimes.  And sometimes it all gets backed up.  I’m not-


I click my pen.  And then click it again.


I’m not good with people.  I’m not.



The second creative writing class is more interesting.  The teacher is talking about story structure – actually details now rather than introductions and brief overviews.  I can already see where it will help with my own writing.  To streamline it.


It’s just hard to focus because I’m more excited about something else.


When the class is finished, I take a few deep breaths and quickly grab my bag while carrying my notebook.  I wait a moment for people to leave and then walk down the rows to the very front.


“H-hey, B-B-Bailey,” I stutter, blushing and staring at the ornate metal legs of the old desks.


“Oh!”  she says, with obvious surprise. Is she surprised I talked to her?  Was her offer fake?  More of the fake politeness I’ve come to expect from people?  When they see someone they pity and decide to talk to them to assuage old guilt?  “Todd!  How’s it going?”


“G-G-Good,” I tell her.  Shuffling my feet, I decide I don’t care.  As my therapist would say, baby steps.  “I-I-I was h-hoping you’d h-h-help me.   I’ve f-f-found a d-dog to adopt.”


“Oh my gosh!” she beams.  Perfect teeth on a perfect face.  How can some people just project confidence and happiness all the time?  “What is he?”


“She,” I tell her.  “D-d-don’t laugh.  Her n-name is also B-Bailey.”


“Oh no,” she groans but she smiles at the same time.  “Where are you getting her from?”


“A f-friend,” I say.  “I w-wa-was h-hoping you c-c-could h-help.  I n-need some s-supplies.  Th-there’s a sh-sh-shop off Fourth and C-C-Commerce.  D-d-do you have t-t-time?”


A slight frown flickers across her face.  I watch the transition from the corner of my eyes.  The flow of uncertainty.  She has a small freckle in front of her left ear and one of the bridge of her nose.  I think she won’t do it and I prepare myself for disappointment but then she smiles again.


“Sure!” she says, confident once more.  Her sweater is plum colored this time.  But she’s still wearing those pink shoes.  “I can meet you there in an hour, if that’s okay?”


“Y-Y-Yeah!” I say, smiling at her.



An hour passes and I begin to worry she won’t show up.  I’ve been standing directly on the corner of Fourth and Commerce for thirty minutes, watching and waiting anxiously.  


“Hey Todd!” comes a voice behind me.


I jump and turn and she’s there.  No backpack or purse but still smiling.  Someone has braided her hair in a complicated pattern since class finished.  Unless she can do it herself?  I don’t know how that works.  My mother always just wore her hair loose.  A mess.  So frustrating.  I always wanted to fix it.


“H-h-hey,” I say, trying to smile back at her.

It’s Saturday afternoon but we’re not in the busy part of town and the foot traffic is light.  


“So, where are we going?” she asks, looking around.  Despite her smile, I can see how tense she is.  In a strange place with a guy she hardly knows.  I can understand.  “I know most of the big name brand places but I don’t know any around here.”


“It’s n-n-not a big place,” I tell her.  “I kn-know the guy who r-r-runs it.  I’ll sh-sh-show you.”


I walk first so she can follow and see where I’m going.  Less worry for her.  The store is further along fourth.  It’s narrow and dappled with red bricks and a simple sign above the door:  “Pets”.


“H-h-here,” I tell her, pushing the door open.


She follows, hesitant until she sees the inside of the store.  She relaxes as she sees various leashes and collars and dog beds.  It’s bare compared to most pet stores but nearly everything is handmade.  I don’t want cheap Chinese junk.


“Welcome!” says the large man behind the counter.  He’s got half-rim glasses low on his nose and his black hair is slick and pulled back into a ponytail.  His Hawaiian shirt barely contains his bulk but he doesn’t seem to care.  “Todd!  Hey, good to see you again, as usual.”


“You know each other?”  Bailey asks as she steps through the few shelves in the store.  She picks up a studded leather collar and then lays it back down again before standing next to me at the counter.


“Oh, yeah,” the man tells her.  “We’re part of a roleplaying group that meets every so often.  Took him a while before he joined in but I’m glad he did.”


He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.


“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says.  “What can I do for you?”


“I n-n-need a na-na-name tag, W-W-William” I tell him.


He pauses, purses his lips and then nods.


“Be right back,” he says, his voice no longer quite so jovial.  More serious.  Business-like.


“Not a lot of products,” Bailey says, crouching to look at a large metal food dish.  “And everything’s really expensive.  I’m all about getting the best for your dog but, seriously, this is like five times what you’d pay at a normal place.  At least five times”


“I-I-It’s f-fine,” I tell her as my friend comes back with a small case.


William sets the little wooden case gently on the counter.  He opens it to reveal a sharp metal tool and then reaches beneath the counter for a larger case.


“What color do you want for the name tag?” William asks.


I hadn’t thought of that yet.  


“Wh-wh-what do y-you th-think?” I ask Bailey.


“Me?” she asks, turning to the both of us.  “It’s your dog.”


“B-But,” I stutter.  “The c-c-color d-doesn’t m-matter to m-me.  C-can you h-help me p-pick?”


“Well,” she says, walking over to the counter with a thoughtful expression.  She taps a metal bone-shaped name tag nestled within the velvet of the case.  “I like purple.”


“Okay, then,” William says, lifting the name tag.


He pauses again.


“What’s her name?”


I blush, embarrassed again and my heart beats faster.  So I take a deep breath.


“Bailey,” I tell him.  “Bee, ayy-“


“I know how to spell it,” William says.


He adjusts his little glasses and then leans forward with the metal tool.  While he works, I walk around to look at other items.  Nervous.  My hands are sweating and I catch myself wiping them on my pants a couple times as we look around.  I clench my hands against my sides.  And then again.  And then I grab at the sides of my pants and hold them tight.


“Done,” William says.


My heart races as I walk to the counter.  He’s attached the purple name tag to a dark leather collar.  The tag itself seems to glisten in the light like a small dollop of an oil spill, shimmering between purple and blue.


“Oh, it’s pretty,” Bailey says from my side.


I lift it to look at it and turn to her.  It’s attached via a tiny swivel.


I bring it up higher.


And then I flick the name tag, causing it to spin rapidly.  


Bailey’s pupils widen, nearly consuming her irises.  Her mouth falls open slightly and her shoulders drop.  I flick the name tag again and she doesn’t even blink.  


“It is pretty, isn’t it?” I ask her.


She nods slowly, her eyes locked to the rotating tag.  


“It’s yours,” I tell her.


“Mine?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.


“Yes, of c-course it is,” I assure her.  “It b-belongs to you.”


“Yes,” she whispers and her eyes grow even larger as the name tag begins to slow down.


When the tag stops, the name faces Bailey.  Suddenly, she blinks and shudders, taking a sharp breath.  She shakes herself and wipes her mouth.


“Y-Y-you kn-know,” I say, looking at the name tag.  “I d-d-don’t th-think pur-purple s-suits me.”


Bailey reaches for the tag but stops herself as an almost inaudible whine escapes her lips.


“I th-th-think y-you sh-sh-should have it,” I tell her, dangling it from my fingers.  


“Me?” Bailey asks, staring at it.  “But, I don’t-“


“Y-Y-You c-could wear it as a bracelet,” I tell her.  “It d-d-does have your name.”


“Yeah, it does,” she says, licking her lips.  “And it is pretty.


She takes it from me hesitantly but then lays it against her slim wrist, pulling back the sleeve of her sweater to expose her pale skin.


“The leather is really nice,” she says.  “It’s a little wider than I’d like but it feels good.”


She slips it on and buckles it before twisting her wrist to see it from different angles.  The little prong goes all the way to the last hole but it fits snugly on her hand.


I reach out and touch her shoulder gently.  She looks up at me, surprised and I take my hand away.


“It f-f-fits you,” I tell her.


And she nods.



At the third class, I stop paying so much attention to the teacher.


Bailey is in the front and she’s still wearing the collar on her wrist.  The name tag catches the light occasionally.  She starts the class focused but slowly grows distracted.


I catch her glancing at people.  And sniffing.  I can see her nostrils lift and her chest move as she inhales quickly.  


She looks up at me and smiles but then her eyebrows knit and she looks away with a frown.


And then she scratches at her neck.  At first it’s a quick nail against her neck but then she digs in, pushing fingers beneath the collar of the shirt under her sweater as she raises her chin and scratches herself deeply.


The rest of the class passes with her fidgeting.  Throughout the period, she occasionally glances at me before turning to stare at her notebook.


From where I sit at the corner of the room, I watch as her tongue slips past her lips.  Her mouth is open as she doodles on her paper and her tongue hangs from her mouth.  She wears dark red lipstick that easily contrasts against her pink tongue.  And so I watch as her tongue widens, the edges stretching.  She licks her lips and the tip of her tongue brushes the bottom of her nose.


Once more, she glances at me.  She looks confused.  Now I see her reddened cheeks on her pale face.  She looks away when she sees me watching and she grips the edge of her desk while shaking her head.


The faint tone of the bell chimes and everyone stands.  Everyone except for me and Bailey.


I take my time to gather my things and then stand, making my way down.  I see her lift her head and breathe in before turning to see me.  She smiles wide and then looks confused before scratching her side.


“H-h-hey B-Bailey,” say, standing close.


“Todd,” she says with a toothy smile.  “Did you enjoy class?”


I move a little closer and she leans slightly in my direction.  Reaching up, she brushes her hair back and over her ear.  


There are a few strands of hair on the corner of her jaw.  They’re light brown, almost blonde and easy to miss but I can see them as she slides towards me.


“Y-Yeah,” I tell her.  “You?”


“Yeah,” she says.  “I’m just out of it, I think.  I got distracted.”


I watch the teacher leave and then point at her wrist.


“Y-Y-you k-kept the tag?” I ask her.


She lifts it and stares at it.  I touch it, causing it to slowly rotate and she watches it.


“Yeah,” she says, her voice distant.  


“Th-that’s good,” I tell her, flicking the name tag again.


“Good,” she repeats, her eyes focusing on the spinning tag.


“Yeah,” I say.  “You’re a good girl.”


She shivers, closing her eyes and sliding further until her leg brushes me.  I pat her back and she presses against my hand with a heavy sigh.  I can see her left ear moving.  Reshaping.  The rounded folds along the top come undone, leaving her ears flatter than before.  Sharper, with a slight point.


When her eyes open, she shakes herself and I step back.  Tiny dark lines appear in the tip of her cute nose.  The color spreads but stops as she rubs her nose with the back of her hand.


“I’m really out of it,” she says with a yawn.  Her jaw cracks as she opens her mouth wide.  She rubs her chin and then scratches herself lightly as a few blonde hairs emerge from the flawless skin of her cheeks.  


With her mouth closed, she grinds her teeth together.  They don’t fit as perfectly before.  The tips of her canines press together and, when she closes her mouth completely, her lips bulge over them.


“I should get going,” she tells me as she finally gathers her belongings.  She moves quickly now but I see her eyes shift in my direction and she drops her pen in her haste.


“O-O-Okay,” I tell her, watching as she straightens and steps away.


Bailey stops in the middle of the classroom, near the whiteboard.  She grips the leather collar on her left wrist, turning it against her skin.


“Do you-” she says and then stops.  “Would-“


I wait but she doesn’t finish and, instead, hurries from the room.



As usual, at the next class, I sit before everyone arrives.  The usual people filter in, talking in their small groups.  The teacher comes in and I worry she won’t be here.  But she finally shows up.


She’s not wearing a sweater this time.  She has the undershirt she wears – the white long sleeve shirt with the wide collars and her bluejeans.  Stopping at the entrance to the room, she looks around, barely concealing the way she’s scenting the air.


When she spots me, she grins widely and I can see her canines easily now, even from this distance.  She walks up to the seats and pauses at her normal spot up front.  Glancing in my direction, she licks her lips and then stares at her seat.  I watch as she slips a hand beneath her hair to scratch at her neck and then glance my way again.


Finally, she makes a decision and walks towards me.


The hair on her cheeks is thicker and harder to miss if you look directly at her.  It’s beyond simple peach fuzz now and I wonder if anyone’s said anything to her about it.  I’d imagine simple politeness would stop it from happening.


The image of her in public, standing near people while covered in even a small amount of fur turns me on quite a bit.  Standing there without knowing what’s happening or what she looks like while people wonder why she looks different.


Her nostrils are almost pure black and a few lines of dark coloring are creeping up and over the top of her nose.


She squirms in front of me.


Her shirt isn’t tucked in.  I can see a mixture of wispy brown and blonde hairs above the band of her jeans just beneath the tails of her shirt.  And there’s a smell.  Light.  Faint.  I could be imagining it.  She’s playing with the collar on her left wrist.


Her sleeves are rolled back and buttoned.  The hair on her left arm is thicker and darker than the hair on her right.  As with her cheeks, it could almost pass as natural, untrimmed hair but it’s a bit more than that, especially on her left arm.


“Can- can I sit next to you?” Bailey asks.  She licks her lips and nose with her wide tongue and whines with her cute, high pitched voice.


I’m still having a hard time looking at her.  Especially without her sweater.  Her shirt isn’t buttoned all the way up and it shows her cleavage.  She’s not small and the shirt strains against the swell of her full breasts.


“Y-Y-Yeah,” I tell her.  “Of c-c-course.”


She smiles wide and sits down to my left.  She pulls her notebook and pen from her bag and opens her notebook.


I watch her carefully and see her hair shift at the side of her head.  Where her ears are.  The long, pointed tip of her right ear slips through her thick hair as it rotates slightly to focus on the teacher.  There’s dark brown fur along the edge of her ears.


For a while, she keeps her mouth closed.  Her pouting lips are pushed forward by her lengthened canines.  As her concentration slips, she opens her mouth and her tongue hangs free.


She scratches at her side, just beneath her right breast and then up behind her ear.  When she does, I can see how long and thick they’ve grown.  Her dense hair barely covers them and they look so soft.  I want to pet them so bad.


Bailey turns to me and then freezes.  I can hear her smelling the air with short, loud huffs.  She grips the top of her desk and her wriggles her hips in short, swiveling motion.


“Y-You okay?” I ask quietly.


“Yes,” she answers quickly.


She bites her lips with her sharp teeth and drags her hand slowly along the desk.  Small slivers of wood peel away.  I watch her fingers and see her nails bend in the middle.  They bulge upward and then flow down to cover her fingertips while pushing forward into a short curve that cuts into the soft wood of the old desks.  


“You smell good,” Bailey pants, bowing her head before realizing what she’s said.  Scarlet suffuses her cheeks as she looks over to me in shock.  “I’m so- I’m sorry!”


“It-it’s okay,” I tell her.  I take a risk and reach over to pat her leg.  When she doesn’t pull away, I scratch her a little.


The girl closes her eyes and moans quietly.


“I d-don’t mind,” I tell her, reassuringly.  “I like when you tell me that.  Th-things like that.”


“You- you do?” she says, her cheeks still on fire.  “I can’t- It’s hard- You just smell like-“


“Why don’t you sit next to me?” I ask her.


“I am, though?” she says, her tone changing to a question as she becomes unsure of what I mean.


“Here,” I tell her, tapping the floor next to my chair.  “I think it’d be comfortable for you.  Next to me.”


“I-” she licks her lips and claws at her neck while grinding her sharp teeth.  Her budding claws leave red marks on her skin that fade as her blush flows down her cheeks to her chest.


“Sit,” I command.


She whines and shuffles to the side while lowering herself to the ground next to me.  Her hand clamps the collar at her wrist.  There’s brown fur surrounding the collar now, radiating out from the edge of the leather.


“Th-That’s a good girl,” I tell her.


Her hands dig against her thighs, sliding down to her crotch as her eyes flutter.  


“Don’t- Don’t call me- You don’t know me well enough to-” Bailey says quietly.


With the teacher focused on his board, I reach down.  She shies away from me at first but not enough and I scratch the back of her neck.  She tenses but, slowly relaxes as I work my nails against her skin.


I can feel soft fur on my fingers and I push her hair slightly to see a tuft of hair running down her hairline and into the back of her shirt. 


“Y-you like it,” I whisper to her, watching the teacher.  “D-Don’t you?”


“Yessss,” Bailey whispers.  She leans towards me and I scratch further, finding where the fur fades to bare skin and the edge of her bra strap.  “But, you can’t-  don’t-  I’m not-“


The teacher turns and I pull my hand free as smoothly as I can.  Bailey whines quietly next to me.


“You have to be quiet,” I tell her.


“I am,” she replies.  “I am being quiet.  I’m just sitting here, paying attention to the class.  You don’t have to tell me to be quiet.”


Over the rest of the class, she slowly moves closer to me.  I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it but, near the end, her shoulder touches my leg.  Despite the movement and how close she is, she focuses on the teacher with her sharp, alert ears rotated towards him.


I take a chance as the teacher talks with another student.


Reaching down, I grab her ear between my thumb and index finger.  She gasps as I rub the soft, furred skin between my fingers.


“S-stop!” she says but she can’t help leaning her head towards me.  “You can’t just touch- ohhhhh-“


She turns, her eyes unfocused and kisses my fingers.  Before I pull my hand away, she licks it and then smiles widely at me.  And then I watch as awareness returns.  She seems confused for a moment but turns back to the teacher.


“Oh,” Bailey says quietly.  


I look down as she pulls her hand away from her crotch.  There’s a small wet spot between her thighs.


“No, don’t look!” she hisses, covering herself.  “I just- I don’t-  Don’t look!”


The class is wrapping up as the teacher finishes his lecture.  Bailey begins to move, trying to hide her shame behind her spread hand.


“Stay,” I command and she whines, freezing in place.


The girl’s nails dig into her jeans and she groans as the sharp tips slide against her pants and the skin beneath.  Her claws are beginning to darken as they harden to rough points.


“I have to go,” Bailey pants, her head bowed.  The wet spot spreads slightly and I feel my cock stir in my pants.  


As the teacher leaves, I brush my hand against her cheeks.  The fur covering her face is incredibly soft, like velvet.  She stares at me, conflicted.  Yet I can see the desire within and her hand raises to my knee.  Her small fingers grip my leg as her claws press into my skin.  I slide my fingers around to scratch at the back of her neck and she bows her head again with her tongue hanging free as I scratch her.


I take her hand and undo the collar on her wrist.  She snatches at it with her right hand but I gently pull it away and then remove the collar.


“Give it back!” she whisper-yells.  “That’s mine!  Put it back!”


I flick the tag and it spins, flashing in the light.


“Give it-  Give-” her words fade as her eyes widen and her mouth droops open.  Her tongue slips free, slightly folded as it hangs between her bottom canines.


“B-be good,” I tell her and she nods, sitting up on her knees with her hands on her thighs. 


Reaching forward, I push her hair back behind her tall ears.  She sighs as my hands rub against them.  


I can see the short tuft of fur along the nape of her neck and a few loose strands stand up along the curve of her neck.  I bring the collar up and she pants in restrained excitement, wiggling her hips back and forth as I reach back to secure the clasp.  To ensure her name tag is facing forward.


“Yes!” she exclaims, licking my wrist and arm before settling back.  “Yes! Yes!”


Reclining back, I watch as she mentally re-emerges.  Her eyes dilate and then even out and her head snaps back in a small, jerking motion.  As if in a delayed response to what I’ve done.


Bailey reaches her fingers up to touch her collar and her eyes bulge.  


“Why is- I can’t wear this!”  she yells, grabbing at it.


“Y-you can,” I tell her firmly, pulling her hand away.  “And you will.”


“I ca-aaaargh!” she growls, pressing her palms against her jaw.  I reach up and feel bone scraping against bone.  Her skin strains and stretches, pulling her mouth forward into a short, still human-like muzzle.  “Hurts.”


I stroke her furred cheek and she settles, leaning into my motion while whimpering.


“Wear it,” I tell her and she nods quietly, touching it again.  “And when you get home, take your bra off.  I don’t want you to wear one again.  Or panties.”


“But people will see!” she says, jerkin back with her hands across her breasts.  “I’m- I’m not small.  People will see my nipples and-“


I scratch under her chin and she melts.  Leaning forward, I press my cheek to hers.  She’s so warm and her short, almost invisible fur is silky against my skin.  Her ear twitches as I whisper to her.


“It d-doesn’t matter to you anymore,” I tell her.  She shivers and rubs her cheek on mine.  “It’s just human trappings and that’s not who you are anymore, is it?”


“No,” she moans in my ear.  Her mouth opens and she turns to lick at my face.  “No, I’m not.”


“And it’ll f-feel g-good, won’t it?” I ask her.  “To be free.  To f-feel the air on your f-fur.”


“God, yessss,” she moans again, her hands running down her sides.  Her shirt jerks and tugs as her claws dig in.  “Free.”


I pull away but she leans back in and surprises me with a kiss.  Her large tongue crowds my mouth and I go to move but she’s needy, trying to hold me as her tongue works against mine.  When I finally break free, she pants, her eyes dark with hunger.


“Remember what I told you,” I say, grabbing my things and moving away as she leans in to smell at my crotch.  My erection presses against my pants and she growls while licking her lips.  “Go.”


She stands before me and shakes her head to settle her hair.  The very tips of her ears are visible but are easily missed if you aren’t looking.  She seems to have forgotten she’s soaked a spot in her pants and I’m almost tempted to tell her but, I don’t.


I want her to revel in her animalism.  To not be constrained by human shame.


“Next week?” Bailey asks, her voice on the edge of a whine.  “You’re here again next week?”


“Yes, next week,” I tell her.  


She leaves but turns several times to look for me, hesitating and wanting more.  I wait and then follow, doing my best to hide myself from her.  I want to see her in public.  I want to see how she deals with it.


Bailey moves through the hallway, pausing briefly by office doors for a quick sniff.  She stops to look down a corridor, towards the bathrooms with her head raised as she breathes deeply but then continues to move.


I can see a bulge at the back of her tight jeans.  Sometimes when she moves, her shirt shows bare skin and I see hair there, above her ass.  Brown and dotted with blonde.  


At the doors out, she kneels and leans in to smell the wide handle.  Her muzzle is fascinating.  Like her ears, if you aren’t looking directly and know what to expect, you could be forgiven for thinking she was just slightly abnormal.  


I think she’s beautiful.  


She huffs at the door and then pushes out into the warm air.  I watch as she shies away from crowds on the paths and walks towards the grassy areas.  A few students turn to watch her, tilting their heads as something in their brains flags her as different.  


I pass by two young woman that are staring at her.


“Did you see the collar she was wearing?” one of the girls asks.


“Yeah, what the hell was that?” the other says.  “It had a tag on it!  Like a fucking dog collar.”


“Seriously?  I just thought it was some BDSM thing,” the first says.  “What a freak.”


And I continue until she kneels on the grass and then lays flat, rolling from one side to the other.  A passing young man laughs and shakes his head, causing her to freeze and then pull herself up in a hurry.  She says something to herself while hugging her body but I’m too far to hear.


I continue to follow her off-campus and she slowly realizes the looks people are giving her.  She touches the collar and I swear I hear her growl at an older woman when the woman tells her she’s setting a bad example for others.


When I reach my bus stop, I let her go, watching as she vanishes in the crowd.



Walking into the classroom, I’m surprised to see the lights are already on.  


Bailey is kneeling next to my seat and she’s grinning widely at me when she sees me.  I smile at her and make my way up the rows of chairs.  She starts wiggling as I approach and it gets more exaggerated the closer I get.


Her nipples are stiff against the baby blue shirt she’s wearing and the first few buttons are undone.  Her breasts are nearly popping out of her shirt.  


A patch of blonde fur fans out above her breasts.  She’s panting and licking her lips and pawing at the floor as I approach.  The tips of her ears are way more prominent now and her nose is dark gray.  


Unable to contain herself, she jumps and hugs me and then whines as she rubs herself against my growing erection.


“I waited for you!” she says, licking my cheek and ear.  


“Sit,” I tell her and she whines but obeys, kneeling beside my desk.


Her hand reaches up and she glances at me, confused at the urges pushing her, at her desire as it conflicts against her human side.  Her hand trembles as she reaches for my cock but I move away and she sighs.


“I’m not wearing panties like you said,” she tells me eagerly.  Her dimples are slightly reduced in her short muzzle and nearly hidden beneath longer fur.  “Or a bra.  Like you said.  Just like you said.”


“Good,” I tell her, rubbing her ears.  “Th-that’s good.”


“Am I?” she asks, sniffing and then licking my hand.  She claws at my thigh but I move her hand away as the door opens to admit a student.  “Am I good?”


“Yes,” I whisper to her and she wriggles fiercely at the compliment.


As more students arrive, she tugs at my shirt with a whimper.


“I’m hot, Todd,” she tells me, pawing at my leg.  “I had to change my pants before I left.  I wet them with my cum.  I kept thinking about you stroking me.  Commanding me.  Telling me I was good.  Oh, oh god, it’s- I’m so wet.  It’s happening again.  I can feel it and smell it.  I just want to touch myself and I want you to-“


“Bailey, huh-hush,” I whisper to her.  


I can smell her arousal.  Looking down, I see her rocking her hips against the floor, back and forth, back and forth.  The lump at her back is bigger now but still mostly covered by her shirt. 


Watching the room, I reach down and scratch the bump where her tail will form.  She shakes and starts to moan until I tell her to be silent.  Instead, she hangs her head and bites her lips while raising her hips for me.  The girl turns her head to watch me and it exposes her ears.  They tremble and I see her nostrils flaring as she tries to hold it all in.  


Beneath the skin, I can feel loose bones moving.  The fur covering it is short but thick, almost wiry.


“Almost,” she pants.  “Almost there.  More.  Please.  Almost there.  Almost.  Don’t stop.”


But I do and she licks my pant legs while grabbing my arm to put it back.


“Sit,” I command and she drops her ass down to her heels while leaning forward to her hands.


I’m so hard that it hurts but I ignore Bailey.  I want the urges to grow unabated.  I want them to permeate her until they’ve laid deep roots in her subconscious.


She tries to touch my cock a few times, whining and whimpering each time but I move her hand away.  The girl is relentless and needy but obedient.  So far.


When class is finished, I mentally urge the other students to leave.  


“Please, right here,” Bailey whispers.  “Just fuck me right here.  Please.  Mount me.  Oh god.  Oh god, yes.  Mount me.  I can see it.  I can picture it so good.  Oh god.”


She raises herself onto all fours, turning to thrust her ass against me.  There’s a huge wet spot on her jeans and I can easily smell her soaked pussy.  As she widens her knees, her jeans pull even tighter and outline her engorged lips.  Her shirt slips down her back to expose the furred lump of her tail.  I can see the short tip of it moving beneath her jeans.


With the classroom empty and my heart racing, I reach into my backpack to pull a leash free.  It’s a thick, braided black leash and I clip it to her collar before she notices.


Bailey immediately sits up and touches the clip.


“What?  Is that-” she touches the leash and her eyes follow it to my hand.  


“You- you can’t,” she whines.  “People will see!”


“Yes,” I tell her, standing and tugging on the leash.  “That’s the idea.”


“No,” she tells me, pulling against the leash.  “I can’t.  I can’t go out like this.  Please.  Please don’t make me do this.”


I reach for her hand with mine and pull on both the leash and her hand until she’s standing.  She twists her legs together and bites at her lips.  They’re completely black now, matching the color of her nose.


“You’re mine,” I tell her.  “Completely mine.”


“No, I can’t,” she says.  “I’m not-“


I reach up and cradle her breast.  She moans and shudders and bites her lip.


Standing there in the midst of the classroom where anyone could see, I undo her top-most button and then pull the shirt aside to free her breast.  


“Please,” she moans, looking around the classroom.


I flick her nipple and she grips me tight, pulling me towards her.  I go, leaning down to kiss the nipple and she growls above me as I swirl the nipple in my mouth.


But then I pull away, ignoring her high pitched whine.  I pull the shirt back but leave the button free.  The fur has crept down between her breasts.  For a moment, I run my hand through it and then pull at the leash.


“Come,” I tell her.


And she does.


I lead her through the hallway, ignoring the stares and whispers.


“Keep it in the bedroom, Jesus,” some young man says as we pass.


“They’re staring at me,” Bailey whines.


When we get outside, I stop her.


“Take off your shoes,” I tell her.  “You don’t need them.”


“But, my feet-” she says anxiously.


I pull on the leash to reminder her who and what she is.  She licks her lips and writhes with a quiet moan in return.  The beast is slowly working its threads into her.  Bailey kneels and undoes her laces.  When she starts to pick her shoes up, I stop her.


“Just leave them,” I tell her.  “It’s not who you are anymore.”


We continue to walk.  I catch her going to the balls of her feet a few times and I let her walk on the grass while I take the path, the division between us clear.


A few more people jeer us and some older couples make loud comments but we ignore them until I get to my bus stop.  It’s as empty as it always is.


“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the ground beneath the metal bench.


Bailey kneels beside me without hesitation.  I scratch at the back of her neck, pulling gently at the fur there and she groans loudly, without thinking of the people passing.  When the bus arrives, she stays kneeling until I tell her to ‘come’ and we walk up the steps.


The bus driver’s eyes bulge from his face and he shakes his head as we pass but he says nothing.  We pass two people that barely notice us, their eyes closed as music thumps from their headsets and earbuds.  When I sit at the wide bench at the back, I pat the seat next to me and Bailey eagerly sits.


“Thank you,” she whispers, licking my face.  She immediately whines and covers her mouth.  “Sorry!  I’m sorry!”


“It’s okay,” I tell her.  “You’re f-fine.  Just s-sit and we’ll be ho-home soon.”


She leans into me as the bus travels and I idly scratch her back.  Her hand slips down my body but I push it away.  The bus bumps and swerves around the roads and her hand creeps over to my thigh, just above my knee.

She thinks she’s being so sneaky.


Slowly, her hand moves up my thigh and I pretend not to notice until she brushes my cock.  She growls quietly and then licks my ear as she starts to caress me.  Her earlier worry about being in public seems to have vanished as her fingers touch my zipper.


“No,” I tell her, gently grabbing her wrist.


She whines and lowers herself to kneel before me, looking up at me with pleading eyes.  Her blackened lips and nose tremble and then open and she reaches for me again.


“Please,” she whimpers.  “Just a kiss.  Just a taste.  It smells so good.  I can’t stop myself.  It’s driving me crazy.  You don’t know.  You don’t know what it’s like.  I feel so empty and-“


“Sit,” I tell her, patting the seat next to me.


Bailey bows her head and squeezes my cock but then comes up to sit next to me again.  She feels incredibly warm as she leans against me.


“Just want to please you,” she whispers, her traitorous hand sliding down my body again.  “I need to be your good girl, Todd.”


When we reach my stop and I pull her leash gently.  She follows eagerly, glancing at of the windows while we exit the bus.  Bailey leads me to my tiny house.  As soon as we step off of the bus, she starts sniffing the air and pulling at the leash.  I let her take the lead and watch as she paces and backtracks down the sidewalk.


She stands on the balls of her feet now and, as she lifts one foot, I see the skin covering them has grown puffy and thick.  She yips with excitement suddenly and pulls hard, leading me directly to my home.


“Here!” she says happily.  “You live here!”


“Y-Yes,” I smile, rubbing her back.  “You’re exactly r-right.”


As I’m unlocking the door, Bailey claws through the buttons of her shirt, exposing herself in public.  She shrugs out of her shirt before I open the door and she pulls me inside, kneeling before me as I close the door.  


I stare down her body as she unzips my pants.  The line of fur has grown far past the nape of her neck and between her shoulders.  It’s beginning to spread but hasn’t yet reached the fur growing from her tail.  


“God, god yes,” she groans as she frees me.  “Finally.  Finally.  Finally, yes, god, yes.”


Without hesitating, Bailey licks the length of my cock.  She swirls the head with her flat, wide tongue and then leans forward to take all of me.  I grab her ear with one hand and her hair with the other as she begins bobbing up and down, taking the length of my dick easily with her lengthened muzzle.


“Cum,” she gasps, pulling free.  “Cum for me.  Cum on me.  Cover me with your scent.  Mark me!  Maaaargh!”


She falls to her back, raising her hips to the air as she growls with pain and the heat burning through her body.  She fumbles at her pants and then pushes them down to expose bare thighs covered in her clear cum.  


“It hurts!” she howls, rubbing her pussy with her thick, clawed fingers.  Her pussy lips are reddened but streaked with black and incredibly swollen.  Her finger plunges between her lips and she snaps at the air with her sharp fangs while thrusting up at me.


Strands of wet, tangled hair covers her crotch and inner thighs.  It could be mistaken for a woman that’s never groomed herself.  It doesn’t look like fur, not yet, but like pubic hair grown wild and dense.  The hair traps the scent of her cum.  The smell is maddening.


“S-s-something’s wr-wrong!” Bailey groans, her voice growing deeper.  Her palm smacks wetly against her crotch as she pounds her fingers into her aching sex.  She growls and then pushes at her pussy before pulling on the lips.


I go down and she shoves her pussy against my face before I’m even there.  She grinds against me and I wrap my arms around her waist to try to hold her still.  I suck at her thick lips and feel them moving in my mouth.  Leaning back, I pull them open to lick deep inside of her and she shudders before squirting with an intense, powerful orgasm, covering me with her juices.


Now I growl and lean back in to continue sucking on her as she writhes against me.  Her lips are twisting and folding in my mouth and I want to watch but it’s hard to stop sucking her pussy.


Finally, I pull back.


“No!  I’m almost there, please!  Please god, please!  Don’t stop!”  she whines before growling and touching herself.


I lay over her and can feel the intense heat of her sex against my cock.


“You’re my bitch,” I tell her.  She nods and growls and claws at my back.  “So get on all fours and present  yourself to me.”


She moves immediately, twisting until she’s on her hands and knees with her ass in the air.  I grab her hips, feeling the short, fuzzy fur covering them while rubbing my cock against her swollen pussy lips.  They curl against me and then expand, pushing away from her body as they grow into their more animalistic form.


I hold myself steady and push the head of my cock against the three folded lips and she shoves back, forcing me inside.  Her pussy clenches tightly against me as I push deep inside of her.


Bailey howls with her head to the ceiling and I pound into her, slamming my hips against her ass.  She cums, again spraying the ground while her feet claw beneath her body.


“More!” the girl screams, shoving herself back.  “Fill me!  Cum in me!  Mark me with your cum, please!”


Although it’s awkward for me, I go to all fours above her.


“Yes, like that, yes!” she whines, flexing her back up to me.


I mount my bitch and pound into her, losing myself in the feel of her.  In the feel of the patches of her fur against my chest and stomach.  In the tight wetness of her changed pussy.  I can feel her swollen pussy lips against my body when I push deep inside of her.  I nuzzle into the tuft along her nape and hold myself back as well as I can.  Her fur is soaked with her sweat and tinged with the scent of her sex.


It doesn’t take long.  My fantasy is before me.  Hungry and hot.  I cum, filling her again and again.  She spasms and collapses but forces herself back up on trembling arms.  She begs me to keep fucking but I need a moment to catch my breath so I pull free.


Bailey is immediately on me, licking my face and chest before moving down to suck on my cock.  I watch her, watch the way her breasts shake as she frantically milks my dick.  Watch the contrast of her black lips and fangs against my pink cock.  I grab the fur on her neck and shoulders as I grow too sensitive.


Eventually, I’m ready to go again and she nearly cries in excitement.


As evening falls, I lead her to her bed.  I bought it from the same pet store as her collar and it’s luxurious, as far as dog beds go.  At first she’s confused and pouts when I tell her she’s not sleeping in my bed so I lay her down in her bed and sit next to her and stroke the short fur on her back.  Over time, her breathing slows.


I can see a few red spots low on her belly and I know her teats will form soon.  The rest of the changes will take weeks and I’m glad of it because I want to walk her around town for a while first.  To show her off.  To watch her embarrassed but eager face as she comes to accept who she is.


Eventually I go to my own bed.


When I wake, she’s there, curled up against me.  Such a bratty little pet.  Covered in my cum and hers.  Covered in our scents but uncaring.  She’ll need more training but that’s okay


She whimpers in her bed and I stroke her back.  A single, thin line of fur has grown overnight, running down her spine to connect to her growing tail.  


Bailey moves and her hand slides against me and then grips my cock.  Her palms feel softer and I wonder if she’s starting to grow her paw pads.  


“I’m so hot, Todd.  Again,” she whispers sleepily.  “I don’t know what’s come over me but I’m just- I just need-“


The covers shift as she sits up and kneels.  She grabs my hand and brings it to her breast and I squeeze, making her moan. She turns and goes to her hands and knees.  I grab her ass and pull, staring at her exposed, swollen pussy.  I touch the velvety, spade shaped lips and she growls, shoving herself back.


“I can’t- can’t get the thought out of my mind,” she whimpers, lowering herself to drag her breasts against the bed.


“The thought of what?” I ask as I press a single finger between her lips.  She feels like she’s burning up.  Clear liquid seeps free to cover my finger and drip to the bed.


“You,” she gasps, rocking her hips.  “Above me.  All fours.  Like a beast.  Like an animal.”


She walks on her hands and knees, looking back at me before crawling off the bed.  I sit up and stare as she goes to her hands and feet at the foot of the bed.  She flexes her back to raise her ass and then lowers herself to her knees.  Her long ears are angled back and her cheeks are bright red.  More of her back is covered in fur than not now.


“I need it,” she groans.  “Like that.  Again.  Like that.  Mount me.  Please, Todd.  Please.  Like a dog.  Please.”


So I go to her.



“It sounds like you’re done very well,” my therapist says with a smile.  “Your stutter is nearly gone, I’ve noticed.”


“Yes,” I tell her, smiling in return.  “I’ve f-found a companion.”


“Companion?” she asks in confusion.  “A partner?”


“No,” I tell her.  “No, s-sorry.  A dog.  It’s taken time b-but I’ve finally decided I was ready.”


“That’s wonderful,” she says, flashing white teeth.  “However, I think you’ve also been working on yourself for quite a while.”


“Yes,” I nod.  “Still, I th-think I owe her a lot of praise for h-helping me.”


“I’m so glad to hear that, Todd,” she says. 


“I’m thinking of getting her a playmate,” I say, digging into my pocket.  “So she won’t be so lonely when I’m not there.”


“Well, if you-“


I pull a thin leather collar from my pocket.  I raise it and my therapist stops talking as the light reflects off of the pink name tag.


As I have the last two times in her office, I flick the tag and her eyes focus on it while growing blank.  She opens her mouth to expose her lengthened canines as her tongue falls free to touch her chin.


I wonder what her clients have thought of the small changes.  Have they noticed her fangs?  


Have they noticed her fat nipples and her puffy areola, visible in her silky white shirt?  Do they wonder if she’s doing it for them?  She resisted the suggestion less than Bailey did and I was surprised.  


“I think now is the right time,” I tell her.  “Don’t you?”


“Yes,” my therapist gasps, watching the tag.  I can see her nipples grow hard at the thought, denting the shirt she’s wearing as she breathes deeply, instinctively, to show herself to me.  


“Come,” I command.  It’s the first time I’m trying a command with her but she’s been so incredibly receptive so far.


She stands and walks towards me, her hips swaying in her long skirt as she crosses one leg in front of the other.


“Sit,” I tell her.


She kneels before the expensive leather chair I’m sitting in, eager for more.


The black hairs covering her dark cheeks are more noticeable than Bailey’s were and her eyes are changing to gold.  I wonder what the difference is?  Why her eyes are changing but not Bailey’s eyes?  I stroke her hair and see that her ears must’ve begun to change already, since my last appointment.  They’re short but pointed and flopping over at the tips.


“Beg,” I command, holding the collar out.


She stares at it and licks her lips.  There’s conflict there.  Repression.  She hasn’t given in completely.  Not yet.  And I’m happy for that.  I want her to struggle a little.  I want to watch her give in over time.


“Please,” she tells me, bowing her head and exposing her neck.  “Please.  I want it.”


“Beg!” I say louder.  “Whuh-what do you want?!”


“The collar!” she whines, pulling at her shirt while gnashing her teeth.  Her translucent, perfectly manicured nails, still human, are growing dark.  “Please!  I want it!”


“Good,” I say, lifting her chin and scratching at the short hairs beneath it.  She pants and licks my fingers carefully but there’s still resistance.


“I can smell her on you, Master,” she whines, her hands going down her skirt to slip beneath the band.  She reaches her other hand up to stroke me.  “I want-“


“What do you want?” I ask, watching her.


“Want to taste her,” she says as she unzips me and frees my cock.  Her hips drop as she moans again and grips my erection.  “Want to taste her.  My.  My playmate.  Want you.  I want you.”


I pull her head gently and feel the hesitation still there but she finally goes and leans forward to kiss my cock.  Her tongue wraps around my thickness and I lean back as she takes her next step.

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