The boys were exhausted by the time they got back to their, after their big burglary, their strange experience, and their long walk back. It was a pitch black night out, but somehow they could see in the dark much better than before. More tan or brownish fur had grown upon them, but John had given up bothering to complain. They dropped the bags of the witch's stolen goods, ditched their ragged clothes, and plopped down on the stacks of stolen blankets they used for beds. John was still catching his breath when a now-familiar sound and smell caught his attention. Looking over, he caught Chris peeing on the wall of their hut. The young man was finishing up, sniffing his excretion, and returning again to his blankets.
"Chris, what did you just do?"
"I don't know, just... Did you ever wonder if the place might actually smell better if we pissed inside here?"
The strong, healthy scent of his best friend wafting over to him from the far well was surprisingly pleasant.
"No, but I think you're right, Chris."
"Why don't you go freshen your side and we'll call it a night?"
Without even thinking too much, John raised himself up on all fours, stepped over to the wall beside his makeshift bed, raised his right leg and relaxed his bladder. When it was over, he sniffed. He would have thought he'd stunk up the place, but on the contrary it just smelled like him. His wall smelled safe and familiar... like home! He circled around a few times on his blankets, flopped down, got himself comfy, and dozed off for the night.
It was the next morning, when John woke up, that he was immediately blindsided with how critical the situation had become. Chris was covered in brown fur, he still had those big triangular ears, his face was now replaced by a black-furred muzzle, his tongue was way longer than it should be, and he was curled around enthusiastically licking at the sensitive pink cock he'd had since yesterday.
"Chris! Oh no, Chris..."
Chris shushed him and put a finger over John's mouth (or rather at the tip of John's own black muzzle). "Try it," he quietly suggested to John. The homey scent of their urine, still wafting from the walls, put John's mind at ease a bit as this happened.
Still groggy, John widened his legs and looked down at his crotch. Amazingly, he could bend his long muzzle down there as easily as Chris could. The smell of his pheromones was surprisingly alluring. The thought of what he could probably do now already had his pink tip peeking out of his sheath. He stuck out his tongue, stretched it farther than he would have even thought possible, and shuddered. The taste of his semen-caked genitals and the feel of his wide flat tongue against them struck his brain at the same time and encouraged him to try that again. He licked himself a few more times before he settled into a good steady rhythm. His worries melted away as he absorbed himself into his delightful introduction to this new pastime. A second rhythm unexpectedly started up behind him, which made it all feel even better. It was a soft thumping sound behind him, accompanied by a series of soothing impacts against some unfamiliar section of his spine.
John's ears perked up, he looked up from his penis, and turned around to see what made that noise. That's when it hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn't even have to wonder what it was when he saw that furry, muscular length of flesh which tapered to a blunt point far behind him. A new reflex tried to send it scurrying up under his legs, but John immediately grabbed it and frantically introduced himself to feeling of his own tail held within his hands. He knew exactly what was happening now, and he was going to acknowledge it: the sheath, the knotted dick, the floppy or pointed ears, the muzzles, the wagging tails...
"We're turning into dogs!"
Chris didn't want to hear that, but he didn't argue with John this time. Sure, it was fun at first waking up with the ability to lick his own dick, but he could keep John in denial about this any longer, and he couldn't stay in denial himself. His own tail cowered underneath him like the nervous dog he almost was.
"You're right, John. I think the witch cursed us. I'll go back to find her if you will."