No matter how many times he went into it, he room always remained the same. He’d seen it a week ago when he'd come home, and had seen it a handful of times since when he’d opened the door, each time hoping to see his bedroom, but always seeing instead a storage space.
The first time he’d discovered this, Jeff had stared in wonder at the sight before him. Finding it amazing that somehow reality had shifted beyond his inability to speak like a human, he was in awe of how it rippled out to the point it appeared he never had a bedroom. And then, as he stared at the stack boxes, the crates and bins, the furniture, some broken, it suddenly hit him.
Up until the point he’d come home and discovered his room, he’d assumed that, if the Chronivac had somehow glitched and put him on the path to becoming a dog, he’d use it to undo whatever had happened. But, staring at his former room, it came to him like a being hit with a tonne of bricks that with no bedroom, he also had no laptop, which meant he had no way to change himself back. Lying on the living room floor, thinking back to the last time he’d gone to his room in hopes of find it back to normal, he whimpered at the realisation that no matter how many times he did this, he’d never see his bedroom when he opened the door.
Despondent by such understanding, he knew it was not only pointless, but also that he really couldn’t do it any more. Trying to ignore his other problem at the moment, he wracked his brain as he tried to come up with a solution, and instead found himself going back again and again to why opening doors had become impossible. Opening his eyes, he looked down first at his hands, then at his bare feet, whimpered again, and peered once more at his hands.
They really couldn’t be called that any more, he decided. He had expected he’d transform as well, he just hadn’t expected his first transformation to be there. Happening over the course of the last couple days, he’d watched as his thumbs had shrunk and moved until they become a sort of useless toe. Not knowing they were called dew claws, Jeff looked at the rest of his fingers, which were now short, stubby, and more toe than finger. Webbing was present slightly between each, and a claw stuck out of the end, as his fingernails had fallen off the day before last. Wiggling them, thinking they were useless, he grimaced as he remembered what happened each time he’d experienced more and more of a change.
He’d expected it to hurt having his hands become forepaws. But, to his surprise, the discomfort was minimal and each time it jumped forward, he got a ranging hard-on. Finding the first time he blew his wad it was the usual ropey, viscus cum, he was stunned the next time he jerked off he dry-fired, as if he had nothing but blanks to shoot. Worried that something was wrong with him, the issue was driven from his mind when he learned his feet were following the same course as his hands.
A glance at his feet and Jeff noted the transformation had pretty much run its course. His small toe was gone, having become a matching useless toe like his thumbs, whilst the rest of his toes had shrunk, the toenails had fallen off, and his feet had morphed until he was left with his toes planted on the floor or ground whilst the rest of his foot was held up. Unfamiliar with the term digitigrade, he found it frustrating to try and walk on such feet, especially as his balance had shifted, and he was left wondering how it was a dog managed.
Certain they’d finished changing, that the only thing lacking was the pad a dog had on their feet, Jeff glanced at his useless hands. Resting them on his legs, he stared at them, understanding that they were all but finished. And, as if to confirm this, he felt the twinge of discomfort as within them something seemed to feel like it was being twisted and pressed together. Feeling himself start to get hard, Jeff whimpered and whined, “There’s no way I can use these stupid things to masturbate,” as he squirmed in place, trying to use his forepaws to first remove his shirt, then his jeans and underwear, which he soon discovered he could undo the zipper or button and instead was forced to pushed them down.
Naked, and not the least bit bothered by it, he stared at his erection. The need to satisfy himself growing more and more, leaving him feeling like it was worse than the last few times, he tried to grasp the shaft one pawed. Finding that without thumbs, that the way his hand was morphing, he couldn’t, it was impossible, he instead tried to grab it with both forepaws, but found it didn’t work. Shifting in place, whimpering, not sure what he’d do, he lay down on his side and looked at his hard cock. Hands shrinking and morphing the rest of the way into digitigrade forepaws, Jeff missed it as he raised up his leg. Holding his leg up, he ran a paw up and down his shaft, and moaning in longing at the touch, he leaned down and ran his tongue across his dick, shivering in excitement and expectation as his eyes drifted first to his wadded up clothes, then shut as he licked himself again.