I stare transfixed at the screen. My keyboard is useless. The words
appeared on the screen, "I really want to be Calvin Stewart's
cockhound were-boxer." Then it was entered. I hit the delete key to
no avail. Now I sit immobilized, as my body changes.
"Yeah, Fido, I think I'm going to call you Fido. You'll be totally
loyal, and wag your tail when I enter the room."
All I can do is make a whining noise, my lips and mouth and throat are
changing. I can't even turn my head to look at Cal. Somehow he's done
this to me. My skin is itching all over. Tiny hairs erupt all over my
body.
"It's amazing what you can do with a wireless keyboard. I just unplug
your old one, and plug in the transmitter/receiver to the USB port on
back, and voila, I'm controlling your keyboard. CYOC requires a
webcam, and it confirms that the subject is using the computer before
transforming them, but the system's not fool proof. As you can see by
the muzzle protruding from your face, Fido."
I try to say my name's not Fido, but all I succeed in is yelping.
Already, the programming identifying Cal as my master is integrating
with my mind. As my teeth became pointed in my mouth, I dreamt of
ripping Cal's flesh. Now instead of teeth, I want to lick him with my
tongue. I want to lick him all, I want to - I shudder. I try to fight
it.
Cal sits on my bed out of range of the webcam, and plugs his mp3
player into my speakers. Elvis' "You Ain't Nothing But A Hounddog!"
booms out at me, as I continue to change. Irony, sarcasm, or just bad
taste - I don't know. There must be something I can do.
Gawd, I want bury my snout in Cal's crotch. I want to inhale his
manhood. His masculine scent will be burned into my mind as my
master's scent. My canine senses are kicking in. I can practically
taste him, even though he's 10 feet away. My vision is becoming
monochrome. He did say weredog, right? That means, I change back
right or can change back. What are the rules? Or are there any? I am
I just a creature of Calvin's imaginings subject to his every whim? I
ask myself in horror. My horror deepens as an inner voice of my new
canine persona answers my question, I hope so.
Aaaargh! I'm my former college roommate's dog. Life sucks, and now so
do I - I understand my duties as Cal's cockhound. The transformation
must be nearly complete, I can move a bit....