"I want to be a dog."
"Okay," Runt shrugged and got up from the sofa, "What kind?"
I thought for a moment. "St. Bernard," I said, "A big one."
"Good choice," he said, "Now get out of those clothes."
A sly thought reminded me how gay this was, but I was beyond caring. I stripped out of my uniform and threw it aside. I stood before him
proudly, ignoring my quivering cock.
He looked at me for a moment, thinking where to begin. Then he stepped up and held my upper lip at each end with each thumb and
forefinger. He pulled it out into a pair of massive jowls. Then he held the base of my nose and pulled out a snout to match. I let out a low bark.
He pulled my ears into long, floppy things. Then he began to ruffle my hair fiercely. I purred in as much as dogs can purr. Then I realised my
hair was spreading across my face and shoulders, becoming shaggy white and brown fur. It tickled as it covered my chest, my back, my ass, my
thighs.
He massaged my fingers so that my hands became large paws. He twisted my elbows so that they became knees. Then he took my cock, held
it firmly and took it in his mouth. He seemed to blow, and I felt my body filling up with muscle. My stringy structure was becoming broad and
powerful. His hand found my ass and he pulled out a long, bushy tail. As this happened, I began to lose my balance. I fell forward onto all
fours, pushing down with me. I stood proudly as a St. Bernard, panting wildly, as Runt lay on the floor beneath me, cock still in maw.
I was finished but he kept sucking. I began to hump his face, hard. With each thrust I felt I should be knocking him against the ground but he
was more than a match for me. The feeling of pleasure was intoxicating and I howled madly as I cum into his mouth.
I panted as I clambered off of him. He wiped his lips.