The rest of the vacation was wonderful. You relaxed when you wanted to, you played with the other dogs when you wanted, you ate when
you wanted, and when you and your new dog-friend wanted to mate, you did that too. The magic of this place kept everything
consequence-free, allowing you to fully revel in the dog body you now had, all in all, it was the best vacation of your life.
But alas, as all vacations do, this too came to an end. Your week was up and it was time to go.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Your friend asked you, his head hung low and his ears drooped.
"I'm sorry, but I do. I have friends out there, family, too. They'll wonder where I went, why I vanished. I have a job and all that," you say
with just as much sadness as he exhibited. You didn't want to leave. But you knew that deep down inside, you had to. You had
responsibilities, you had a life out there that needed you back.
"I'd really rather you didn't," he said. "You're the best bitch I've ever had, and the best person to talk to."
"I'm sorry, I am, really. But I can't stay. I can come back and visit, though."
He seemed to perk up a bit at that.
" You promise?"
"I promise. I would miss you too much if I didn't."
"Well. In that case..."