7 - Evening Entertainment

Sammy was let back into the house around dinner time. She had heard first her mother, then her father, return home from work during the late afternoon. Apparently, they didn't feel any particular need to check on her when they got home, because it was more than an hour later before her father opened the back door and called her into the house.

She was led into the dining room, which was set for three people at the table. Sammy's usual seat was empty of plate and cutlery, but her bowls in the corner were full and waiting for her.

Her mother had filled the table with the food that she had made for the rest of her family, which consisted of bowls and trays of vegetables, meat, and bread. As Mrs. Matheson settled down with her husband and son to eat the food she had prepared, Sammy sighed miserably and started in on her own, considerably less appetizing, dinner.

She crunched kibble and lapped up plain water unhappily, as her family enjoyed their usual evening feast. The blandly disgusting, almost stale seeming kibble was particularly unappealing when contrasted with the seared meat smell of the marinated and broiled steaks, the buttered and salted sweet corn, and the heavenly smelling bread rolls the rest of the family was eating.

"So, how was your walk with Sammy today, son?" Mr. Matheson asked, mid-dinner.

"S'okay, I guess. She was kind of a pain, but once I shocked her a few times, she came around." Chris answered, absently, as he chewed a mouthful of corn.

"How did she seem around the other dogs?" Mr. Matheson asked, apparently keenly interested. "Was she still as frightened of them as she normally is?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty scared of them, all right. Any time one came close, she'd start whining and trembling, and go hide behind my legs."

"Hmm, that's a bit disappointing, but I suppose it was too much to hope that only a day might cure her of it." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "Thank you for taking her out today. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like you to do it again tomorrow, and probably every morning for the rest of the week."

"Alright. It wasn't too bad. It was kind of nice to get outside for a little bit, actually." Chris said, smiling at his father. "And you should have seen the outfits some of the girls were wearing today, dad. I sure do love summer."

"Hah! That's my boy." Mr. Matheson laughed, merrily amused, as he reached his hand up and ruffled his son's hair affectionately.

"If this is going to become a more permanent arrangement, we should probably take a good look at dog food brands." Mrs. Matheson interjected. "The dry food she has will last another week or two, but we'll probably need to get her something a little higher quality after that."

"Well, we can't afford to feed her the expensive canned stuff for every meal." Mr. Matheson said, frowning, as he chewed a bite of his steak. "That'll add up quick."

"I think if we alternate the better food in with the dry kibble, she'll be well enough fed." Mrs. Matheson said, agreeing with her husband.

Sammy, hearing her future being planned out for her, added nothing to the discussion. She'd tried to talk to her father, once, when he unstrapped her gag so she could eat her dinner. He had promptly shocked her for her troubles, before she could get out more than a couple of words, with a medium strength zap of electricity from her collar.

She hadn't tried it again.

Dog's don't talk.

--

Later that evening, after everyone had finished dinner and partaken of their share of dessert, none of which was offered to Sammy, the whole family gathered in the living room, to watch a movie.

As the film started playing, Sammy's father had called to her and beckoned her over to him. He had her kneel by his side, within easy reach, as he sat in his comfortable old reclining chair. He began stroking and petting his daughter's face and hair, running his hands gently over her head, smoothing and soothing her.

Sammy had held herself rigidly at first, incensed that her father thought that such a meager display of affection could make up for the fact that he had turned her, his own daughter, into a mere pet. Into just an animal.

Into a dog.

Every bit of embarrassment, every shock of electric pain, every indignity, and every moment of boredom or terror that she had experienced in the past twenty-four hours were the direct result of his decision to do that to her. Even her mother and brother, with whom she had interacted with the most during the past day, were only acting in accordance with her father's wishes.

Sammy was furious with her father, and very much wanted to remain so.

But, her anger became increasingly hard to maintain. Her father's pets, careful scratching, and soft strokes were so nice, compared to the misery she had experienced over the course of the past day, that she soon found herself anticipating them, moving her head to prolong each caress, and leaning heavily against his leg, resting her cheek on his thigh, as they watched the movie playing on the screen together.

She began shivering against her father's leg as he stroked her. Each pet brought her just a tiny bit of pleasure. Measured against what she was used to feeling, in her old life as a human, that pleasure was insignificant. Measured against what she had gone through after her transformation into a dog, just a day ago, though, even feeling merely nice was.. was..

Well, it was wonderful, actually.

Sammy began weeping silently, her shivering increasing, as she realized what was happening to her. Kneeling here, with her head on her father's lap, being slowly stroked by him on the head like a favorite pet, was the absolute high point of her day. And tomorrow, if it happened again, it would be the high point of that day as well.

The only thing she had to look forward to, in her new life, was someone in her family deigning to notice her, to pet her, to sooth away some of her boredom or fear by merely reassuring her with a brief touch, before they went back to getting on with their own day, once again ignoring her unless it suited them to do otherwise.

Well, if being petted was the only thing Sammy had available to her, then she supposed she would have take it.

Dogs get petted, after all.

8 - Vacation Time

Sammy's life, such as it was, quickly settled into a routine.

Early every morning, Sammy's mother would wake and feed and water her. A few hours later, her brother would take her for a walk, usually down to the park, then bring her back after she had done her doggy business. After a brief scrub down, she would be left to her own devices in the back yard for the rest of the day, during which time she would generally nap in the shade under the eaves. She napped because she had absolutely nothing else to do, and was always completely bored, having explored the back yard in its entirety the first afternoon she was left out in it.

She would be brought back into the house each evening, and once again be fed and watered, while the rest of the family had dinner. Occasionally, her kibble would be replaced with more expensive canned dog food, which often somehow tasted even worse than her usual fare.

The rest of the evening would be spent snuggling up to various members of her family, in an attempt to get as many pets and scratches out of each of them as she could, before she was put away in the laundry room for the night.

Any time during the morning or evening that she had to pee, the only thing she could do was wait by the back door and whine, hoping that one of her family would eventually notice her. If she needed to pee during the night, when she was put away in the laundry room, then she had to hold it in until morning. If she couldn't, then she would receive several medium strength shocks from her very irritated mother, as she cleaned up her daughter's mess the next day.

The only variations to this routine was on the weekends, when either her mother or father, or sometimes both, would be the ones to take Sammy for a walk in the morning. She would also get a much more thorough scrubbing down afterwards than her younger brother usually provided, and her mother would remove her gag so she could brush and floss her pet daughter's teeth for her. Also, it was usually easier to go between the house and the backyard, if she wanted, because more people were home to open the door for Sammy.

She grew so accustomed to this routine that, when her mother led her to the back yard one morning instead of out the front door for her walk, she was immediately confused and worried.

"Here she is." Mrs. Matheson stated, while looking at her husband, who was pounding a long, thick metal stake into the center of the lawn with a short sledge hammer. "Are you done with the stake?"

"Just about, dear." Mr. Matheson said, as he slammed the heavy hammer down on the head of the stake several more times, until only a few inches of it remained above the ground. "I think that'll do it."

"Do you think it will be strong enough to hold her all weekend?"

"Honey, I pounded nearly five feet of steel pole into the ground. It would take a backhoe to get it back out now." Mr. Matheson said, reassuring his wife. "She's not going to go anywhere, I promise you."

"Well, I just worry about leaving her outside, that's all."

"We can't leave her inside while we're gone." Mr. Matheson said, firmly. "Just imagine the mess we'd be coming home to. No, it's best if she just stays in the back yard."

"She'll be fine." he finished, dismissively.

"If you say so, dear." Mrs. Matheson said. "Everything's packed up and loaded into the car. We can leave anytime."

"Good. Just let me tie her leash to the stake, then we can go."

The stake had a thick loop welded on one side of its head, which Sammy's father threaded her sturdy leather leash though. He spent several moments tying a rather complicated, but solid looking, knot out of the end of the leash.

"You're sure that won't come loose?" Sammy's mother asked, peering down at the knot with a worried frown creasing her brows.

"I was in the sailing club in college, honey, if you'll remember. I know my knots." Mr. Matheson said, rising and dusting his hands off. "I'm sure."

"Now, lets get rolling!" he said, nearly shouting and obviously happy. "I've been looking forward to this trip!"

"Yes, dear."

Sammy's parents began walking away from her, leaving her leashed to the stake in the center of the lawn.

"I spoke to Mrs. Singlethorn's daughter, Victoria." Mrs. Matheson said, as they left. "She said she'd come over and feed and water Sammy once a day, in the mornings, so that's that taken care of. I'd hoped for twice a day, but she apparently has ballet classes in the eve.."

Her mother's words were cut off in mid sentence, as Sammy's father entered the house behind his wife and closed the back door behind himself.

A few minutes later, Sammy heard her father's car rumble to life, then pull out into the street and drive away, apparently carrying everyone in her family, save Sammy herself, away on vacation.

9 - Hounded

Sammy's parents may have left her outside for the weekend, but at least the didn't leave her without any shelter at all. Her bed of old blankets and towels had been moved to the edge of the concrete pad by the faucet. She could reach it, barely, if she went to the end of her leash. A little framework, made up of fabric and thin metal tubes, held up a small awning over her bed, so she would have some shade from the heat that would come in the afternoon.

Other than her bed and the awning over it, though, Sammy was completely on her own. Which mean that, just like every afternoon when she was left out in the yard, she had absolutely nothing to distract her from her own boredom.

Sighing, and depressed about being left behind by her family, Sammy flopped down onto the cool, comfortable grass, preparing to nap, if she could, before the day grew uncomfortably hot.

--

Later that day, in the hottest part of the afternoon, Sammy was laying, miserably bored, on the relatively cool concrete under the awning by her bed. The high heat, a product of mid summer, kept her from sleeping or even dozing.

Like always, she had nothing to do, and nothing to distract her from her boredom.

Except, she realized, that there WAS one thing she could do. Something she wasn't usually allowed to do, in fact, by either her parents or her brother.

She could masturbate.

Normally, she could only pleasure herself at night, and even then only quietly. If she was caught, she got shocked. She had tried, several times, to get away with playing with herself during the day, but always seemed to get caught out at the worst possible moment. Then, whoever had caught her would either shock her, or spray her with cold water from the hose if she was outside, or both.

Now, however, with her entire family gone away on vacation, she was alone. Truly alone, for the first time in what seemed like weeks, at the very least, and she could finally do as she liked with herself.

Her paws, unfortunately, presented something of a problem, though it wasn't an insurmountable one. As a human, she had usually slipped one or two fingers into herself, then used her thumb to rub little circles around her clit. With her other hand, she would stroke, caress, and tease at her breasts and nipples. Her method was good enough that she could usually get the result she desired in just a few minutes, if she was in a hurry.

With her fingers locked away behind thick, stiff leather, however, the best she had been able to come up with was propping one of her paws on top of the other, then grinding her sex against the hard leather that they were made up of. It took longer than her old method, but usually achieved nearly as good of results in the end.

Thus, with nothing else to do and with no one to stop her, Sammy spent most of the rest of the afternoon masturbating. She rubbed her little clit against her paws, laying face down and thrusting her hips gently and rhythmically to do so, and slowly drug her sensitive, erect nipples back and forth across the rough concrete beneath her, biting her lip in pleasure the whole time.

She was very near to her third orgasm of the afternoon, pre-climax thrills shooting through her body and making her shiver in pleasure and anticipation, when she was suddenly interrupted. Interrupted by something terrible.

A loud, happy bark, from the fence next door.

Sammy gasped, her orgasm shattering and dying as fear and adrenaline flooded through her. Though she had been exposed to dogs nearly every day since her own transformation, her fear of them had not abated in the slightest, and hearing the bark dropped her brain straight down into panic mode.

Sammy, her eyes wide, looked up to see Bruno's head poking up above the fence that separated their two yards.

The dog, seeing her see him, barked again, excited, then disappeared from view. A moment later, there was a series of rapid thumping sounds, as the dog sprinted for a run up, then Bruno jumped the fence. His leap was so high and powerful that he cleared the toothed, zig-zagged top of the fence by over a foot, and he landed, heavily but gracefully, easily on the lawn only a few yards from Sammy.

Sammy froze at this, her entire body rigid with fear. Her brain, with its panic driven, fight-or-flight reflexes and survival instincts on high alert, instantly analyzed her current situation. She was alone at the house, tied to a stake in the back yard, unable to use her hands, unable to run or even walk, and unable to call for help. A large predator had just invaded the space she had assumed was safe and secure, and she had no way to fight it or flee from it at all.

The deepest, most primitive part of her brain, the one that only came out when a dire emergency demanded it, told the rest of Sammy that she was about to experience what she had always most feared: she was going to be eaten by a dog.

While Sammy was busy panicking and quite thoroughly losing her shit, Bruno shook his body, and then trotted around in a little circle, obviously pleased with himself for accomplishing his goal of jumping the fence. He snuffled the grass under his feet for a moment, then turned and bounded over to the person he had jumped the fence to come and see.

He snuffled the trembling girl thoroughly, first and foremost noting the smell of fear that poured from her, the way water pours from a tap.

Bruno looked around, curiously and a bit warily, but couldn't seem to find whatever it was that she was so afraid of, despite his keen doggy senses, so dismissed her fear from his mind and went back to sampling her scent.

He could smell the type of kibble she'd been eating. It wasn't the type he was usually fed, but it was an acceptable brand, one he would happily eat if given the chance. He could also smell the soap she been recently scrubbed with, something he was a bit disapproving of, as the smell reminded him of baths, which he didn't like at all.

Finally, and most interestingly, he could smell her arousal. Bruno was a large dog, but he was also a young dog, and this was the very first time he had been able to smell the sex of a fertile female up close. Sadly, virtually all of the dogs in the neighborhood, aside from Bruno himself, had been fixed by their owners.

He stood behind her and snuffled at her sex for several more seconds, inhaling and examining the scent of her thoroughly, like an aural gourmet sampling the bouquet of a fine wine.

Then he gave her a curious lick.

This was too much for Sammy, who was already quite convinced that the big dog was about to eat her, rump first, and she scrambled away across the yard as fast as she could, her muffled screams of terror turned to shrill, high pitched whines by her gag.

As the female crawled away from him, in obvious distress, Bruno realized that she might, in fact, be afraid of him. This was completely silly, of course, but one never knew with people. They could be awfully odd, sometimes.

He'd just have to prove to her how friendly and harmless he could be.

To Sammy's terrified dismay, the big dog bounded after her. He was barking in a friendly, happy way, but her fear addled mind interpreted it as vicious snarling and growling, and it only made her try to move faster. This was somewhat unfortunate, because, in the panic of her flight, Sammy had completely forgotten about her leash.

It stopped her cold, nearly strangling her and crushing her throat, when she hit the end of its length. Sammy fell over on her back, choking and gasping for air, her collar digging hard into her flesh. She managed to squirm back a few inches, towards the center of the lawn, which allowed her to breath once again. Then she simply lay on the ground for a few seconds, stunned and disoriented.

Bruno would have winced, if he could have, when he saw the female reach the end of her lead. Having experienced the unpleasantness of a short leash first hand himself, he had quite a bit of doggy sympathy for what she must be feeling. So, in an attempt to comfort her, he began licking her face.

Sammy remembered why she had been fleeing so fast when the dog appeared over her, and tried to bite her face off. Despite the pain in her throat, she quickly flailed herself upright again, and resumed her frantic attempts to escape.

She fled at a right angle to her original path, which, since she was already at the end of her leash, turned her rapid crawl into a less than graceful arc. The thick cord of leather kept her distance from her stake constant, despite her attempts to scramble away from Bruno in a straight line.

Bruno cocked his head, watching her progress with curious interest. He knew, since he was smarter than the average dog, that the shortest path between two points was not a curve, such as Sammy was making, but a straight line, and he wondered just what the female thought she was going to accomplish. Still, chasing her around the yard was a fine game, even if it was an easy one, and he leapt in pursuit of her once again, barking in happy eagerness.

When the dog caught her yet again, Sammy knew, even through the fog her panic was clouding her mind with, that she would have to try something other than running away, if she was to have any chance at all of survival. So, she turned towards her stake and made for it, as quickly as she could. Maybe she could somehow untie her leash from it, or, failing that, perhaps even pull the stake up entirely. It was her only remaining hope.

Bruno followed behind the female, trotting easily, as she crawled over to her stake and started yanking clumsily on it. Bruno, who had managed to slip several leashes, chew through even more lines, and even pull up a few stakes himself, knew that her efforts would be in vain. Some stakes simply couldn't be pulled, just like some leashes, usually the shiny, hard ones, couldn't be bitten through.

Sammy couldn't untie her leash, and she couldn't pull the stake. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide and rolling with fear, to see the dog approaching her again. Out of ideas and out of breath, she simply collapsed down to her chest, with her rear still sticking up into the air, cradling her arms protectively around her head, shaking and trembling in terror.

Maybe, just maybe, the dog wouldn't eat all of her. Maybe it would just eat one or two of her legs, and perhaps an arm. It was the only hope she had left, and she clung to it as the dog came to a stop behind her.

The female had finally stopped running from Bruno, though she was still shaking and reeking of fear and panic. The big dog just looked at her for a few moments, his head cocked, wondering why she was evidently so afraid of him. Almost no-one else reacted to him with such a large amount of fear. Oh, sure, there was the odd person who was intimidated by Bruno at first, but he always warmed them up to him, if he got the chance.

It was easy as giving them a few friendly licks.

He snuffled her bottom, picking through her various odors again, before his attention once more returned to her most interesting aroma. The aroma that had, in fact, been the one that drew him over the fence in the first place.

The smell of her aroused sex.

She clearly wasn't aroused now, of course, but Bruno, being the intelligent dog that he was, thought that he could fix that.

Sammy knew the end had come when she felt the dog sniffing at her rump, and then start licking her once again. Surely, she thought, it was only a matter of seconds before he took his first big, slavering bite out of her bottom.

Imagine her growing surprise then, when instead of eating her, Bruno kept simply licking her.

At first, he only licked at the skin of her rump and legs, exploring and tasting her with his tongue. After a few moments, however, he began focusing his efforts more precisely, moving to her inner thighs, running his soft tongue over the smooth, sensitive flesh there repeatedly.

Then, he zeroed in on the source of her enticing aroma, and began, gently but insistently, licking at her sex.

As the dog worked his tongue across the folds of her cleft, Sammy, her panic slowly subsiding, came to realize that maybe what Bruno wanted wasn't to eat her. And that what he might really want was, in some ways, even worse.

Bruno felt the female in front of him squeak as he began digging his tongue deeper into her, exploring her, tasting her. The flavor of her wasn't quite like anything he had ever tasted before, but his instincts were telling him, quite urgently, that he was doing the right thing, the only thing, and that he desperately needed to continue.

Sammy was quite confused by what was happening, and was, after her panicked, frenzied fear reaction and aborted, unsuccessful flight from Bruno, feeling very weak and trembly. She didn't offer more than a few token noises of protest as the dog behind her began pushing his nose and tongue into her quite forcefully, digging into the flesh of her sex with apparent relish. When his tongue, on one of its many licks, flickered forward and back over her clit, she gasped and arched her back, instinctively thrusting her hips and bottom out, as if offering herself up even further to the dog.

Bruno, apparently noticing her reaction, licked her in the same spot again. And again the female, HIS female, as he now coming to think of her, jerked and arched her back, gasping. The dog's sensitive nose, which was mostly buried inside of the girl before him, quickly noted the increase in her arousal as he licked her in that particular place.

So that was were he focused his efforts.

Sammy, whose arms were no longer wrapped defensively around her head, but clasped against her chest, began gasping and squeaking through her gag, as Bruno's soft, warm tongue began flickering repeatedly across her clitoris. Her hips jerked and bucked, building momentum, as the dog continued lapping at her, digging his nose around inside of her as he did.

Finally, after several minutes of growing fervor, Sammy felt a tide of sensation sweep over her. It wasn't an orgasm, at least not like one she had ever experienced before. The powerful surge of pleasure, which only seemed heightened by the fear she had experienced so strongly only minutes before, built, and surged, and, finally, flooded throughout her entire body, erasing the thoughts from her head and leaving her shaking and quivering in ecstasy.

She came, laying bound, naked, and gagged, face down in the grass, with a Bruno's nose in her sex and his tongue on her clit, harder than she ever had in her life.

--

She came back to herself a few minutes later, her mind putting itself back together slowly.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of the grass pressed against her face, tickling her nose.

The second thing she noticed was that Bruno was still licking her, causing little trembling jerks and lightning threads of pleasure to course through her body every time he ran his tongue across her sex. His pace had slowed, however, and he seemed to sense that Sammy had become as aroused as she was ever going to get.

Which was when he mounted her.

Sammy didn't understand what he was doing at first. Even Bruno seemed a little confused about what exactly he was supposed to do, but his instincts were apparently urging him on, and he managed to figure it out after a few moments. His swollen, tumescent member poked her in the bottom several times, as he bucked his hips against hers, before he found his mark.

Then Bruno slid into her, causing her to gasp and and buck her own hips, as he crouched over her and held on to her with his front legs.

Each of his thrusts was a little more forceful, a little better aimed, and went a little deeper inside of her. Sammy, utterly unprepared for what was happening to her, only lay on the grass, shocked into immobility, as she had sex for the first time.

With a dog.

She knew that she should be fighting him, that she should be at least trying to get away, but after the events of the past few minutes, the terror and then the ecstasy, she felt like she had no strength left to do anything at all.

Besides, given how large he was, she wasn't sure she could stop him, even if she weren't bound and leashed to a stake.

And finally, given that what he was doing to her felt so amazing, and so right, she wasn't sure if she even wanted him to stop.

It took only a pair of minutes before Bruno's thrusting surged into a final frenzy, then he buried himself as deeply as he could into Sammy. The bulb at the bottom of his member swelled, sealing in the flood of ejaculate that flowed from him and into the moaning, quivering girl beneath him.

Sammy felt Bruno finish, felt his cock swell inside of her, and orgasmed again, her own hips continuing to buck against his.

They stayed that way for nearly fifteen minutes, locked together by their sexes, each enjoying the bliss of their shared afterglow.

--

A bit more than half an hour later, just as Sammy was beginning to feel like she could move of her own volition once more, Bruno mounted her again, apparently eager for round two.

Sammy didn't try to fight or resist him at all. There was nothing she could do to stop him, so she just lay on her chest, with her rump up, moaning a mix of pleasure and fear into her gag, taking whatever the dog wanted to give her.

It was, she realized, probably going to be a very long weekend.