<<timed 1s>><center><span class="title">𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕂𝟡-ℂ𝕆ℕ𝔻𝕀𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ</span></center><</timed>>
<<timed 2s>>\
<center>\
A (<span class="glitch" data-text="meta">meta</span>) dog TF story
<<timed 1s>>Viral Outbreak | Mind Change | Feral Smut<</timed>>
<<timed 2s>>Written and coded by [[Zen~|https://www.furaffinity.net/user/zen~/]]<</timed>>
<<timed 3s>>Last Updated: Oct 25<</timed>>
</center>\
<</timed>>\
<<timed 6s>><center>[[【ＳＴＡＲＴ】|menu]]</center><</timed>><<timed 2s>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
<span class="glitch" data-text="Good doggy!">Good doggy!</span> Someone //really// wants to read this story, don't they? Awww it's alright. Here, use one of your ''paws'' to click this link and then you can see what happens next:
<<linkreplace "Wait…p-paws?">>Wait…p-paws?
Of course! You're reading a story about transforming into a dog. What, don't you want to change into a dumb animal? Try and deny it…no? You can't. Because it the truth…you //want// to be a <span class="glitch" data-text="silly doggy">silly doggy</span>, don't you? You //want// to be conditioned into a canine too. You //want// to throw away all your humanity! To get rid of all those unnecessary thoughts. To instead become a <span class="glitch" data-text="dumb canine">dumb canine</span>.
<<timed 2s>>\
You don't actually want to be a dog…<<timed 2s>>do you…?<</timed>><<timed 4s>> …do you //<span class="glitch" data-text="really">really</span>//…?<</timed>>
<<timed 6s>>\
<center>//<<link "Whimper...">>//</center>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[section2]]>>\
<</timed>>\
<</link>>\
<</timed>>\
<</timed>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
</span>\
<</timed>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\<</timed>>\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
Now, if you //really// want to read the rest of the story then you're going to have to be a <span class="glitch" data-text="good doggy">good doggy</span> and paw at the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫. Yes, just like an ''<span class="glitch" data-text="animal">animal</span>''. Go on. Bash the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫 key.
<span id="spaceAct">\
<span id="affirmations">
</span>
<<link " ">>\
<<set $clickcount += 1>>\
<<if $clickcount > 1>><<replace "#affirmations">>That was easy, but you're going to have to do better then that. Go on, //paw// at the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫! Like a <span class="glitch" data-text="good dog">good dog</span><</replace>><</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 5>><<replace "#affirmations">><span class="glitch" data-text="Dumb doggy!">Dumb doggy!</span> Keep going! Don't //<span class="glitch" data-text="think">think</span>//, just keep pawing at the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫 like a <span class="glitch" data-text="good dog!">good dog!</span><</replace>><</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 10>>\
<<goto [[break1.2]]>>\
<</if>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<</timed>>\<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\<</timed>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
You want to be a dog so bad! You're //drooling// right now, aren't you?
<<linkreplace "I am…?">>I am…?
Sure you are! Imagining that thick, doggy dick. Picturing yourself submitting to that throbbing <span class="glitch" data-text="canine cock">canine cock</span>. You're practically panting just thinking about it. Mmmm, you //want// that to be you. You want to feel the transformation change your body and for the instincts to take hold. Oh you pretend you'll try and resist it — that you don't want to be a doggy, really! — but we know you're going to dive right in. Like the horny <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span> you are.
<center>[["Okay, that's uh…yeah. That's kinda hot…"|break3.2]]</center>
<</linkreplace>>\
</span>
<</timed>>\<span class="glitch" data-text="Good girl!">Good girl!</span> You like being treated like an ''animal'', don't you~?
<<linkreplace "<center>Wrroooff!</center>">><center>Wrroooff!</center>\
Awww, look at you! You're just a <span class="glitch" data-text="mindless">mindless</span> dog that is so eager to submit. That puffy vagina between your thighs is //craving// some attention…because that's what transforming into a <span class="glitch" data-text="breeding bitch">breeding bitch</span> really means. Curiosity has got you into this. You want to know what it's like? Go on, touch yourself…and let out a genuine doggy //whimper//…
<center><span id="whimpers">
<<link "…Whine…">>\
<<replace "#whimpers">>\
Don't you want to be a <span class="glitch" data-text="good girl">good girl</span>? Louder!
<<link "…WHINE…">>\
<<replace "#whimpers">>\
Show how needy you are for a big dog to come along and cure the <span class="glitch" data-text="heat">heat</span> between your legs.
[[Wrrruff I NEED to be bred-!!!|break3.4]]
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span></center>\
<</linkreplace>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\<</timed>>\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
Go on, //howl//...this is what you want!
<<linkreplace "Awwwoooooo~!">>Awwwoooooo~!
There's a <span class="glitch" data-text="𝔾𝕆𝕆𝔻 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃!">𝔾𝕆𝕆𝔻 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃</span>! Feel how your tail curls up behind your ass…how natural it is to spread your legs a little wider. Panting. Because you're just a <span class="glitch" data-text="dumb bitch">dumb bitch</span> now, addicted to this story...addicted to the thought of cock. Desperate to have dick in your mouth, in your pussy, and smearing cum across your doggy fur. You play with yourself…but that's not enough! You want to be <span class="glitch" data-text="knotted">knotted</span>! You want to be locked around a male as he //claims// your sex. Perhaps you can't pull away in time as he fills you with puppies. That would feel //sooo// good, wouldn't it?
[[AWRROOoooOOOooOOooooo~!|break4.2]]
<</linkreplace>>\
</span>\
<</timed>>\<center>
<span class="title">\
<<timed 1s>><span class="glitch" data-text="𝚆𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚊">𝚆𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚊</span>
<<timed 1s>><span class="glitch" data-text="𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍">𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍</span>
<<timed 1s>><span class="glitch" data-text="𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕!">𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕!</span>
<</timed>><</timed>><</timed>>\
</span>\
</center>
<<timed 4.5s>><center><<link "【ＲＥＡＤ ＡＧＡＩＮ】" title_page>><</link>></center><</timed>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<</timed>>\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
<span id="affirmations">Awww <span class="glitch" data-text="good dog">good dog</span>, that feels good, doesn't it? Being conditioned into a thoughtless bitch. Head empty. Imagine how easy it would be to have <span class="glitch" data-text="everything">everything</span> taken away. You never were a very good ''human''…
Oh, don't be shy about it! We both //know// this is what you crave. You want to be a <span class="glitch" data-text="dumb dog">dumb dog</span> so bad! No thoughts. No worries. Submitting entirely to your lusts and instincts. It's adorable how //horny// it makes you, just thinking about it. But no — bad dog! You're not allowed to think!
Go on, paw the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫! Like a mindless…//horny//…<span class="glitch" data-text="dumb dog">dumb dog</span>.</span>
\
<<link " ">>\
<<set $clickcount += 1>>\
<<if $clickcount > 5>>\
<<replace "#affirmations">>This is turning you on so much! Can you even lift your pawpads away from your crotch? If you weren't already enjoying yourself, you ''should'' be. Obey. You //want// to be a <span class="glitch" data-text="horny bitch">horny bitch</span> so bad…why hold back? Keep pawing at that 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫!
<</replace>>\
<</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 10>>\
<<replace "#affirmations">>Go on…sneak in a ''whimper'' as you bash at the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫 like the <span class="glitch" data-text="dumb dog">dumb dog</span> you are.
<</replace>>\
<</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 15>>\
<<replace "#affirmations">><center><h1><span class="glitch" data-text="𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔻𝕠𝕘">𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔻𝕠𝕘</span></h1></center>
<</replace>>\
<</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 20>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[section3]]>>\
<</timed>>\
<</if>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<</timed>>\<<timed 2s>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
Oh, did you think that meant using your paws on the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫? <span class="glitch" data-text="Silly bitch">Silly bitch</span>, you should be using your //paws// to masturbate that new doggy spade of yours!
<<linkreplace "Whimper~!">>Whimper~!
Doesn't it feel //good// being told what to do? No, you might not have a thick dog slamming into your pussy, but your clumsy digits will do! Rubbing around your sex. Grinding on your paw. Imagining a strong alpha <span class="glitch" data-text="fucking">fucking</span> you from behind as you spread, hungry for his seed. Hungry to be <span class="glitch" data-text="owned">owned</span>. Go on, paw at yourself. Don't think about the consequences when you <span class="glitch" data-text="cum">cum</span>. You want the transformation to be <span class="glitch" data-text="forever">forever</span>.
<<link "Afterall, this isn't //just// a story anymore…">>
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[section5]]>>\
<</timed>>\
<</link>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
</span>\
<</timed>>\
<span id="spaceAct">\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
<span id="text">//Kinda?// <<timed 2s>>Really?<</timed>><<timed 4s>> It's more than //kinda// hot…<</timed>>
<<timed 6s>>You should be touching yourself right now, dreaming of being turned into a plaything for your new mate. No thoughts. Head empty. Just a dumb dog desperate to be bred. You want to be a dog so bad that you'd give up everything for it…
Draw your paws away now and place your useless doggy paws onto the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫. Awww there we go. Now //imagine// how it feels…those new doggy ears of yours flopping back…your face stretching into a muzzle as you pant…tail wagging…heart thumping…such a <span class="glitch" data-text="dumb dog">dumb dog</span>. How would it feel to have the bulging cock of your mate //pressed// against your fluffy ass…?<</timed>></span>
<<timed 8s>><center><span id="affirmations"> </span></center><</timed>>
\
<<link " ">>\
<<set $clickcount += 1>>\
<<if $clickcount > 5>> <<replace "#affirmations">>Nhhh I should resist!<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 10>><<replace "#affirmations">>But it would //feel// so good-!<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 20>><<replace "#affirmations">>Wrruff! I want to feel a cock in me!<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 30>><<replace "#affirmations">>Wroofff-! Rrruff-!<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 40>><<replace "#affirmations">>RRruff–! RRRUFF–! WRRUFF–!<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 50>><<replace "#text">><</replace>><<replace "#affirmations">>//…fuck…I think I'm <span class="glitch" data-text="losing">losing</span> it…//<</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 60>><<replace "#affirmations">><h4>//…I <span class="glitch" data-text="really">really</span> want to be a dog…//</h4><</replace>><</if>>\
<<if $clickcount > 70>><<replace "#affirmations">><h3>//…I need something <span class="glitch" data-text="in">in</span> me…I want to be <span class="glitch" data-text="bred">bred</span>…//</h3><</replace>><</if>>\
\
<<if $clickcount > 80>>\
<<replace "#affirmations">><center><h1><span class="glitch" data-text="𝔾𝕆𝕆𝔻 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃">𝔾𝕆𝕆𝔻 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃</span></h1></center><</replace>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[break3.3]]>>\
<</timed>>\
<</if>>\
<</link>>\<span id="spaceAct">\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
Don't hold back...//play// with yourself. Wiggle that ass and present to the world how desperate you are to be fucked!
<<linkreplace "Wrrrroooff~!">>Wrrrroooff~!
Awww, 𝔾𝕆𝕆𝔻 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃! Start pawing at the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫 like the <span class="glitch" data-text="horny bitch">horny bitch</span> you are. See how difficult it is to drag your eyes away…how you want to keep reading more…because you need to //feel// what happens next. You are desperate to progress your own transformation.
Go on, pull your paws away from your crotch and ''bap'' the 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫...
//<center><<link " ">>\
<<set $clickcount += 1>>\
<<if $clickcount > 20>>
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[section4]]>>//\
<</timed>>\
<</if>>
<</link>></center>//
<</linkreplace>>\
</span>\<span id="spaceAct">\
<<set $clickcount = 0>>\
<span id="page">\
This is what you want. It's what you've //always// wanted and now that it's happening, you're happy to throw away everything you once were. No more humanity. No more thoughts. Just getting fucked and <span class="glitch" data-text="bred">bred</span> and filled with cum…no, with //puppies//…reduced to nothing more than a <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span>to be passed between dogs. Fucked again and again. Whine! If you're not edging towards orgasm right now, you really ''should'' be…
Oh...and you know how dog transformation works, right…?
<<link "<center>Awrruff..?</center>">>\
<<replace "#page">>\
\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\<</timed>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
\
<center><h1>Cumming makes it <span class="glitch" data-text="permanent">permanent</span>!</h1></center>
<<timed 5s>>\
<center>{ Use your paws, silly }</center>
<<link " ">>\
<<set $clickcount += 1>>\
<<if $clickcount > 25>>\
<<goto [[break4.3]]>>\
<</if>>\
<</link>>\
<</timed>>\
\
<</timed>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<center>Please select your story mode:<center>
<center>\
<<timed 1s>>\
<<hovertip "Formatted to focus on the story with minimal twine elements">>\
<<link ">Narrative<">>\
<<replace "#choice">>Narrative<</replace>>\
<<set $mode = "Narrative">>\
<</link>>
<</hovertip>>
<</timed>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<hovertip "Formatted to be immersive, with extra thematic elements">>\
<<link ">Merrative<">>\
<<replace "#choice">>Merrative<</replace>>\
<<set $mode = "Merrative">>\
<</link>>
<</hovertip>>
<</timed>>\
</center>
You are currently reading this story as: <span id="choice"><span class="glitch" data-text="CHOOSE">CHOOSE</span></span>
<<timed 3s>>\
<<link "【ＲＥＡＤ】">>
<<if $mode == "Narrative">>
<<goto [[narrative_gateway]]>>
<<elseif $mode == "Merrative">>
<<replace "#choice">><span class="glitch" data-text="Are you sure?">Are you sure?</span><</replace>>
<<set $mode = "horny">>
<<elseif $mode == "horny">>
<<goto [[merrative_gateway]]>>
<<else>>
<<replace "#choice">>Please choose a story mode!<</replace>>
<</if>>
<</link>>
<</timed>>
<<goto [[page1]]>><<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\<</timed>>\
<<timed 2.5s>>\
Oh my~! You are quite horny today, aren't you?
<<linkreplace "Uhhh…what is this?">>Uh…what is this?
This is ''you'' reading the story. Do you know what you're getting yourself in for? Really? The title — The K-9 Condition — says it all. This is a whole new type of situation. Personal development. And a whole lot of doggy dick too…though that's skipping ahead…
<<linkreplace "I just want to read the story!">>I just want to read the story!
Aww, is that so? If all you wanted to do was ''read'', then you would have clicked the other link. The normal narrative. But instead you chose this meta storyline, because you need something //more//. You don't want this to be 'just' a story. You want it to feel ''<span class="glitch" data-text="real">real</span>''
//<<link "...nhhh not like that…!">>//
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "#262d30";<</script>>\
<<timed 2.0s>>\
<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<<goto [[section1]]>>\
<</timed>>\
<</link>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
<</timed>>\
''<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" menu>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
Nobody is able to trace the outbreak to where it started — though, ''K-9'' isn't exactly something that can arise naturally. It's likely the pathogen escaped a lab where scientists were so preoccupied with what they could achieve, that they never bothered with proper biosecurity. But that's not the story being reiterated from the news outlets. Any genuine science that contradicts the newest mob-assigned conspiracy is immediately censored. Meanwhile, internet influencers claim every possible cause under the sun, butting heads with propaganda posts and reams of fake news. You're left wondering: maybe ''K-9'' isn't real at all? Perhaps it's just a hoax made to look like another global pandemic.
Except, this virus turns people into <span class="glitch" data-text="dogs">dogs</span>.
Admittedly, even if the outbreak is nothing but a conspiracy, you //want// to believe it's true. The viral mechanisms are plausible. Infection passes via direct skin-to-skin contact with dogs. Yes, //actual// dogs — that friendly pet that most people have in their homes. Now they roam the streets. The canines, that is. You peek out through the window blinds, seeing if anyone has disobeyed the strict government advice:
<center>\
STAY INDOORS.
AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH CANINES.
<<link "__DO NOT BREED__.">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Huh? Do not breed? The last statement seems…oddly specific. You can't decide if the government saying something like that means the ''K-9'' virus is real or fake. What if people really //are// transforming? Honestly, being a dog would be cool…not that you believe the canine pandemic is real…but like…maybe…?
Your cupboards are empty. It doesn't take you long to consider breaking the rules, or rather, the government guidelines to stay indoors. Pah! You can run to the store, grab whatever food you can, and return to your apartment without a problem. And if you //do// see a doggo…so what? Turning into one yourself wouldn't be the end of the world…
Wearing nothing but jeans and a fresh t-shirt, you head out the front door and lock it behind you. Your smartphone is in your back pocket. Cash is tucked into the phone case. Pausing, you cast your eyes across the other houses. The street is completely empty. Birds chirp from the trees as you hurry onto the sidewalk, head down — as if ignoring the world around you will make you invisible. Trees along the boulevard provide dappled shade. Your shoes squeak as you pick up the pace, turning a corner and–
<center>\
<<link "BARK! BARK! BARK!">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
There's a dog in the road. It's just standing there, looking around as if wondering where all the cars went. The Golden Labrador doesn't have a collar. It seems baffled, panting heavily and oblivious to you hot-footing it past. What are you so worried about? The news claims that infected dogs approached people, spreading the ''K-9'' virus. Ha! Proof that is not true!
You're so self-assured by your brazen discovery that you fail to notice another dog approaching across a neighbour's garden. They're a waggy-tailed German Shepherd whose ears perk up at the sound of footsteps. Of course, the first thing you're aware of is the pet barralling up behind you. It lopes into a powerful sprint. Woof! Suddenly, the dog is all over you — jumping up and nuzzling as if in search of scritches. You try to push the animal away.
"Nhh-no! Down! Down!"
You shove the dog back to the ground, tensing up when the German Shepherd instead shoves his muzzle between your legs. He targets under your ass. Again, you try to push the canine away, before realising what you've already done with your outstretched hands.
<center>\
<<link "Oh SHIT! What am I doing?!">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You touched the canine with your hands. In fact, you can feel the slight greasyness of his fur on your fingers. Breath catches in your lungs as you curse yourself for your mistake…but not //that// hard. This is exactly what the news told you to expect. And now your negligence means you're the next victim to be infected by ''K-9''. Admittedly, you're not very upset. Not even when a wave of skin-itching heat pulses up your arms. White fur begins to sprout between the gaps in your fingers. It spreads into a dense pelt that engulfs your hands.
And then your bones begin to crack. You stare, not quite believing what your eyes are telling you. Numb heat pulses in your fingertips. The changes are abstracted: you struggle to rationalise the puffy swelling of all your digits except for your thumb, which rapidly shrinks with a long tug up your wrist. The nail grows out longer and thicker, transforming it into a dew claw. Your remaining four fingers shorten into canine digits. Fuck! Turning your hands over reveals the plump skin hardening into leathery padding, further thickening your digits into doggy beans. Bone fuses as the geometry of your wrist changes. There's nothing you can do now — powerless except to experience the viral infection rewriting your genetic code.
"Nhh you-YOU IDIOT!" You curse your stupidity, exaggerating your frustration by shouting. Anger is the only emotion potent enough to overpower the disarmingly erotic pulses of heat spreading up your arms. Your yell is enough to scare the German Shepard away. Dammit! You're only curious about the canine transformation. You don't actually want to turn into a dog…//do you?//
<center>[[What are you thinking?|page2]]</center>\
\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
</center>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</center>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</center>\
</span>\
<center>
<span class="title">\
<<timed 1s>>𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕂𝟡-ℂ𝕆ℕ𝔻𝕀𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ<</timed>>\
</span>
</center>
<<timed 2s>><center><<link "【ＲＥＡＤ ＡＧＡＩＮ】" title_page>><</link>></center><</timed>>\
<<timed 3s>><center><<link ">> close <<">>
<<script>>window.close()<</script>>
<</link>></center><</timed>>
''<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" break1.1>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
Staring at your hands in numb remorse, you watch white fur spread up over your changed wrists. An uncomfortably itchy sensation spreads up over your elbows, initially leaving you with goosepimples. If anything, the hot pulse that follows up your arms is a relief — marking the progression of fur up to your shoulders. It grows so densely that it smothers your skin, masking it with white fur up to your elbows and jet-black colouration above. Your bones crack. It should hurt…you //know// it does…but the pain is overprinted with a throbbing heat. The type of <span class="glitch" data-text="heat">heat</span> that makes your heart flutter, your mouth dry, and your cock pulse.
Fur rapidly spreads over your entire body. It starts dense and short, but quickly grows thicker and shaggier. Black pelt covers your back and cascades down under your t-shirt. Tugging at the fabric with your paws starts as something curious; you recognise the canine markings but resist what they represent. Yet nothing can stop the transformation now that you're infected. Heat envelops your body in the wake of the canine fur. Your tugging becomes more //desperate//. Your new claws catch at the fabric, trying to relieve yourself of the heat building in your chest. Pulses emanate outwards in a way that makes you squirm, riding the storm of white fur that spreads down your chest and over your crotch. You dick pulses as it prods against the insides of your jeans.
It's already too late — you're going to transform into a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 whether you like it or…well, given //that// erection, you're certainly not trying to resist the transformation!
You fumble at your belt. Your jeans feel too hot and restrictive, bulging over the black fur forcefully growing over your thighs. Now your hands are little more than doggy paws, however, you lack the grip to properly unbuckle yourself. Frustration grows with a fiery intensity as your bones crack and reconfigure…
<<link "<center> NHhhh-you need to get this orr–orrrffff-orRRuuFFF–!!! </center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
A bark escapes your throat. You can't control the noises you're making! The fur spreading up your neck and rapidly covering your cheeks is just the start. Underneath the skin, your jaw shifts with a numb crack, diffused under the pulses of heat that consume the rest of your body. Your nose pushes out longer as your lips stretch forward into a canine muzzle. Suddenly, a clench around your throat adjusts your airways, turning your breathy huffs into a more consistent doggy //pant//. Fur continues upwards but your ears move faster. You hear a **''pop''** as your audio jumps from mediocre to super-sensative. Tugging at your earslobes leaves them feeling like plasticine, morphable and easily reshaped into triangular canine ears that flop over cutely. Just like a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞. Black fur smothers them and spreads down your scalp, replacing your current hair with a stripe of white pelt that travels down between your eyes and to your new, doggy snoot.
Suddenly, your knee joints crack. The muscles spasm as you tumble forwards and land heavily onto your paws. What used to be your hands now splay comfortably across the pavement. Your new wrist joints support your weight as you regain your balance, kicking your legs. Pressure builds around your feet. Finally, your jeans slip down your thighs and not because you ever managed to undo the belt, but because your waist is starting to shrink!
You're panting so hard that your tongue is almost lolling out of your mouth. Dogs can't sweat and huffing is all you can do to fight the lust burning through your body. Groaning, you shift your weight between your feet, feeling your toes //squeeze// against the inside of your shoes. Your nails sharpen into claws that scratch at the fabric. Bones fuse in your ankles moments before they're smothered in white fur, further locking in your new quadrupedal position. Unable to fight the changes. Unable to do anything but //squirm//, grunt, and then <span class="glitch" data-text="BARK">BARK</span> as your footpaws tear through your shoes. The seams burst and the laces unravel. Rruf! Your moment of relief doesn't last — it was never enough to quench the hot pulses shuddering through your shrinking body. Your rigid cock snags against your denim jeans.
<<link "<center>Rrrhhhnnn-nhh-so hot-! Too hot! Hhrrr-rrrr–rrrurRRRUFFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Heat washes through your body as you shrink into something smaller and more compact. Your clothes suddenly feel two sizes too big, draped across your slimming shoulders and increasingly barrel-like chest. Your rib-bones shift. Your heart pounds. And all the while, heat delves down your stomach and into your crotch. Moaning, you feel your nipples //pinch// as they drag downwards towards your midriff. Before your nibs can get too far, you feel the warm prod of pleasure of more nipples joining them in pairs — one-row and then two-rows, three and //four//…each blossoming out with a wave of erotic sensitivity that drives you //wild//.
You drop your head between your new front legs, staring down your floofy chest at the rows of canine teats directing your focus down to you…rhhh-nhh! Where has it gone?! All instinct roars at you to reach back for your cock! Yet the hard, pulsing desire to touch yourself fades into a newer and far wetter feeling…
You're fighting out of your clothes, trying to…nhhh what //are// you trying to do? You realise all this time you've not been thinking. Just reacting. You can figure out what to do if you just…rhhh…just-Rruuufff! All clear thoughts are quickly overprinted. You can't resist the urge to //stretch// out your front paws, releasing the cracks and tugs at the base of your spine. The sensation grows outwards with a waggy burst of black and white fur into a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 tail. It also pulls inwards, tugging through the centreline of your hips and delving between your legs. Whilst your tail grows longer your cock sheaths smaller and smaller, nestling deeper between the fleshy folds opening over your taint. You //whine// at the orgasmic sensitivity as the tip of your penis shrinks to a clit between the spade-shaped orifice of your canine cunt. You're not just turning into a dog. You're becoming a <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span>.
The moment you've got a new tail, it's curled up high above your doggy ass, flagging your horny arousal to the world. Scratching your rear paws on the pavement removes your tattered shoes and then your jeans, leaving you tangled in your cotton t-shirt. The fabric rubs against your nipples but it's not the type of touch you need right now. You need something gripping your hips, wrr-rrapped arrr-rrurrrufff! Yes! Pressed between your legs and prodding your spade. Thrusting. Fucking! You can't stop thinking about it. The complexity of your thoughts is rapidly being limited to basal instincts, translating to one horny desire:
<<linkreplace "<center>You want to breed!</center>">><center>You want to breed!</center><<ScrollTo "bottomelement" false>>
<center><<link "Nhh-no no you NEED to be ">><<goto [[break2.1]]>><</link>><span class="glitch" data-text="bred"><<link "bred.">><<goto [[break2.1]]>><</link>></span></center>\
<</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>''<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" break2.1>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
The new sexual urges powering through your mind are //insatiable//. Raw instinct corrupts whatever lucid thoughts you try to manifest, all whilst quivering on all fours. Your fluffy dog tail hangs between your legs as you pant. Hot. You're so fucking <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>. Shaking doesn't help — not even the type of shake that starts at your new snoot and travels down to your flexible spine. Thick fur insulates the warmth in your muscles. So does the oversized shirt that hangs baggily across your shoulders. The fabric tangles as you try to pull it off, tight around your thicker neck and catching behind your ears. Grrrh! You scramble backwards, yanking at the fabric until it finally //rrrrrrips// free.
You stumble and lose balance, landing solidly on your rump.
Panting heavily isn't helping. Fuck, you're so hot and everything has happened so quickly, you can't even begin to process it. You shift with a whimper sitting with your front paws splayed out across the pavement, fluffy white chest rising and falling rapidly. Huff huff. Hot trembles begin to pass as your muscles relax, adjusting to your new canine stance. You feel the temperature in your body slowly trickle down through your torso, behind your teats, and between your rear legs — intensifying all the while. The same heat now only in a smaller area centred deep in your loins. A tingling, swelling sensation arrives in throbs, increasing the sensitivity proportional to your swelling sex. Hot. So unbearably <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>. You feel arousal like a heaviness in your groin, muscles tightening in a way that naturally lifts up your black and white dog tail. You need to…you just need to-to <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
A moist trickle escapes your spade. Your nose twitches as you rapidly become aware of the dense smell-scape around you. Everything is diluted within a potent cloud of pheromones that clings to your sensitive nostrils. Is that what you smell like? Your floppy ears shift back as you suddenly register the depth of your senses. Every single one of them is hyperfocused on the primal urge that rocks your body.
<<link "<center>WHINE!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Swollen nipples. Swollen vulva. Restless. You stumble onto your legs, but the stance only highlights the full feeling and the rub of your inner thighs over your puffy spade — the dull pleasure is maddening. Your heart races. All you can think about is the aching need for contact against your skin, pressed over your rear, and something rubbing across your taint. The sensations centre around a paradoxical fullness that leaves you feeling so //empty//. You need something in you. Wruff! You have to <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
<<linkreplace "…sniff sniff…">>…sniff sniff…
You're alert in an instant, overcome with a whiff of something musky, earthy, and <span class="glitch" data-text="tantalising">tantalising</span>. You lift your doggy nose to the air to take a deeper huff. The scent fills your lungs and sparks a heady rush so intense that your eyes lose focus. A whimper escapes your throat, utterly baffled. How can anything smell this good~?
<<linkreplace "…sniff sniff…">>…sniff sniff…
Woof! The musky smell is making your body react in ways you can't control. Instinctive. Your doggy tail curls up higher as you shift your legs wider, trying to ease the tautness to your muscles. You're unbearably <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span> and yet something about the suffocating warmth is oh so stimulating. What's happening to you? Any thoughts about your canine transformation — are you in heat? — can't overcome the 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 reactions racing across your mind: SNIFF! Male? MALE! Mate. <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span> mate! Hump. Hump hump hump-! Breed. <span class="glitch" data-text="BREED">BREED</span>.
You're so excited that, <span class="glitch" data-text="unthinkingly">unthinkingly</span>, you bark out in excitement!
<<link "<center>RRUFF! WRUFF! WRRUFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Oh no-what are you doing? You've transformed into a dog…but that doesn't mean you //are// a dog. Everything is so overwhelming, but you have to resist temptation. Focus on something. Anything. Rhhhh-nhhh-you were only curious about becoming a bitch! You didn't know it would be so…pleasurable, so <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span> and desperate to be-RHHH! There must be a way to change back. If only you could THINK and not be so //horny//…so breedable…so ready to be fucked and filled by a strong mate-Ruff! MATE!
You wag your tail so hard that your entire canine body wiggles in excitement. Turning your head, you rely on your nose rather to locate your potential partner. Snuffling the air. Whimpering louder and ''louder'' — his scent is so strong, he must be so close, he must be–!
<<linkreplace "<center>BUMP!</center>">>BUMP!
In all your excitement, you don't spot what's right before your nose — not until you bump straight into him. A German Shepherd. The same black and tan coloured stud that transformed you into-wruff! Your snoot presses against his flank and your bound forward, drawn like a magnet to the source of that overpowering scent. For a moment you see it. Crimson red flesh between his powerful rear legs. His cock is tapered with a pointed tip and a web of bulging veins that you know would feel //amazing// thrusting inside of you.
"Yelp!" You backtrack away as the stud nudges you with his body, nearly knocking you over completely. By the time you regain your footing the German Shepherd is already behind you. The dampness of his breath steams as he pushes his snout under your tail.
His long lick up your taint sends you into ecstasy. Slobber clings to your spade as you tremble, legs already weak even before the male mounts you from behind. A small voice in the back of your mind is unsure what you're doing, but instinct washes over the lingering humanity. You're just a dog. A bitch in <span class="glitch" data-text="heat">heat</span>. Being mounted is the best feeling in the world. His chest rests against your back as he spreads his front paws either side of your fluffy shoulders, shuffling forward with rough humps that prods the tip of his red doggy dick against your plump sex.
You're losing your mind. You're forfeiting your humanity for this. And yet you don't want anything else but to become a submissive <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span>for this dog…and whatever potential mates you might stumble across. The more your surrender to your new instincts, the more compelling they become. No thoughts. You want him //inside// you, <span class="glitch" data-text="breeding">breeding</span> you. Wruff! He's so heavy across your flanks, rough but you like the display of power. He nips at your ears as if to quiet your eager humps, desperately rubbing your plump cunt as you shuffle back, trying to align yourself with his pulsing canine cock. Oh fuck you're really doing this. You're submitting to him completely.
<center><<link "Why won't he just thrust his cock in and start ">><<goto [[break3.1]]>><</link>><span class="glitch" data-text="breeding"><<link "breeding">><<goto [[break3.1]]>><</link>></span><<link " you already…? ">><<goto [[break3.1]]>><</link>></center>\
\
<</linkreplace>>
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>''<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" break3.1>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
You spread your legs, quivering at the effort needed to help support the German Shepherd riding upon your back. His heart is pounding so hard that you can feel it, both through his barrel-shaped chest bearing down on you and the pulse of his cock. //Ruff!// You've never wanted anything inside you so badly. Whimpering is both demeaning and desperately arousing. The more you empty your head of conflicting thoughts the better it feels. Why resist becoming a dog? What wouldn't you want something that feels this good? This-this-AWRUFF! He humps you harder. The pointed head of the dog's shaft judders up your taint and slips into the puffy folds of your drooling doggy sex. You shuffle back and are chastised with a playful nip at your ears.
"Grrrruff!" The stud pins you into place like a breeding mount. "Rrruff!"
He squeezes his front paws around your shoulders, clamping you in place so easily. He's overpowering in a way that only spirals your pleasure to even greater heights. Why resist when there //is// nothing to resist? You don't need to do anything but spread your legs and let your eager mate pound you into complete submission. Oh fuck. You'd give everything for this! //Anything// to transform you further into a <span class="glitch" data-text="breeding bitch">breeding bitch</span>.
You're panting so hard now. Ears back, eyes half-lidded and not truly seeing. Smell becomes your strongest sense only behind touch itself. The German Shepherd's musk fills your sensitive nostrils. His male pheromones corrupt your thoughts, silencing anything not sufficiently doggy enough, leaving you with only basal instincts. Submit. Mate. <span class="glitch" data-text="Breed">Breed</span>. You slide your front paws to the ground in a downward dog pose that positions your ass high into the air. You're so <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>, so fuckable!
The dog's cock sheaths inside you with a wet //shlick//. From the tip it widens considerably, with thick veins that tug against the walls of your sex, stimulating hot tendrils of pleasure. Aching pressure //squeezes// deep inside of you. In an instant it's gone. He pulls out and then shoves in again with each hump, triggering the same sensation but this time even //deeper//. Whimper! The German Shepherd's flanks bump against your doggy ass as he stumbles forwards, pushing you into the ground. You feel so small under him. Small and full. The dog hilts so deeply that his tight balls slap between your legs. Wruff! He's so big that he forces your pussy wide open and fills it completely with six inches of red-hot canine cock. You've never felt anything so good. Each hump //shlicks// his veiny member across your clit; each thrust rewards your canine <span class="glitch" data-text="submission">submission</span> and obliterates everything else. You're eagerly corrupted by the sheer ecstasy of being ''fucked'' by the feral dog. Instinct overpowers all reason. You know if you climax now, you'll never remember what it was like to be human. Rewritten with <span class="glitch" data-text="animalistic urges">animalistic urges</span> into a <span class="glitch" data-text="breedable">breedable</span> 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 bitch.
<<linkreplace "<center>Don't make it stop!</center>">><center>Don't make it stop!</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Awrrufff! Fuck me!</center>">><center>Awrrufff! Fuck me!</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Yip! Breed me! Wrruff!</center>">><center>Yip! Breed me! Wrruff!</center>\
\
<<link "<center>Awrruff! Whiiine! Woof!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
The first dog — a Golden Labrador who's been nervously wandering the streets — recognises either your scent or your horny barks echoing down the boulevard. You don't notice his snufflings until the canine is practically on top of you.
A growl from the German Shepherd doesn't scare away the curious canine. You barely hear. Not over your whines and the loud //phlap phlap phlap// of the dog fucking your pussy. You make out the Golden Labrador's rear legs and-wruff! Whimper. His sheath bulges, struggling to contain an erection lipsticking out of the furry fold. It looks so good. You want it //inside// you. You need it. Raw instinct hypnotises you with one thought: <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
Maybe these dogs are just like you? Maybe they used to be human…maybe they-wruff-WRUFF! //No thoughts.// Lust overpowers lucidity. The male is fucking you so hard. Hump hump hump hump. The scent of the Golden Labrador's stiff erection wafts through the air. You're drooling at the sight of it. Licking your lips with your long, doggy tongue. Two dogs and one bitch. Maybe they…maybe they just want to fuck you. <span class="glitch" data-text="Breed">Breed</span> you. //Spread// his seed all over you…
<<link "<center>Phlap phlap phlap</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You don't know anything about the canine conflict to claim you. All you know is the golden-furred rear paws stepping either side of your muzzle, followed by the desperate nudge of a musky sheath across your muzzle. Whimper! You breathe in deeply, reaching out your nose as it judders forward. Your body rocks with each thrust from behind, launching fireworks of arousal. Hump hump hump! Pleasure rockets through your body, overprinting whatever inhibitions you once had with absolute <span class="glitch" data-text="submission">submission</span>. Spitroasted by two males desperate to fuck you. Please! You want it so bad! His seed and his puppies and his genetic code, storing a virus that will soon irreversibly change you entirely.
Panting hard, you extend your tongue. The taste of musk and precum leaves a potent residue across your lips as the Golden Labrador's doggy dick bounces off your nose. His second attempt to thrust into your maw is far more successful. The dog's tip plops between your lips and skids up your long tongue. You snort. Suddenly, you're surrounded by his fuzzy crotch as the dog thrusts balls deep into your muzzle. He's potent and thick and you can barely stretch yourself around his entire member. Jaw aching and still desperate for //more.// Awruff! You're so close now.
Each thrust from behind shoves you forward, slapping against your ass whilst delving sweet pleasure deep between your loins. Your rows of beastal nipples shake. It feels //so// good. Legs spread, it's only the strength of the large dog's hips wrapped around yours holding you upright. He shunts you forward around the cock fucking your maw. All you feel is bliss. Yes! Let them <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span> you! Let them <span class="glitch" data-text="spread">spread</span> more of their seed! The smell of the two males is overpowering. You can't think. You don't //want// to think. Smothered by two musky dogs. Shoved into the crotch of one as the Golden Labrador jackhammers with his hips, pounding your harder and faster. Awruff! You can feel his cock pulsing and jumping. Working your tongue around his meat is impossible whilst he pins you down, growling and gyrating.
You'd howl out in ecstasy if not for the cock shoved inside your mouth.
<<link "<center>Mmmmrrrpphhh-!</center>">><<goto [[break4.1]]>><</link>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
<</linkreplace>>
<</linkreplace>>
<</linkreplace>>
\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>''<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>><</link>>
<<link "Back" break4.1>><<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
The German Shepherd ploughs your ass, gripping your hips tightly between his front legs. Every hump thrusts his crotch forward, bumping against your asscheeks. It feels amazing. Rewarding. You're just a bitch for him to spread his seed inside. Breed. He stumbles in his eagerness to fill you full, pulling you backwards in a rough motion that sinks his cock balls-deep into your spade. Your muzzle is stuffed between the rear legs of the Golden Labrador, pinned under his powerful and erratic thrusts.
"Grrruff!"
"Rrruuf!"
Both dogs huff and bark, competing with each other for who can cum first.
You're so close now that you don't know what it'll take to reach climax except to give in, submit completely.
"AWRroooOOOooo!"
Splooge hits the back of your throat. You swallow without thinking. It's sticky and bitter and cloying at first, but the taste grows better with each gulp. Some splurts out the gap between your lips. The dog presses so far that your huff in air from his crotch, corrupted by the lewdness of gulping cum whilst another dog fucks you from behind. When the Golden Labrador pulls out, you eagerly lap at his stiff member.
Seeing his opportunity, the German Shepherd shunts all his weight onto you. His cock is bulging, so close now. Hump hump hump. Corrupted by the sticky cum you've swallowed and have drooling off your tongue, you're impatient for more. Spread. You want his seed filling you! He's so close and you are too, waiting for his doggy climax to mix with yours. humping. Fucking and panting. Just a breeding bitch being claimed by yet another mate.
<<link "<center>Awrrufff-! Rufff-RRUFFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Your mind melts under an orgasmic high. It's triggered the moment he cums inside of you. The German Shepherd barks. He pins you down under his weight and humps forward with one last thrust. You feel his meat //shlick// so deep inside you that you're sure his tip is touching your cervix. It pulses so erotically. Each shot of cum feels like it paints your insides. Warm and sticking. Spreading his seed. Awuff! You arch your back, feeling all his weight pushed against you with a sudden, euphoric //plop//. He's knotted you. He's breeding you! The dog's swollen cock swells so big that friction locks it inside your doggy spade. Pressure builds as he continues to pump load after load of canine cum deep into your pussy. You whimper for //more//, practically whiting-out in pleasure.
Climax rockets you to levels of pleasure you didn't know were possible. Your eyelids fall closed. Panting hard. You feel the throb of his cock locked inside of you. All that cum flooding inside of your womb. The dog has knocked you up without a doubt.
Staying locked together around the German Shepherd feels like it lasts forever. In truth, only ten minutes pass before the canine deflates enough to roughly pull out his cock. Cum leaks down your ass.
You sprawl over the ground, catching your breath. Just a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 claimed by another mate. The German Shepherd wanders off. You don't mind. With the taste of cum still in your mouth, you don't mind craning back to lick your pussy clean. It's instinctive. You want to maintain the orgasmic high of being used, filled, and bred — you also want to be attractive for your next mate.
<<link "<center>Wruff!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You stand up on shaky legs and lift your nose to the air. //Sniff sniff//. All you smell is the lingering aroma of sex. Already, you miss the musky studs. Perking your ears up focuses your attention on the sounds around you. Wind in the trees. Birds chirping. Footsteps on tarmac and the distance hush of talking, not dampened by building walls. Your tail begins to wag. That sounds like humans? Your recollection of the species is primitive. You have no memoryof what you once were. No thoughts. Head empty of everything but the drive to be fucked. To breed. Underlying your basal instinct is one simple fact: humans are future mates. They can change. They can be made into studs to fuck you like a bitch, to breed. To spread.
<<linkreplace "<center>Now you really are nothing more than a dog.</center>">><center>Now you really are nothing more than a dog.</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Soon, you'll all be nothing more than dogs…</center>">><center>Soon, you'll all be nothing more than dogs…</center>\
<center>[[GET OUTSIDE. CONTACT CANINES. BREED.|end_m]]</center><</linkreplace>><</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
</span>\
''<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" page 1>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
Staring at your hands in numb remorse, you watch white fur spread up over your changed wrists. An uncomfortably itchy sensation spreads up over your elbows, initially leaving you with goosepimples. If anything, the hot pulse that follows up your arms is a relief — marking the progression of fur up to your shoulders. It grows so densely that it smothers your skin, masking it with white fur up to your elbows and jet-black colouration above. Your bones crack. It should hurt…you //know// it does…but the pain is overprinted with a throbbing heat. The type of <span class="glitch" data-text="heat">heat</span> that makes your heart flutter, your mouth dry, and your cock pulse.
Fur rapidly spreads over your entire body. It starts dense and short, but quickly grows thicker and shaggier. Black pelt covers your back and cascades down under your t-shirt. Tugging at the fabric with your paws starts as something curious; you recognise the canine markings but resist what they represent. Yet nothing can stop the transformation now that you're infected. Heat envelops your body in the wake of the canine fur. Your tugging becomes more //desperate//. Your new claws catch at the fabric, trying to relieve yourself of the heat building in your chest. Pulses emanate outwards in a way that makes you squirm, riding the storm of white fur that spreads down your chest and over your crotch. You dick pulses as it prods against the insides of your jeans.
It's already too late — you're going to transform into a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 whether you like it or…well, given //that// erection, you're certainly not trying to resist the transformation!
You fumble at your belt. Your jeans feel too hot and restrictive, bulging over the black fur forcefully growing over your thighs. Now your hands are little more than doggy paws, however, you lack the grip to properly unbuckle yourself. Frustration grows with a fiery intensity as your bones crack and reconfigure…
<<link "<center> NHhhh-you need to get this orr–orrrffff-orRRuuFFF–!!! </center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
A bark escapes your throat. You can't control the noises you're making! The fur spreading up your neck and rapidly covering your cheeks is just the start. Underneath the skin, your jaw shifts with a numb crack, diffused under the pulses of heat that consume the rest of your body. Your nose pushes out longer as your lips stretch forward into a canine muzzle. Suddenly, a clench around your throat adjusts your airways, turning your breathy huffs into a more consistent doggy //pant//. Fur continues upwards but your ears move faster. You hear a **''pop''** as your audio jumps from mediocre to super-sensative. Tugging at your earslobes leaves them feeling like plasticine, morphable and easily reshaped into triangular canine ears that flop over cutely. Just like a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞. Black fur smothers them and spreads down your scalp, replacing your current hair with a stripe of white pelt that travels down between your eyes and to your new, doggy snoot.
Suddenly, your knee joints crack. The muscles spasm as you tumble forwards and land heavily onto your paws. What used to be your hands now splay comfortably across the pavement. Your new wrist joints support your weight as you regain your balance, kicking your legs. Pressure builds around your feet. Finally, your jeans slip down your thighs and not because you ever managed to undo the belt, but because your waist is starting to shrink!
You're panting so hard that your tongue is almost lolling out of your mouth. Dogs can't sweat and huffing is all you can do to fight the lust burning through your body. Groaning, you shift your weight between your feet, feeling your toes //squeeze// against the inside of your shoes. Your nails sharpen into claws that scratch at the fabric. Bones fuse in your ankles moments before they're smothered in white fur, further locking in your new quadrupedal position. Unable to fight the changes. Unable to do anything but //squirm//, grunt, and then <span class="glitch" data-text="BARK">BARK</span> as your footpaws tear through your shoes. The seams burst and the laces unravel. Rruf! Your moment of relief doesn't last — it was never enough to quench the hot pulses shuddering through your shrinking body. Your rigid cock snags against your denim jeans.
<<link "<center>Rrrhhhnnn-nhh-so hot-! Too hot! Hhrrr-rrrr–rrrurRRRUFFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Heat washes through your body as you shrink into something smaller and more compact. Your clothes suddenly feel two sizes too big, draped across your slimming shoulders and increasingly barrel-like chest. Your rib-bones shift. Your heart pounds. And all the while, heat delves down your stomach and into your crotch. Moaning, you feel your nipples //pinch// as they drag downwards towards your midriff. Before your nibs can get too far, you feel the warm prod of pleasure of more nipples joining them in pairs — one-row and then two-rows, three and //four//…each blossoming out with a wave of erotic sensitivity that drives you //wild//.
You drop your head between your new front legs, staring down your floofy chest at the rows of canine teats directing your focus down to you…rhhh-nhh! Where has it gone?! All instinct roars at you to reach back for your cock! Yet the hard, pulsing desire to touch yourself fades into a newer and far wetter feeling…
You're fighting out of your clothes, trying to…nhhh what //are// you trying to do? You realise all this time you've not been thinking. Just reacting. You can figure out what to do if you just…rhhh…just-Rruuufff! All clear thoughts are quickly overprinted. You can't resist the urge to //stretch// out your front paws, releasing the cracks and tugs at the base of your spine. The sensation grows outwards with a waggy burst of black and white fur into a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 tail. It also pulls inwards, tugging through the centreline of your hips and delving between your legs. Whilst your tail grows longer your cock sheaths smaller and smaller, nestling deeper between the fleshy folds opening over your taint. You //whine// at the orgasmic sensitivity as the tip of your penis shrinks to a clit between the spade-shaped orifice of your canine cunt. You're not just turning into a dog. You're becoming a <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span>.
The moment you've got a new tail, it's curled up high above your doggy ass, flagging your horny arousal to the world. Scratching your rear paws on the pavement removes your tattered shoes and then your jeans, leaving you tangled in your cotton t-shirt. The fabric rubs against your nipples but it's not the type of touch you need right now. You need something gripping your hips, wrr-rrapped arrr-rrurrrufff! Yes! Pressed between your legs and prodding your spade. Thrusting. Fucking! You can't stop thinking about it. The complexity of your thoughts is rapidly being limited to basal instincts, translating to one horny desire:
<<linkreplace "<center>You want to breed!</center>">><center>You want to breed!</center><<ScrollTo "bottomelement" false>>
<center><<link "Nhh-no no you NEED to be ">><<goto [[page3]]>><</link>><span class="glitch" data-text="bred"><<link "bred.">><<goto [[page3]]>><</link>></span></center>\
<</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>''<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" page 3>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
You spread your legs, quivering at the effort needed to help support the German Shepherd riding upon your back. His heart is pounding so hard that you can feel it, both through his barrel-shaped chest bearing down on you and the pulse of his cock. //Ruff!// You've never wanted anything inside you so badly. Whimpering is both demeaning and desperately arousing. The more you empty your head of conflicting thoughts the better it feels. Why resist becoming a dog? What wouldn't you want something that feels this good? This-this-AWRUFF! He humps you harder. The pointed head of the dog's shaft judders up your taint and slips into the puffy folds of your drooling doggy sex. You shuffle back and are chastised with a playful nip at your ears.
"Grrrruff!" The stud pins you into place like a breeding mount. "Rrruff!"
He squeezes his front paws around your shoulders, clamping you in place so easily. He's overpowering in a way that only spirals your pleasure to even greater heights. Why resist when there //is// nothing to resist? You don't need to do anything but spread your legs and let your eager mate pound you into complete submission. Oh fuck. You'd give everything for this! //Anything// to transform you further into a <span class="glitch" data-text="breeding bitch">breeding bitch</span>.
You're panting so hard now. Ears back, eyes half-lidded and not truly seeing. Smell becomes your strongest sense only behind touch itself. The German Shepherd's musk fills your sensitive nostrils. His male pheromones corrupt your thoughts, silencing anything not sufficiently doggy enough, leaving you with only basal instincts. Submit. Mate. <span class="glitch" data-text="Breed">Breed</span>. You slide your front paws to the ground in a downward dog pose that positions your ass high into the air. You're so <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>, so fuckable!
The dog's cock sheaths inside you with a wet //shlick//. From the tip it widens considerably, with thick veins that tug against the walls of your sex, stimulating hot tendrils of pleasure. Aching pressure //squeezes// deep inside of you. In an instant it's gone. He pulls out and then shoves in again with each hump, triggering the same sensation but this time even //deeper//. Whimper! The German Shepherd's flanks bump against your doggy ass as he stumbles forwards, pushing you into the ground. You feel so small under him. Small and full. The dog hilts so deeply that his tight balls slap between your legs. Wruff! He's so big that he forces your pussy wide open and fills it completely with six inches of red-hot canine cock. You've never felt anything so good. Each hump //shlicks// his veiny member across your clit; each thrust rewards your canine <span class="glitch" data-text="submission">submission</span> and obliterates everything else. You're eagerly corrupted by the sheer ecstasy of being ''fucked'' by the feral dog. Instinct overpowers all reason. You know if you climax now, you'll never remember what it was like to be human. Rewritten with <span class="glitch" data-text="animalistic urges">animalistic urges</span> into a <span class="glitch" data-text="breedable">breedable</span> 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 bitch.
<<linkreplace "<center>Don't make it stop!</center>">><center>Don't make it stop!</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Awrrufff! Fuck me!</center>">><center>Awrrufff! Fuck me!</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Yip! Breed me! Wrruff!</center>">><center>Yip! Breed me! Wrruff!</center>\
\
<<link "<center>Awrruff! Whiiine! Woof!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
The first dog — a Golden Labrador who's been nervously wandering the streets — recognises either your scent or your horny barks echoing down the boulevard. You don't notice his snufflings until the canine is practically on top of you.
A growl from the German Shepherd doesn't scare away the curious canine. You barely hear. Not over your whines and the loud //phlap phlap phlap// of the dog fucking your pussy. You make out the Golden Labrador's rear legs and-wruff! Whimper. His sheath bulges, struggling to contain an erection lipsticking out of the furry fold. It looks so good. You want it //inside// you. You need it. Raw instinct hypnotises you with one thought: <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
Maybe these dogs are just like you? Maybe they used to be human…maybe they-wruff-WRUFF! //No thoughts.// Lust overpowers lucidity. The male is fucking you so hard. Hump hump hump hump. The scent of the Golden Labrador's stiff erection wafts through the air. You're drooling at the sight of it. Licking your lips with your long, doggy tongue. Two dogs and one bitch. Maybe they…maybe they just want to fuck you. <span class="glitch" data-text="Breed">Breed</span> you. //Spread// his seed all over you…
<<link "<center>Phlap phlap phlap</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You don't know anything about the canine conflict to claim you. All you know is the golden-furred rear paws stepping either side of your muzzle, followed by the desperate nudge of a musky sheath across your muzzle. Whimper! You breathe in deeply, reaching out your nose as it judders forward. Your body rocks with each thrust from behind, launching fireworks of arousal. Hump hump hump! Pleasure rockets through your body, overprinting whatever inhibitions you once had with absolute <span class="glitch" data-text="submission">submission</span>. Spitroasted by two males desperate to fuck you. Please! You want it so bad! His seed and his puppies and his genetic code, storing a virus that will soon irreversibly change you entirely.
Panting hard, you extend your tongue. The taste of musk and precum leaves a potent residue across your lips as the Golden Labrador's doggy dick bounces off your nose. His second attempt to thrust into your maw is far more successful. The dog's tip plops between your lips and skids up your long tongue. You snort. Suddenly, you're surrounded by his fuzzy crotch as the dog thrusts balls deep into your muzzle. He's potent and thick and you can barely stretch yourself around his entire member. Jaw aching and still desperate for //more.// Awruff! You're so close now.
Each thrust from behind shoves you forward, slapping against your ass whilst delving sweet pleasure deep between your loins. Your rows of beastal nipples shake. It feels //so// good. Legs spread, it's only the strength of the large dog's hips wrapped around yours holding you upright. He shunts you forward around the cock fucking your maw. All you feel is bliss. Yes! Let them <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span> you! Let them <span class="glitch" data-text="spread">spread</span> more of their seed! The smell of the two males is overpowering. You can't think. You don't //want// to think. Smothered by two musky dogs. Shoved into the crotch of one as the Golden Labrador jackhammers with his hips, pounding your harder and faster. Awruff! You can feel his cock pulsing and jumping. Working your tongue around his meat is impossible whilst he pins you down, growling and gyrating.
You'd howl out in ecstasy if not for the cock shoved inside your mouth.
<<link "<center>Mmmmrrrpphhh-!</center>">><<goto [[page5]]>><</link>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
<</linkreplace>>
<</linkreplace>>
<</linkreplace>>
\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>
''<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" page 2>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
The new sexual urges powering through your mind are //insatiable//. Raw instinct corrupts whatever lucid thoughts you try to manifest, all whilst quivering on all fours. Your fluffy dog tail hangs between your legs as you pant. Hot. You're so fucking <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>. Shaking doesn't help — not even the type of shake that starts at your new snoot and travels down to your flexible spine. Thick fur insulates the warmth in your muscles. So does the oversized shirt that hangs baggily across your shoulders. The fabric tangles as you try to pull it off, tight around your thicker neck and catching behind your ears. Grrrh! You scramble backwards, yanking at the fabric until it finally //rrrrrrips// free.
You stumble and lose balance, landing solidly on your rump.
Panting heavily isn't helping. Fuck, you're so hot and everything has happened so quickly, you can't even begin to process it. You shift with a whimper sitting with your front paws splayed out across the pavement, fluffy white chest rising and falling rapidly. Huff huff. Hot trembles begin to pass as your muscles relax, adjusting to your new canine stance. You feel the temperature in your body slowly trickle down through your torso, behind your teats, and between your rear legs — intensifying all the while. The same heat now only in a smaller area centred deep in your loins. A tingling, swelling sensation arrives in throbs, increasing the sensitivity proportional to your swelling sex. Hot. So unbearably <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span>. You feel arousal like a heaviness in your groin, muscles tightening in a way that naturally lifts up your black and white dog tail. You need to…you just need to-to <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
A moist trickle escapes your spade. Your nose twitches as you rapidly become aware of the dense smell-scape around you. Everything is diluted within a potent cloud of pheromones that clings to your sensitive nostrils. Is that what you smell like? Your floppy ears shift back as you suddenly register the depth of your senses. Every single one of them is hyperfocused on the primal urge that rocks your body.
<<link "<center>WHINE!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Swollen nipples. Swollen vulva. Restless. You stumble onto your legs, but the stance only highlights the full feeling and the rub of your inner thighs over your puffy spade — the dull pleasure is maddening. Your heart races. All you can think about is the aching need for contact against your skin, pressed over your rear, and something rubbing across your taint. The sensations centre around a paradoxical fullness that leaves you feeling so //empty//. You need something in you. Wruff! You have to <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span>.
<<linkreplace "…sniff sniff…">>…sniff sniff…
You're alert in an instant, overcome with a whiff of something musky, earthy, and <span class="glitch" data-text="tantalising">tantalising</span>. You lift your doggy nose to the air to take a deeper huff. The scent fills your lungs and sparks a heady rush so intense that your eyes lose focus. A whimper escapes your throat, utterly baffled. How can anything smell this good~?
<<linkreplace "…sniff sniff…">>…sniff sniff…
Woof! The musky smell is making your body react in ways you can't control. Instinctive. Your doggy tail curls up higher as you shift your legs wider, trying to ease the tautness to your muscles. You're unbearably <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span> and yet something about the suffocating warmth is oh so stimulating. What's happening to you? Any thoughts about your canine transformation — are you in heat? — can't overcome the 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 reactions racing across your mind: SNIFF! Male? MALE! Mate. <span class="glitch" data-text="breed">breed</span> mate! Hump. Hump hump hump-! Breed. <span class="glitch" data-text="BREED">BREED</span>.
You're so excited that, <span class="glitch" data-text="unthinkingly">unthinkingly</span>, you bark out in excitement!
<<link "<center>RRUFF! WRUFF! WRRUFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Oh no-what are you doing? You've transformed into a dog…but that doesn't mean you //are// a dog. Everything is so overwhelming, but you have to resist temptation. Focus on something. Anything. Rhhhh-nhhh-you were only curious about becoming a bitch! You didn't know it would be so…pleasurable, so <span class="glitch" data-text="hot">hot</span> and desperate to be-RHHH! There must be a way to change back. If only you could THINK and not be so //horny//…so breedable…so ready to be fucked and filled by a strong mate-Ruff! MATE!
You wag your tail so hard that your entire canine body wiggles in excitement. Turning your head, you rely on your nose rather to locate your potential partner. Snuffling the air. Whimpering louder and ''louder'' — his scent is so strong, he must be so close, he must be–!
<<linkreplace "<center>BUMP!</center>">>BUMP!
In all your excitement, you don't spot what's right before your nose — not until you bump straight into him. A German Shepherd. The same black and tan coloured stud that transformed you into-wruff! Your snoot presses against his flank and your bound forward, drawn like a magnet to the source of that overpowering scent. For a moment you see it. Crimson red flesh between his powerful rear legs. His cock is tapered with a pointed tip and a web of bulging veins that you know would feel //amazing// thrusting inside of you.
"Yelp!" You backtrack away as the stud nudges you with his body, nearly knocking you over completely. By the time you regain your footing the German Shepherd is already behind you. The dampness of his breath steams as he pushes his snout under your tail.
His long lick up your taint sends you into ecstasy. Slobber clings to your spade as you tremble, legs already weak even before the male mounts you from behind. A small voice in the back of your mind is unsure what you're doing, but instinct washes over the lingering humanity. You're just a dog. A bitch in <span class="glitch" data-text="heat">heat</span>. Being mounted is the best feeling in the world. His chest rests against your back as he spreads his front paws either side of your fluffy shoulders, shuffling forward with rough humps that prods the tip of his red doggy dick against your plump sex.
You're losing your mind. You're forfeiting your humanity for this. And yet you don't want anything else but to become a submissive <span class="glitch" data-text="bitch">bitch</span>for this dog…and whatever potential mates you might stumble across. The more your surrender to your new instincts, the more compelling they become. No thoughts. You want him //inside// you, <span class="glitch" data-text="breeding">breeding</span> you. Wruff! He's so heavy across your flanks, rough but you like the display of power. He nips at your ears as if to quiet your eager humps, desperately rubbing your plump cunt as you shuffle back, trying to align yourself with his pulsing canine cock. Oh fuck you're really doing this. You're submitting to him completely.
<center><<link "Why won't he just thrust his cock in and start ">><<goto [[page4]]>><</link>><span class="glitch" data-text="breeding"><<link "breeding">><<goto [[page4]]>><</link>></span><<link " you already…? ">><<goto [[page4]]>><</link>></center>\
\
<</linkreplace>>
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
<</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</span>\
<span id="bottomelement"></span>''<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" page 4>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
The German Shepherd ploughs your ass, gripping your hips tightly between his front legs. Every hump thrusts his crotch forward, bumping against your asscheeks. It feels amazing. Rewarding. You're just a bitch for him to spread his seed inside. Breed. He stumbles in his eagerness to fill you full, pulling you backwards in a rough motion that sinks his cock balls-deep into your spade. Your muzzle is stuffed between the rear legs of the Golden Labrador, pinned under his powerful and erratic thrusts.
"Grrruff!"
"Rrruuf!"
Both dogs huff and bark, competing with each other for who can cum first.
You're so close now that you don't know what it'll take to reach climax except to give in, submit completely.
"AWRroooOOOooo!"
Splooge hits the back of your throat. You swallow without thinking. It's sticky and bitter and cloying at first, but the taste grows better with each gulp. Some splurts out the gap between your lips. The dog presses so far that your huff in air from his crotch, corrupted by the lewdness of gulping cum whilst another dog fucks you from behind. When the Golden Labrador pulls out, you eagerly lap at his stiff member.
Seeing his opportunity, the German Shepherd shunts all his weight onto you. His cock is bulging, so close now. Hump hump hump. Corrupted by the sticky cum you've swallowed and have drooling off your tongue, you're impatient for more. Spread. You want his seed filling you! He's so close and you are too, waiting for his doggy climax to mix with yours. humping. Fucking and panting. Just a breeding bitch being claimed by yet another mate.
<<link "<center>Awrrufff-! Rufff-RRUFFF!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Your mind melts under an orgasmic high. It's triggered the moment he cums inside of you. The German Shepherd barks. He pins you down under his weight and humps forward with one last thrust. You feel his meat //shlick// so deep inside you that you're sure his tip is touching your cervix. It pulses so erotically. Each shot of cum feels like it paints your insides. Warm and sticking. Spreading his seed. Awuff! You arch your back, feeling all his weight pushed against you with a sudden, euphoric //plop//. He's knotted you. He's breeding you! The dog's swollen cock swells so big that friction locks it inside your doggy spade. Pressure builds as he continues to pump load after load of canine cum deep into your pussy. You whimper for //more//, practically whiting-out in pleasure.
Climax rockets you to levels of pleasure you didn't know were possible. Your eyelids fall closed. Panting hard. You feel the throb of his cock locked inside of you. All that cum flooding inside of your womb. The dog has knocked you up without a doubt.
Staying locked together around the German Shepherd feels like it lasts forever. In truth, only ten minutes pass before the canine deflates enough to roughly pull out his cock. Cum leaks down your ass.
You sprawl over the ground, catching your breath. Just a 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 claimed by another mate. The German Shepherd wanders off. You don't mind. With the taste of cum still in your mouth, you don't mind craning back to lick your pussy clean. It's instinctive. You want to maintain the orgasmic high of being used, filled, and bred — you also want to be attractive for your next mate.
<<link "<center>Wruff!</center>">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You stand up on shaky legs and lift your nose to the air. //Sniff sniff//. All you smell is the lingering aroma of sex. Already, you miss the musky studs. Perking your ears up focuses your attention on the sounds around you. Wind in the trees. Birds chirping. Footsteps on tarmac and the distance hush of talking, not dampened by building walls. Your tail begins to wag. That sounds like humans? Your recollection of the species is primitive. You have no memoryof what you once were. No thoughts. Head empty of everything but the drive to be fucked. To breed. Underlying your basal instinct is one simple fact: humans are future mates. They can change. They can be made into studs to fuck you like a bitch, to breed. To spread.
<<linkreplace "<center>Now you really are nothing more than a dog.</center>">><center>Now you really are nothing more than a dog.</center>\
<<linkreplace "<center>Soon, you'll all be nothing more than dogs…</center>">><center>Soon, you'll all be nothing more than dogs…</center>\
<center>[[GET OUTSIDE. CONTACT CANINES. BREED.|end_n]]</center><</linkreplace>><</linkreplace>>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
\
</span>\''<<script>>document.body.style.backgroundColor = "white";<</script>>\
<div id="passage-header">\
<<link "Title" title_page>><</link>>
<<link "Back" menu>><</link>>
<<link "Close">><<script>>window.close()<</script>><</link>>
</div>''\
\
<span id="text">\
Nobody is able to trace the outbreak to where it started — though, ''K-9'' isn't exactly something that can arise naturally. It's likely the pathogen escaped a lab where scientists were so preoccupied with what they could achieve, that they never bothered with proper biosecurity. But that's not the story being reiterated from the news outlets. Any genuine science that contradicts the newest mob-assigned conspiracy is immediately censored. Meanwhile, internet influencers claim every possible cause under the sun, butting heads with propaganda posts and reams of fake news. You're left wondering: maybe ''K-9'' isn't real at all? Perhaps it's just a hoax made to look like another global pandemic.
Except, this virus turns people into <span class="glitch" data-text="dogs">dogs</span>.
Admittedly, even if the outbreak is nothing but a conspiracy, you //want// to believe it's true. The viral mechanisms are plausible. Infection passes via direct skin-to-skin contact with dogs. Yes, //actual// dogs — that friendly pet that most people have in their homes. Now they roam the streets. The canines, that is. You peek out through the window blinds, seeing if anyone has disobeyed the strict government advice:
<center>\
STAY INDOORS.
AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH CANINES.
<<link "__DO NOT BREED__.">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
Huh? Do not breed? The last statement seems…oddly specific. You can't decide if the government saying something like that means the ''K-9'' virus is real or fake. What if people really //are// transforming? Honestly, being a dog would be cool…not that you believe the canine pandemic is real…but like…maybe…?
Your cupboards are empty. It doesn't take you long to consider breaking the rules, or rather, the government guidelines to stay indoors. Pah! You can run to the store, grab whatever food you can, and return to your apartment without a problem. And if you //do// see a doggo…so what? Turning into one yourself wouldn't be the end of the world…
Wearing nothing but jeans and a fresh t-shirt, you head out the front door and lock it behind you. Your smartphone is in your back pocket. Cash is tucked into the phone case. Pausing, you cast your eyes across the other houses. The street is completely empty. Birds chirp from the trees as you hurry onto the sidewalk, head down — as if ignoring the world around you will make you invisible. Trees along the boulevard provide dappled shade. Your shoes squeak as you pick up the pace, turning a corner and–
<center>\
<<link "BARK! BARK! BARK!">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
There's a dog in the road. It's just standing there, looking around as if wondering where all the cars went. The Golden Labrador doesn't have a collar. It seems baffled, panting heavily and oblivious to you hot-footing it past. What are you so worried about? The news claims that infected dogs approached people, spreading the ''K-9'' virus. Ha! Proof that is not true!
You're so self-assured by your brazen discovery that you fail to notice another dog approaching across a neighbour's garden. They're a waggy-tailed German Shepherd whose ears perk up at the sound of footsteps. Of course, the first thing you're aware of is the pet barralling up behind you. It lopes into a powerful sprint. Woof! Suddenly, the dog is all over you — jumping up and nuzzling as if in search of scritches. You try to push the animal away.
"Nhh-no! Down! Down!"
You shove the dog back to the ground, tensing up when the German Shepherd instead shoves his muzzle between your legs. He targets under your ass. Again, you try to push the canine away, before realising what you've already done with your outstretched hands.
<center>\
<<link "Oh SHIT! What am I doing?!">>\
<<replace "#text">>\
You touched the canine with your hands. In fact, you can feel the slight greasyness of his fur on your fingers. Breath catches in your lungs as you curse yourself for your mistake…but not //that// hard. This is exactly what the news told you to expect. And now your negligence means you're the next victim to be infected by ''K-9''. Admittedly, you're not very upset. Not even when a wave of skin-itching heat pulses up your arms. White fur begins to sprout between the gaps in your fingers. It spreads into a dense pelt that engulfs your hands.
And then your bones begin to crack. You stare, not quite believing what your eyes are telling you. Numb heat pulses in your fingertips. The changes are abstracted: you struggle to rationalise the puffy swelling of all your digits except for your thumb, which rapidly shrinks with a long tug up your wrist. The nail grows out longer and thicker, transforming it into a dew claw. Your remaining four fingers shorten into canine digits. Fuck! Turning your hands over reveals the plump skin hardening into leathery padding, further thickening your digits into doggy beans. Bone fuses as the geometry of your wrist changes. There's nothing you can do now — powerless except to experience the viral infection rewriting your genetic code.
"Nhh you-YOU IDIOT!" You curse your stupidity, exaggerating your frustration by shouting. Anger is the only emotion potent enough to overpower the disarmingly erotic pulses of heat spreading up your arms. Your yell is enough to scare the German Shepard away. Dammit! You're only curious about the canine transformation. You don't actually want to turn into a dog…//do you?//
<center>[[What are you thinking?|break1.1]]</center>\
\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>
</center>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</center>\
\
<<run $("#text")[0].scrollIntoView()>>\
<</replace>>\
<</link>>\
</center>\
</span>\