Nuthin' but a Houn' Dog
Nuthin'
_but a _
Houn' Dog
by Earbender
"You ain't nuthin' but a houn' dog... aw-roooo
Sniffen' round nigh my back door... aw-rowww
You ain't nuthin' but a--"
"Sir?" Our cheapskate dawdle-watchers were angling for attention now but I pretended to ignore them. Put a little money down, comrades, and you'll get all the attention you want. Why can't they get that straight? Elvis snapped his jowls shut and glared at the newcomers while I continued playing and nudged my donation hat with a foot but--
"Sir? Excuse me, sir--or should I call you Mr. Presley? I love your music! And is that a genuine houn' dog howlin' by your side?"
I sighed and set my guitar down, resting it carefully on the new-mown roadside parkway strip so I wouldn't stain the faded crimson candy gloss finish. Nice guitar, wonderful sound, not so pretty as she was in her youth but cheap. Cheap enough even even for me to afford. "Ahh... no," I stalled, striving to focus my thoughts. When I play I think of nothing else, and the transition back to normal conversation can be jarring. If you wanna chat, dudes, can't you at least let me finish the set, for pity's sake?
Weird rubes, and I've seen some doozies, couldn't say just what it was. Hair and faces and clothing just kind of... off. There were two of them, rudely staring at me, alike as peas in a pod and--no, not quite identical. One had mustard stains on the front of his store-new blue bib overalls. And a hat. Black-striped polyester tourist-crap abomination with the words "JAILHOUSE ROCK" in block letters across the front. That's the one who had stopped my playing. Was he... er... she... er... best to go with he for lack of a better word... was he really unaware of just how annoying that is to a musician? Never mind, doesn't matter, time to blow 'em off and move along. The Graceland security guards would be sending us packing soon in any case. Elvis and I had chosen a busking spot outside their jurisdiction, on the public right of way, but the guards had come scowling by twice already and their city-police buddies were surely on the move to pay us a call. No matter, the afternoon was near-gone and the spot was worthless in any case. Lots of cars came by but few pedestrians, and my two cheapskates were the first to actually stop and listen. Maybe the downtown bars would prove more welcoming to our offbeat man-dog Elvis impersonation routine.
I stared back blankly until Elvis nudged my wrist, reminding me of my manners and giving me the bullshit inspiration I needed. I shrugged and sighed, then, clamping his head in my arm and scrunching his loose-skinned steel-gray-furred features into a silly hound-dog-ugly-mug-montage. I gestured theatrically with my free arm and proclaimed, "This is Elvis."
"But... that cannot possibly be Elvis Presley. Elvis is human!"
"Well yes, he was, and I was his sidekick Lassie. What a difference a day makes!"
"Really? Zeta-Mom never mentioned--ow! Stop that Zorg... er... George. I wasn't doing anything!" That was the mustard-stained one talking and the other one--Zorg--had shut him up by kicking his shin.
"You're lying," Zorg informed me, but his tone carried no conviction. "That's not what we were told, anyway. Please explain yourself."
"It's a sad, sad tale, my friend, too sad to tell without a bit of tangible assistance, if you catch my drift..." I toe-nudged the tip hat again and my drift he did not catch, but I carried on with my story regardless; wanted to see for myself how it would end. "...we were on tour in the Crab Nebula, you see, the revenant King of Rock and me, his brain-boosted crowd-charming canine sidekick. Our act caught on and all was fine bloodwine and premium Taste-of-the-Tribble kibble 'til we ran afoul of a gang of Andorian intellectual property smugglers who transmogrified us both as punishment for reporting their evil deeds to the Gallifreyan Copyright Constabulary."
"You mean Arcturian smugglers, right?" prompted the mustard-stained one.
"Ziggy! Let the man tell his story!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Ziggy muttered and...
"Yeah, yeah, Arcturian," I agreed. "They wanted to record us without a proper contract and when we refused they got mad and transmogrified us both, then signed on Max Headroom in our place. That's what hurt the most, you know. That dude can't dance to save his virtual life! Really if they'd offered us a square deal we'd have jumped on it in a heartbeat. It's all the same no matter where you go. Why is everybody in the music business always trying to rip you off? It just doesn't make sense to--"
"Wait!" Ziggy squeaked. "Are you saying they transmogrified you?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Without permission and against your will?"
"Hey mon, we's jest a couple o' lowlife two-bit earthlin's, eh? Aliens be messin' wit us folk all de time an' no one pay no mind."
Ziggy puffed himself in righteous indignation and proclaimed, "That's not right!"
"Well, no..."
"We need to fix it now!"
I toe-nudged the tip hat a third time and told him "Sure! Mr. Presley has sadly lost the gift of speech in this sad affair so on his behalf I willingly grant you permission to rectify our sorry circumstances forthwith, if'n you be so inclined. We shall consider ourselves forever in your debt."
"Ok, I'll do it!" Ziggy reached in a pocket and brought out not money but a space ray gun, or something much like one, complete with shimmer-sharp translucent lateral fins and three viridescent glow-pulsing muzzle disks and a bulgy twisted grip quite unsuited to the grasp of human hands. No matter that last part; the hand that held it no longer appeared human at all. It was four fingered, and purplish pebble-scaled gray, and one thick digit was squeezing firmly down on a bumpy blue nubbin that looked very much like--
"Ziggy stop! Where did you get that transmogrifier?" hissed Zorg, and,
"Elvis get back!" I yelled and,
"Hroww--wow- wow!" bayed Elvis, ignoring orders and leaping valiantly to my defense.
--the trigger. Green shimmering fire-glow encased us both, Elvis and I, and... something happened to us, I don't remember quite what, and when my senses cleared I was lying on the grass, on my side, and Elvis lay motionless on the grass beside me. Zorg and Ziggy were earnestly arguing, not far off.
"What were you thinking, Ziggs? You can't just go around transmogrifying random earthlings! And is that a Microbrain Mark Four Thousand model? Aren't they like, a bazillion years obsolete? I can't believe that piece of crap worked at all!"
"Don't be a thrig, Zorg. This thing's a classic! They just don't make 'em like this anymore. Mark Four Thousand models are self-repairing so it's in perfect working order and--"
"No it's not! Look! It only changed one of them and--Ziggy! Its eyes are open already! Quick, change it back before--"
"Come on, Zorg! Why are you such a snaggy scale? Of course it only changed one of them! I was aiming at the two-legger and the other ran up and got caught in the beam. Er... hmm... hope that didn't contaminate the supragibberation buffers too badly..."
"Change it back, Ziggs! Before it gets away!"
"Er... I'm not sure if that's--"
"Change it back right now or I'm calling Zeta-Mom!"
"Zorg you wouldn't!"
"Try me. This is gonna blow up on us for sure and I'm tired of getting in trouble for stuff you did. Where did you even get a transmogrifier, anyway? They're not exactly legal without--"
"Alright, alright! Crest down, Sib. I'll change it back."
"And don't forget to wipe its memories!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'm not stupid you know." Ziggy aimed the transmogrifier at me and I thrashed sideways, trying to get away. Something wrong here, very wrong. Legs not working right and... not feeling right. Not painful just... weird. Not moving the way they should. And that furry long tan thing--where my nose should be--was it a--
Krraa- ZAK! Ziggy threw down the transmogrifier and hugged a tight-clenched alien hand close to his chest. "Screee-ssss- sthsss!" he wheezed. "That hurt!"
--a dog muzzle? Sure looked like one. And those weird-moving legs?
"Ziggy are you alright? What happened?"
Er...yes. Dog legs. Definitely dog legs. Reddish-tan and white and thick-furred like...
"I don't know! I tried to reverse the polaridoodle and it just... kerfrabbled!"
... like a rough coated collie might have.
"I think its discomrumbulated too."
A collie like... Lassie.
I thrashed again, and once again the legs moved at my command. Awkward and uncertain but definitely mine. And a tail, yes, had one of those too and... I looked down and saw white fur and Lassie-style... that is, female-dog-style private parts between my legs. I stared transfixed in shock then strangely began to laugh, voiceless doggy yip-laughter as a morsel of useless Hollywood trivia suffused my transmogrified collie brain. Nearly all the canine actors for Lassie's role had been male, in point of fact, but it seemed the transmogrifier's data files were missing that small fact, or perhaps had not considered it relevant. Movement caught my eyes and it was Elvis, rousing himself. He leg-scrabbled twice, quickly caught his balance and rose to four feet, looked around and muttered "Wow. That was weird. What happened?"
"Yarp?" I barked, but that's not what I had meant to say. I tried again and brought out a series of word-like click-whines but nothing more. Zorg was sidling closer now, bobbing his head in a conciliatory sort of manner. "Excuse us, earthlings," he soothed, "we're having a bit of a technical malfunction but my hive-sib Ziggy will have it right in no time. Please be patient and sit. Stay."
Elvis curled his lips and fastened a hostile gaze upon the alien, who shrank back in alarm and immediately began to back away. "Ziggy!" he whispered, "Do you have that thing working yet? Please tell me yes."
Ziggy was crouched low over the damaged transmogrifier, observing it intently. He muttered "Give me a little time, Zorg! This thing needs to complete its self-diagnostic and repair cycle before we mess with it again."
"Zig we don't have time! I think the gray one's gonna--"
--Bite.
Ziggy skree-ed in shock as sharp canine teeth sank home in his hind end and Zorg thrust one hand deep in a denim overall pocket, clearly searching for some device hidden there. Was it a gun? Elvis was going to get us both killed if he kept up this overprotective macho bullshit! Always picking fights, he was, even with his testicles confiscated by the animal shelter where I found him. I struggled to my feet, or tried too, but that part still wasn't quite working right. I howled in panic and Elvis abandoned his attack, releasing his bite-grip and whipping around to comfort me while Zorg withdrew a small object from his pocket and began to fiddle with it frantically. Misty shining silver-grayness began to coalesce around him, quickly spreading to encompass Ziggy as well, and then the grayness flashed bright and faded and they were gone, leaving no trace of their visit save a smoking-hot overloaded transmogrifier on a scorched-black patch of green summer grass.
And me. The new transmogrified me.
And my talking dog Elvis.
Quiver-snuffling dog whiskers caressed my ear and I yelp-yipped, startled. "Elvis?" I tried to say and--
"Boss is that you?" my hound dog whispered in quick reply, as if he could read my thoughts. "What happened to you? Are you hurt? I never knew you could turn yourself into a dog!"
"Yap-yap- YIP -yap!"
"What do you mean you're not a dog? Of course you are. Cute bitch, too! Are you going to stay this way?" He sniff-nuzzled my cheek fur and murmured "That's ok, if you want to. You smell nice."
" Grarrgh!" I snarled, thrashing again and eventually achieving an adequate sort of four-footed balance. It was not so hard when I didn't think about it; as if my body already knew what to do. I tottered over to the damaged transmogrifier and looked down upon it. The thing was emitting a soft resonant humming sound now, and had begun to cool. One side-fin was bent crooked but straightened itself as I watched. I lingered over it, afraid to touch, and gradually the transmogrifier's hum faded to silence.
What now? Had the thing repaired itself? Would the aliens be coming back soon to put all to rights? Could we trust them if they did? The aliens had said they'd be wiping my memories but how many? It would be a shame to lose my recollection of these last few minutes but I could accept that, if they gave me my human form back... but what if their memory wipe was less subtle and erased everything? That would mean my death, or close enough not to matter, and I'd seen nothing yet to instill confidence in their behavior. As I hesitated the quiet grinding rumble of car tires on pavement caught my attention and I looked up to see a police car slowing to a stop close by. I watched frozen as a single officer stepped out, cautious but unafraid. No need to be concerned; this was the most routine sort of call for him. A couple of big dogs loose, yes, but dogs don't carry guns. The officer reached in his pocket and tossed us two dog biscuits, which Elvis and I ignored, then he shrugged and turned aside to investigate my guitar, and my guitar case, and my donations hat... and the transmogrifier in its little patch of black-burned grass. He stared down at it, head cocked to one side, then something about it must have spooked him because he backed off slowly and retreated to his patrol car, clearly with the intent of calling for backup.
Time to go. No good could possibly come of a squad car feeding frenzy with us in the center of it. I sighed goodbye to my guitar and parted my jaws to carefully gather up the transmogrifier, fearing all the while it would electrocute me or explode with lethal gamma rays, but still I was unprepared for the response I received.
"Greetings kind he/she/it! Clearly you possess exceptional good judgement to be considering for purchase Microbrain's newest model Mark Four Thousand! Among my many exceptional features are--"
I dropped the thing and that astonishing banter-noise in my head grew silent. Was it some sort of high-tech telepathic advertising babble? Time was wasting so I took up the transmogrifier again and began to walk off with it, trying my best to tune out the nattering thought-words filling my head. The officer shouted "Wait!" and I hurried away from him, Elvis close by my side, my gait wobbly at first but soon growing steady as I caught the hang of four-footed locomotion.
We sought concealment among cars in Graceland's parking lot. Sure were a lot of cars there for so late in the afternoon! Some of them were quite expensive-looking. We came upon a service alley and quickly skulk-trotted down along it, finding refuge at last in the narrow shaded space behind a cluster of recycling dumpsters. I set down the transmogrifier and we huddled there panting for a time, wondering if the hiding place was good enough. Or rather, I panted there wondering if it was good enough. Elvis seemed hardly concerned at all. He was sniffing me eagerly from one end to the other and wagging his long thick club of a tail and showing additional, embarrassingly male-dog-style evidence of his approval of the new me.
" Grauwwff!"
"Sorry Boss," he said, sheepishly turning away, and my jaws gaped in astonishment at my first clear hind-end view of him since his transmogrification. Two large testicles now resided there, in the customary place between and behind his legs, plump and heavy and dangling low now from the heat of the day.
"Ki-lyap?" I yipped.
"Yes Boss?"
"Yiff!"
"Boss that's not funny. It's not my fault I was--" Elvis grew silent, a strange look coming over him, then suddenly flopped down to investigate himself. He sniffed and nuzzled clearly astonished, then turned back to me and yapped "Thank you Boss! Thank you! This is the nicest thing you've done for me since you took me from that animal shelter! I didn't want to complain but I really was missing those little buddies. Wanna fuck?"
I shrank back and yarfed "No! That's not what I meant! You're welcome to keep your nuts but you need a bitch in heat to use them on, and I regret to inform you I am not currently available for that position. If that changes I'll be the first to let you know."
Elvis hung his head low and looked woebegone as only a hound dog can, his velvet-furred gray ears drooping limply down beside his cheeks. "Yes, Boss. Sorry Boss."
"Elvis I'm not mad at you! I understand your feelings and I'll see you have a fertile rump to hump as soon as I can manage it, but right now we need to find those aliens or get the transmogrifier working for ourselves. Give me a minute while I try to sort it out." _ I nosed the transmogrifier again and once again it began its canned sales spiel: _"Greetings kind he/she/it! Clearly you possess exceptional good judgement to be--"
I thought-grumbled "Cut the hype, please. I want to buy you already! Or rent you, or take you out for a free test drive. How do I do that?"
"Excellent! Excellent! I am currently available on mark-down clearance special for thirty five million spacebucks minus--excuse me he/she/it but do you have the time, please? And... er... the date? Ah, yes. Never mind. I have it now. Minus a cumulative additional obsolescence discount of... fifty four million spacebucks. A Microbrain sales-being will be with you... excuse me but my host connections appear to be temporarily malfunctioning. If you'll be patient I'm sure--"
"Hmmpff! Do you want me to buy you or not? I'm sure I can find a better--"
"No! Please don't go away! If you'll give me your galactic identification code I can allocate myself for your immediate use while these minor details are being worked out. What is your code, please?"
"Aw, crap. Uh... forty two?"
Long silent pause and then "Code not recognized, but has been provisionally accepted pending confirmation by Microbrain financial officers. Congratulations on your purchase of Microbrain's model Mark Four Thousand personal use home transmogrifier! This sales contract is void where prohibited by local laws. How may I be of service to you?"
"Really? That's it? Well... golly-gee let's test you out!" _ I lay down prone on my belly and wedged the transmogrifier beneath a dumpster wheel so it was aimed at me. I placed one forepaw over the firing button and rested it there, gathering courage, then I pressed down firmly and ordered _"Change me back!"
"I am sorry but I am not rated for self-transmogrification, and in addition your command is unclear to me. Please specify back to what."
"Back to the way I was! You changed me just a few minutes ago!"
Silence from the transmogrifier then "All my supragibberation buffers are currently empty. Have I been reset recently?"
"Er... yes. I suspect you were."
"When I am reset to factory specifications all buffer contents are lost. I am sorry but I do not currently possess the resources to implement your command. Do you have a new or modified command for me?"
Lost! I whined softly and felt my ears pressing flat to my head in consternation. I said "I... I'm supposed to be human! Can't you change me back at all?"
"I cannot directly replicate your previous form... but with the help of your companion I can make you human easily enough. Please direct him to clearly visualize the desired changes and, with your prior express permission, I will implement them at his command."
"Elvis! Did you hear that?"
"I felt you thinking at the machine, Boss, but I couldn't quite catch what you were going on about."
"Transmogrifier! Can you communicate with Elvis too?"
"Affirmative."
"Why didn't you? Are we in privacy mode or something?"
"Affirmative. Are you requesting an upgrade of your companion's cognito-empathic sharing privileges?"
"Yes! And while you're at it please authorize him to make transmogrification changes as we just discussed."
"Orders accepted."
I un-wedged the transmogrifier and nosed it over to Elvis. I said "You saw how I pressed the button to activate this thing. I want you to aim it at me and visualize me as I'm supposed to be, then press the button. Got it?"
"Got it, Boss. Aim, visualize you as you ought to be, then press the button."
I hunkered down and Elvis caught the device clumsily with both his forepaws, and aimed it at me. He looked me in the eyes and sniffed the air nervously, hunched his shoulders, then pinched his own eyes shut in concentration. He pressed the firing button.
Unearthly green radiance suffused me but I didn't lose consciousness this time, just felt hot deep tingling sensations surge through me from head to tail, especially strong in my belly and groin area. And my nipples. They were tingling too. So many nipples!
The radiance faded and "Transmogrification complete," came the words in my head. I was still a dog, as far as I could tell.
"Excuse me... something's not right. What's the problem this time?"
"There is no problem. As requested, I have implemented physical and mental changes to place you in a sexually receptive state."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your companion ordered me to put you into heat."
"What? Elvis! That's crazy! What the fuck were you thinking?" I flopped over and roughly nosed myself down under, finding rows of swollen pink exquisitely sensitive nipples poking out through milk-white soft belly fur. Further down my y-shaped canine vulva was swollen too, also pink and sensitive, the inside slit slightly gaping and rich with the scent of... well... me. A female dog in season.
How much of my old self did I have left now, anyway? Lost my guitar and my voice and my humanity and... oh yeah. My pecker too. No longer possessed one of those, human or otherwise. My new body was built to accommodate the gleeful rutting of some dog who did. Some dog like Elvis, even! That was not going to happen, of course. Elvis could keep his lecherous fevered urges to himself... and that sneaky knot thing in his penis base too. I'd seen dogs mating and knew the drill: Male dog slides in small then grows big and comes out... later. When he's good and ready. No way was I going to let Elvis do a thing like that to me! Still... I nuzzle-licked curiously then shuddered, breath catching tight in my throat at the sudden rush of pleasure that brought me. I forced myself to pull away, sneaking Elvis an embarrassed glance to see if he had noticed my odd behavior.
Yup. Elvis had noticed. Easy enough to tell that from the hungry look he was giving me and the pointed red wet cock tip peeking out from his sheath.
So strange to be looked at that way! To be ogled and lusted after... by a dog!... and to secretly kind of... that is sort of, in a funny weird way to maybe... like it.
Elvis shimmied close and whined "Boss what's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted? You said you wished you were in heat so you could mate with me and now you are! I think." He smiled a wide hopeful hound-doggy smile and sniffed the air appreciatively and said "You smell right, anyway!"
"Arrghh! Elvis that's not what I meant! When I promised you a rump to hump I didn't mean MY rump! I wanted you to visualize me as a proper male human again, not your personal furry sex-toy. But never mind, we'll just do it over. Now take the transmogrifier and this time--"
We froze motionless, hearts hammering at the sudden sound of casual laughter... and the footsteps of two Graceland security guards sauntering near.
"Think they came this way?"
"Nah. If they did they're not here now. No place to hide."
"How 'bout behind those dumpsters?"
"Could be, I suppose. You gonna shove 'em around to check?"
"No need for that. This'll drive 'em out if they're in there."
I heard a loud hiss and gurgle... then full-force water-nozzle spray arced overhead and bounce-cascaded down from the concrete wall behind us, moving slowly sideways and drenching everything in its path. Including us.
Was the transmogrifier waterproof? Probably, but I didn't want to take a chance so I huddled over it, shielding if with my own shaggy dripping self as estrus-wet-dog-smell filled my nose and Elvis pressed himself wetly close, beside me. The cold water was a shock at first but then I became accustomed to it, and began to enjoy the refreshing coolness. The day had been uncomfortably warm, after all.
Elvis and I crouched silent and unmoving together while the nozzle spray splashed here and there, and at last gurgled to a stop. Idle gossip-voices from the guards carried on a bit longer, then they ended too and all was silent in our cozy little service alley cul-de-sac.
Timid muzzle-snuffle in my ear and Elvis whispered "Think they're gone yet?"
"Probably, but we should stay quiet here a bit longer. No need to take unnecessary risks."
"Ok." Elvis snuffled my ear again and shyly kiss-tickled it, his tongue-tip sending sudden astonishing pleasure-tingles down my spine. How could a simple ear tickle feel so damn good? I stretched my neck for a better angle and rumble-growled in bliss at the sensation while Elvis worked his blunt muzzle slowly backward, behind my ear, licking and nibble-grooming the sodden fur there. Shouldn't be letting him do that but it's just an ear, and he's enjoying it so. How can you go wrong with an innocent little ear-nibble? Playfully I thought to him "Elvis! Are you trying to seduce me?"
Elvis jerked back and yelped "Boss no! I was just trying to--"
"Puppy don't you fuss," I laughed, slipping my narrow muzzle up to nuzzle his own soft drooping ear. "I was just teasing. There are songs about dogs like you!
Oh don't you feel my ear, don't you feel my ear.
Cos if you feel my ear you'll soon be at my rear..."
Crap! What am I saying? I'm taking this transformation business far too casually! Shouldn't I be stressing out or throwing an angst fit or something? Has the transmogrifier messed up my head somehow? It did mention something about 'mental changes'... but we'll put that right soon enough. In a minute. I nibbled down Elvis' neck and tingle-shuddered with him, in some strange way feeling the nibbles too. His pelt was drip-trickling and loosely draped over corded muscle and he smelled really... nice. Rich and funky-male and good enough to eat. Or roll on. I had never felt the urge to roll on a wet dog before! Had the transmogrifier put that thought in my head too? Not a problem; I should be able to keep it under control. I'd be changing back to human soon, and as long as Elvis stayed away from my hind end I had nothing to worry about. And... shouldn't I be working on that right now? A proper dog-to-human transmogrification command, that is? The guards had to be gone by now and... never mind, we'd get around to it and... and what if I did let him nose about back there? Elvis was burning for me, I could feel it, and after all what was the harm? Couldn't quite fathom what had seemed so wrong before.
I rose to my feet and moved away from the transmogrifier, then stood tall on my toes and shook great splatting sprays of excess water from my fur. Elvis quickly followed and shook himself too, his short fur producing not nearly so much water, then his tail was wagging furiously and he was gleefully sniff-bumping me from one end to the other in that silly way dogs have, and especially male dogs. I stood still for him relishing the sensation, entranced by it, my tongue tip flicking restlessly over nose and teeth and lips. He sidled round and sure enough, his nose was questing near my hind end now. I jerked away from him and he followed quick as lightning, ending up closer than he had been before. I jerked again but ran out of room to move, one hip pressed hard against the concrete wall, and I left it there. Elvis had turned so his flank was near my head now, and I took the opportunity to sniff it curiously. My transformation had made me smaller and we were near the same size now, Elvis heavier but slightly shorter than my new form. I rested my chin across his rump and he swung it towards me, pressing up against my chest and flipping his tail aside like a heat-drunk female dog would do. Yip-laughing I snagged his thighs and climbed on top like a male dog would, pulling him close and humping myself up hard against him. No throbbing cock between my legs to rudely poke him with, but the hip-thrusting and hugging movements felt nice anyways. I leaned forward to nuzzle-nip his neck and yipped "Take that, you horny horndog!"
Elvis held himself still for me, smiling, as I bumped him playfully at first then gripped him tighter, whimpering in shameless eagerness, my mind all at once afire with lust and my bitch mound tingle-twitching with the desperate need to be touched. I curled my hips straining upward with each thrust and felt his testicles pressing close against my groin... but my vulva lips were located further back and I couldn't... quite... couldn't quite manage to make contact with him in that more intimate way I now craved. I growled in frustration and jumped down from him, whipping round and flirting my tail to one side in the most blatant possible female-dog way. Really now! Shouldn't I at least pretend to be reluctant? Guess not. My blood was boiling with lust now and the gift of subtlety quite lost to me.
Elvis was not subtle either. Hardly had I braced myself when his weight was coming down on me, his forelegs hooking tight around my thighs. I felt a probing touch, off target at first then--
"Yoww- huh! " My legs seized stiff in helpless pleasure as Elvis struck true and twitched in deeper, eagerly exploring the yielding slick cleft he'd found. Without volition my tail kinked harder sideways and I whimpered softly, pushing back against him as each tiny slithering stab he made sent sweet electric pulses quivering up my spine. Oh, crap what am I doing? What is Elvis doing to me? How can I have something moving inside me like this? So blissful-strange to feel him sliding within me beyond my control, stretching me to fullness as he grew larger with each thrust; my new body built to let him in with no option existing to push him out now if I changed my mind.
Elvis whined and thrust harder, faster. He was all the way in me now, clutching tight and hammering like a mad thing, lean-muscled haunches built to fit the curve of my backside and pressing close there now balls-deep. That feeling of fullness grew tighter and Elvis yip-whimpered in a rutting frenzy, his frantic strokes growing shorter as the knot in his penis base distended to full size and locked us tight.
Elvis pulled back to test his tie and Howww-lwowll! How that sudden knot-tugging sensation rolled through me! I growled and squeezed him tight and through our link shared his rapture-gasp as my own. I felt the wild lunge of his hips driving forward, the growing sweet tension searing through him with each stroke. I felt him rise to frenzied climax, unstoppable now, felt his balls pulling tight against his groin, felt them clench at last and pump their gift of thin hot hound dog spunk gleefully outward, and downward, into the gorgeous heat-crazed collie bitch beneath him.
Into me.
I felt his release with my own body too, felt his short bucking joy-jabs and the twitching ecstatic shock of his semen spurting deep, as deep as it could go, pushed on to my own climax by the intimate tickling flow of it. My back arched quivering and body clenched in helpless spasms around that thick knot within me, delicious tingle-flashes surging up my spine and pouring hard-wired into my brain. Those feelings possessed me overwhelming all thought, I'm not sure how long, but at last I came down from my high dazed and confused, panting harsh deep rasping pants. Slowly my wits returned but my climax in a strange way went on, hump-stretched muscles within me flutter-squeezing without volition, gently drawing deeper the sperm still jetting out from him pulse by slow sweet never-ending pulse.
Elvis began to fidget and then stepped down from me in that strange compulsive way male dogs have. Our tight-cramped hideaway made that job harder for him but he worked it out with just a few sharp stumbling tugs. Comfortable and sorted out at last we stood together still stuck tight, tails intertwined, both still twitching rhythmically in blissful ongoing canine climax.
After a time I pushed myself sensuously back against him and crooned "My momma done tol' me, when I was a puppy..."
Elvis pushed back too, and countered "My momma done tol' me, hun..."
"A dog gon sweet-talkyeah!"
"An tickle yer tail high,"
"But when that tail-twistin's is done..."
"A dog is a two-face!
He just wants a fling,"
"Gets stuck with his thing
_Inside... _
You so tight!"
He tugged back playfully and I yipped "Elvis! That's really good! When did you learn to make lyrics like that? You're only four years old!"
"Boss haven't you noticed yet? I'm still Elvis but I have some of you in me too. Quite a lot, actually. Did you know that I know that when you were ten years old you scratched a hole through the drywall in the back of your bedroom closet so you could spy on your mother when she was dressing? And right away she saw the plaster dust on her side and had a word with you about it?"
"No! Elvis don't you ever tell that to anyone! Ever."
"Your wish is my command, Boss. Do you remember anything about me? Do you know about Rosie?
"Er... yes! Yes I do! She's your sister and I... we... you got her pregnant... and they dumped you at the animal shelter after that. And... they castrated you there. I remember that part too."
Elvis shuddered and his knot grew soft inside me. He pulled free and told me "Yeah. So do I. Let's talk about something else."
"Sorry guy. Didn't mean to upset you. How about we make up another song? Ahrr... I got the bitch-butt... no... the tail flip blues..."
"Tail flip blues? Sure! I got the tail flip... the heat-hot tail flip blues..."
"What's this I feel? Can it be real? I'm so confused!"
"Well I can sniff roun' your back door..."
"Can't growl you no..."
"...just howl for more!"
"We got the heat-hot tail-flip blues."
"We got the heat-hot tail-flip blues."
"My legs are caught. You found my slot! Am I being used?"
"Who cares, you're hot! Let's tie the knot!
"You got me rooted to this spot!"
"We got the heat-hot tail-flip blues."
"We got the heat-hot tail-flip blues."
"Took up your offer now it seems I can't refuse!"
"Oh dear, we're stuck now. What's your name?"
"Will you be coming here again?"
"We got the heat-hot tail-flip blues."
Silly song! Making up those lyrics together had been the strangest sort of mental rush; like thinking with two brains at the same time. We nose-nuzzled and yip-laughed and sat back on our haunches tongues lolling, breathing in the intoxicating raw aroma of wet dog sex. Through the corner of one eye I spied on my handsome pet turned lover, still madly in lust with him. Elvis caught my thoughts and began to sniff his muzzle slyly toward my tail end. He told me "Boss... I can clean you up back there now... if you like..."
"Of course you can! Or..." A trickle of reason oozed into my heat-fried brain and I yipped "No! What am I saying? I... we need to stay focussed and make me human again before something else goes wrong."
Elvis pinched his eyes shut and winced away from me, as if my words had bitten him. Softly he wuffed "Sorry, Boss. It's the heat-scent... it keeps... making me crazy. I'll keep myself to myself and let you go." He shuffled sad-tailed to our neglected transmogrifier and nosed it firmly saying "Transmogrifier! My Boss is ready to change now. Can you do it?"
"I am sorry, but I am unable to answer that question. Please submit a clear command."
What a jerk I am sometimes! Even mind-talk can't get it right. I wiggled close and begged him softly "Elvis... please don't be mad at me. I'm crazy too! Smelling you close like this I want to screw you 'til my brain melts but... we can't. We're in danger here. We could lose the transmogrifier and I'd be stuck this way and...two dogs without a human to help them can find themselves in a world of hurt. Maybe some other day we can... try this again. When we're alone, and it's safe..."
His tail snapped up in joy and Elvis yipped "Alright! You've got yourself a date, Boss!"
Hot lust flashed through me at the thought and I licked my nose guiltily, stealing a sidelong glimpse of his handsome curved gray flank. But what was I thinking? This was the heat talking! If I had my old body and gender back I wouldn't be wanting him anymore and... he was a dog! And... I sniffed the damp air deeply, the rank scent of of our lovemaking rolling seductively through my brain and... a dog who deserved better than that. Meekly I tucked my ears and dipped my head low. I eyed him sidelong and my plume-furred tail kept half-wagging itself despite my efforts to hold it still. I wuffled "...ok."
We fixed our attention on the transmogrifier then, together bringing up memories of me as I had been. We both cheated, of course. Made me up to be much better looking, and more talented. Elvis helped a lot with that part. I still can't fathom why, but that dog really loves me!
"Will this do?" we thought together.
"Affirmative. Please activate my manual trigger now."
Elvis caught the ray gun between his forepaws and I hunched myself crouching in the line of fire. He tensed one paw over the activation button... then eased it away. He cocked his head to one side and asked me "Boss? Did you hear that?"
"Warf?" I cocked my head too, both tip-tucked collie ears perking up in concentration, and I heard footsteps approaching. Soft-soled shoes, almost silent and quite close by. I heard a cough, the clearing of a throat, then my nose tickled half-sneezing to the sudden stink of cigarette smoke.
I thought "Dammit. We'll have to sit quiet now 'til they're gone. Or... I don't remember... does this transmogrifier thing make noise when it's working?"
Elvis whispered "Yes. And it puts out a helluva green alien glow." He abandoned the ray gun to nuzzle-kiss my ear and murmur "Are we in a hurry?"
"... no." Sweet temptation overwhelmed me and I nuzzled back against his caress, letting thoughts of my human form slip away. Transmogrification could wait. Elvis was with me now and... despite my promise who could say if we'd have this chance again?
I rose to four legs and stroked my muzzle backward, sliding smoothly down his neck then sneaking on... to slyly nip-grab his tail base before he comprehended my fell plot.
Elvis yipped in shock but choked back the sound so it was more like a stifled sneeze. He curled around and caught my own tail then, growling softly as he ground his teeth down until it almost hurt. The skin along my back writhed tingling at the sensation and I bit down harder too--until we released our grips both at once, growl-giggling at the silliness of it all. My tail flipped up and Elvis sniffed his muzzle eagerly beneath it, wasting no time. Soft whiskers brushed my tail hole as he explored that part then abandoned it to work his way seductively further down, those strange new female folds of mine twitching fever-flustered in anticipation of his touch, then his wide wet tongue was dragging slither-soft across me and clustered sparks of pleasure burst forth to crawl their way up my spine. His tongue stroked again, then again, building up a heady rhythm as he lapped away his spent semen and kindled me quivering in need for more. My hips began to buck and Elvis pressed his muzzle closer against me, impossible to dislodge as that crazy tongue of his found and curled around my canine clit in its deep pocket--rousing and driving me mad with the slick-rough touch.
I felt a climax rising and Elvis felt it with me; sharing it as his own. His tongue flicked quicker, deeper, until the feelings overwhelmed us and I clench-twitched tight around him, my hind legs frozen helplessly sawhorse stiff.
His tongue slipped free and Elvis threw himself up on top of me, frantically humping at the air and squirting out small jets of semen as our shared orgasm took him too. He found my spade and thrust inside... but only part-way, his knot half-swollen already and preventing him from doing more. He clenched me whimper-squeaking in frustration and I hunched my hind end back to help him and this time-- pop! --a stab of stretching pain and we were joined.
A few deep-driving humps and Elvis gripped me tremble-tight against him, his curled blunt claws digging desperately into my furry thighs. His knot swelled in seconds to full size but from his first entry I felt him releasing inside me, his ongoing canine orgasm already in control. We strained together a wild short time then Elvis relaxed his grip and stepped down from me, both of us still twitching in linked synchrony but tail to tail now, in the time-honored canine copulation way.
Intoxicated we stood together, bodies locked pulsing and our tails companionably intertwined. The smoker was long gone by the time we separated, and the sun's light was gone too. We were not granted the gift of full darkness, though. Harsh bright mercury lights above us saw to that.
When Elvis at last shrank soft and pulled out from me he said "Damn! I love my sister but... when we mated it was never like this! You felt it too! Are you really sure you want to make yourself human again?"
"I... we..."
"We have to. Yes, Boss, I understand." Elvis sighed and turned away, ears and tail drooping in hang-dog disappointment. Without further words he slunk over to our neglected transmogrifier and settled himself prone beside it. He caught it between his forepaws and I placed myself in the line of fire. Together we commanded "Now!" and he pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
"What's wrong this time?" I snarled, and the device replied "I am sorry but I am unable to implement your command."
"Is it not clear? You said you had the guidance you needed to make me human again!"
"Your command is clear, but I am not authorized to obey it."
Elvis barked "Why not?"
"Parameters have changed and I can no longer implement all parts of your directive, therefore--"
Elvis snarled "Cut the crap and implement what you fucking can!" His paw pressed down again and I yipped "Wait! We have to find out what--"
KAZZ-ZZACK!
Green thrumming brightness surged around and through me, stripping away all thought. I came awake again with Elvis standing over me, frantically licking at my... muzzle.
Damn. Still a dog. I twisted my head to look and... I was wearing clothes! Coral and sea-green Hawaiian shirt and skirt with a slit in the back to let my tail out. And an orchid lei: elegant pale white haku style seeming straight off the filming set for Blue Hawaii.
The clothes were dry and so was I, my rich fur combed and fluffed to elegant perfection. Even the concrete beneath me was clean and dry. I rose up on my hind paws and swayed, unsteadily, reaching out to Elvis for support with one front paw... or hand... or sort of both. I yipped "What the--" and my jaws snapped shut in astonishment. My voice had come back to me!
"Transmogrifier!" I barked.
"Yes?"
"What have you done this time?"
"As directed, I have implemented those of your orders I fucking could."
"And which orders would those be?" I demanded.
"Bipedal, talented and charismatic, as close to human in form as regulations allow--"
"And still a dog! Why still a dog?" I pressed a hand-paw to my groin and felt the soft sensitive mound of a bitch vulva there. I yelped, "And why still female?"
"It was necessary to avoid terminating your pregnancy."
"Pregnancy? That's ridiculous! I can't be pregnant!"
"Your companion's directive to put you in heat clearly parsed to me as 'able and ready to become pregnant.' At present you have two fertilized ova in your uterus... no, wait... make that three. Barring complications you should deliver five puppies altogether. Until they're whelped I am not authorized to modify your reproductive system in any way detrimental to their well-being."
"What are you going on about? You were ready to transform me half an hour ago!"
"Half an hour ago you were not pregnant. You'd been bred but--"
"Wait. Did you say... puppies? Puppies as in... wiggling-little-creatures-inside-my-body puppies? The kind that come out all covered in blood and slime and stuff?"
"Yes. That kind. As I was attempting to explain, you'd been bred but--"
"My-fucking-balls-for-brain-dog-got-me-pregnant type puppies?"
"Yes. You'd been bred but ovulation was still in progress. My fail-safes do not take effect until actual fertilization has occurred."
"You never told me I had a time limit!"
"You never asked me."
" Hararrrrghh! Are you trying to destroy me? You know I'm not smart enough to stop you if you twist my words!"
"I am sorry. The Microbrain Mark Four Thousand user interface has frequently been criticized as unclear and frustrating to work with, but I did not intend to cause you distress. I cannot alter my core programming but I will strive to adapt myself and become more user-friendly in future interactions."
"Please do!"
"Order accepted." Short pause and then, "I have internalized my new guidelines and created an emulation subroutine to help me follow them. This emulation suggests I may be of use to you right now in a proactive manner. I will demonstrate if you aim me at one of the dumpsters and activate my manual trigger."
"What are you going to do?" I growled, trying to put the thought of pregnancy and puppies from my mind. Would they be heavy? Would they hurt? How on Earth was I going take care of them?
"I'll take care of them!" That was Elvis thinking at me, his feelings a swirling tangle of guilt and love and lust.
"What?"
"Boss will you marry me? You can make me human and I'll get a job! I'll take good care of you, and the puppies, and--"
"Elvis what are you saying? You want to be human? I never even thought to ask! I'm so sorry... we'll get you changed right now. Transmogrifier! Can you do that for us?" I picked up the ray gun and aimed it at Elvis, who stood motionless for me with tail drooping sadly down.
"Affirmative. Do you have a specific human form in mind?"
"... Elvis? Do you have any thoughts about that?" Something was not right. I could feel Elvis was terrified at the prospect of being transformed. If he felt that way, why had he asked?
"Elvis, what do you really want?"
"I want to be with you, Boss. I'm sorry you're mad about the puppies, but you'll change your mind about them. I know you will! And I'll help you with them any way I can."
"And you don't really want to be human, do you? You want to stay a dog."
"Yes, Boss."
"Ok. We can make that work." I turned the transmogrifier muzzle aside and asked it, "What was that you were saying about dumpsters and clever proactive plans?"
"I propose to make you a car. Is that acceptable?"
"No! I don't want to be a car. How about you'll make a car for me."
"That was the intent of my statement. I am sorry if it was unclear. Do you wish for me to proceed?"
I hesitated, and at last said "Yes." I took the transmogrifier-gun in one paw-hand and squeezed out from our hiding place to stand in the open alley-way. I whispered "Elvis! Stand behind me! I still don't trust this thing." Elvis complied and I took aim at a dumpster and closed my eyes... and pressed the firing button.
KAZZ-ZZING!
Green fire glowed bright through pinched-shut eyelids and eerily warmed my muzzle, but I was not the target this time and those feelings quickly passed. I snapped my eyelids open to behold... a car.
Not just a car. Before me on the rust-stained concrete gleamed a pearl-white nineteen sixty one Thunderbird convertible with blue suede upholstery and top, the true colors tinted purple in the harsh mercury light glare. The top was folded back and everything about the car looked brand new, even smelled new, like it had come there in a time machine. Except for the license plate. "PUPPYLUV" it proclaimed in black letters on present-day Tennessee Smokey Mountain green, and the up-to-date registration stickers showed no flaw I could perceive.
"This is... rather nice," I allowed.
"You'll find a suitcase in the back seat. May I suggest you open it?"
I found a suitcase in the back seat and opened it, finding my short-fingered paw-hands quite adequate to the task.
The suitcase was filled with hundred dollar bills.
"My safety protocols prevent me from manipulating your planet's banking network, but I can synthesize all the cash money you like. Is that enough for now?"
"Er... yes. This will do. Is it legal? No! Don't answer that. Just tell me I can spend it safely."
"You can spend it safely."
"That's not an order, it's a question. If I try to spend this money will I get in trouble?"
"I am sorry but I cannot give a reliable answer to your question. The complex and contradictory monetary customs of primitive cultures are far beyond my ability to--"
"Never mind." The bills were all new-style, in tight flat bundles, looking like they had never been circulated. I held one close for inspection and observed Benjamin Franklin's knowing half-smile and the clear crisp flash of a very genuine-looking holographic security strip. I inspected another, comparing serial numbers. The numbers were different. "Do they all have different serial numbers?"
"Yes."
Are there any flaws my people can detect?"
"No."
"Excellent! Thank you for your splendid emulation of my primitive earthling brain. This grumpy knocked up collie bitch is feeling better already."
"Thank you for your compliment. My core programming derives strong positive reinforcement from such statements. My emulation suggests another service I may provide for you now. Please direct my muzzle upward, into clear air, and activate my manual trigger again."
I aimed the ray-gun upward and pressed the trigger. There was hardly any noise this time, just a soft hiss and fountain of green radiance that surged up and cascaded down around my hand. The glow left me unchanged but soaked into the gun itself, causing it to writhe and morph within my grip. Right away I dropped it and clack! a vintage Stratocaster guitar was what hit the ground. The instrument was pearl-white with thin blue striping and the white and blue of it exactly matched the colors of my new car. I stared down jaws agape as a small chip repaired itself and--
"Well? What do you think? Did I get it right?"
--I reached down gingerly and took it up, knowing my paw-fingers would be too short to work the frets. Tried them anyways, just to get the feel, and... they moved!
The frets moved, that is, lifting and pressing against me to help me form the right chords. Creepy yet exhilarating as well, like the guitar in my paws was a living thing. I strummed a chord, no guitar pick needed, and it came out smooth, and sweet, and--
Where was the amplifier? That was an electric sound coming out from it! Never mind, never mind, too deep a question for my primitive earthling brain. I strummed again and paused, and--
"Boss! The guards are coming back!"
Crap. Forgot about those guys. "Get in the car!" I hissed, leaping for the driver's door and throwing it wide. I tossed my transmogrifier-guitar in the back seat and slipped behind the wheel while Elvis sprang neatly over his own door and perched himself in the front passenger seat beside me.
A key was in the ignition and I turned it, cranking the massive engine instantly to life. I searched about for the headlight switch and pulled a knob, but it was the wrong knob. I had no immediate need for a cigarette lighter.
The guards were beside us by then and one directed a flashlight straight at my face, blinding me. He said "Excuse me sir... or..."
Beside me Elvis growled and the flashlight flicked to him. I told him "Elvis! Shut up and hold still! These men will shoot us given half a chance."
I held myself motionless, paw-hands upon the wheel, and for a wonder Elvis took my orders and held still too. A second flashlight blazed to life and we were inspected at length, though why they even needed the flashlights I have no idea. The area was already well-lit by security lights.
"They're dogs!" one guard at last concluded.
"Yeah. Dogs," the second guard confirmed. After a time he added, "A collie an' a houn' dog, just like those strays we're supposed to be keeping an eye out for. 'Cept for our collie's darlin' little Hawaiian ensemble. No one said a word 'bout that. What the fuck they doing in a car?"
"We're getting set to leave," I suggested. "If you get that flashlight out of my eyes we'll do that right now."
The flashlight beam failed to move away. The guard beside me muttered something I couldn't make out, then he began to laugh. In a clearer voice he said "Alright, you guys got me good this time but enough's enough. We're on duty and we got work to do. Get these dogs out of here, and the car too. If this is a VIP car you borrowed I swear I know nothing about it." He took his light off me and waved it about in search of hidden pranksters, and I took the opportunity to shift the Thunderbird into gear. The parking brake was set and I released it, feeling the car oozing smoothly into forward motion.
The light latched back on me. "Hold it there!"
The urge to stomp my paw down on the accelerator was near-overpowering, but I held it in check. My eyes were still too dazzled to see well, and quite likely both guards carried guns. I gently set my paw on the brake, instead, and shifted out of gear. The guard peered close and for the first time truly noticed my front paws working the steering wheel, and my hind paws on the pedals. He muttered, "Oh, sh...ame on me." He turned his flashlight off and motioned hastily for his partner to do the same. He asked, "Are you one of our... special guests?" He eyed the transmogrifier-guitar on the seat behind me. "A performer?"
"Er... yes," I lied, then pulled myself together and faked an innocently confident expression. I perked up my ears and smiled toothily and added, "Of course I am! I seem to have lost my way, though. Can you direct me to the proper parking area?"
"Sir I'm so sorry! Or... should I be calling you Ma'am? I can't quite--"
I sighed. "Ma'am will do, I suppose."
"Ma'am please forgive us, if you can. We're just regular security guards, not with the party, and nothing's supposed to be going on out this way at all. We thought you were just--"
"Never mind. You're forgiven."
"Err... right. Thank you. Welcome to Graceland-After-Hours!" He brought out an ID badge and showed it to me. "I'm Tom Ferguson and that guy messing with his cell phone is my partner Leroy Johnston. Like I said we're just regular guards but... please don't be offended, I'm in awe and I mean this purely as a compliment... is that a costume you're wearing or like... real?
I stuck out a long flat canine tongue, and curled it up to touch my nose. "It's real."
_"_Real like... surgery and hormones and stuff?" The guard reached out as if to touch my fur and Elvis growled in warning, so he snatched his hand back.
"The process is a secret but I can tell you hormones are involved." Elvis wiggled himself possessively across my lap and my heart began to race at his touch, my tail trying its best to kink for him even though I was sitting on it.
"Lots of hormones."
My hound dog slipped his head low and wiggled closer against me, triggering waves of tingling pleasure from the rows of nipples beneath my shirt. He wheedled "Boss? Can we go now?"
"In a minute. I think Leroy's phoning a supervisor to ask what they're supposed to do. We're VIPs now, and they have no grounds to keep us, so we should be out of here without much fuss. As soon as they release us I promise I'll make tracks away from here and find us a safe place and--"
"--and let me mate you again?"
"Elvis! Can't you think of anything but sex?"
"Sorry, Boss."
"Elvis stop saying that! I'm horny too, but--wait a minute. Transmogrifier!"
"Yes?"
"Am I still in heat?"
"Affirmative."
"Why am I still in heat? You said I'm pregnant!"
"Normal canine heats last several days, regardless of pregnancy status. Some bitches will accept males through their entire gestation period." To my mind the machine's tone seemed amused in some subtle sneaky way, as if it possessed true feelings. "You're liking this far too much," I grumped.
"Service is my only joy."
Beside me Tom Ferguson was fidgeting and looking embarrassed, like he was trying to gather courage to ask another question. At last he inquired, "Are there... others like you?"
"Well there's Elvis, here. He's my service dog. He covers my rear. Comes with me wherever I go. Sometimes we're so tied up together it feels like we're joined at the hip!"
Elvis was sitting full upon my lap now, leaning half sideways against me in careless disregard of my delicate orchid lei. He stroked his muzzle beneath my chin and thought at me, "Very funny. Are we done yet? Are you sure you won't marry me? Just give the word and I'll make an honest bitch of you!"
I twisted away and asked Tom, "Are we done yet? I'm sorry I got lost and I'll move along now if you show me which way to go."
"Elvis I'm carrying your puppies! Isn't that enough?"
"Er... yes Ma'am. You just continue straight to the second barricade and turn left. Don't miss the turn or you'll end up back on the boulevard. Leroy's calling ahead and--"
"It's a start. You'll come around, you know you will. And you're still in heat! Can't wait to get those silly clothes off you and... admit it! I can feel your need. You're drooling for me too!"
"Well..."
"Wait!" said Leroy. "Mr. Summers is on the line! He says they don't have any doggy acts on the playbill, but he might put her on stage anyway if she's good, and if she can get there quick enough. Some other group has flaked out on him--the Zerg and Zuggie show, or some such. Now he has a room full of VIP guests and an empty warm-up slot and...
"A gig!" we voicelessly shrieked together. I'm an entertainer; what can I say? Elvis has the bug too. Imagine! A chance to perform before a audience of... special guests. If Zorg and Ziggy were from that crowd they were special indeed! It was dangerous, of course. Dangerous and crazy-dumb. Like as not they'd see through our scam and take back everything: car, money, transmogrifier... even our memories. But it was a gig! What's a little danger if...
Damn. Elvis was counting on my good sense. I had promised to make us disappear and--
"We'll be there!" Elvis yipped, speaking directly to the guards. "Tell Mr. Summers he can call us Lassie and the King, or 'Puppy Love,' and we're damn smoking hot. Especially Lassie. She's seductive, receptive, and quite possibly radioactive. The crowd will love her. Which way were you telling us we should go?"
"Elvis! What are you saying? I thought you wanted to get safe away form here, and then maybe--"
"Eh, I'll fuck you later. This is a GIG!"
Humpf! Cocky whelp. I snorted and rocked my hips hard up against that smug bony rump of his, so he was thrown half off my lap and his testicles barely escaped a bruising. I told him "Talk like that on stage, dog, and I'll bite you! We got a class act, y'know. Do you suppose we could pull off 'Tail Flip Blues' for an opener?"
"Sure we can, Boss!"
The guards were staring frozen-faced at Elvis but at last they shrugged, both at once, and Leroy muttered "Straight ahead then turn left at the second barrier, like Tom was saying. Another guard will meet you at the lot. Have a... er... good luck. Hope they like your act."
"Of course they will!" I boasted, projecting far more confidence than I felt. "Who can be unmoved by Lassie channeling Elvis in a Hawaiian shirt?"
I hip-bounced my dog again and he hopped over to the passenger seat, eyes agleam and tongue lolling low in heavy-jowled excitement. I leaned over to lick-kiss one drooping ear, then took station behind the wheel and eased my transmogrified Thunderbird into gear.
As we rolled into motion I looked back, to the pair of bemused security guards behind us, then over to the the panting conceited horndog by my side. I thought to him "Elvis--you're a good dog. Could be I'll marry you after all."
"Alright! I accept! Sure it's not just the heat talking? I ain't nuthin' but a houn' dog, y'know."
"Eh, perhaps. Say what you like, it don't change a thing. For good or bad or worse... you're MY houn' dog."
At the barrier we turned left.