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Nate woke up feeling strange. His perception: mucky and hazy and blurry. Nothing felt right. His body: bathed in deep warmth and head: mis-balanced. His thoughts: fragmented.

He licked his chops. He wanted food.

Wait. Chops. Licking. This words made sense for what he had done, but the sensation of his tongue on fur and nose and whiskers may him pause. Weird and satisfying. He looked down. Between his eyes, a blackish thing. Beyond that, two tan furred paws.

He attempted to move a hand. The respective paw moved. He looked closely at it. Yes, it was a paw.

This must be a Tuesday. Nate didn't like Tuesdays.

He stood up. He found himself to be shorter than normal. Then again, he was on all fours. All four paws, to be more accurate.

He looked down and behind at the four paws and the legs attached. He looked behind at a different angle. He had a black fur saddle on his back, tan fur other places, cream furred underbelly. His tail wagged. He didn't know why his tail was wagging. His tail should have been non-existent, because he was not supposed to be a dog. He was supposed to be a human. Nate was certain of this point. Still, the details of the dog he happened to be were familiar. He wanted to be sure.

At least he was still in his apartment, though with a little blander decor due to his downgraded vision. He trotted into the bathroom and nosed the door half-closed, wanting to see the mirror behind the door, but not wanting to close himself in. He looked into the mirror. A German shepherd stared back, blue collar, notched left ear, slightly grizzled, and very confused looking. Nate recognized the dog. Nate was his own German shepherd dog, Toby.

Nate wondered why this didn't panic him. He noted his tail still softly wagged.

Nate sat down on his foreign haunches and stared for a long while. He stuck out his tongue. He made a cute begging pose. He rotated his pointed ears,then he noticed something else in the reflection. He looked down between his rear legs. Sure enough, the reflection had not lied. Against the cream fur of his sheath, a bit of red stuck out.

Nate was now his dog Toby. How and why eluded him, and yet, looking down at the tip of red poking out, Nate found he wanted to explore before finding out the answers to these questions. As he reflected, the tip started to poke out more, showing more of the member.

Nate knew what he was considering was a horrible idea. Logically, he could think of a dozen reasons why he should not explore this avenue. However, this was counteracted by the new cocktail of body chemistry coursing through his dog body's veins, most right into his sheath. Soon all arguments were defeated by "Why not?"

Nate supposed he could either go mad or go mad doing something interesting. Nate remembered walking in on Toby doing this multiple times. Technically, in a roundabout way, this was just Toby doing the same thing he always did. Nate shouldn't feel embarrassed at all for something Toby was about to do. Toby was just a dog.

He repositioned himself and lowered his snout towards the sheath and exposed tip until he could feel his warm breath upon it. He sniffed. He could smell the musk, the pheromones, even some of his body's health details. He gave a tentative lick. The sensation made him whine. He licked again, deeper, lapping against the tip, his sheath, his fuzzyballs.His tail wagged as he relished the almost electric pleasure that coursed through his body, radiating from the slurping attention on his nethers. His red member slipped further out with each lap, as if seeking contact with the doggy muzzle.

Nate couldn't believe this pleasure this caused. He wondered why dogs didn't do this all the time. Between the hot panting dog breath and caress of his tongue, his brain could only focus on the continuing action of fellatio. Oh how it made him feel like such a good dog.

Nate forced himself to stop. Still panting, he studied the glistening shaft he had lured into the open. Never had he had such an intimate perspective of canine anatomy. Nate had been curious, of course. He knew a few the features, but to have them on his own body to look at was different. The red shaft stood out against the cream underbelly, from pointed tip to plump knot. So foreign and intriguing, just looking at it caused it to twitch, dripping a few clear drops of pre onto the bathroom floor. Nate drooled, then proceeded to lick, soon inserting the member into his eager muzzle, being careful of the teeth.

Nate relished the fluid leaking ever more into his maw, adapting to a bobbing motion, causing suction, building the pressure until, while lingering on the knot, Nate felt the release, both from his twitching member and the hot jizz hitting the back of his throat. Nate kept licking, enjoying the thick saltiness. When he eventually pulled back, white strands of cum dribbled from his muzzle.

As he licked the seed from his chops, Nate decided this was not a dream.

If it wasn't, he supposed he shouldn't have taken the time to give himself a blow job, though he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

After getting a quick drink from the toilet, Nate padded out of the bathroom, to his bedroom door. Closed. Specifically to keep his dogs from entering early on weekends. Since Nate was now one of his dogs, it presented an inconvenience. Nate admitted that being woken up by Toby's happy, gooey face would have been an inconvenience too. Still, since he was not even in there, it was a moot point. The door handle was not made for dog paws. He debated barking, but did not want to bug the neighbors. He didn't even know if his body was in there. He was currently Toby, so his body could be dead or non-existent in his room. Last he remembered he'd gone to sleep in there, but considering current details, anything was possible.

Nate sat on his haunches. He rose a hind leg and scratched behind his ear. His tongue lulled out and eyes closed. Being a dog was comfy.

He trotted to the kitchen in search of food, enjoying the sensation of his sheath and balls swaying under him, so he made his trotting a doggy skip to make them sway more. Something about a dog made him happy, a deep-seated easy happiness that dimmed anything that wasn't happy-making. He looked at everything and saw potential for happy. Things to sniff, things to bite, things to rub on, things to roll on, things to chew on.

The empty dog dish did not make him happy. Empty dog dishes never remained empty though. Nice humans always filled them up so that good dogs could eat. And Toby was a good dog.

Nate stopped himself and shook his head, trying to focus on why his mind had done that.

A wet something poked under his tail.

Nate yelped and spun to find the source of the wet something.

Lucky, Nate's yellow furred Labrador retriever, smiled back, licking his wet nose. He padded up to sniff under Nate's tail again. Nate let him, tail twitching at the action, and, strangely, felt compelled to do the same. Lucky was a good friend, and good friends needed to be checked out, just in case of stuff. Nate took a whiff under Lucky's thick wagging tail. A list of details appeared in Nate's mind: health, age, breed, recent activities, temperament, pheromones...

Nate glanced down at Luck's sheath. Sure enough, a few inches of red poked out.

Lucky licked under Nate's tail. Nate yipped, but the pace of his wag quickened. Luck wanted something from Nate. Luck kept giving his goofy Labrador smile, his member extending further under him. Luck barked once.

Nate understood, though in no words that could be translated into English. Dog communication was through smell and posture and sound. Everything about Lucky pointed to one thing, and Nate wanted it too. Lucky's tail wagged high and confident, Nate's tail wagged low and eager.

Nate knew he should not want this. His body and instincts wanted to submit. His conscience tried to talk him out of it, though much softer than before. He fell back to the same logic that got him a blow job: "Why Not?" He was Toby. He was just a good dog who wanted to have some fun with a good friend. Nothing wrong with having some fun. This was no different than finding a new chew toy or fetching a nice ball or getting a meat treat. This was doggy fun and since he was a dog, he was gonna have some.

This line of thought distracted his conscience enough to give Lucky a chance to jump on Nate's back.

The Labrador placed his forepaws under Nate's thighs for support, and started humping. Nate felt the pressure of something prodding against his furry rump, seeking, poking, until the tip touched briefly at the shepherd's hole. Nate yelped, just before the lab slowed, then thrust, pressing deep under the shepherd's tail, then pulled back and forth, making Nate's yelp grow into a pleasured whine. He was a good dog, a very good dog. Lucky was a very good friend. This felt nice. He panted and squirmed and used all four paws to press back, causing Lucky to go further in, causing a deeper mix of pain and pleasure for the shepherd. Nate's own member had grown back to full length under him, bobbing about from the action.

Nate could feel the evident knot against his hole. He wanted it. He wanted this lab in him, as deep as possible, to linger, to be as close a friend he could be, to make him feel like a good dog.

The knot entered, expanded. Nate almost lost function of his muscles and legs. His member shot a fresh stream of dog seed onto the kitchen tile. Luck kept thrusting, until the lab let out a low howl. Nate felt the twitching, the deep inner warmth as the lab released his load, fulfilling Nate's desire to be a really good dog.

Nate's tail wagged the best it could against Luck's body, still on his back. Luck licked softly at Nate's neck. The lab's knot had done its job, leaving them docked together. Perhaps the knot was not meant for homosexual canine acts, but the effect was quick and nice. Nate panted, enjoying both the afterglow and the knot, some inner part him desperate to pick up the pieces of his mind, lost in the haze of just being a good dog. He managed to be bemused that Toby was the underdog of the relationship with Lucky. He'd never caught Lucky and Toby in the act, though considering context, Nate could bet this was not the first time. Nate mentally snickered at how Lucky did not know how he had fucked his master. Lucky would have been happy with this fact. Lucky was happy with everything.

Nate heard a familiar laugh.

Nate looked up to see familiar face smiling down at him. Dressed in only boxers and a t-shirt stood Nate's body.

"Morning, Nate. I see you're having a good morning."

Nate's body stepped around the knotted dogs and opened the fridge. "I've been having a good morning too. I have thumbs! I can pick up things!" He picked up a orange juice carton from the fridge and displayed his picking up ability. He went to the cupboards, opened a few, then took out a glass and placed it on the counter. He then opened the orange juice and poured some in the glass. As Nate's body did this, the expression on his face suggested Nate's body thought this was the most awesome thing ever.

"Your body is so cool, Nate. I like it a lot. I think you're liking mine too." Toby knelt down and got eye to eye with Nate. Nate stared, trying to make sense of this. Seeing his original human face was weird, as if looking in a mirror that he didn't control. He gave a questioning whine. Lucky yawned and got off Nate's back, though still lodged deep under his tail.

"I don't know what's going on. Still, this is pretty cool. Really, really, really cool. I feel smart. And cool. I even know a lot of words I didn't know before. Words are cool." Toby ruffled Nate's ears then scratched behind them, which caused Nate to relax. "Dude. This is so cool seeing me. I never knew what me I looked like. Now I know when that strange dog in the mirror was me. Now you're me. Isn't that nifty? Human perception is cool. Dog perception is cool too though. Isn't it? You just get to think about being a dog and dog stuff. Don't you think?"

Nate felt his human worries fade even deeper into the background, faint whispers over infectious nature of excitement in the human's voice. Nate lost meaning of the words until they faded into just noise, and all he cared about was the tone, and all he knew was the master was happy. If the master was happy, that must mean he was being a good dog. A very good dog.

He tried to push back, to understand the words again. They faded in and out.

His humanity made a last leap at the surface. Nate knew he should be scared, he should be whining, he should want his body back, his life back, he knew he should be worried about losing his very humanity to these doggish pleasures. And yet, Nate, though he knew, all these things, could only really motivate Nate to do one thing.

Nate wagged his tail. He licked at his master's face. He was gonna be a good dog.