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Disclaimer - This story divulges the horrors of the fashion industry, particularly the erotic transformative ones that only exist in the highest echelons. If sequins stun you, if you find runways to be reprehensible, if you find dogs degrading, then this is simply not the story for you, and I advise that you find your fashion in some more normalized form. (This is a work of pornographic fiction. Please do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.)

Fashionable Revenge

Anita Vince is the fashion world's equivalent to fast food: Her products are poor in quality and lacking in imagination, but are kept in the public's eyes through poor taste and a series of escalating marketing gimmicks. Her latest showing in Paris demonstrates just how desperate she is for attention, and her new line of dresses looks like a seven year old got a hold of a sewing machine, paste, and metric tons of glitter and sequins. Even her least obsequious garments were roughly as subtle as a disco ball approaching the center of the sun, and the gaudy tones ignored even the most basic aspects of any kind of cohesive palate theory.

To top it off, as always, she insisted on walking in her own line up, once again trotting out with one of her massive hounds on a leash. Although this practice has defined Anita's public persona, I wonder just how many of these well trained dogs she really has, as it seems to be a different breed at every show. I'd feel sorry for the animals, but in all honesty, at least they're colorblind. The rest of us have to suffer through the garish greens and oranges that were better left in the late nineteen seventies.

-Cooper Planes, Fashion Weekly. February 2nd, 2013

Cooper had started her career as a journalist after receiving an unrelated and not entirely useful degree in art from Middlesex University. It was fairly simple to write about local figures, politics, and opinion pieces, but she quickly found her niche in the world of fashion. You see, Cooper herself had never been much of a fashionista. She had the requisite LBD, a few pairs of heels, and a form that was, in most respects, rather plain. But, what she had in spades were opinions, and those were oddly difficult to find in the world of fashion journalism.

So many of the fashion writers in the world today wrote to the very specific audience of high fashion. Their language was exceedingly haughty and they would rarely condemn or exalt anyone's decisions for fear of being labeled "wrong" in the following week. This left the perfect place for the relatively plain spoken Cooper to actually write what her own views of these fashionable design choices were. Some people seemed to have a flair for making nice looking clothes, others really just seemed like they belonged in an avant-garde theater troope: not the world of things that you would actually wear outside of the stage.

And so, in a bubbling if not meteoric rise, she had become widely syndicated, and now made plenty of money by telling the world what she genuinely thought about the various designers and models in the strange alien world of high fashion. This week's big show was in Prague, and she was finding that the Czech Republic was a much more delightful place than she had thought. The locals were friendly, the city had a wonderful sense of style, and the beer was, bar none, the best she had ever had.

In the days before the show Cooper had done a few interviews and gone to see a lot of the local fashion scene. Overall, it seemed a lot more down to earth then the French and Italian pomposity that she was used to seeing. It gave her high hopes that there would be more substance behind the designs than the usual saccharine fluff that seemed to be getting more and more common.

* * *

It was always worth it to show up to an event early to scope out the lay of the land. Not only was it good to get prepared, but this also was where Cooper tended to hear the more interesting stories. Today already she'd heard about a group of American models who came during the winter without the foresight to bring any warm clothes. The locals started to refer to them as "Flashers" because they had all bought identical very heavy overcoats, but their shoes and often bare legs could always be seen shivering underneath as they left the studio.

As she was poking around the large central room where the runway was, Cooper looked around. The technicians were all busy at work, testing the automated lights and sound systems, occasionally filling the air with a few measures of disjointed music with a deep thrumming bass track before sliding unceremoniously back into silence.

During one of those odd caesuras there was a clicking of heels on the previously empty walkway. "Ahh, Ms. Planes. What a pleasure it is to see you here," the low feminine voice crept out from the dimness with a sultry growl.

It took Cooper a second to place it, but as soon as she saw the garish clothes she understood. "Hello, Anita," she looked up across her odd combination of a florescent pink and green shawl, gray cocktail dress, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a tuft of trimmed down peacock feathers sticking jauntily back. "You look as . . . stunning as ever." She even had on a bright orange nail polish that clashed so vividly with it all in her "signature style."

"Well, there's no accounting for bad taste," the woman looked down impetuously, sliding gracefully off the edge of the elevated runway. "I've just finished my fall lineup for this year, and I'm rather pleased. I was just wondering," her dark red lips curled up in a lush smile. "If you would care to be the first to see it in all of its majesty."

"Ms. Vince, I would be delighted to see what your . . . creative mind has come up with. But I'm not going to lie for you. I tell the honest truth in all of my pieces. It's just opinion, but I say what I think. I'm not a queen of fashion myself, just an observer . . ." This was a strange turn of events. With her previous reviews of Anita's "projects" Cooper thought that she would be the last person the designer would approach for something like this.

"That much is quite obvious my dear." She tilted her head back and raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow before continuing. "Your column is quite intriguing Ms. Cooper. I appreciate a woman who speaks her mind, even if she is sometimes misled . . . This isn't a bribe. I'm not trying to buy your support. I think this time I just have something that you'll find . . . stunning."

"Well, I'll take a look at whatever you show me," Cooper shrugged, letting the implied insult slide. She'd gotten far enough in life just wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. "I'm going to be honest though, it's probably going into my column . . ."

"Delightful." Anita reached forward as if to shake on it, but instead, leaned in and kissed the back of the plainly dressed journalist's hand, leaving a set of carmine lip-prints. "Meet me in my dressing room in say, half an hour? Good. See you there," she left without waiting for an answer, which almost made Cooper not want to go, but a story was a story, and almost without fail, her editors loved the train wreck that was Anita Vince's sense of design.

Ugh, but now she had a red mark on her hand, and it was of the industrial cosmetic grade that wouldn't come off with a simple scrubbing with her handkerchief. That had been a little weird. Perhaps it was just an old world custom that she wasn't used to, but she just _had_to be wearing that gaudy red shade as well, it even smelled strangely exuberant . . .

Anyways, with half an hour to spend, Cooper looked around backstage, stole a danish and a cup of coffee from the catering cart, and then headed to find the aforementioned dressing room. She eventually just asked a concierge who pointed her in the right direction, down a long carpeted hallway with various plain looking doors. Towards the end there was a color printed red lettered sign that read "Anita Vince - Designer/Model."

Taking her note-pad and pencil out of her bag (recording gizmos only made people nervous) she knocked and then tapped her flats against the carpet as she waited. The door opened up to a room packed wall to wall with racks of flamboyant clothing, and of course, the grinning features and syrupy sweet voice of the eccentric designer herself. "Please, come in." She had changed her lipstick to a deep maroon and her lips pulled apart to reveal perfectly white teeth as she swept her arm back invitingly.

"Wow, they really pack you guys in like sardines huh?" Cooper asked as she stepped forward into the room and the door swung shut behind her. They had to zig and zag a little to get past the various racks and shelves.

"Oh, well you see, I like to be ready to create the perfect combination if inspiration strikes me," Anita waved her hand dismissively. "I used to get bigger rooms when I was on top of the world, but for some reason I now find myself stuck in these C-list accommodations . . ." She held aside a few hanging dresses that looked like a ballerina had been caught in a sequin tornado with her long orange-nailed hand as they both squeezed through.

"Well, things change you know. That's the world of fashion. If there was just one way to do it, we would have perfected it a long time ago. Anyways, glad you don't hold a grudge," Cooper stepped through the polyester, sucking on the end of her pencil. "So, where's this new line-up?"

"Well darling, I don't get angry. I always get even though." They had reached the vanity by the back wall, and Anita reached for an atomizer and closed her eyes as she sprayed the contents heavily over her face. Her lips curled up in a malicious grin as her eyes focused on the columnist.

Cooper's eyes widened as soon as that scent hit her nose. It wasn't anything flowery and sweet like she expected. Instead it was definitely some kind of musk; vaguely animal and about as subtle as a slap in the face. It fit Anita's sense of style perfectly. She huffed in again, it had smokey undertones that were oddly enticing in a way she had never considered perfume to be before.

"What's wrong dear? Cat got your tongue?" She curled one long stockinged leg over the other as she sat back in a plain wooden chair next to the vanity, steepling her fingers as she rocked her heels.

"Cat . . . ?" Cooper's voice shuddered. She shook her head quickly and coughed, but that just made the invasive scent seem to stick deeper into her sinuses with its strange musky odor.

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm not a big fan of cats." Ms. Vince took off her hat and purse, setting them on the vanity next to her, moving a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Lying, deceitful creatures. They do things just to spite others, even if they have to lie to do it."

The strange woman's voice rung in her ears as Cooper tried to gather her thoughts. "What . . . What do you mean?" It was getting hotter in here, almost like standing next to a fireplace on a cold night.

"Oh, you of all people should know about your feline instincts Ms. Planes," she said with a derisive snort. "But wouldn't you like to change that? I know that you'd rather just be an icon of loyalty and eagerness . . ."

"Wha? No . . . Why do I feel like . . ." Cooper's pencil slid from her hand as she staggered back. Something was going wrong, but she couldn't place exactly what it was. That smell seemed like it was just escalating in intensity though, now picking up a searing acrid tang that enveloped the rest of its complicated bloom.

"Is something the matter?" the woman haughtily stood up and walked next to her guest as the journalist fell to her knees. "You seem to be on the floor like a dog. Are you trying to tell me something?"

"D-dog?" the word rang through her mind like a thunderclap. "I don't understand what you . . ." her mind was racing through a list of canine attributes, panting, sniffing, licking . . . all of them seeming more and more reasonable, desirable even.

"Oh yes, I think you like that word don't you? Dog?" Anita smiled down as Cooper shuddered. "Probably just makes your senses all light up like the dear little puppy you are."

"How are you . . ." she wrapped her arms around her chest, muscles beginning to fluctuate under her skin. "Ugnngh, What did you do?" Her simple black shirt strained as her neck thickened and her darkening lips pulled back, revealing her lengthening teeth.

"Why my dear girl, I've barely done anything. This is all about you! After all, you're the one with so many opinions. Yes, I can just see that you need to show that you're the real top-dog around here; strutting around and showing that you're the one in charge. Well I'm just helping let out the real you!" Ms. Vince reached down and stroked a hand along the back of Cooper's neck, running a hand through the light brown fur beginning to well up on her lengthening neck, darkening to a deep black as it crept under her shirt. The corner of Anita's mouth pulled up as the changing reporter let out a grumble of pleasure.

"Grrrraaaaw. N-no . . . this can't . . ." She was halted as the long nailed hands ran over her ears, making the flesh tingle with blissful sensations as they thinned down and perked up into points. "Ugh." she panted. She couldn't help but lean into the delicious scratching.

"Hmmm, there we go. Doesn't that just feel better now? Yes. A good dog doesn't use their paws for holding a silly note book. A good dog walks on four paws to please her mistress." Running a hand under the changing woman's chin, she began to scritch as Cooper's tongue lolled out, sliding forth from her lips, becoming longer and thinner with each huff of breath.

Falling forwards onto her hands and knees, Cooper stared down as her hands began to pull back, fingers clenched tightly as they thickened into stubby digits that soon swelled with thick brown pads . . . like an animal's paw, no, like a dog's. But was they the way they were supposed to look? It was so hard to tell with that cloying scent teasing her senses while she felt her shoulders bunch up and change in alignment, pulling in closer to her neck as black and brown fur sprouted out and her nails thickened and condensed into curved blunt black claws. "This isn't right. No. Something's not right . . ." That smell . . .

"Oh, I agree. But the world is a cruel and capricious place you know. Some people just think of it as their sworn duty to put their opinions out there. And I," she tapped a finger against the tip of Cooper's changing muzzle. "Think that you," she continued with another poke as the changing human's nose became cold and moist. "Would make a much better dog than a columnist."

Shaking her head and trying to step back, Cooper tripped on her own now awkward clothing that was starting to itch all over her body. "What? No. You Bitch!" her voice came out as a snarl, and then a whine. "This can't be real . . . But I feel so . . ."

"Oh, that's right. I am your bitch aren't I?" Anita pulled back her hands and shrugged carelessly. "I bet I smell like one too, and that's just driving your doggy little mind wild."

"No I . . . I'm not. . ." Cooper protested, but her mind was lighting up with images of panting barking female dogs. She could just imagine them, like they were so familiar. "That's not what I am." she managed to groan out, squinting her eyes closed as she tried to clear her thoughts of the musky canine intruders.

"Not at all my dear. You're much too strong willed for that. I bet those clothes are really starting to itch now aren't they. Let me just help you out a little." Curling her fingers under the smooth wool, she peeled the black turtle neck off of her confused captive. Anita began tugging off her loosening pants as well while she spoke with her hypnotically comforting voice. "Yes, I can see just how bold and intrepid you are. You're no whimpering she-hound are you?"

"No! I'm not. Please . . ." Cooper's rear legs were jerked up as her pants were tugged off of them, but when they returned to the ground, it wasn't on their knees. Creaking as they shifted, she pressed her legs back as her thighs and calves condensed and her feet began to stretch out further and thinner as tendons strained and muscles bulged. At the same time, it felt so good not to have that constricting fabric against her nice lush black and brown coat . . .

"I knew you'd agree," Ms. Vince said with a throaty chuckle. Then she slid her hand down along her guest's straining flanks, running it back through Cooper's forming undercoat as her ass twitched and her hips realigned. It looked more natural with her legs pressed out taut behind her as the furry nub of a tail pressed haltingly out from the base of her spine, curling up like she was a dog enjoying a thorough brushing.

"My dear, I know what you want: to show off your dominance. You're just a big strong proud beast aren't you? With no time for the frills of femininity. . ." Anita's over-manicured hand slipped down over the loose skin of Cooper's straining animal thigh. "And I know you've always had a thing for German fashion, even if it's understated. I've got to say it looks good on you: brown, black, and simple. But something's a little off here isn't it? Not quite right?"

"Nrrow," Cooper growled as her jaws stretched out. This wasn't possible: Not right at all! But she couldn't stop huffing in that heady reek that made her fur tingle and her haunches tense as she felt that teasing hand slide under her belly and rub closer and closer to her groin.

"You see, most of my previous detractors have been men. And I know how to deal with them. The sight of a little skin or the scent of an attractive woman is enough to send them in to slobbering fits. But you my dear, you opinions are so close to theirs that I think you_must have a very similar _male perspective." Smooth nailed fingers began to rub and knead around the edges of Cooper's fur obscured femininity. "So I thought that you might like to be treated the same way I've treated my other _gentleman callers_over the years."

The pleasure was so intense as that firmly squeezing hand began to pull back and forth, up and down against her flesh. Cooper's legs stiffened up and she flopped to her side in a decidedly canine fashion, rear leg scratching at the air as she felt molten tingles seep up in between her legs. She could imagine herself sniffing under the waving tails of wagging needy bitches, taking in their potent odor before . . . before . . .

"There we go. A nice little furry sheath to fit your role." Grasping in tightly, Anita jostled the fuzzy flesh as a little pink tip poked out of the loose end of the woman's forming canine maleness.

Cooper's ears turned back and she yowled out her surprise, pushing her front paws up as she stared transfixed back at her changing organ. Her tongue licked up across her nose every time those fingers pinched at her rapidly swelling tip nestled in its soft downy home of brown furred warmth. She couldn't bring herself to pull her changing body away from that pleasurable grasp.

"And what do we have here? Oh my, just look at them swell," Anita's fingers teased the loose skin at the base of the sheath as it began to push out, two distinct bulges forming as they stretched the soft fuzzy brown skin taut. "What an absolute horn dog you're becoming Cooper." She ran a fingernail just around the inside of the canine sheath, making her yip out a bark of confused pleasure. "Just look at how virile you are, nice little doggy orbs just thrumming with eagerness as they pulse and swell."

Gritting her teeth, Cooper fell over and leaned back her head against the floor, letting out a moaning whine as her body was teased and shaped. Her front paws hung in the air above her like a begging dog's and her whole body was covered in the deep brown and black markings of a German Shepard. Her maleness was roughly massaged as slowly, the tip of her red pointed canine prick throbbed out of her sheath, dripping a glistening bead of pre as her tail beat out a pleasured tattoo against the dusty carpet on the floor.

"There we go, just lie back and let it all soak in. I can see your nice little doggy nose just huffing away; bet I just smell better and better hmm?" Her hand moved away from the soft jostling package of the changed journalist's balls and fuzzy sheath, rubbing across her belly and the flat but sensitive nubs of her vestigial teats. "But I have a little treat for you." She sat back in the chair and spread her legs seductively, taking the same atomizer she had used earlier, tugging aside the fabric of her gaudy blue lace panties and giving her moist pussy a musky spritz. "Now boy; Eat!" she spoke the last word as a command, and all that Cooper wanted to do was spit the insult back in her face, but she found that she was getting to her paws and slowly padding forward, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as she buried her head under the hem of the cocktail dress and inhaled deeply.

The smell was tortuously good, and her black nose huffed in that smoldering scent almost instinctively. "Good boy, just a little further. Hmmm, yes there you go, use that nice new tongue of yours." Tilting her muzzle up, Cooper pressed in, tongue lapping out over and over against the designer's hot moist labia as her sharp teeth combed through her soft and custom treated hair. The burning smokey acrid female scent was driving her wild and she could still feel her maleness throbbing below her as she lapped in further next to the fingers holding the undergarment aside, almost as if trying to get at more of that heavenly smell.

"Yes. Ahhh. Oh! Hmmm," Anita's arm swept back behind her, knocking her purse and hat off of the vanity, but at this point she barely noticed as her insides twisted and writhed around that wet hot pink flesh slipping inside of her. "You really do know your way around a woman, don't you boy?" Her other hand with its bright orange nails scratched at the back of Cooper's black head, teasing over her folded back ears. "My, my, my! I really should have tried this _ages_ago."

Growling out the same halting noises of a dog after fleas, Cooper pressed in harder and faster, mind racing with canine anticipation that she could not control as her hips began to buck at the nothingness below her. The rapid upward strokes past the bitch's clit were making the woman tilt back in her chair, holding onto the vanity for balance as her insides clenched in with neediness.

But she had other, more grandiose plans, and so she sank down slowly pushing the whining dog's head away from her as she tilted back down. "There's a good little boy." Her degrading tone elicited a small growl from Cooper's throat as she bared her teeth. "But I know that my needy little doggy wants more. Maybe someplace to bury that nice hard bone of yours?" Slowly, Anita rose up, tugging off her dress, kicking her heels away, and unclasping her bra until all that remained were her stockings and bright panties.

With an odd realization, Cooper realized that all of the colors looked different as she panted and drooled from the corners of her thin black lips. She had been wrong before though: It actually made the tasteless lady's ensemble piled on the floor look even worse if that was at all possible. But terrible fashion aside, as soon as that dreadful woman knelt down before her and raised her ass invitingly, Cooper knew that the battle was already lost.

But some other scent caught her senses for just a fraction of a second. A familiar smell coming from a small silver roll. It was just the same as the strange odor of that lipstick that had been left on her right hand . . . or paw. She nosed at it, bracing her inflexible canine paws against it as the cap rolled off. All that she wanted was for anything to distract her from that other odoriferous lusty blend that was enticing her forward. She only managed to rub her chin against the strange smelling bright red cosmetic before her ears perked up and she turned to Anita.

"What are you waiting for boy? Oh, there you go, I knew you couldn't resist. No good doggy could." Cooper cringed as she walked forward. She hated to admit that this foul woman was right, but it was just too much, making her body operate almost purely on instinct. Her strong jaws tugged down Anita's still oddly gaudy panties, breath huffing in anticipation.

"That's right. That was last thing left between me and you. Ohhhaaaa. But I know you want to use more than your little pink tongue . . ." Cooper whined as she braced her hind legs, tail wagging sporadically as she pushed herself up onto the smooth flesh of the fashionista. The soft fur of her chin left a crimson streak as it slid up Anita's back and she braced herself up further, paws grabbing against the cursed woman's rounded hips.

It was like her body knew what she was doing seconds before her mind caught up as her hips started pistoning, rubbing her throbbing pointed cock against her thigh and smearing it with Cooper's own dusky masculine pre. Jockeying herself in to position, she buckled down and her humping became frantic as her tail wagged and her tongue slobbered out from her mouth.

"Such eagerness! My oh . . . My!" Ms. Vince squawked out as that vivid red tool of canine penetration sank past her needy folds, wrenching in and out wildly as it began to swell out longer and thicker, forcing its way inside of her. Cooper's vision blurred as her member seethed with pleasure, pulsing out into the terrible woman while her insides began to clench and pull at Cooper's tapered canine member while she whined out her doggy need.

"Unngh. My lord you're a big boy aren't you? Yes you are!" she moaned out as Cooper sank deeper and deeper. This was so much more intense than it had ever been before and her entire body was getting tingly and warm, particularly right along her spine. . .

It felt better and better as Cooper's balls began to pat against Anita's rump. Her member pulsed and swelled out until there was a small resistance that made her fur stand on end before something slid into that taut femininity and began to swell not longer, but out wider in pulsing swelling waves of pleasure.

"Oh yes, you're about to get a lesson in canine anatomy that I'm sure you'll adore. Ohh, god. Just a little more and we'll be inseparable you and I . . ." her voice was cut off by a throaty growl as her passage was forced wider and wider around the swelling knot of hot canine flesh inside of her. Cooper didn't know how it was possible, but soon her thrusts were both pushing in and pulling out against the designer's moist insides, making her growl as she gradually came to terms with the new searing pleasure.

Cooper licked out absentmindedly against Anita's back as her balls began to twitch and writhe, a rising feeling of need bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. But something was off, the scent and texture of the woman's skin wasn't what she had expected it to be at all. It wasn't the human smell of Anita bathed in that irresistible other smell anymore, the two were slowly becoming one, and Cooper's lips curled up in a predatory grin as she saw black fur welling out from around the red streak of lipstick that she had left on her back only moments before. Anita didn't seem to notice, and so maybe . . .

Ms. Vince moaned as the pounding from the dog on top of her redoubled its intensity. "There we go. Just let your simple little thoughts take over. Just fuck your mistress like a good boy," she panted out. Hmm, the musty smell of male dog was better than she remembered it, blazing into her nostrils with a hot wave of earthy passion that made her dizzy.

Tail wagging in lust both for revenge and flesh, Cooper licked across the quickly spreading fur on the woman's back. Her balls pulled up against her body as the passion rose up further inside her. The precipice of male pleasure was making her senses swim in delight as she took in the growing canine lust in the air, combing through the silky blackness under her with new formed canine teeth.

"Ohhh, that feels so gooooood," Anita moaned out, her fingers clenching against the carpet. Her cunt was pulsing and throbbing like it never had before as that hot knot seemed to lodge itself tighter and tighter. What she could not see was her labia swelling outwards, lips becoming puffy, sensitive, and dark skinned as they clenched around the canine member inside of her like only a female dog can. "Good little doggy . . ."

Cooper kept on happily humping, watching the fur fade to a nice straw color as it seeped over Anita's sides, a few shades lighter than her own murky coat. As she pulled back with the wrists of her paws, she found that the belly skin just above Anita's hips was becoming softer and looser with every squeeze.

Soon the woman moaned out as Cooper's furry appendages seemed to be on fire in the best of ways as they rubbed over something oddly familiar that made her hiss in ecstasy every time they scraped against those two jostling fleshy spots. More similar sensations seemed to be welling out all the way up to her breasts . . .

It was the sound of stockings tearing that brought the fashion designer to her senses. She shook her head, muscles on her neck thickening as she looked down at her hands and screamed in shock. "What!? No. This can't happen to me! Wait, I ugh. Ohhhh," she moaned out, fingers pulling back and thickening as her thumbs pulled back and to the side into cute but useless little dew-claws. Her orange polish cracked and fell off in flakes as her nails darkened into blunt black claws.

Cooper growled her response, pulling herself tighter against the bitch underneath her as the changes accelerated. The seams on Ms. Vince's stockings burst apart, revealing her fluffy light colored thighs which pulsed under their new coat with tight muscles and loose canine skin. The journalist savagely lapped at Anita's ears as they pulled up into points and then folded themselves back in fear.

"This is impossible. There's no way, unless . . ." She looked behind her, neck cracking out to suit a more quadrupedal stance as she did so. There, next to the leg of the chair, was that particular roll of lipstick that she usually guarded so carefully, laying open, and all smeared as if . . . !

"Get off of me you stupid dog! You don't know what you're doing!" Her voice was getting more garbled as she became hysterical and her mouth began to push out into a black lipped muzzle. She jerked forwards, but that tight knot held her in place, making the both of them whine out in pain and pleasure as her labia clamped down.

Contrary to what Ms. Vince had said, Cooper knew exactly what she was doing, and revenge was sweet. She let the forming dog under her pull and jostle a little more before biting into the loose tough forming ruff on her neck and toppling the both of them over sideways. She was beginning to understand her actions more and more through scent and body language, even as the once-woman's voice became little more than whimpering yaps.

Anita's body went stiff as those vice-like jaws pulled the loose skin on the back of her neck tight. Her tongue lolled out to the side and her limbs scrambled in the air, feet cracking out into broad paws as she found herself lying upside down, back against the strong male under her who's growl rattled down her spine.

Cooper's hips still thrust forward, now wildly jostling the both of them as she felt Anita's forming tail press out to the side, thick muscular base tensing as she clenched tighter around her creation's throbbing cock like the bitch she was.

That moment just before climax led to a strange instance of canine communication, scents smells and growls all combining to say exactly what Cooper was feeling: "You made me this way, and now you think you can get away . . . Mmmm, your wriggling just makes this feel better you know? . . . Might as well just enjoy it now, like the rabid bitch that you are."

With that, her back arched up against the rough carpeting and her ears folded against her skull. Her member began to jerk and pulse as Anita's wildly clenching insides crushed against her canine prick with their hot velveteen walls. Tail slapping out flat against the floor, her churning balls tugged tight as her cock arced up and jerked, beginning to fill the whimpering bitch with rapid molten hot forceful blasts of canine maleness.

Anita's whimpers turned into whines of tortuous pleasure as the hot spire of flesh writhed and ejaculated while her hot pussy clamped and spasmed against it, flaring into the heat of a female canine's orgasm even as she tried to deny it. Her paws wriggled in the air as cooper's hung and twitched around her with every seemingly endless strong lancing burst of hot male seed.

Their climax seemed to distort time itself as their furry bodies wriggled against each other and the senses of their new forms were lit up like explosions in the night sky. The air hung with the scents of canine lust, more powerful than some artificial odor as the cedar maleness and cloying acrid femininity blended into one delightful doggy reek. Every time Cooper's hot manhood jolted out another tingling jet, Anita's insides would twist and writhe anew, milking her captive turned captor for every last ounce of animal seed until they both lay there completely exhausted, panting in the silence.

Getting up was awkward, and Cooper slid her leg over the bitch's hindquarters, mashing her spent testes against Anita's tail-hole as they both stood facing away from each other, tails wagging against the other's irritably, still completely stuck. Their vocal communication was limited, but their new-found bodies translated the emotions quite well through motion and smell alone.

"Why would you possibly do something so idiotic!? If I were human I could do something to change this, but now . . ."

"No 'but nows,' we're stuck together bitch." Cooper tugged forward, knot illustrating her point as they were still firmly tied. "You'd better find a way to fix this for both of us or I will take you down with me."

Anita yelped as the knot tugged against her engorged flesh. "Agh! Calm down . . . I think there may be a way . . ." She hung her head down as she thought. "But, we'll need to get back to my shop . . . in Madrid . . . Once you quit wriggling and let me go then maybe we can convince my staff that we're the new dogs I was talking about earlier."

"You're the one that's wriggling bitch," Cooper growled as she considered. "Alright. Let's try it, but if you try anything that even smells funny, I will personally make you wish you had never been born."

They both waited there in silence, shank to shank with the last person they wanted anything to do with. Problematically, this same now-canine was also the only person at the moment who might be able to help reverse all of this dreadful nonsense . . .