A Dusty Servant

Dusty walked out of the club, and onto the desolate streets. It was late night, and he was tired. The last one of his friends group to go - just on the off chance that he _would_get lucky this time. He figured that the problem was himself, that his demands were far too high, his taste far too exquisite. At the same time, he figured that the problem was not himself at all.

The problem was the stereotyping of gay culture. Dusty was a top, with a genetic, light build. No matter how hard he worked at the gym, he could not get the ultra-muscular body that he sought. As a fox you did not have many alternatives. Even though he was buffer than most other foxes, his species was giving him problems. Top, and fox. Most people don't like the combination. Dusty, in turn, doesn't like them.

He kept walking along the road, stumbling a little from side to side, and making an effort to walk as straight as he could. Streetlights lit up the asphalt street, where orange leaves lay left to rot, wet paper and trash left to be eaten by feral creatures.

And at times even by the dirtier species of the furs, picking the trash up and filling their mouths. Eyes darting around hoping no one had seen. When Dusty saw it happen, he wasn't one to judge. Himself was still primal, too, loving the thrill of hunt. Going out into the forest... spotting a rabbit. It was always too much for him to control himself: Mystery, and wonder, and the wind in his fur as he dodged rocks and roots. If birds and raccoons wanted to act like city pigeons, that was their call.

Living just across the street of the club, one would think it would be a simple walk across the street. In honesty, it was more of a boulevard, and cars crossed all the time. Dusty may have been drunk, but he never lost his wits - unless he saw a wild little rabbit, of course. Or so at least he thought until he walked past an alley, a few meters before the crosswalk, and heard a whisper.

"Pst," it said.

Dusty's mind went into overdrive, and his heart started thumping. He kept walking, ignoring the voice, stopping at the crosswalk and waiting for the Green Horse to tell him to go. Meanwhile, he kept an eye on the alley. It was tempting, the voice that had called to him. There was something to it, alluring, special. Maybe he hadn't heard anything. Maybe it was the drunken imagination playing tricks on him. He could go back. Check it out, see if there was something....

"Pst," it said again, making Dusty fully turn toward it. "I know you heard! You heard! Come back!"

The pace of his heart picked up. Dusty watched as his eyes started to adjust to the dark, looking to see if anyone was hidden in the alley.

It got louder, the voice, as it spoke up - higher. There was crackle, a robotic tone to the voice: "Come! In here, come! I'm here. Here. Inside! Come here!"

Dusty tilted his head to the side and twisted his ears. It wasn't a fur. It wasn't a human. It was a radio. Or a walkie-talkie. Or some other form of machine. What, exactly, he wasn't quite sure of. It took some deliberation, the light was not turning green. Going inside to check it out would be a fairly safe thing. There were cars around. People walking by every now and then. Not strictly unsafe to just peek. Dusty walked closer to the alley entrance.

He took his phone outside of a pocket, and quick navigated to the flashlight, pointing it into the alley. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden light. Phone-flashlight technology had improved a little too much for his liking. The alley seemed empty. His eyes couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. Just the same old trash can, some overfilled.

"Where are you?" Dusty asked.

"Down here! Here by the ground!" the crackling voice piped. "Follow the light, follow it, and I am there!"

Where previously had been dark, there was now a luminescent blue. Behind and between the two dumpsters closest to him. Hidden further behind misplaced bags of trash. There wasn't much following to be had. Dusty walked yet closer - hopeful that it was no trick - pushed carefully on one of the dumpsters to get it to roll away, and was met just then with an odd, and strange sight. "You're a... box?" A blue glowing box, he added silently to himself.

"Yes, a box. I'm a box! Pick me up, take me with you! With you, take me. I'll explain why, explain it good, later! Pick me up, the box!"

The fox had no response to the box, except for the unintentional, rude, wide-eyed stare. He sighed, thought to himself alright, bent down and picked it up without taking a closer look. It was just a box. No harm would come from bringing it home. Its blue glow faded in his hands. He figured it was a radio, of sorts, and that someone was messing with him. Having a laugh.

"Careful, be careful! You can't be rough like that! Not rough!"

He was dumbfounded, not sure how he had been rough, and not sure how the box had known it was picked up. Stuffing it underneath his coat, he sneaked out of the alley - looking from side to side, and saw the green light had been on. It was blinking. On the way to turn red. He cursed to himself, and wobbled to the lights and road, waiting.

A paranoid sensation started to envelope him as he waited for the light to again turn green. The late night outside dwellers walked past him. Drunks, more so than he, and other folk. Dusty wanted to be home, put the box down, and figure it out when his mind wasn't dim. If it was some sort of radio, he might learn of who was on the other side. And how they knew he picked it up. That he was there. Were they watching from a distance? It seemed likely. Dusty thought it might be his neighbors, again. It was always them.

The wolf and fox couple was annoying, and always up to no good. They asked him to join on their fun, once. Twice. More times. And never with the intent of letting him top. It was annoying to say the least. Likely, they did it to rile him up. And it was working.

The Green Horse that signed his right of passage shone, and he walked over the road, and with quick steps to the entrance. Hit the four-numbered code, went in to the elevator, out of it, and to his apartment. Dusty stepped in through his door, took off his coat, and placed the box down on a drawer.

As normal boxes did, it had remained quiet, tight beneath the coat. Dusty appreciated that. Once, and if ever, it would get too annoying - he would have to turn it off.

Rather than inspecting the box right away, he undressed his uncomfortable club clothes, cupped a feel of his sizable package, horny, looking into the full-body mirror. Dusty couldn't understand it. When he saw his naked self in the mirror - he would let himself top himself. And he was never bottoming. It just wasn't what he was into. Why most laughed at him... it frustrated him.

He shook his head, and squeezed himself a second time before grabbing and putting on the more comfortable clothes of home. A nice, loose, t-shirt and soft pants.

Finally, he took the time to look at the box. Dusty spoke, "Hello?" and waited.

And waited. And waited. No reply. It had a wooden exterior, with a decorative - ornamental look. Two tails were on the front, together creating the shape of an A. What for, he could only wonder. It seemed like a logo, for a company he never heard of. Maybe, if the box decided to speak later, he could ask what it was then.

With the box refusing to speak, and Dusty's own tired eyes, he turned away from it. Walking to the couch, and sitting down. Another night to be spent alone on it. He turned on the TV, and was met with the sight and sound of some poor late-night movies. He watched as bodies moved on the screen in circular fashions, humans and furs, hand in paw and dancing on the stage. Dusty hadn't seen this one.

Late-night movies were never any good, Dusty found. There was always something there, something nagging at him. Maybe it was because he only saw them alone, in his own misery. This movie was already going poorly.

Dusty pulled his soft pants down a little to rest on his thighs. Giving himself some room would allow himself to enjoy the movie, or at least enjoy himself while watching the movie. His cock started to harden as he imagined the characters on screen doing more interesting stuff than dancing. He stroked himself, pulled the cock, and played with it. Not with excitement.

Dusty felt a yawn coming - he was tired, and not in the mood. Continuing to stroke the cock idly, he closed his eyes. To sleep on the sofa for just a few minutes. Keep his eyes closed, rest a little, and then to actually study the box. Soon, he stopped moving his arm. His eyes were still closed, and his thoughts were fading away.

He woke to a buzzing sound. His hand was on his crotch, feeling sticky and wet. His balls felt oddly empty. Reasoning that must have had a wet dream, a loud groan escaped from his throat. The buzzing sound continued, and he was feeling disoriented. It was dark inside his apartment. Grabbing the phone on the table, he checked the time. 04:18. AM. Dusty groaned again.

Stretching to the light switch, he felt tension leave his body. Curiosity started to settle in. The buzz continued. He stood up - for some reason, he was naked - and followed the sound. To the drawer. To the box.

It's way too fucking late for this, radio man, he thought. "Shut up box, I'm here." He grabbed the box and walked back to the couch. Carefully he plucked the box down on the table, and made himself comfortable. It stopped buzzing.

Looking at the box he could see a little locket on the side of it. A little flap that looked like it could be opened. That might contain something valuable, or revealing. Maybe something about the box's owner. He could see no evidence of a speaker system. Dusty moved to touch the flap, his fingers hovering over it when the box angrily spoke:

"No!" The box's robotic, machine- and android-like voice shouted. "Don't open that! Don't open. Not yet! Dangerous!"

Dusty's hand recoiled in sudden chock. Still dazed, and tired, he couldn't think clearly. There would be no immediate danger there. Unless it was some sort of gas. In which case, he should throw the box out now. His voice was shaking as he spoke, "No? Why not? What can you do to me if I open it? Speak?" Dusty gave a tired laugh. "I'll open it if I want to." He didn't want to, anymore. The box's alarm had seemed genuine.

"No, you won't! No you won't! You won't. Won't. It's only when your duty calls. Only then, only then that you can open it. You can not open it else!"

He was confused. The box was speaking nonsense. "My duty?"

"I said so earlier, I did! Said I "explain it good"! That's why I woke you up! Woke you to tell you of it! Of duty!" The box crackled as it raised its volume.

Dusty sighed, "It's way too fucking late for this, whoever you are on the other side - it's four-fucking-AM. Can't we deal with this tomorrow? If all you want to do is speak non-sense?"

He, the box appeared male, went quiet for a second. Then it beeped, and bopped. It seemed as if it was giving considerable consideration to his suggestion. "No!" the box shouted, "We can not, absolutely not! Now is the time I decide, so now is a good time!"

Dusty sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back with his head. The box was being annoying. "Let's get this over with then, box, whose duty I apparently have to do - or else he won't ever shut up and let me sleep - what is it? What do you want me to do?"

"It's not I, as much as it is We! It is We who want you!"

"We?"

"We are the devices, the Tails of the Arcanum, the only Arcanum, the changers, the creators of justice, the full-filler of wishes, wishes and dreams. We are age-old devices, from ancient times, age-old, or new, and our shapes vary. Vary a lot. We are many, and many we are, yet the world spans far, and we can not move, not move at all. Mere tools for others to use. To use. Thus, we find those who may use us. Us, and me. Who may take us with them, or bring folk, bring many folk, to us. That is your duty now, you bring folk to me, and only to me. I tell you who - and who will be here. Then, you follow my command."

"Your command? Why would I? Why would I even--" Dusty interrupted himself when he saw the box start to glow blue. The crackle got louder, and he could see electricity surrounding it, shooting out little in every direction. Then, one shot out longer, and towards him. An electrical jolt surged through his muzzle.

Dusty moved his muzzle, his tongue, but no sound was coming out. He tried to scream, and nothing happened. Not even a wheeze. It was as if his vocal chords had been severed. Worse than severed. Entirely removed.

He tried to move his body, his legs, to lunge at the box - but he couldn't. He was stuck. Unable to speak. Unable to move. Scared, frightened. He kept trying to scream, talk. Whatever had happened - it wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was a feeling of total, and utter, loss of control. As Dusty fought against whatever had happened, the box continued to speak.

"Because, we need you. You, we need. It is not a duty you can escape from. No escape, no escape from me. You are hand-picked, for your own desires, your own limitations, your own wishes. I did not choose you, and you do not have the ability to choose me, or choose me away, lest you want to say muted, lame, deaf, blind, whatever you choose. Whatever you choose, or do not choose. If I was more than a spirit in a box, I would run far, far away from you. From you, for you are who you are. Who you really are. For now, we're stuck to each other. Your duty is easy. I give you a scenario, a name, and a wish the person has - whether the person knows it, truly knows it, or not. You seek out the person, you bring him here, to your apartment. You put on a bracelet. Once, and the person's psyche will change, as well as certain, just certain, parts of the person's body - the parts where the soul lies. Twice, and physical changes will occur. I specialize on animals, and those wishes - there is another one like me, and his ways are different. This is how I do it. Thrice, he becomes the replica of what he wanted to be, a copy of his wish. True copy. You bring him over, and you put the bracelet on. It is an easy duty. Do you understand?"

Dusty, who had stopped in his struggle at some point, tried to speak again. Tried to nod his head in submissive, reluctant, condoning. But he still couldn't.

"Oh, right. Right, oh right. You need to be able to speak, to speak, else you can not respond." The box, which had remained blue all the while, shot out another spark of lightning. Another jolt surged through him. Dusty could move his fingers, but they felt stiff, and hurt. He could move his legs. His arms. His voice strained when he spoke, and he felt weak.

"I- I understand," Dusty said. He felt tired. "Can... I go to sleep now, box with a power complex?"

A few days went by without the box saying a word. Dusty's routine had restarted the same day. A slow awakening process, combined with himself getting ready for work. Work. Rinse and repeat. It wasn't the most fun job, working in a grocery store - but it did pay his bills, and for that he was glad. Saturday, early in the morning - after a long working week - and the box had chosen that time to remind Dusty that the box existed.

Dusty dredged himself out of the bed, and walked to the buzzing box with tired, sloppy steps. "What do you want? I had wished you wouldn't speak again."

The box made a crackling sound that, almost, sounded like a laugh, "Yes, the fox wishes, and the fox wishes for different - but fact remains the same! Always the same, for today is the day that is your first duty day!"

The fox sighed, and walked away. Starting the process of making his morning coffee. He had fallen into the habit when he worked the night shifts. A little bit of coffee to just stay awake had turned into an addiction. Sometimes, he thought about caffeine pills - but always remembered how silly of an idea that was. Shifting the addiction to something else. Either he quit, or he continued. There was no point in deluding himself.

Truthfully, he would not delude himself over the box anymore either. It was a thing that talked, and only when it wished. What had happened with the blue light, and being unable to move, he had figured was a waken dream. Simple sleep paralysis. But the radio was good decoration, and it was something that stood out. A thing to get his guests talking. Hopefully it wouldn't talk back.

A click of the coffee maker informed him that it was ready. He poured the black liquid into a cup, the way he liked it, and walked back to the box. Whoever was on the other side of it wanted to talk, so he would let it.

"I think you said this day is my first 'duty day', did you, Mr. Box?"

"Oh how right you are, completely right you are - it is your first, of many! Many more to come! And it shall be a joy, shall it no-"

"Cut the crap and speak plainly, please. It is morning for God's sake!"

The box booped, and it beeped, and then it replied. "For whose sake? Never-mind that! You have a duty to do, that you need to do, and for that you will need to know who, who it is!"

Dusty blew on the surface of the coffee and took a tired sip. Not bad, but not perfect. He sighed, "Alright, what do I need to do?"

"Things come in order, little fox, fox the little. There's a person, a person named Jack, with desires you see - and desires you don't."

"Yes, of course, Jack. I'll knock on a random door and get him for you."

"There is no need for knocking, no knocking on random doors! Things come in order, fox the little, little fox. There's this that you need to do, to get him here - to your apartment, here, with you tonight."

"How, exactly, would I do that?"

"I don't know, do not know, you are a smart little lad, smart and little, I am sure. Completely sure that you'll find a way!"

Dusty jumped into the sofa, laying down, and repeatedly hit his head on the soft pillows. An attempt to wake up from the nightmare that is the box, without causing serious brain injury. After some moments, he stopped, looked up at the box and asked, "Alright, yeah. Yeah. I guess I can try to get him here. But I'm making no promises. How do I find him?"

Dusty's phone started to vibrate, quickly proceeding to sing its melody. "Hold on, box. I'll get this first." He hurried to the side of the bed, and picked it up. "Dusty here."

"Hey, Dusty!" An excited and familiar voice. They hadn't spoken in months! It was ridiculous how life could separate people.

"Chris, my man! You sound excited - why you calling, what is it? Got the apartment yet?"

"Just a week ago, I've been busy as fuck. Whole apartment was filled with boxes until yesterday - so I have to celebrate. Got a little invitational going on tonight at nine. A couple of familiars, and this new guy Jack. Pretty cool for a human, you know?"

Dusty hummed in agreement.

"We'll play boardgames, drink toxic waste, or do some other shit. What you say? Can you come?"

It was a little unreal, and a little bit too much of a coincidence. Dusty glanced at the box, thinking it was some elaborate prank. Time-wise, it checked in. A week ago he found the box, a week ago Chris arrived. If it was a prank by Chris, which was likely, he would have to play along. If it was not a prank by Chris - perhaps none of it had been a dream. Maybe he had lost his voice. The memory was so vivid, it felt true.

Chris seemed to hear the doubt in Dusty's hesitance to reply right away, "Come on, man. Besides... I showed Jack a picture of you," Chris said and started to whisper, "I think he has the hots for you, man."

Dusty gave another suspicious glance at the box, and sighed. "Yeah, I'll be there. You said nine?"

"Nine," Jack confirmed. "Don't bother bringing a thing. Alcohol's on the house."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dusty said and received a laugh from the lion on the other side of the line.

"Of course not. See you then?"

"See you." Dusty said, and clicked the phone offline. He looked toward the box.

"That's how," it chirped. "That's how."

Dusty knocked on the door, and waited. Pop music of the generic kind was blasted from inside of the apartment. That was Chris' style. Not one he was a fan of, but it always served its purpose as dumb background noise which one didn't need to listen to. He knocked on the door again - harder, this time. Dusty was a little late. Everyone else was likely already there, playing, and chatting.

He looked for temporary solace in his phone, browsing the latest tech news. Advancements against the disease that plagued North Africa had been made - good. Dusty hoped none of Chris' family had been affected. That's where he had grown up, and where he had been born. They all still lived in the midst of it. The likelihood that they were all safe... It was a slim one. The door opened and he slid the phone back into his pocket.

"Hey Fox! What took ya so long? Party's already goooo-in'!" Chris dragged out the words in his characteristic everything-is-good in the world way.

"Hah," Dusty said, "You'll learn how the commute is in this city soon enough. Late, again. Besides... I have to look good..." He glanced over Chris' shoulder, trying to spot Jack. Chris grabbed his shoulder and pulled him inside.

"And you do," Chris said, and smiled, "I'll have to go ready some things. Go join the others, I'll be right there."

There were only two other party animals. Ryan, whom he'd partied with last week at the night club, and the human, Jack. His target. Dusty smiled as he stepped inside the living room. It was still sparsely decorated, and there was nothing interesting to see.

The box had expounded on his duty before he had left. It went into details. It mentioned a bracelet, and it mentioned changes. It mentioned impossible things. And it was very particular on one thing: Jack's drawing habits. Even now, Jack was looking down into a sketchbook, idly drawing with a pen.

Dusty nodded to Ryan, who nodded back at him. Jack hadn't noticed him. Dusty saw glasses and bottles of alcohol on the table - they had already begun drinking. That would make it easier for him, hopefully. Both to enjoy himself, and to get Jack to go home with him. He moved to stand next to Jack, looking down at the sketchbook.

He was drawing a dog. Just as the box had told him. Though he loomed over Jack, Jack seemed oblivious to his presence. "What'cha drawing?" Dusty asked, a little louder than was immediately necessary. For effect. Jack jumped a little, and looked up, meanwhile closing the book. His face became red, as human faces often do when they've been caught doing something they thought might be wrong. Dusty was glad he was no human. Not being able to hide his feelings... it was a nightmare of his.

Jack stammered when he responded, "Uh, he-hello... Yu-ou must be Du-Dusty?"

Dusty smiled, "Du-dusty, that's me alright. And you're Jack." The red face grew more intense. Dusty found it cute. Even if the box hadn't_ordered_ him to bring this Jack home, he very well might. At least based on the first impression. He wouldn't need to worry about this guy demanding to top.

Sometimes, Dusty felt like he might make an exception. Especially recently after topping wasn't working out for him... But this was not the guy. That was certain. Dusty stretched a hand forward.

Jack grabbed the hand and shook it, "Ye-yeah, I'm Jack." He looked down at his little book, his face still a mad red, and he lowered his voice - unintentionally it seemed - as he spoke. "I was just... drawing dogs. A- a dog."

There was a little space between them on the couch, and he ushered Ryan to move to the right. He moved down, seating himself next to Jack, tight and snug between Jack's thigh and the soft arm-rest. There was a stench, a clear and distinct smell, of alcohol coming from Jack's mouth. His eyes seemed a little dazed as if the alcohol had already begun to affect his mind.

"Can I see your drawings?"

Jack pulled the book close to his chest, as if it was his precious. He seemed horrified at the thought. What a crazy idea, thought Dusty, that someone would want to see his drawings.

"They aren't very good," Jack said, holding the book tight. Seeming intent to keep it in his possession.

"Come on now, don't be shy. I caught a glance of it, it looked pretty nice. Show me?" Dusty tried to put on a charming smile. Chris, in subsequent texts after the phone call, had told him to be forward with Jack. That would be the trick to getting him interested. Chris had always been a good pal and wingman. Even now, at his own party, he was trying to get Dusty laid. It was nice. Dusty put a hand on Jack's knee. "Please?"

Jack loosened his grip around the book. He put it forth, but one could still see care and doubt in his eyes. He opened it, turning it away from Dusty, and went to a page. Then, he handed it over. "Please, be... careful?"

Dusty grabbed it, making a show of giving the book extra care, and stared at the image. It was a German Shepherd. Again, the box had been right. It was running in a field. There was an outline of what looked like a meteor - but most likely was a tennis ball - shooting quick in the air, toward where the German Shepherd was running. And it was a feral dog. Anatomy correct to the straw. Dusty turned the page. Another German Shepherd, this time there was the outline of a door. The dog was barking at it. Square, mail outlines rested in front of the dog.

"These are amazing," Dusty said.

"Tha-thank you, Dusty." Jack stammering indicated to Dusty that either he was unused to compliments, or that he was easily embarrassed when drunk. Or Jack just liked Dusty. It was difficult to tell.

Dusty continued to browse the drawings. Only German Shepherds, and in all manner of poses, doing all manner of things. "You like dogs, huh?"

Jack snickered, a seemingly nervous snicker. "Well... yeah. That obvious?"

Dusty nodded. "Can I take your glass? I could use some alcohol, and Chris is doing whatever in that kitchen." Given the go-ahead, he poured a mixture into the glass and swallowed the drink in quick swoops. He filled it up again, and offered it to Jack. "Drink up."

A while went by. Chris had brought him an own glass, and brought forth some snacks. He had continued to feed Jack drinks. Jack was leaning in on his shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes on the game that was on the table. Ryan and Chris was stuck in some heated discussion about the game that Dusty could not care less about.

It was an opportunity to ask... see if the box had been right. Even if Dusty doubted the box could do anything of the sort it claimed it could. What had happened must have been a dream. "Hey, tired human, you said you like dogs, yeah?"

Jack nodded on his shoulder, "Yeah, I like dogs." His speech was slurred, not incoherent, but one could tell his mind wasn't quite in the right place.

"What if..." Dusty whispered this in Jack's ear, "... you could be one?"

Jack's face shone up, and he spoke out loud. "That would be cool never to work again! Play games and stuff all the time... Fun!"

Ryan and Chris looked at them, as Dusty ruffled the hair on Jack's head. "Hah, good." Good, he repeated in his head. If the box could do the things it claimed, it was good that Jack was a volunteer.

The night went on. Bags of snacks soon stacked high on the floor, bottles of spirits and soda spread thick over the room. Dusty looked at the clock, and saw that it was 12 already. He had been there for three hours, and he was getting a little tired. Jack had become more and more flirty as the night had gone on, but he never made a mention of going home together. Dusty had tried the alcohol sparingly, trying to avoid being too drunk. Avoiding being too hasty. But even he felt it by now. Ryan was pondering an option in the game, and everyone else was quiet. Until Jack excused himself and stood up. There was a bulge in those pants that seemed oddly promising to Dusty. He hadn't much cared about others' sizes before - but this one was right in his face. There was no way to simply ignore it.

Jack made his way past him to get the kitchen, to get some water. When Jack was out of view, Dusty made the same excuse. This was a chance when he could ask without Ryan and Chris listening in. He had done all the preparation he would need to do: His casual flirts, showing his interest. Making sure he looked his best. It was time to bring Jack home.

The water was on when he walked into the kitchen, quietly, but it was running straight into the sink. No glass. Dusty was instead met with the sight of Jack groping himself, moaning slightly under his breath - with his eyes closed, oblivious to Dusty's devious smile.

With his padded feet, he sneaked up behind Jack, leaned his groin in on a plump, muscular ass, embraced the torso, and breathed heavily on Jack's neck, "You a bit warm, stud?" A drunken whine escaped from the man who had gone stiff when he noticed he was spotted, and Jack soon sunk into Dusty's embrace. "One would almost think you wanna be a vixen, not a dog," Dusty chuckled, "Why don't we go to my place? I'll let you play dog for a little while, too, if you ask nicely."

Jack slurred an incoherent response - Dusty's joke lost on his drunken mind. A dog was a male fox. He would not let Jack "play a dog" in that sense. Double entendres were always Dusty's favorites.

"Also, if you want to grope yourself... You could have gone to the bathroom, you know. You're silly. Don't be this public..."

Jack blushed. He walked away from Dusty and into the living room, Dusty in tow. Jack pointed at Dusty, and one could see his face think as he spoke, "I am going with him!"

"We... would help cleaning up, but..." Dusty coughed, "Jack is a little eager."

"I can see that," Ryan commented. Jack straightened his back.

"And you'll have to wait longer to rough the newcomer up. Yeah. It's been a nice night. Go easy on him, Dusty. Jack's a nice guy. Don't want him scared away by the mighty fox," Chris said, and grinned wide.

It didn't take long until they were out of the door, and on the way to Dusty's home.

Cold hit Dusty and Jack as they stepped into Dusty's apartment. Jack shuddered. "Is... is cold. Why?" He still slurred on his words. "Something feels wrong, Dusty. You live here?"

Dusty, too, felt the eeriness. It had been there for a few days now. It wasn't a displeasing cold. More like a chill. At first, it was discomforting. But once he got used to it... It always felt good to step into it after a day's work. The box stood on its place on the drawer, where the chill was the thickest. Its ornamental style fit well in with his trinkets. He hoped Jack would take notice of it.

Dusty came up with a quick explanation for the cold in his mind, "Yeah. Cold. Else it gets too hot for us canines, you know. A downside with the fur." Dusty dangled his keys in front of Jack, who was making the best effort he could at panting, still horny. "And I just opened the door, didn't I? Of course it's my home. Ignore the chill, it's nothing. Come."

"Oh. Okay." Jack removed his shoes and walked inside. He headed straight for the bed, jumping up on it. Dusty wondered who had taught, or not taught, Jack manners. "Come on, Dusty! Get here already!"

"Get yourself ready... I'll need to get some things."

Jack tilted his head. Dusty thought it funny how the human kept _trying_to act like a canine. Especially so because he, according to the box, would do it naturally. It was ironic, in some ways. "You don't need condoms you know," Jack slurred and explained, he stepped up from the bed and pulled at the fox's arm, "I'm not _really_a canine... None of us can catch anything..."

Dusty shook himself loose, and let his hand run through the human's hair, "It's not that. It's a little thing. A gift I want you to wear, it will take just a sec." He felt compelled to give in, to disregard the bracelet that the box said lay hidden inside of the locket on the box; Dusty had started to harden - and imagined himself pounding his new-found friend. Or at least together with him... Cuddling. Cuddling would be nice. It was not often that he cuddled. A compulsion, a strong one he couldn't ignore, told him it wasn't time. There was a tinge of fear in not following the box's orders.

He left Jack on the bed and walked back to the drawer. He searched with his hand for the locket, and when he found it he whispered to the box. "Is it okay that I open it?" The box did not respond. When Dusty, after three deep breaths, opened it - the box started humming its crackling tune. He stuck his fingers into the little area and took the bracelet out. Dusty had been told not to put it on during any circumstance. It would be dangerous.

It seemed to be golden and its decoration with symmetric, combining together in the middle into the same A that was on the box. It was a beautiful bracelet, in truth. One that anyone with taste would be proud to show off. Wanting away from the box before it started to speak, Dusty hurried with quick steps, almost a sprint to his paws, back to Jack. Jack had thrown his shirts and pants on the floor, and was in the process of removing his boxers.

Hearing Dusty coming back, he looked at what was in Dusty's hand. "What's that?" Jack asked.

"A gift... A bracelet I found. Just something I want you to wear while we... You know? Just give me your arm."

"You're weird," Jack said, and stretched forth his arm. He waited for Dusty to put it on, "Thank you..."

Dusty took a step back. There, box, it is on - do your thing, he thought. Nothing seemed to happen. He stared into Jack's eyes, who met his own, and his tail was wagging. He was starting to harden. Now that was out of the way, and they could get going. Jack inched forward and went down on the floor, standing before Dusty. He started unbuttoning Dusty's jeans, one button at a time. Slowly.

That's when there was a loud click coming from Jack's arm. Both of their eyes widened as they stared at each other, until Jack winced. Dusty looked at Jack's arm, where his eyes met violent blue sparks. At first they were small. Now they were growing bigger. The blue light reflected on Jack's body and his legs. On the ceiling, and on the walls. He had to step away.

Further away from Jack, he could see the blue sparks extend away from the bracelet - quickly they traveled upwards Jack's arm, to the torso, spreading down to the abdomen and up to the face - his entire body was covered in it. The body underneath tensed, sat straight like a pole, and held there. Jack was a glowing beacon lighting up the room.

A few seconds went by and the sparks were gone. The tension released from Jack who fell down to the floor, clutching his stomach and still wincing.

Dusty hurried to his side, horrified. He had to throw the box away. Down on his knees, he asked, "Are you okay?" His hands were quick to check the heart. It still beat. Jack started to move his jaw, slowly.

"Yes." It was a non-committal answer, at best.

The fox grabbed a hold of Jack's cheeks, and fixated the head on himself. He felt slight movement under his fingers. A roughness started to grow in, beneath and around them. "Look at me, Jack. I need to make sure you are fine. I don't know what happened. It's just a bracelet... But it started shining... Glowing. It wasn't meant to. I had no idea this would happen." He paused, waiting for Jack to look at him, "Look at me, Jack! Open your eyes!"

"Oh. Okay." Suddenly eyes, almost glowing, met his own. They were not the same eyes that he had seen before. Jack had been blue eyes. These, these eyes were auburn. The pupil to iris ratio was different than before. It was strange to see on a human - the distinct qualities of canine eyes starting to form. Strange, and frightening. The box did have power. "Well, is anything wrong?" Jack asked. The slur in his voice was gone.

"It is fine," Dusty lied. "It is all good. Do you feel different? ... Think different?"

"I... my head feels clear? The alcohol has... dissipated?" Dusty motioned for him to continue, "And I feel like I want to play. Not horny. I was horny before... now I... Uh. It is embarrassing. Sorry."

"Say it, Jack."

Jack sighed, "I... want someone to throw a ball. And I want to chase it..."

"Go on," Dusty said, impatient.

"Like I should protect something. Someone... An owner, or a Master. I'm not a dog... but right now I just... I feel like I should be? Y'know? I'm stuck in the wrong body is what it feels like. I've never felt like this before. Why am I even telling you this?" Jack's tone grew almost accusatory to the end, as if he was blaming Dusty.

Not that it wasn't Dusty's fault. Dusty ran a hand through Jack's hair. It seemed to have become shorter, but it was difficult to tell in the dark. It could just be his imagination. He let his hand scratch Jack behind the ear. "I don't know. But I have something I need to tell you. Well... that bracelet? I lied. Everything is not fine." It had popped off Jack's arm and lay on the floor next to him. "It... changed you."

"Changed me?" Jack asked, "That's not possible, Dusty. It doesn't work that way, one doesn't just change."

"No? And what do you propose the blue sparks were?"

"I didn't see any."

"Your eyes were closed. What about your hair, your eyes?"

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes. Bathroom's there," Dusty pointed, "Go look yourself in the mirror." Jack was reluctant, but eventually followed were Dusty pointed. There was an odd gait to his walk, as if he had to adjust it every other step. He walked inside, and locked the door behind himself.

Dusty grabbed the bracelet from the floor and sat down on the bed. He stared at it, and pondered it. What had happened to Jack. The box claimed it made wishes come true, and that it did it in stages. It claimed the first step was to change the soul. First time was minor changes, changes to the psyche of the wearer, quick changes, nothing much. Things that can be hidden from the general public. Changes to one's soul, the deepest of changes. These were things that Jack had wanted, in some aspect. He could hardly blame himself. And he could hardly blame the box. Dusty had seen it firsthand, Jack's obsession with German Shepherds. He wanted to be one. That was obvious.

Dusty felt his mind wander away from right and wrong, and to Jack's changes. He wondered what other ways the human had changed. If there had been any other physical changes. Once Jack opened the door... they could explore it together.

The bathroom door lock clicked open, to Dusty's glee. "Well, Jack? I told you-" Jack had clothes on, Dusty's clothes, and hurried to the apartment door. He grabbed the jacket he had come with, and fiddled with his shoes. Dusty was trying to protest... trying to calm Jack down - but Jack refused to respond. And soon - soon Jack was outside the door, and onto the streets.

The box screeched and started speaking, "Don't worry, little fox, fox the little, really, don't worry. He is upset, upset but will be back. Will be. Give it time, just a little time." It stopped speaking.

Dusty twiddled his thumbs, sitting on a chair, looking at his door, as the box had told him to do. He had considered throwing the box away - but it never happened. Dusty didn't dare. Not yet. He would find a moment, eventually. For now he would heed the box. Eventually he would let it go. Dusty promised himself that.

Tonight, a week after Jack had gone, was the night. The clock ticked. 8. 8:10. 8:15. Any moment, and Jack would be back. There was a knock on the door, frantic, continuous, not stopping. Dusty hurried, opened it, and met a scruffy looking human he didn't immediately recognize, who threw himself into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you're home, Dusty!" Jack said, wet from the downpour outside, and tried to lick the fox's muzzle. Dusty stared at him, took in the once metro-sexual figure, gone non-caring. A distinct smell of wet dog started to take over the apartment.

"Jack... Hello... You're back."

"I am," Jack answered, let go off Dusty, and closed the apartment door. "I'm sorry I left in a hurry... I was just scared, that is all." Jack walked in without taking off his shoes, or clothes, and laid down on Dusty's bed. Dusty had no time to react.

An anger flared up in Dusty, "What are you doing? You're wet! Your shoes are on! And you smell," he made a show of sniffing the air, "When was the last time you showered?!" Jack smirked as the words hit him, and grimaced, a blush was slightly visible from beneath the tight, short and stubby beard that had grown on his face.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't realize." Jack got off the bed.

Dusty rushed up to Jack, and pulled on his arm, dragging him into the bathroom - pushing him towards the shower. "Well!" Dusty almost shouted, "When was the last time you showered?"

"I... think I haven't showered since the day I met you... I didn't notice that I smelled! I'm sorry... I thought I smelled good... I was more concerned with other things? My eyes look... odd, dog-like, like a German Shepherd's, you know? My hair became short, not just here," He placed a hand on his head, and dragged it through his hair and to his beard, "but here as well, all over..." Jack pulled down the sweatpants he wore; his legs were thick with short, blond, brown and black hair; his pubic hair was trimmed, short, almost thinning out. "I thought running away might turn me back to normal, but it didn't, instead I continued to change. Now I stopped. I thought that you might be able to help me..."

Dusty stopped the blabbering fool from continuing to speak. "You thought running away would return you to normal - but it didn't, did it? Tell me what happened when you left."

"I went right home... no one said a thing on the subway... and then I fell asleep..."

"Jack." Dusty said, sensing the stench in the air. "To the point. What happened that was out of the ordinary?"

"Well... when I woke up... I was still the same! And I wasn't scared... Then I heard something outside my door. I heard movement... I always check who it is. When I looked outside the door there was this man - I recognize this man. It was the mailman. I stared at him, and I was angry. I now he has to give people the mail - but he had no business being there! None what-so-ever! If I wanted him there I would call him, or someone I trust would bring him there... But he wasn't there with permission! And I was so angry. Very angry... He had no right. I was tempted to open the door and attack him! But I didn't! But I would have..." Jack growled a human growl. It was strange to hear in Dusty's ear. A poor mimic.

"Was that all? Did you visit others - did they say anything?"

Jack leaned onto the shower wall. "I... I visited others... They didn't say anything - they mentioned my haircut, my new contact lenses. I just nodded and smiled... That was it!"

"That was it?" Dusty eyed him suspiciously. It was obvious that Jack was hiding something.

Jack nodded eagerly, "Yup! That was it. Nothing else happened..."

"I know that's not true. Now, tell me what happened. I won't judge you Jack, I'm here for you." Dusty was finding this oddly arousing.

"I... might have stolen... a shoe or two..."

Dusty raised his eyes, "What for?"

"There was this intense desire... A pungent smell. I had to... I had to take them. Home. I had to be able to sniff them in private. Get a better place to smell it, take it in. Get to learn the smell. It was the only way I could!"

Dusty just stared at him, and Jack dashed an angry glare at him. Jack crinkled his nose as if to display anger.

"Don't judge me! You can't know how this feels - how intense that sweaty smell is! How good it feels to smell - how nice it is! How arousing--" Jack stopped himself there, and looked away. Dusty could see now that scruff beard didn't stop as a beard. It extended down to the neck.

"Arousing," Dusty repeated, and let his tongue lick his muzzle. This was arousing. "Look at me, and tell me more about that."

Jack slowly turned, just his head, "Yes... I have been like a teenager again. It's everything I do... every little detail gets me... hard. As soon as I wake up I have to - and then when I'm done, I need to do it again! My... balls have grown. They are pretty big now!" He said the last with pride. Jack seemed to think that was positive, and Dusty knew that would be useful.

"They are, are they?"

"And they fill back up again quickly! I could go for hours! I... I did go for hours. I went for hours a couple of times. When I was at my friends apartment and I saw the shoes... I had to go into their bathroom. They wondered what I was doing in there... what was taking so long."

Dusty laughed, "Of course they did, horn-dog. Now. Turn around. Show me these things that trouble you so."

Jack did. He still had his sweatpants pulled down. His boxers had a large, wet spot, and the bulge was big. Lewd thoughts started flowing through Dusty's mind. There were many things he wanted to do with that thing. No, he corrected himself, there were many things he wanted do to the body to which that thing belonged.

"Strip for me, Jack. You have to take a shower. You stink."

"I can't just strip in front of you!"

"What if I turn around?" Dusty said, and turned around. "I'll be counting to ten. If you don't have your clothes off by then, and if you're not in the showers - I will have to force you. And you don't want me to force you. 10. 9." Dusty could immediately hear the clothes flying away. "8. 7. 6. 5 4 3 2 1." The shower door closed, Jack on the inside. He shielded himself with his hands. Both hands. Jack needed to use both hands. Dusty sighed, "Alright - get showering. I shall wait outside."

Dusty had a short conversation with the box. It told him it was time again. Time again to use the bracelet. He had tried to protest, but it was to little avail. Now he sat on the bed waiting for Jack to be done. This was a moment in time when Jack would become different. He would let go of his physical humanity. That's what the box had said. In truth, Dusty had never liked the human lack of fur. This would make things better if something did happen between them.

The shower turned off. Dusty waited a little bit, and soon Jack stepped out with a towel wrapped around himself. The bulge showed even there. But he no longer looked greasy. He was clean. The still wet body hair clung to his skin. It was thick enough that, when it did so, it almost looked like fur. The skin could barely be seen. They were both quiet as Jack walked to the bed. He sat down, and he grabbed Dusty's hand. Alcohol made things easier. This way - both very much aware - it was awkward. Neither of them knew who to speak first.

When Jack leaned in, Dusty spoke. "Do you want to try the bracelet again? Maybe it will fix things..."

"Fix...?" There was almost an expression of horror in Jack's eyes. Then, a smile, "We can try the bracelet again! But I think it will make things even better!" Jack grabbed his crotch through the towel and gave Dusty a predatory look.

A look that made Dusty feel weak. He stood up, his knees a bit wobbly, and his shaft tightening in his pants. Dusty walked over to the box, opened the latch, and grabbed the bracelet. Meanwhile, he could hear Jack shifting on the bed.

When he turned back around, he could see Jack laying on his bed. The towel had been discarded, and Jack was attempting to lick his own balls. Jack seemed to sense Dusty's wide-eyed stare, and looked up. "What? They smelled sweaty! You told me to keep clean." When Dusty didn't stop staring, Jack relented. "Fine. I can't reach them properly anyway. Your bed isn't hard enough," he said, and bounced a little. Dusty coughed.

"Right... I've got the bracelet." Dusty dangled it in the air, and walked up to his bed. "Give me your arm." He did it as the days before, let the click be heard, and watched as the blue sparks started to cover the body.

When the blue sparks were gone, Jack started to whimper. Dusty could see why as the body hair shifted on his body, and rapidly continued to spread, and thicken, stiffening. An undercoat could be seen forming, as the hair pushed out of his body, becoming longer at places; mimicking the look of the fur Dusty himself had. Soon, Jack's hand, Jack's back were covered in it. Jack's torso. Stomach. His legs. At first most of it was black, but now it was beginning to change.

The fur on the stomach shifted its colors as melatonin seemed to enter the cells, becoming blond, his whole front side, his legs and his arms mimicking a golden brown. The back and the sides still had his black fur; but his beard, which now covered his face, had gone blond. Jack's body hair mimicked a shepherd to the straw. Dusty stared at Jack's still human-shaped face in awe, until Jack opened his eyes. "Am... Am I done? What happened?" The words came out different, as if he didn't quite know how to make the sounds with his tongue. Jack looked down at himself, all over, and set his mouth agape - a long, thin, tongue lolled out, and sharp canines could be seen at the front.

"Fur, all over. I don't think it is..." Dusty was interrupted by Jack letting out a yelp, and wincing hard again. "... done."

The nose, which had been the only part of Jack that remained fur-less, along with the cock and balls, started to blacken; and Jack's jaw started pushing out - the fur beneath Jack's eyes was getting wet - slowly, slowly, until it joined together with the nose, creating an animal's muzzle. New fur rapidly covered the new spots, Jack's lips blackened, and the muzzle proceeded to protrude once more, until it set, full length away from Jack's face. Dusty noted Jack's head as a German Shepherd's - that had its ears cut off. Jack's eyes shot open again.

"I have a tail!" Jack blurted out. He jumped up from the bed, and he turned his body around, showing Dusty his rear. Jack did have a tail - and it was wagging wildly from side to side. He moved his hands back and grabbed at it, trying to hold it still. "I shall show you my tail! I have a tail, I can do whatever I want with my tail! Look!"

He held it still, but it was still shifting in his hand. All him holding it up accomplished was displaying himself to be taken. Dusty wanted to - he was hard. He would jump onto Jack... It seemed that was what Jack wanted. But he waited. It wasn't time, he reasoned to himself. Jack wasn't done yet. The balls dangled between Jack's legs.

They had become bigger, again, he could tell. Dusty wanted to know how much liquid they could store. He stretched forth his hand... Jack, turned around, wouldn't mind. Dusty just wanted a feel. His hands were right below Jack's own when Jack spoke.

"See I held it still! And now... Now when I release it!" Jack let go off the tail. And it started wagging again. Hard, relentlessly. Hitting Dusty's bent forward face, over, and over again. He moved away and grabbed it with his paw, rubbing his tooth. That had hurt.

Dusty wondered whether Jack realized how much of a tease he is.

Jack turned around and looked at him - his expression was horrified. "Oh! I didn't realize you were there! I'm sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to hit you! If I..." Jack leaned forward and stretched a hand out. Immediately, he squeezed Dusty's crotch. Dusty recoiled in chock, falling down onto the floor.

"Jack! Don't just grab my crotch!"

Jack didn't seem to hear as he ignored Dusty's reprehension. "My tail is still wagging. How do I get it to stop wagging?"

Dusty muttered, underneath his breath, "You did a fine job at that a second ago..."

"What was that? You're mumbling, I couldn't-- ah!" Jack yelped again, and doubled over in pain. He clutched the sides of his head - covering his ears. Dusty managed to catch Jack before Jack fell to the floor, and held him. He looked where Jack was holding. Soon he saw the tip of the ears peek through Jack's hands. Dusty spoke with a soothing and comforting voice as the ears continued to move up, and up. Soon after that, they were in their proper place, moving. It took a few moments for Jack to realize. To open his eyes back up.

The ears moved, listening to everything. "So much. So much sound! How do you get rid of it?!" Jack got up, and sat back down on the bed, before assuming a laying position. Before standing up again. Then laying down. Jumping. Sitting. Shaking his head. Whatever he was doing, Dusty noticed it wasn't working. Jack seemed to give up, laying down again. On the bed. The ears moved. Fixed themselves at some sound in the distance.

"You don't get rid of it. You learn to filter it out."

Jack closed his eyes. Calmly, this time, and listened. Dusty took in the body; few parts were left to change. And Dusty was unsure whether it would even do so now, or later. The digitigrade had yet to set in, the claws had appeared, at some point - but there were no pads on the hands or feet. Of course, there was also the still human cock and balls that the, now, German Shepherd, proudly displayed.

Dusty was envious of them. As a fox, that was what he lacked. It was a major reason as to why foxes were not well liked as tops. They just weren't a decent size. That's what he had always felt. He was inferior in that regard and it made him doubt himself as a top. He knew that, if he would ever bottom for someone, it wouldn't be someone like himself. It would be someone like Jack.

"Furs are fucking," Jack suddenly proclaimed, and pointed to the left. "There. A fox and a wolf. The fox is bottoming."

"Of course he is..." Dusty muttered beneath his breath, inaudible to Jack. The guys who had invited him over more than once. At first, and for a long time, he loathed the fox for falling into the stereotype. But now, with Jack right before him, he could understand it. If the wolf was a rival in size, and build, to Jack... He might need to reconsider it next time they ask.

"I'm horny." Jack moved his hands back down, but now placed it on his cock, lifting the cock up between his fingers. He started to stroke himself at a slow rate., moving his hips up and down. "Not horny for myself." Jack sat up in the bed, and pointed at Dusty. "You!"

"Me?"

Jack pulled his legs over the side of the bed and inched forward. His balls and cock dangled in the air as he spread his legs wide. "Yes, you! You can help me! Get on your knees! Now!"

There was something in that tone. Commanding, demanding. It was a tone that one did not want to disappoint. Yet, Dusty knew he could fight Jack off. Dusty would be stronger, more agile. He didn't have to. But there was something alluring about a human cock on a fur. It was a thing no one before him could have said they had sucked. A special thing. Instead of ruining the moment by protesting - he had never sucked a cock before - he inched forward and bent down in front of the German Shepherd. The tool throbbed an inch from his muzzle.

"Start already, dumb fox!"

He leaned down, and licked the shaft. Jack made a sound. Dusty continued to lap the surrounding area, which had a heavy scent of musk that had percolated for a long time, and shuddered of pleasure at the aroma hitting his taste buds. He moved down, licked around the shaft again, and down to the, still skin-colored balls.

Dusty nipped on the balls carefully, let his saliva run over them, warming them, making the sack expand, and teased them with his tongue. He closed his eyes as he dealt with the tool in front of him. As he continued, he noticed something wrong. Jack had stopped his low, constant, exhortations of pleasure, his moans; and the balls continued to expand within his muzzle. He took them out, and saw the wrong. Or the right.

The color was changing, a darker, canine, hue taking over - and they were expanding. What had been big balls before were becoming bigger by the second. He looked down, between his forearms, and compared it to his own package. A tinge of shame came over him, but he ignored it, and went down on his elbows, grabbing the balls in his hands; he felt how they grew, how they worked, shifted inside.

Their shape shifted in his hands, kept growing as he started to massage them - trying to sense when they would stop. He started licking them again, covering the new area on them with his saliva, cleaning the peach-sized things - before he again moved up the shaft. Dusty wanted it. Wanted the liquid within; its savory taste.

He took the shaft in his mouth, went down on it, it pressed against his throat, over and over, as he bobbed his head at a frantic pace; until the cock started shrinking, and he realized he wasn't pleasing it. He wasn't treating it right. He didn't revere it as he ought to - he took it slower, calmly bobbed, wrapped his tongue around the shaft, unwrapping it. After a short while, he felt something odd, a bump at the base of it, growing, enlarging. Soon, his tongue, earlier wrapped around skin, started touching flesh. Dusty realized what had happened, but had no will to check. No will to confirm. He wanted the liquid within. He kept at it, feeling it grow, until he - once again - heard the low moaning from Jack.

A hand grabbed his neck, and he was pulled to his feet.

"We should take this further, little fox." Jack said, and looked into Dusty's eyes. Dusty stared back at him. Jack's auburn eyes were on fire, determine. Dusty's heart started racing. Partly in fear. Partly in anticipation. Partly in excitement. If he hadn't already gone stiff from sucking Jack off, he would have gone stick from the thought of Jack fucking him. Two things he a few weeks ago would have thought would never happened. To save himself from the shame he felt within, Dusty tried to suggest another thing.

"Yes - you get on your fours and I--"

The German Shepherd patted his head, grabbed his wrists, and smiled. "That's not really what I had in mind."

Dusty's face flushed, his ears pulled down. "Oh. But I've never... I don't-"

"Now you do."

Jack pulled at his arm, and he fell to the bed. Dusty had thought himself stronger than Jack - but now, he could Jack's muscles, hidden beneath the fur. A strong upper-body, strong legs. Strong... everything. He didn't want to get away... but if he had wanted to, he couldn't have. Jack almost molded his body as he wanted it - standing Dusty up on Dusty's four. "You... You need lube, Jack. It's underneath the bed, window-side."

Then, Dusty sighed, and braced himself. And waited.

Suddenly, a finger poked at his hole, dug in. Dusty winced, let it feel him. Another finger: letting the lube cover his insides. He felt the shepherd's thighs against his rump, and the fingers were moved. The pointy end of a canine cock poked at his hole.

Dusty sighed, "Go on. Fuck me."

Grunt. The cock started widening the hole as it pushed in, at a slow pace. Dusty held his breath, until the knot hit his backside. It pulled back out, and back in, at a rapidly increasing pace. Each time the thrust came, he felt his hole widen a little more, get a little tighter at the entrance. He started pushing back.

"Who's the vixen now?" Jack said, paused for a little while, letting Dusty work on the cock by himself, attempting to get the knot further in, before Jack thrust in and with the fox not responding. Dusty moaned in front of Jack, sighing, stroking his own cock - he kept pushing, pushing, until Jack plopped in.

Knotted, was Dusty's first thought. I've never been knotted before, was his second. Then the cum came, in spurts, one after another, filling him up. The dog collapsed on top of him, pushing them both to the mattress of the bed. His cock was still hard, still aching - unused to the position, and unused to the lack of attention Jack was giving it. A hand reached around him, as they lay spooned next to each other, and started pumping.

He felt himself get tenser, and tenser, and let the shepherd continue to play with it, until he tensed up again, and suddenly shot his mess on the bed. The hand, the paw, felt rough holding his dick, and became rougher, and rougher. Dusty studied it when Jack removed it. Padded. They still lay there in silence, until Jack started making noises of displeasure. "Jack?" No answer.

Behind him he heard bones crack, he could not turn around to see. He heard bones crack, and the legs that touched his own started shifting. Dusty saw the foot changing, its toes becoming larger, its shape altering. Becoming proper canine. Suddenly, they were out of view, and all he could hear was the bones cracking. A pull was felt in his ass, Jack pulling back, his body's reflexes causing him to almost wither in pain. Dusty liked the feeling, massaging the knot inside of him with his body, as the dog stopped whimpering, whining. Quiet again. "Jack?"

Three breaths. Heavy. "Yes?"

"What happened... your legs?"

"My legs... changed. Like yours now. Sleep. Rest." Their pace had been frantic, quick. Jack breathed heavily. It was not the most romantic way to lose his virginity back there. Quick, and to the point. But Dusty hadn't hated it. He had loved it. He could do it again. Hoped Jack would want to.

But Dusty remained quiet, heeding the dog's suggestion, and closed his eyes. He drifted to sleep, still plugged, and feeling bloated.

He woke when he heard speaking. He stayed still in bed, breathed as if he was still asleep, and listened. A faint blue glow was coming from the hallway, and Dusty could see half the fuzzy shepherd silhouette behind the wall, and his shadow on the floor. The fox perked his ears, listening.

"... so if I put it on, then..."

"Then you will, you will become what you always wished to be. What you wished for, wished for so long."

"What will become of me? I like this body. The power. The energy. Why would I let it go because I didn't know what I wanted?"

"Why, dear Jack, would you not? Not see the grace and beauty of being feral, of being owned, taken care of and walked? You tire me. We've spoken long enough, long enough now and you do not have a choice."

"I do have a--"

Dusty saw the blue light shift, the shadows move on the ground, and the black and blonde colors of Jack becoming clearer for just a second. It was the bracelet moving, and it clasped itself to Jack's arm. Jack the Shepherd screamed and laid down on the floor, his color and fur once again becoming a silhouette.

Dusty didn't dare move. He closed his eyes, hoping it was a dream. A snap was heard, and Jack screamed a little. _It isn't going away._Dusty opened his eyes back up, saw the silhouette lay there and shaking profusely. The stature was shrinking, the length becoming smaller - but broader. The bones cracked again and Dusty winced. Broader, the chest expanding towards the blue light, once again revealing the fur's color.

Jack made attempts at speaking, several, most ending in gasps of pain. Through it all, through his withering, changing body, he eventually managed to speak. A protest. "Not that! Not my- argh!"

The silhouettes legs started to move, up, towards the body - the thighs becoming smaller, the fat and human muscles melting away in the shadows. Soon, they were in front of his stomach, pushing on the drawer, changing the position of Jack. The blue light from the box shone on the feet and shins, which were rapidly thinning. Feet started to shrink in, contract, becoming paws. Shins thinned, shortened, fit onto the new dog thighs. Dusty realized what he had witnessed, and closed his eyes again, hard, counting sheep in his head.

Jack spoke again, "My... My! My... wha'? My words!" It was barely discernible, like a caricature of Scooby Doo. Jack stopped whimpering, moaning, screaming and speaking. Exhaustive breaths took over the apartment, until the box spoke.

"How does it feel, really feel, little Jack? Do you like it? Not able to speak, speak a word?"

It was perhaps not a word, but a bark, quiet. To Dusty's ears, it sounded pitiful, defeated. Low murmurs, Dusty thought they might be attempts to speak, escaped from the new dog's throat. Dusty lost count of the sheep, and stared up at Jack.

Just in time. Jack's neck straightened, or his silhouette did, thickened to hold the head up. No pain. No sound. Jack stayed quiet as Dusty observed the silhouette shift the final time. Slowly, Jack moved his head along the ground, up, up, bending the neck until Dusty could see the eyes. Eyes that looked directly into his own. Dusty shuddered, and the dog howled.

The shepherd remained still when the box stopped glowing, and his eyes closed. The glint in the eyes - a glint Dusty couldn't understand - hidden in a well-deserved deep sleep. Dusty's heart raced.

"Dusty, my friend and duty carrier," the box said, and Dusty jumped in bed. "It looks like you have a new pet. Pet, a new pet. I know you heard, listened and heard me - don't worry. Really, don't worry. You can't get rid of me, so you don't need to worry. You can't get rid of me, or the same happens to you. To you!" It started laughing, at first low, then a bit higher, until it became maniacal.

Dusty the Fox wished he could wake up from the nightmare.

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As said, any feedback is more than appreciated. Pacing, flow, characters, the sex, the dialog. A long comment, a short comment, a favorite, a watch, a vote - positive or negative, whatever! It will all help me improve and do better next time - for certain.

If you liked this story, and would want to read more from me, my three most popular stories are as follows: Pleasure of the Wild North, A Different Sort of Sword and Passion of the Dome! Check them out ^.^