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America finally admitted to itself that an unorthodox solution would have to be found to deal with the extreme overcrowding in its prisons. private prisons were simply unable to deal with the amount of criminals, thanks both to the never-ending war on drugs, and increasing improvements in surveillance which made capturing them even easier. The most obvious solution was to release prisoners before their sentence was up, but the public outcry against letting criminals back on the street kept this from happening. Eventually prisoners were moved from the prisons to work as laborers for cheap for various companies. After this became acceptable and common practice, the wealthy elite started "renting" prisoners for their personal use- usually as household servants, but sometimes for darker purposes. It finally reached a point where one could actually buy a prisoner and do anything they pleased with the individual, short of torture or murder. It became a status symbol for the wealthy to own a human being which was treated like a pet. Obviously there were some rules an owner needed to adhere to- the prisoner must give consent to lose their personhood and become property of another, the prisoner could not be taken out of the home of the owner and must be micro-chipped to prevent escape, and only prisoners who had committed nonviolent crimes were eligible for the program. Turning people into pets was, naturally, considered abhorrent by some of the population, and the only way the government could get away with allowing it was by assuring everyone that it was completely voluntary. Prisoners had to sign a waiver which basically forfeited their right of personhood, allowing them to be owned by another, in exchange for escaping the monotonous life of a prisoner. But, as with most things, the law and the actual situation were at odds. Prisoners were often persuaded to sign away their rights with threats and beatings- The prison earned a lot of money when they sold an inmate so it was to their advantage to "convince" inmates to do it. The public didn't know that side of the story. By the time I was approached by the Chief of Inmate Relocation, I knew that resisting would only result in an agonizing life of being hounded by the guards. I'd seen it happen enough times. I had two lifetime sentences. From their point of view, my life was over anyways. All I was now was their cash cow. "The client I represent is looking for an exotic pet, more or less. Something to be the subject of conversation." I was seated in a small white room, empty save for the table in the middle. I sat on one side, a well dressed man with an empty smile across from me, and the Chief of Inmate Relocation standing behind him. The man, who has introduced himself as Adam Clements, continued, "It's quite popular recently. For all intents and purposes, you will be a dog. It won't be a glamorous life but it won't be uncomfortable either. The same rights that apply to any domestic animal will apply to you, meaning you won't be mistreated or abused. My clients are quite wealthy and would not mistreat something they payed so much for." He stared at me, waiting for a response. "I.. understand that I'll be... modified?" I tried to sound calm and detached, but I don't think I succeeded. I may have agreed to enter the program, but it wasn't because I wanted to. It was only because the alternative was worse. "Yes. You will be modified to resemble a dog, as much as possible with modern technology. That means removing your ability to speak and to stand upright. Not much else is changed aside from minor details based on the preference of your owner. You will still be recognizably human," Mr. Clements said matter-of-factly, as if the topic of conversation was completely normal. I suppose that to him it was. "You were able to read all of the details at your leisure last night. Are you going to sign the papers or not?" the Chief spoke up with a hint of annoyance. He glared at me from over the shoulder of the other man, silently reminding me that I had no choice. I had been "punished" for exaggerated transgressions multiple times in the past month, my rations cut so that I was incessantly hungry and growing weaker every day. It wouldn't be long until they found an excuse to throw me in solitary. It was clear that there was no way out. I signed.

Before taking me to my new owners I had to undergo a short orientation so that I would know exactly what was expected of me in my new life, and exactly what would be happening to me during surgery. There were two other guys undergoing the same procedure so we were orientated at the same time. I didn't know either of them; they could have been from prisons anywhere in the country. They looked nervous and I'm sure I did too. Our instructor explained to us that we would feel humiliation at first, and we would try to rebel against our owners treating us like animals, but after a while we would give up and accept our life. It would be easier on everyone if we tried to let go of our dignity from the get-go. It finally came time for surgery, the most important step in my loss of humanity. When I woke up, the very first thing I noticed was that my legs below the knees were gone. I knew this was going to happen but it shocked me anyways. Artificial padding had been inserted inside my knee to reinforce the kneecap. I guess they tried to make it as comfortable as possible since I would be walking on my hands and knees from now on. My fingers had been removed after the second knuckle. Short, blunt artificial claws had been inserted in the tips of my finger-nubs, and artificial paw pads placed on the underside of my hand to make it resemble a dog paw as much as possible. I was laying on my side, and soon discovered that my arms didn't move in the way that they used to. The movement of my joints had been restricted-- I could only move my arms in the way that a dog moved its forelegs. I couldn't reach behind my back and I couldn't rotate my wrist anymore. I felt helpless without hands and realized how much I had taken them for granted all my life. I had also had all the hair on my face and balls removed. In orientation they explained that this saved our owners the trouble of shaving us, and some owners didn't like finding loose pubic hair around their houses. After many days of resting and healing, a nurse came for me with a leash and collar in her hands. I noticed that a guard followed behind her in case I caused a scene. She pulled back the covers of my bed and ordered, "Down." I suddenly felt so embarrassed- after all I wasn't wearing any clothes and she was treating me like an animal that got on the furniture when it wasn't supposed to. I crawled out of the bed, which was thankfully lower to the ground than most hospital beds, and tested the stability of my "new limbs". Walking wasn't uncomfortable thanks to the padding in my knees and hands, but I felt my face redden as the nurse strapped the collar around my neck and clipped the leash to it so she could lead me out. I felt extremely awkward as we walked down the hallway, me following closely behind the nurse and the guard bringing up the rear. I could feel my balls swaying as I walked and I knew the guard had a front row view to my naked, hairless balls. I was led outside where a van was waiting. I recognized the man standing by the vehicle- It was Clements. "Ah! What a great pet you're going to make!" he said with a grin, taking my leash from the nurse and looking down on me. I opened my mouth to speak, but the only sound I could make was a sort of grunt. "Don't try talking so soon," he said. "Your vocal chords are still healing. You will eventually learn how to make a barking sound, but the alteration will never allow you to make sophisticated sounds like human speech. Best to not even try. Just focus on being a good dog, and you're life won't be hard." As he spoke, the guard opened the back of the van and pulled out a ramp., and commanded me to get in the back. I complied, and they threw my leash in after me. Then both the man and guard shut the doors and got into the front of the van. I was separated from them by a wire mesh, much like I imagined a dog catcher's van must look like. As we drove, Clements continued to talk to me. He told me that I now had a tracking chip in my neck, and if I ever tried to leave the property of my new owners, an alarm would go off and I could be tracked down. I briefly wondered if I could take the uncomfortable collar off, but thanks to the limitation of my arms and my lack of fingers, I couldn't even get my hand on the collar. After what seemed like an hour or more, we arrived at my new home. There weren't any windows in the back, so I didn't have much of a clue where I was. When the door was opened and the guard tugged my leash to signal I was supposed to jump out, I was in awe of my surroundings. The van was parked in the circle drive of a mansion, and the mansion was absolutely huge. The lawn and hedge was perfectly trimmed with expensive looking statues dotting the yard which was at least a few acres, since I couldn't even see a road from here. A distinguished looking man who appeared to be in his 30s, followed by a handful of servants, approached us. He was followed by what appeared to be his wife, a young blonde whose tits were nearly popping out of her minidress. "Greetings, Mr. Vanderwall!" exclaimed Mr. Clements, shaking hands with what was apparently my new owner. He then nodded to Mrs. Vanderwall and proclaimed that she looked lovely today. Mr. Vaderwall seemed too distracted by my presence to pay much attention to conversation. He walked straight up to me and grinned hugely. "Just wonderful!" he exclaimed with obvious enthusiasm. I suddenly felt overwhelmed with the attention. I was naked on the ground and so many people were staring at me! The servants standing behind Mr. Vanderwall looked at me with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. I shifted uncomfortably on the lawn, the slight breeze against my sack reminding me that I was on display for all to see. Although I refrained from looking, I imagined my penis must have shriveled up both from the cold and my anxiousness. "So, ah, what is his name?" asked my new owner, addressing Mr. Clements. "His former name is forgotten. You may call him what you wish. He is yours after all, Mr. Vanderwall." "John is fine, just call me John," then to me he said, "And this is my wife, Tricia. Well, I don't know what we shall call you. Any ideas, Trish?" His wife wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Call it whatever you want, just don't let it into the bedroom or dining room. I hope you're happy that you spent a quarter million on a gross naked man." I was shocked that they had payed so much for me. In any case, I'd never see a cent. John just chuckled and continued to address Mr. Clements again. "Excuse my wife, she's not completely sold on the idea yet. Anyway, what now? He's ours?" "Yep, totally yours. Unless you have any questions, we'll be on our way. You can call anytime if you have questions or concerns." "Thanks. I don't have anything else to ask for now." Mr. Clements nodded and handed over my leash to John. I wanted badly to talk, to yell at them or curse them out, or to punch somebody in the face, but I forced myself to settle down and let it happen. After Mr. Clements left, I was given a very brief tour of my new home. There was an outside kennel built especially for me, but I was allowed inside the house as well. Food and water dishes, along with a doggy bed, were placed in the kitchen. It was a huge kitchen with its own staff and a swinging door so I could push it open with my face and come in for a drink anytime. There was also a designated "dog walker" who would take me outside for the bathroom and exercise several times a day. Then John excused himself saying he had matters to tend to, and to enjoy my new home. I was a bit lost. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. For a while I wandered around the house, exploring the rooms I could push open without my hands. Whenever a servant passed me, they stared, giggled, or shook their heads. Apparently they'd been instructed to treat me as a regular dog; none of them ever spoke to me. It was probably as awkward for them as them as it was for me. After I had explored a bit of the mansion-- there was still much more left to see but I was getting tired-- I returned to the kitchen. I drank out of my bowl, and wondered what to do next. So I laid down on my blanket and decided to try to nap, but I couldn't sleep. I was distracted by a very full bladder and pressure in my bowels. I considered pissing on the floor as a sort of revenge, but that would probably just result in getting beat or my nose rubbed in it. Eventually a servant came and found me.

"Time for your walk," he said, clipping a leash to my collar. I was humiliated and relieved at the same time. I REALLY had to pee, even though I certainly didn't want an escort to do it. The servant led me out a back door and into a large backyard. I looked up at the man, wondering if he'd take the leash off so I could do my business in private.

"Go pee," he instructed. "You have to be on the leash, you're owner doesn't want you escaping." I sighed, defeated, and spread my thighs slightly as I let lose a torrent of piss onto the well trimmed lawn. To my complete horror, a fart slipped out at the same time. I did have to go pretty bad, but I wasn't about to shit on the ground in front of this guy like a dog! I tugged on the leash in the direction of the house, indicating to the servant that I was ready to go in.

"Mr. Vanderwall doesn't want accidents in the house. I know you just had a long car ride here. Go number 2 please," my handler said, somewhat impatiently. "You better get used to this. The sooner you do your business the sooner we can go in."

My bowels were cramping up and I could feel a turd poking against my sphincter. I had to do this. I looked away from the servant, my face most likely red from the deep shame I felt, and crouched, stumps spread apart so my butt was lower to the ground, and tried to go. Even with such an urgent need to shit, it was hard to relax my asshole with someone standing right there. My eyes watered and it took every piece of willpower not to start crying from the humiliation. Finally, I felt the hard lump push past my anus and drop onto the ground below me, the stench immediately filling my nose- and I'm sure the handler smelled it too. I managed to finish pooping until I was empty. I watched in horror as the servant picked up my fresh, warm excrement with doggy bag. The look of disgust on his face mirrored exactly how I felt. But when he spoke, it was a professional tone. "Good job. Time to go in." I followed him back to the house on my stumps, feeling my greasy asscheeks gliding together as I walked. Apparently, I wasn't going to be wiped.

A month passed in my new home, and believe it or not, I did get used to it. The dog walker did wipe me with baby wipes sometimes, when I had a particularly messy shit, but otherwise I was treated much like a real dog, and in time that unclean feeling didn't bother me so much. I got used to eating the strange flavorless pellets I was given as food. It filled me up okay, but I started to miss the taste of actual food. I felt really sad whenever the daily meals were being cooked, smelling food I'd never eat again. I realized now why dogs got so damn excited over the tiniest morsel of people food-- I would do anything for it. The kitchen staff were not allowed to give me scraps, but John did. However, I didn't get them for free- he expected a trick. You might be saying to yourself that nothing would make you debase yourself for a piece of chicken off someone's plate, but if you had nothing to eat but bland pellets day in and day out, you'd do *anything* for that little morsel. I gave John a sour look the first several times he waved treats in my face and turned away, but it wasn't long before I was rolling over, sitting up, and shaking for whatever he had. My owner loved having guests over, and most of all, showing me off to his guests. Some were clearly uncomfortable around me, while most seemed to view me as a piece of art or a conversation piece at best. They talked about me as if I weren't an intelligent being and able to understand. They laughed as I followed humiliating commands for food scraps. Trishia always looked annoyed when I was the center of attention. John had decided to name me Barkley. It was a stupid name and I hated being called by it, but I had no way to communicate what my real name was and I doubt he would have cared. It eventually became a reflex to come when I was called.

After the first month, I started to feel sexually frustrated. At least in prison I could jack off after lights out. Now I couldn't even reach my own dick, the limited movement of my arm and wrist wouldn't allow it, and I had to look at Trisha's giant tits all the time. She may be a bitch, but she was hot. I would get random boners at night laying in my pet bed. One time when my normal dog walker was out sick, a female servant was asked to take me out to the bathroom and I got hard just thinking about a woman watching me naked. The humiliation of walking back into the house with a boner finally prompted me to do something about it. Since I was unsupervised most of the day, I easily got into an unused room. I was able to get myself off by wrapping my forelegs around a piece of furniture, usually a foot stool, and humping it just like a dog would. I imagined that I was pounding Trisha's round little ass instead of upholstery. On one hand it was like reaching a final low, but being able to have orgasms again after a month without was worth it. There was nothing I could do about the cum stains I left behind, unless I wanted to lick it up to hide the evidence, but I wouldn't stoop that far. I'd just hope no one noticed. I got away with this for a few weeks before something finally happened. One day, Mr. Clements returned. He explained that I needed to see a doctor to get up to date on my shots and get my hair cut. This seemed reasonable so I went with him in his van without any struggle. Trisha's smirk as I was loaded into the van should have given me a warning, but it didn't. They did give me a shot, and after that... I must have fallen asleep. Because when I woke up, I was back in the van on my way home, with a fuzzy feeling in my head and a slight ache in my groin. "Now don't get upset," Mr. Clements said when he heard me start to move around in the back. "But this happens to a lot of human pets eventually, same as it does to any domestic animal." Suddenly I realized that something was wrong between my legs. A bandage covered my groin, but I knew at once: my balls were gone! I had been nuetered! And unkown to me at the time, my dick had been sewn to my stomach, making it look more like an actual dog penis. Unable to scream or curse, I started barking crazily until my throat was hoarse. When I could howl no more, I began to cry for the first time since landing myself in this horrible situation. My dignity had finally been trampled completely. Clements turned on the radio and absently hummed to himself in an attempt to ignore me until my tears dried and I fell silent, completely broken.

"Poor Barkley," was all John said when I returned. Trisha snipped, "You should have thought about that before you let your new toy ruin my $10,000 upholstery."

A nurse was appointed to look after me while I healed. When the bandage was removed for good, she patted my empty taint with her hand. I flinched against the alien sensation of being smooth between my legs. Being touched there by a woman should have aroused me, but I realized I felt nothing. The nurse set up double mirrors so I could look at myself.. a small white scar was the only indication that I had once been a male. With my penis attached to my stomach, perpendicular to my body, I had to lift my leg to pee or else I would get piss on myself. Nothing swung between my legs as I walked anymore. I was depressed for a long time. When John had guests over, I simply laid on the floor despondently as they laughed about my getting "snipped" or calmly discussed the practicality of having human pets neutered. Many of his wealthy friends had pets of their own, and assured my owner that I would get over it and be an even better pet. I did find myself becoming calmer, more docile. It angered me when I realized this, but at the same time I had really started to accept my fate as an animal.

One day, a few months after my neutering, John announced that he had arranged a "play date" with one of his good friends, who also had a human pet. It was illegal for human pets to leave their owner's property, but I suppose the rich had a way around everything. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested- my days were monotonous and boring. The only thing I had to look forward to was eating, sleeping, and the brief times I were allowed outside. Even though meeting John's guests was a humiliating experience, I looked forward to it as the only mental stimulation I ever got. Later that evening, John's friend arrived- Jim, whom I already knew from previous visits. But this time he had a person in tow, another poor ex-prisoner on a leash, legs amputated below the knee, hands transformed into gruesome paws, just like me. Jim introduced him as "Bear". He was a large, hairy man, which made his furless nuts stand out all the more. At first I was excited to meet someone in my situation, but fear and shame washed over me as I realized he would soon notice my empty groin. When Bear first entered the room, we both gave each other a slight nod of acknowledgement as our owners watched proudly. Then I saw as Bear's eyes wandered to my lower belly, to my dog-like cock, and his eyes widened in fear. I winced as his fear turned to sympathy. It was plain in his eyes that he pitied me. I felt odd to be on the receiving end of pity, but at the same time, at least this was someone who actually sympathized with my situation instead of laughing about it. To Bear, I was a human being. I wished we could tell one another our real names, but I knew that was futile, as neither of us could talk or write. Our owners ushered us into John's entertaining room, where once more I was compelled to perform tricks. I saw the disgust in Bear's eyes as he watched me ingratiate myself to John for food. Jim explained that Bear had only been with him for two months, and wasn't fully trained. Eventually the men got to talking about their own interests and more or less ignored Bear and I. I laid on the carpet, staring dully at nothing, listening to the conversation about places and people I would never experience. I noticed Bear looked increasingly agitated. He probably wasn't used to the mind numbing boredom of being a pet. But then, I happened to glance at his cock, and realized why he was so agitated. Bear had a huge erection. He was laying on his side so his plump sausage laid against the carpet, leaking slightly. I realized that he was probably in a constant state of horniness. The poor guy hadn't jacked off in at least two months. Now it was my turn to look piteously at him- this was an embarrassment I no longer had to deal with. His eye caught mine, and he quickly looked away. A servant came to check on the masters, and John asked her to take us to the outdoor kennel. Bear moved awkwardly with his erection bobbing between his legs, so I took the lead as we walked down the hallway. I knew he was getting a front row view to my smooth, nutless taint, but I was powerless to cover myself. The servant let us into the kennel and left. I quickly relieved myself in the corner, raising my leg to pee on the fence like a real dog. When I turned around, I saw Bear looking at me with sadness in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, and glanced down at his erection, then back at me. A lump formed in the pit of my stomach. He stepped towards me. I backed up until the chain link touched my ass, but still he advanced. I snarled and pathetically bared my teeth to him, but he leaped at me, pinning my body under his larger, muscular one. I was barking like crazy but either no one heard, or no one cared. I realized with horror that being without a source of testosterone for so long, I was considerably weaker than I used to be. Bear overpowered me easily, slamming my chest against the ground. Although his arms had a limited range of movement like mine, he was able to place both arms at my sides and hook his hands under my hips, exactly like a dog mounts a bitch. I squealed in terror as I felt Bear's cock brush against my ass cheeks. I twisted in his grip, but he held on. He humped against my ass, my cheeks giving his throbbing meat the only relief it had found in weeks. Sometimes his cock would slip away from my ass as I squirmed, and I could feel it against my smooth taint. I knew he wanted my asshole, but there was no way I would ever hold still long enough for him to accomplish that. Even if he had me pinned, he couldn't keep me completely still. Suddenly, I felt Bear's teeth bite down on the back of my neck, hard. I howled in pain as he clenched harder. I stopped struggling immediately, yipping in submission. I felt his rock-hard sausage pushing against my asshole. Tears dripped down my face as I passively waited for the inevitable. A hot stream splashed against my puckered anus. It took me a second to understand what was going on- Bear was pissing on me!! I struggled again, enraged by disgust, but he bit me again until I stopped. I felt the head of his cock slowly pressing against my hole, and whimpered.He had been using his urine to lubricate me, I realized. It wasn't a very good lube, but it was all we had, and he was probably meaning to do me a kindness. At the moment I didn't appreciate it, however. My anus still burned as he slowly stretched me open, but it might have been even worse completely dry. Inch by inch, Bear slowly jammed his entire length into me. It was spearing me open! I whimpered pathetically, clenching down to push him out, but to no avail. The invader was lodged firmly inside me. He waited for a moment, for me to adjust, and then started to thrust. Slowly at first, but I could tell he was frustrated and his pace quickened. I whimpered in pain as his poorly lubricated cock pistoned in and out of my sore anus. Bear groaned blissfully and I could just imagine his eyes rolling back in his head as he experienced pleasure for the first time since his loss of humanity. I had felt the same, the first time I humped the furniture. That pleasure seemed like a lifetime ago. Although I was still in pain, I began to feel pleasure too, as Bear was hitting something inside me. I was straight, and never had anything in my ass before, but of course I knew about prostate stimulation. I felt my dick plump up slightly in response, but it was nothing like an erection I would've had with my balls. I didn't really feel aroused, but it did feel good. I relaxed my anus, resigning myself to the pain, and reveling in the little tingle of pleasure I felt every time Bear speared forward. His heavy balls slapped against the spot where I once had nuts of my own, and I felt utterly inferior. He was still a man, and I was a gelding-turned-fucktoy for his pleasure. The only way I could ever get pleasure for myself was to surrender to his pounding. The intensity of Bear's humping increased, and suddenly I felt something warm explode in my insides. Bear stopped, resting on my back for a moment. I could feel my tortured anus throbbing around his large cock. Painfully, he withdrew with a wet pop, and I immediately felt his seed dribbling out of my abused hole. I hadn't had an orgasm myself, just a pleasant tingling. Now that he was done using me, I had no way of cumming myself. Bear released his hold on me, and I turned around to look at his face. He looked very apologetic, his eyes full of shame. He turned away and went to the opposite end of the kennel to lay down. My ass hurt too much to do anything other than lay on my chest and forearms, ass in the air, as his semen slowly dripped down my smooth groin. I couldn't see it, but I was sure my anus must be red and angry after that brutal pounding. Bear's urine was drying on my ass and thighs and it smelled awful. I would probably get hosed off later, but for now I had to deal with it. I cried silently for a bit, contemplating how far I had fallen and how much of my humanity I had lost. I found it impossible to be mad at Bear. He was a victim of what had been done to both of us, and I could tell he was disgusted with himself. We both stayed at opposite corners of the kennel until the end of the night when Jim came to retrieve Bear. I kept my ass faced away from Jim, so he wouldn't notice what had happened. Bear left without looking me in the eyes again.