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The Island of Circe
I sat at my mistress' feet and watched the news segment with
growing fascination and arousal. Since I had been told to watch
the screen I didn't turn to look at her but felt her eyes on me,
not on the segment, which she must already have seen.
I was sure that she would be aware, at least, of my sexual
arousal. Indeed given that, as usual when we were private, I was
naked apart from my collar she could hardly have missed it.
Not that that embarrassed me any more. I long ago gave up my
right to hide anything from her.
When it was over I turned over onto my knees and waited.
"I was thinking we might visit the place, you and I." She said.
"Would that please you?"
I did not answer immediately.
One of her rules is that I must never speak without pausing for
thought. And indeed thought was needed to sort out my
contradictory feelings.
"It pleases me to obey." I began at last. "And what would happen
to me there might please me. It frightens me and excites me. I
find the things that are supposed to be done to slaves there
erotic in fantasy."
How I would face the reality I can't say. I would try to be
obedient to your will. I always will whatever happens. Johan's'
Island, the news segment had informed us, had been a typical
Pacific volcanic island.
Until '98 it was believed to be a French dependency but, in that
year, an examination of historical documents showed that the
French claim of sovereignty was invalid.
Ordinarily this minor fact would have been glossed over. However,
the Chief Barmat, the hereditary leader of the remaining native
population had the benefit of a combined honors degree in law and
business studies from an English redbrick university and he knew
an opportunity when he saw one.
He approached Biotechniques, already a world player in bio-
technology and soon did a deal that gave him the resources to
fight a case through the international courts. Soon Johan's
Island was an independent monarchy with its own constitution and
it's own laws.
Laws, It hardly needs to be said, peculiarly liberal in the area
of biological research.
When, in 2003 the Barmat research institute produced the first
effective anti-argathic the proportion of the resulting huge
profits that went into the island's coffers was a tribute to the
king's negotiating abilities. Barmat appears to be a complex and
often devious man but rather indifferent to the conventional
trappings of wealth.
With the wealth now at his disposal he turned Johan's Island into
what is probably the most technologically advanced community in
the world today.
He showed a knack for attracting pilot projects.
The island has the world's first 10 megawatt ocean thermal power
station, for example, and the associated aquaculture makes the
island a net exporter of foodstuffs. And yet the internal
combustion engine is illegal and powered vehicles of any sort are
available only for the emergency services and industrial use.
Now all this would bring the applause of the majority of
westerners, perhaps modified only by envy. Yet the history of the
Kingdom has been a continual struggle for survival.
Why? Because Barmat seems to have acquired , perhaps in his
student days, some very unconventional ideas about what should go
into a constitution. Above all because Johan's Island is now the
only country in the world where chattel slavery is recognized as
a legal institution.
Now in my own mind I am my lady's property and she may do with me
what she will. I willingly gave her that right three years before
this time.
Yet, of course, the laws of this country do not recognize such a
bond and always, at the back of our minds, is the knowledge that
if I ever wished to take back that right then the law would be
behind that decision and only my honor would prevent it.
On Johan's Island it would be very different. If we went their as
mistress and slave the law of the island would recognize that
relationship. She could kill me there and there would be no
repercussions either there or when she returned.
That was both the attraction and the source of fear. The last
element of unreality would go out of the roles we play.
This would happen too in a place where bio-technology was on the
leading edge and unrestrained by either law or, apparently, much
by ethics. A place where human beings, if rumor was correct, were
used as lab animals.
Human beings but not people. Human beings like me.
My lady did not mention the Island again to me until we were on
our way.
Two months after our viewing the film she suddenly ordered me to
hand in my notice at work. Four weeks later I looked into her
bedroom and saw her packing her clothes.
Disturbingly she ignored cupboard where my modest store of
clothing was kept was still locked.
I wondered if she were going to leave me here. It always alarms
me when she goes away and I have to fend for myself. It's
something I'm no longer used to.
Half and hour later she had me carry the suitcases downstairs.
She followed me and, much to my relief, I saw she had some
clothing for me. A pair of jeans and a thick sweatshirt. No
underwear.
She then produced the key to my collar and had me kneel while she
removed it, slipping it into a side pocket on one of the large
suitcases. That probably meant we were going to fly because the
collar causes such an embarrassing nuisance with airport metal-
detectors.
She had me dress although I hated wearing clothing around her.
She never seems to look at me when I am dressed.
I wore clothing at work, of course, without a qualm but in her
world it seems unclean and the nakedness of my neck compounded my
discomfort.
The way we act together in public often causes confusion and
embarrassment to third parties and I could see that the
stewardess on the first leg of the flight was taken aback at my
refusal to eat until my mistress had finished. On the second leg
though, as we flew to the Sachels when the same thing happened
I'm sure the stewardess, after a double take, knew just what was
going on because she gave me that poor crazy look that my collar
often attracts in parts of the world where such things are not so
uncommon.
My lady had not told me our destination but even before I saw the
destination of the second flight I could think of only one place.
We took a taxi from the airport, mostly for the benefit of the
three suitcases I think.
After telling the driver to take us to pier four she took out my
collar and locked it onto my neck I saw the driver looking at
this little ceremony in the rear-view mirror with a knowing grin.
As a result he had a near miss with a bicycle and cursed in what
sounded like Arabic.
Waiting at pier four was one of the most beautiful ships I have
seen. A large hydrofoil of the very latest design. There were no
formalities.
My lady just waved the smart card with our travel documents over
the sensor and we walked through an electric gate onto the
covered gangplank. At the other end we were confronted by a large
video screen which displayed a notice.
In six languages it said:
Important Notice
It is important that you study the laws of Johan's Island before
arrival. Laws on the island differ extensively from what you may
be used to. Failure to be aware of these laws may cause you
inconvenience or even danger. In particular note that it is
illegal for a slave of either gender to wear clothing that
obscures either genitals or anus. If you are importing a slave
you are required to see that this law is complied with before
docking. You should also note that it is a misdemeanor for a
slave to speak without being directly ordered to do so. Either of
these misdemeanors may result in a spot fine for the owner.
Having read this rather startling pronouncement we turned left
into a large cabin with seating. I noticed immediately that there
were many obvious slaves in here. Some naked. Some wearing
various bondage paraphernalia, many on leashes.
"Take off your clothes." My lady ordered, "and put them in the
small case."
Despite the numbers of my own kind present it was disconcerting
to undress in so crowded and public a place but of course I
obeyed.
She then found an empty seat and, sitting down had me curl up on
the floor in front of her. Each chair had a small screen and
keyboard in one arm and she began to use it, paying me absolutely
no attention for the time being.
I have always found it difficult being around other submissives
so I was rather glad of the no talking rule. As I lay there
trying to get comfortable I looked around and, between the legs
of the seats, could see many slaves in the same general position
as myself. Most of them looked nervous or even frightened and, I
suspect, would have wanted to converse with one another and me if
it were allowed.
After a brief scrutiny I decided to ignore them. They were none
of my business.
After about twenty minutes my mistress got up and told me to
heel. I obediently got up onto all fours and crawled after her on
hands and toes.
We descended some stairs and went through a narrow door being met
suddenly by a pungent smell of excrement, evidently confined to
the corridor beyond by clever ventilation. The corridor had cages
on both sides and was dark until we entered at which point some
sensor switched on red lights.
The cages were various shapes. The first few were full height
those on the left being about six feet deep, on the right perhaps
only two feet.
Further on there were two rows, one above the other. I saw that
there was a simple mechanism of the doors with a key and a money
slot.
My lady opened one of the bottom cages and told me to back in.
Then she closed the gate and I heard her work the mechanism.
Great! I was left luggage. I found myself in a narrow box about
three foot square by six deep . There was sawdust on the floor
with a few dry turds in it. Projecting from the right side near
the door was a large rubber teat like a penis complete with a
small hole.
"I'm going to get myself something to eat." My mistress told me.
"I'll fetch you something later."
She walked away without a backward glance, putting the key in her
bag and as the door closed behind her total darkness descended.
Once I got accustomed to the stench (didn't they clean these
cages out between trips? I visualized skeletons of forgotten
passengers lying unnoticed in cages at the back)
I was actually more comfortable in the cage that I had been lying
on the lounge carpet. Here I felt free to fidget to my heart's
content. I've always liked being caged or chained up anyway. It
takes away a whole galaxy of temptations and responsibilities.
I soon fell into the pleasant thoughtless mental state I usually
achieve under such circumstances. I believe that I become
mentally more like an animal than a human in this state. I've
always envied animals what I imagine is their habitual inner
silence.
We pay I high price, I often think, for the admittedly great
benefits of a verbal mind. My lady returned some indeterminable
time later. She fed me a packet of some kind of sharp tasting
snack pushing the flakes between the bars were I would take them
with my mouth. We made a game of it and she laughed but she
didn't stay long, put off perhaps by the outhouse stench of the
place.
After she left I sucked water from the teat and lay back down,
fairly content. For a while my head was full of worries about
what lay ahead but I finally managed to put them aside. I think I
slept then for some hours waking only briefly to piss in the
straw.
I think it was the commotion of owners come to collect their
property that finally woke me properly. I heard a girl greet her
master and the sound of a blow as he reminded her that talking
was forbidden.
I waited eagerly for my own mistress to come.
She was last, I think. That's her way in such things. Why hurry
only to queue further along the line?
She opened the door and as I stuck my head out grinning she
snapped a leash onto my collar.
"Wouldn't want us to get separated in the crush." She said,
tugging me out.
Initially I tried to heel properly at her side on all fours but
as we went up on deck it became impractical in the crowd and she
ordered me to stand upright.
The people, the ones with clothes, tried to avoid contact with my
somewhat dirty self as a result of which I was physically more
comfortable than most of them were.
As we emerged into the open the bright sun struck my naked body
and I thought, for the first time, about the problem of sunburn
and perhaps sunstroke. I had never been particularly well adapted
to outdoor nudity.
We descended the gangplank among the last to do so with her
luggage on a trolley. Inside the terminal we headed immediately
for a channel marked Slaves and Owners. We entered a side booth
and an officious looking woman told my lady to have me kneel and
read some words from a small notice aloud.
I read:
I acknowledge myself an animal with no human rights and the
proper property of [state your owner's full name here].
To say these words aloud gave me great satisfaction as well, I
may say, as a hard-on.
When I had spoken the woman produced a plastic gun with an
alarmingly thick needle projecting from it together with a small
sterile package and another device with a loop sticking out of
it. She walked behind me and I resolutely kept my eyes on my
mistress.
There was a cold wet feel on my left buttock and I braced myself.
The needle hurt like blazes but it was only there for a moment
and I managed to keep silent.
The official spoke to my lady and gave her a form to sign. "All
animals on the island over five kilograms in weight are required
to be tagged and registered with the international animals
registry." she said. "The transponder contains a permanent
official identification code. It is illegal to remove it while
you are on the island. When you sign this you take responsibility
for your animal. If you sell it the onus is on you to see to it
that the new owner registers their ownership officially or you
remain responsible."
"If it dies that too must be notified. We recommend you keep its
entry up to date even if the change of status occurs outside our
territory, that way if your animal is brought back here
everything will be up to date. Should you leave and return then
the transponder will be detected in the lobby and you will be
passed through without formalities."
"Once a human has formally renounced his or her personhood as
your slave just did it can never again be considered a person
under our laws. Enjoy your stay."
A moment later we were out in the late morning sunshine.
I felt curiously elated, despite the ache in my buttock. . Here,
at last, we could walk in the open with the nature of our
relationship plain for all to see and there would be no confused
or pitying looks. No explanations. I laughed aloud with delight,
hoping that this was not illegal.
Although she told me to hush she too was smiling broadly. I think
we both felt as if we had come home.
On the island people walk for the most part but there are always
people with heavy luggage at the port and we were quickly
approached by a small cart pulled by a rather overweight donkey
in a straw hat.
I put the suitcases in the back and walked alongside as the
driver nudged his beast into motion.
My lady had taken the leash off since it was too short to be
conveniently used under these circumstances. It was not far,
nowhere on the island is very far really and the ground, mostly
mud and grass, was forgiving to my bare feet.
The hotel was a little surprising. I'd been expecting the kind of
stateless concrete block that spring up at tourist centers like
pallid fungi in the night but, except for the lack of cars, this
was more like a rustic American motel with low wooden buildings
and individual cabins. In front of each cabin was a large wooden
kennel of the classic sort.
As we entered I saw two that were occupied by slaves and one by a
large dog, in each case tethered by a chromed chain. Obviously
the hotels around here would all have the "Pets Welcome" sign
out. I wondered if the kennels would get too uncomfortably hot in
the sun.
My lady checked in while I fraternized with the donkey whom I
found to be true to type, grudging of any display of positive
emotion though he seemed very well cared for. I generally get on
well with animals, perhaps because I have little of the
conviction of innate superiority normal in humans.
When she emerged with the key card we soon found her cabin. When
she entered I thought about it and decided I shouldn't enter
without orders because I was too dirty so I sat on the doorstep
and whined to attract her attention. She noticed after a moment
and looked at me for a moment.
"You are right. You are in no fit state for a civilized room. Get
into the kennel and we'll clean you up later."
As I scrambled to comply she came back outside and examined the
tether. One end was welded to a ring set in the ground on the
other was a small padlock which responded to the key card. There
was about eight feet of chain but she chose to lock it to my
collar about half way along.
It wasn't that she thought I would run away or anything like
that. She just knows what I like.
She filled a water bowl from me from a tap on the side of the
building. For someone used to lying on flat surfaces the kennel,
whose floor was covered in clean sawdust, was quite comfortable
and it was good to get out of the sun.
Already I could feel the first skin tightness that heralded
sunburn. I hoped my lady would notice or think of it soon.
Sometimes she would order me to tell her of the things that were
on my mind. Perhaps she would do that in the evening.
Some time passed. I suppose she settled in, unpacked and showered
because when she emerged holding my leash, there was a clean
smell and a floral scent to her. But when I emerged from the
kennel at her call she was suddenly dismayed.
"Oh, poor pet. You're quite pink. I'm sorry. I should have
thought of that. Stay out of the sunlight and I'll find something
for you."
Leaving me tethered she walked of rapidly towards the entrance. I
sighed with relief and crawled back into the welcome cool. The
way my skin was feeling a long exploration of the town in the
afternoon sun would have been disastrous.
I can't measure time under such circumstances but it seemed to be
quite a long wait. Part of the time I dozed, still jet lagged.
Occasionally there was interesting activity in the courtyard. At
one point there were the unmistakable sounds of one of my fellows
being beaten making me wince in the sympathy of one who has
earned a beating or two himself.
Eventually the light of my life returned with a paper bag in one
hand and a small box in the other which she was reading from.
When she reached me she put the box back in the bag and unlocking
my tether put me on the leash.
We went to the main building where there was an outside tap with
a hose. She tied the leash to a pipe and proceeded to give me a
thorough wash, the cold was instant balm to my hot skin.
Although I soon started to shiver I wriggled in the stream,
thoroughly enjoying my wash. Now for the first time she allowed
me into her room, a nice enough if compact bedroom. She took a
tightly folded sheet of some mat plastic from the bag and spread
it on the bed and patted it to indicate I should lie there.
Next she took a large red capsule from the box and put it into my
mouth, giving me a gulp of water to swallow it with. The next
things to emerge from the mysterious box were some film gloves
and a tube of cream.
I expected this cream to soothe my skin but when she started to
apply it, it stung like fire so that I could barely choke back a
cry. I fought an instinctive urge to get away from the hellish
stuff and accepted her ministrations. I didn't know if she
realized that the stuff hurt but it was not my place to tell her.
After a moment I was startled to see that it was leaving a blue
stain on my skin. I have faith. She often hurts me but she has
never truly harmed me. The initial burning sensation did not last
long, thank God, though when she did my testicles a whimper
escaped me. She was careful to cover almost my whole body
excepting parts of my face and the balls of my feet. The blue
effect was extremely startling, rather as I believe woad must
have looked.
Eventually she took off the gloves, being very careful not to get
the stuff on her own skin, and flushed them down the toilet. She
then stood back and watched as the blue color slowly faded, which
took perhaps twenty minutes.
Then she reached into the bag again and produced a second tube,
this one of ordinary sun lotion which she applied almost as
thoroughly though with less care. This operation was bliss and it
took away the last of the stinging.
"There." She said. "The sun block solves the problem in the short
term. The other should solve it in the long term. Now we can go
walkies."
I went on all fours at first. In the past most of my walking on
the leas h has been done indoors at home and occasionally at
parties and it has always seemed appropriate. Here though we were
going farther than I ever had on hands and toes and, despite my
practice, it soon became painful and then unsustainable.
My lady saw that I could not keep it up and told me to stand up
which I did to the protest of my leg muscles. It was a fairly
short excursion. I think that she too was more than a little jet-
lagged.
As we returned to the hotel she said. "Isn't it great to be able
to do that and not even get funny looks, let alone arrested?"
I agreed wholeheartedly. Despite the pain I had enjoyed our walk.
She put me back in my kennel and said she was going to stretch
out on the bed for a while. Some time later she went out past me
without speaking to me, presumably in search of dinner.
When she came back she gave me some scraps and then filled a bowl
with some kind of pelleted pet food which was bland but not too
bad. She also gave me another of those red capsules.
Though she didn't stay to watch I ate, as usual, without using my
hands. Afterwards I thought I should settle down for the night
but a while later she came out and fetched me into the cabin.
There she made love to me. You want details? Use your
imagination. I'm here to bare my murky soul to your gaze, not
hers.
About an hour later she put me back in the kennel before finally
turning in.
She makes love to me fairly often but I never get to sleep with
her. She is right in that. It would be blasphemy for me to see
her vulnerable in sleep.
I woke myself, scratching before the sun was up. I itched all
over so that I began to wonder if I had fleas (it wouldn't have
been the first time). My skin seemed strangely slick.
Then I remembered yesterday's sunburn and was less worried,
though no less uncomfortable. As dawn approached the itching
mounted to an intolerable crescendo then gradually receded.
In the first light of dawn I examined my skin and did an
authentic double take. Then I felt the parts I cannot see without
a mirror. Suddenly I burst out into laughter, hastily stifled as
I remembered my lady would still be asleep.
Here was the long term solution to my sensitive skin all right. I
was covered in soft tawny fur, still short but dense enough to
promise complete protection.
When my lady appeared much later I stroked my arm and tried to
put into my expression the thanks I was forbidden to put into
words. She unlocked the tether and gestured to the open door.
"There's a big mirror in the bathroom." She mentioned.
I was in there like a shot. She came up behind me as I was
admiring the effect.
The fur was not one color but shaded from a dark brown on my
spine to a lighter fawn on my chest. I felt it looked best when I
was on all fours.
Unexpectedly she stroked me, running her hand down the length of
my spine. It was an entirely new and delightful sensation and it
made me arch my back to get the best contact.
Even my penis was covered in short fur.
I hoped that it would bring her extra pleasure next time we made
love.
"I understand that in this climate it will grow to be about an
inch." She told me. "It's length will change gradually to suit
the temperature you are living in. The effect can be reversed but
I don't think I'll ever want to d o that. Do you like it? I love
it."
"Thank you my lady. It's a wonderful surprise."
"I'm very pleased with it too. I wasn't sure how it was going to
look but I like the way it came out. It makes you even more
completely my pet. I wonder what else they can do here in that
way. Perhaps they can give you a tail. What do you think about
that?"
"I doubt if that's possible, mistress, I don't see how they could
get a nerve supply. Having been born without a tail I won't have
the necessary circuits in my brain."
I hesitated a moment over the other aspect of the question, if it
were possible how would I feel about having one.
"If it were possible it seems to me that it would make me of less
practical use to you because it would be hard for me to get a job
like that. That would sadden me. I like you to have all the
things you want. But if it would please you to see me with a tail
more than you would miss those things then it pleases me. Perhaps
you could get the money back somehow exhibiting me at a carnival
or something. I think I might like that."
"To have people pay to see me in a cage. I don't think I'd like
that."
"That would be like sharing you with strangers. It doesn't
matter. I make a good living myself and I have lots of savings.
You're my pet and I love you. I don't keep you for practical
purposes."
What could I say to that? I turned and licked her hand and she
stroked me again.
Things developed rapidly from there. My speculations about the
effects of furry penises were resolved favorably although there
was as much giggling as gasping.
After a time we got up and went into town, me back on the leash
but this time not attempting all-fours.
The town was a curious mixture of the very mundane and the
extraordinary. There were perfectly normal shops. Clothing.
Groceries. Small cafes alongside brothels. There was a drug shop
advertising a special price on heroin alongside the toothpastes.
Looking at the ads, the books and so on there was none of that
specialness which, in our own society, separates sexual from
normal matters.
We came to a small cafe in front of which a Labrador was tied up
to a ring in the wall. My mistress tethered me to the same ring
and went inside for breakfast.
I sat with my back to the wall trying not to obstruct the
pavement. The dog sniffed me but would have none of my stroking.
Obviously a class conscious beast who would accept affection only
from his betters.
So, I sat and watched the passers by, none of whom gave me a
second glance despite my hirsute state. I soon saw why as several
creatures weirder by far than me went past, generally with their
owners.
One arrived that shook me to the core. She had, I think, been a
beautiful woman. Now she was a truly beautiful animal. She walked
as a true quadruped and possessed a pronounced snout. I could see
her paws were rather like those of a lion. They were quite broad
and furry although she had nails like a dog. They were definitely
paws.
Hands, however hairy, could never have moved like that.
Her chest too was of the deep shape typical of quadrupeds rather
than the broad flat affair of humans. Despite the snout her
facial expressions were remarkably human and readable, rather
like those of a cartoon animal but far more refined.
She was covered in black fur except for a broad white streak down
the spine. She did not, I noticed with some trace of muted of
satisfaction, have a tail.
Walking neatly to her master's heel she looked about her with
lively curiosity and the changeable expression on her face was
generally serene and sometimes amused. He held her loosely on a
chromed chain attached to a broad jeweled collar that glittered
against her black fur. She walked with all the unconscious grace
of a cat, her head held high at what should have been an
impossible angle to her trunk.
They passed quite close to where I sat, frozen in shock, and she
looked me full in the face and winked. Her unashamedly mammalian
scent reached my nostrils for a moment. I wanted to talk to her.
I wanted to run a mile. I wanted to stroke her. I wanted to look
away.
I could do none of these things.
The encounter left me stupefied by its implications. The
possibility of what had happened to her being done to me filled
my mind. It was at once terrifying and infinitely seductive. And
my mistress had not seen her!
I was torn between a desperate hope that she would never become
aware of such possibilities and the desire to rush into the cafe.
To call her out to see. To beg her to find for me the artist that
had given that creature her second birth.
I actually felt myself start to move and perhaps only the swing
of the leash which tethered me woke me to my own brand of sanity.
To do that would be deliberate disobedience. To untie the tether
she had tied was unthinkable.
I determined to put the internal debate aside. Such decisions
were not for me but for her, thank God.
I would tell her about the woman creature if she asked. I would
become such a creature myself if she wished it. I would neither
plead nor resist.
I try to live in the present like an animal. I guess that is the
main point of the life I chose.
I fought now to let the present take me back. But it's hold was
weak because I was haunted two ways.
>From the past by the sight and scent of the woman creature which
seemed to have burned its way indelibly into my mind and from the
future by the possibility of such transformation. I closed my
eyes and sought to focus the whole of my consciousness on the
breath moving in and out of my nostrils.
A few moments later a man emerged from the cafe and collected the
Labrador. To my surprise as he stooped to untie the dog's leash
he stroked me once.
I didn't know how to react to this but his attention was only
momentary. I had a flash of irritation but on reflection the
man's action had been kindly meant, not consciously
condescending.
He had stroked me in exactly the same spirit in which I had tried
to stroke the Labrador a momentary, meaningless exchange of
sensual pleasure. That kind of thing never really happened at
home.
Oh, when we went to parties and events within the scene someone
might pat me or pull on my collar but always as a self-conscious
challenge generally with their eyes on my mistress to see how she
would react.
In the future I would try to accept such actions in the spirit
they were offered. I have no right to react defensively to
unsolicited handling by strange people unless they go against my
owner's interests.
The meditation and the minor surprise had centered me when my
mistress reappeared but, although she said nothing, she looked at
me sharply. She is always sensitive to my mood and I think she
knew something had disturbed me. She had brought me a little
treat a section of a waffle with maple syrup on it and she
dropped it in front of me before bending to untie my leash.
As I worked it into my mouth I thought of the woman creature's
snout. How much easier it would be to eat from bowl or floor with
such a snout.
When people find out about the abnormal parts of my lifestyle
they often ask if eating scraps of the ground or the floor like
this doesn't cause stomach problems. Actually I've had far less
problems with my stomach since becoming a pet than in my feral
days. Modern pets get a regular and balanced diet, far better
than most people would chose for themselves.
As to germs well, I get my shots and regular exposure to low
levels of bacteria keeps my immune system in good shape. Too much
hygiene can weaken your defenses. As to why I pounce so gleefully
on such scraps, even though I'm not allowed to use my hands for
eating, the truth is I only get one real meal a day and I'm
almost always at least slightly hungry.
Most western people literally don't know what hunger is these
days. That's why there are so many cases of eating disorders. For
me hunger is a familiar companion which is as it should be. It
helps ground me in the present.
We spent almost an hour going around a shop with the most
complete collection of bondage and sado-masochist equipment I
have ever encountered. At home such stores are our delight but I
was still rather distracted and my lady too seemed to find it
hard to get interested although a selection of shock collars with
various kinds of triggers had her attention for a while.
We left rather suddenly and we went briefly back to the hotel to
pick up a towel and her swimming costume. Then we went down to
the beach where we spent most of what remained of the morning
larking about in the water.
She invented a game where she'd throw a stick into the breakers
for me to fetch. Of course I was expected to take it with my
mouth only and got several dunkings. Eventually we where both
fairly exhausted and she decided on more sedentary activity.
She made me roll in a small freshwater stream which ran down the
beach to get the salt out of my fur before it dried and she
spread out a blanket for sunbathing.
I found that sunbathing is not really for the fur covered but I
settled down at her feet and drowsed.
The warm sun was a powerful soporific. It was probably a little
after noon when I was roused by the sounds of galloping paws and
rhythmic breathing.
I looked up expecting some large dog to see my four legged
acquaintance of that morning in full flight. She flew in front of
me in an extended gallop which she made look effortless though
every muscle in her body must have been involved.
A little further along she spun to a stop and I saw a small black
object fall to meet her. She caught the ball on the first bounce.
Her athleticism was awesome. She made my own efforts at four
legged motion look like those of a beached walrus.
A moment later she was in flight again. This time heading
straight for me. Before I could get up off my side she had jumped
cleanly over me and was heading back to her master making two
sides of a shallow triangle.
I heard my mistress make a startled protest.
The girl creature reached her master and did a sit-up-and-beg
offering him the ball. But he was not pleased and flicked her
across the snout with the back of three fingers so the ball fell
to the ground. "Bad girl. You got sand on the lady's towel
showing off like that."
She put on an immediate display of contrition. Picking up the
ball and walking round behind him to his left where she stood at
heel with her head lowered Not though, it seemed to me, without a
furtive gleam remaining in her lowered eyes.
For the first time I was able to take a good look at the owner of
this remarkable pet as he approached us. He was a small man,
basically Caucasian with a hint of the oriental. He had a bushy
gray beard and appeared to be in his late middle age.
He had a friendly smile for my mistress, no more than a glance
for me.
"Madame, I apologize for the exuberance of my pet. Her contrition
will be more genuine when she learns that she is going to spend
the rest of our walk at heel."
My lady was sitting up now, one arm around her raised knees. "No
harm done. What a fine looking animal. May I handle her?"
The man agreed casually and my lady snapped her fingers for the
creature to approach.
Her handling was partly caressing, partly an anatomical
examination.
"May I ask where this work was done? It's not just idle
curiosity." She gestured in my direction, producing an instant
sinking feeling.
"The Selman Institute. A small company about half a mile out
along the greenway. You may have heard of Dr. Selman and his
reconstructive work. I don't know how he'd feel about doing this
kind of work for a visitor though. There might be legal
complications. Don't let him charge you too much though, I think
he'd have done this job for free, for the interest of it."
"Thank you, I shall certainly give him a call. Who knows?"
My lady now released the creature which, with a backwards glance
at her master came over to me.
I held still as she licked my face. I wanted to stroke her but
using my hands didn't seem proper or fair somehow and I didn't
have permission to speak (I wondered if she was capable of it). I
nuzzled her cheek and she broke my rather reverential mood by
nipping my ear.
Imagining what we must look like I got into the mood and
attempted to sniff her rear.
She swayed sideways nudging my side in a friendly way. And we
circled like a pair of dogs for a moment. I liked the way she
smelt and buried my nose for a moment in the fur of her flank.
My lady laughed and after a moment the man chuckled too.
"I think he's a prime candidate for conversion." He said. "It
should make him less clumsy, at least. I would think first,
though, about the legal problems you are likely to have at home.
By the way my name is Mark Thackery. You can tell Dr. Selman I
recommended you. Come on girl. Heel."
They left, the animal walking demurely at heel and we watched
them go in silence for a while.
"Was it something like that that shook you up this morning?" She
asked me at last.
I nodded.
"How do you feel about it?" I thought about an answer for a
moment. "I'm glad that the decision is yours mistress, if it were
mine I would not know how to choose."
She looked at me carefully for a moment, perhaps weighing my
response. "Well, we can at least explore the possibilities."
Dr. Selmar agreed to see us at five o'clock. He let us into the
building himself and we went straight into a small lab where I
was made to assume various positions inside a camera array,
allowing the computers to build up a three dimensional picture of
my shape.
The Dr. was a tall, gangling black with a thin face and a west
coast accent. As he worked the array he said to my mistress.
"I've thought long and hard about this and how any publicity will
affect me. I've decided the net benefit will be for the good. I
imagine if the world learns of my little hobby projects it will
think me a monster but, and this is the point, it will think me a
highly competent monster. So I've decided to offer to do this for
you at cost. Let's go into my office and discuss the
possibilities and then you can decide."
"I don't want him present while we have our talk. I try not to
burden him with the future," Mistress replied.
The doctor nodded and led us from the lab into another room which
smelled of rodents. There were many cages of different sizes most
of them containing laboratory mice, rats and rabbits but some
larger and a couple large enough for me.
"He seems frightened." said the doctor. "I could administer a
sedative. If you like he could sleep until it's all over one way
or the other."
"No. I'm not one of those people who believes in better living
through chemistry. Of course he's afraid. We're all afraid of
change but he's entitled to the full experience including, if
possible, the actual operation. I think you might be surprised
how tough he is mentally."
The doctor shrugged and they shut me in one of the primate cages,
turned down the lights and left.
Left to my own devices the first thing I did was to check that
the cage was secure. Don't misunderstand: If it hadn't been I
would not have left it anyway but I always settle more
comfortably once I have proved to myself that escape is not an
option.
I found I was shivering slightly with sheer physical fear so I
began to meditate. It's a simple enough trick but it works for
me.
If you can focus your awareness on the fear itself, instead of
the thing you are afraid of the fear fades.
Come on: Be an animal... The smells of straw and rodents are
real. The feel of the breath through your nostrils is real. The
throb of blood in your ears is real. The future is just fantasy.
It's a kind of mental judo. A force does harm only if resisted.
But if this was judo I was in the fight of my life.
Again and again the future would grab me by the neck and shake
me, my heart would race and I would find myself curling up into a
defensive ball, mentally and sometimes physically.
Then I would fight my way back to calmness. I realized that I was
hoping that my lady would chose to do this thing to me. Once done
I would not have to worry about it. If she decided against it, it
would always hang over me as a future possibility.
It seemed an eternity before they returned. The moment they
turned the lighting up I could see by my lady's face that the die
was cast. She was nervous and, I think, exhilarated. She studied
me, I think trying to fix my present appearance in her memory.
All she said was, "I'm going now You are to do everything the
Doctor or his people tell you. I mean to visit you each day until
you are ready to leave. Be good."
I put my fingertips through the mesh of the cage feeling the need
to hold onto something and thinking that I would not be able to
do this much longer and she briefly touched a finger with one of
her own. Then she left quickly and without turning back.
Not much more happened that evening except that the doctor gave
me an injection. I hope my lady slept better than I did.
Hunger was starting to take precedence over fear.
When the doctor and two assistants came to fetch me in the
morning, I found I was as limp as a dishrag so that they had to
drag me from my cage. I also saw that during the night all my
hair had fallen out. Not just my newly acquired fur coat but
every hair on my body.
That really upset me and I felt suddenly and ridiculously
tearful. It was my lady's gift and it had brought us both
pleasure.
The doctor saw my look. I'm sorry about your handsome fur coat.
He said kindly. But it's only for a few days and we have to be
able to get laser light through your flesh.
They loaded me onto a stretcher of some kind of very transparent
plastic which stretched to fit my form although, oddly enough, it
did not get hot and sticky.
I remember the next few days almost as a dream. Although I was
perfectly conscious most of the time complete helplessness gave
the experience an unreal quality.
They washed me and the doctor did a tracheotomy and inserted a
tube into my windpipe. He then gave me a powerful muscle
relaxant.
>From that time on I was able to move only my eye and a machine
did my breathing for me. I remember spending a long time in some
kind of multi-mode body scanner. Then hours on a clear plastic
table about which lasers rotated on gimbals sending pulses of
light into my flesh to activate the drugs I was being given.
I remember the Doctor operating on my brain. First through the
roof of my mouth and later through the left side of my head. As
he did this I had a series of powerful sensations. An instant of
pure joy. A moment horrible indescribable suffering. A tremendous
burst of sexual arousal, of hunger.
At one point I could hear the doctor talking to his assistants
and it didn't make sense to me at all, not like hearing a foreign
language but as alien as whale song. Throughout the whole period,
when they must move me they handled me with exaggerated care, as
if I were as fragile as an eggshell.
I think that may have been the case. Perhaps my skeleton was
largely decalcified.
During those three long days I really expected to die. The
thought of death was positively attractive. I clung to my memory
of the girl-creature. She had survived this, so could I. I must
have slept part of the time though there were no clear divisions
between sleep and waking.
My mistress came and comforted me several times and, though I
could show her nothing of my gratitude, her visits were the one
thing I looked forward when I could no longer believe that this
operation would ever be finished.
The first sign that it was coming to an end was that they became
more casual about handling me. Then I thoughtlessly moved a leg
and it responded. Shortly after that I started fighting the
ventilator and they removed it, sewing up the hole in my throat.
At last they carried me out of the labs into the open air at the
back, depositing me unceremoniously onto straw bedding in a pen
in one of the outbuildings. There, blessedly, they left me in
peace.
I lay there exactly where I had been dumped for a considerable
period of time, rejoicing in the feeling of strength seeping back
into my body. Then I began to pay attention to the demands of my
sadly empty stomach which said firmly that while intravenous
feeding might be all very well for me stomachs required less
rarified sustenance.
So, with a certain amount of trial and error, I got my legs under
me and explored my little world finding a bite drinker and some
pellets in a trough which I assumed were food. I was careful
about eating with my rearranged mouth, fearful of biting my
tongue. It was a strange sensation. I could feel my long tongue
emerge from the side of my mouth and touch the short fur on my
cheek.
When I had got a few mouthfuls down I decided to examine those
parts of my body I could see. which was not all that much of it.
I had the beginnings of a fur coat again though it was no more
than stubble as yet. My legs where narrower that I had expected,
much narrower than when they had been arms. To my surprise
turning as far as I could I caught a glimpse of a tail which
seemed to be moving independently of my will.
I wondered how they had solved the nerve supply problem perhaps
it really did have a will of its own. I began to walk around the
pen, gradually reaching an understanding with my new legs. As I
moved about, trying out various maneuvers I wondered about
speech.
I was tempted to try in spite of being forbidden to speak without
being at least implicitly told to. But did it count if there
wasn't anyone to hear?
This seemed too much like mere sophistry so I didn't try. I
wasn't sure if I wanted to know anyway.
When my lady and the doctor arrived I had just reached the point
where I was wishing the pen was larger so that I could try
running. She jumped over the railing and knelt, taking my head in
her hand and scratching my ears.
"Oh, It so good to see you on your feet. You'll look terrific
when your fur grows out again."
To my own surprise I found I was purring. It was quite
involuntary and, in fact, my intention to stop had no effect on
it.
Behind her the doctor said "There's no reason why you can't take
him away with you if you like. Here."
He held out a small black box to her, like an old fashioned T.V.
remote control. She took it and examined it closely. Then she
made an adjustment and turning back to me asked me how I felt.
"I feel..." I stopped in confusion.
My voice sounded odd, the way it does in a recording. Then I
realized it was coming from the box, not from my mouth.
"I still feel a little weak but relieved that it's all over. Or I
think it's over."
To add to my confusion when I had thought I had finished speaking
my voice continued to come from the box. It started to repeat
"I'm relieved that it's all.... "
Then I realized what was happening
"My God, it's my head-voice, my stream of consciousness." I
thought.
And, monotonously, the box spoke the thought aloud. It rambled on
like an echo of my internal thoughts, incoherent, repetitive. It
made me aware just how nonsensical most of what goes on in our
heads at the sub-vocal level is.
She laughed and switched it off.
"Well nobody can talk coherently with a snout like yours. So this
box takes signals from Brocca's area of your brain and simulates
your old vocal apparatus... when it's switched on of course."
"It seems to work not just on what you want to say but on
anything that reaches the sub-vocal level so from now on you'll
have to learn to keep your thoughts pure. Since it's got a range
of several hundred yards you won't always know when I'm
listening."
"The box has other functions too... the radio link is two way...
but you'll find out what these little buttons do as the occasion
arises. Suffice it to say that this little box plus the collar
you are wearing and a little device in your head give me more
control over you than I've ever had."
And I'd thought I'd had my quota of shocks for the week. Actually
I quite liked the idea of the voice synthesizer in the box though
the idea she could listen in on my thoughts was very frightening.
But what were these other functions? More surprises to come.
My lady put the box in her purse and took out my leash. Come on
then pet, let's go back to the hotel."
As she led me out of the pen she suddenly kissed the doctor on
the cheek. "Thank you doc, you're a true artist."
I was, to be honest, nervous about appearing in public but of
course my reluctance had no effect on events. At first I had no
attention to spare for onlookers anyway, getting the pace of
walking to heel and learning to manage steps and other obstacles.
Once my ill-placed forepaw slipped of the edge of a step and as I
stumbled the leash jerked tight. An instant of that indescribable
suffering I had experienced under the knife occurred and a yelp
escaped me.
Even immediately afterwards I could remember nothing of the
sensation, only the horror of it, only the knowledge that I'd do
almost anything rather than experience it again.
I was more careful of the leash from then on. I finally worked
out that the collar must have punished me for pulling too hard.
If so that probably meant that one of the buttons on that
innocent looking box could produce the same effect.
After a few moments I had recovered my equanimity and was
sufficiently confident to look around a little. People were
indeed looking at us. Their expressions suggested a range from
horrified fascination to aesthetic pleasure or even amusement.
I thought of what effect such stares might have on my lady. I
have no social status so it doesn't matter for myself but for my
lady it is quite another matter.
I tried to walk with more pride, keeping my eyes forward and more
of a spring in my step.
When we reached the hotel the first thing my lady did was to give
me my first real look at myself in the mirror.
My first impression was not too good. The girl-creature had given
an overall feline impression. But my pink skin showing through
the stubble of my fur gave, at best, a porcupine look.
Those hairless cats that some people dote on have always made me
shudder.
I told myself firmly that that condition would soon pass and
tried to look at my shape rather than coloring. I was confused at
first by the apparent smallness of my head.
Then I realized the artistry with which the shape of my torso and
the subtle stripe pattern emerging in my fur had been designed to
fool the eye in this regard. The result was that my human
cranium, which would have appeared grotesque on a normal animal's
body appeared only a little to large.
My snout was longer than that of the girl, perhaps five inches in
all with nostril slits about two thirds of the way to the tip. My
canines were only slightly pronounced and the sides of my mouth
extended only perhaps an inch and a half backward.
I had short pointed ears. It was more the face of a goat than
that of any sort of carnivore and, in fact, where the girl had
given the overall impression of potential fierceness my own body
seemed that of an inoffensive grazing animal.
On such a body hooves would have seemed more natural than the
small paws I actually possessed. My tail was quite short and
heavy, only just reaching the ground.
What was fascinating and disturbing is that I had no direct
control over its movements. It hardly seemed a part of me at all
and yet it's movements fitted in with those of the rest of my
body.
As I had walked I had felt it moving to help my balance. When I
sat down it moved out of the way. It seemed, literally, to have a
mind of its own. A mind that was aware of the movements of the
rest of my body.
My coat, such as it was, was mostly tawny but with white
markings: broad strokes for the most part but narrowed stripes
near the neck and on the haunches. There was a black diamond
shape just above my eyes and over the crown of my head.
Around my neck was a leather collar with a simple buckle, an
ordinary dog collar except for a shallow plastic box attached
under the chin. The identity disc from my old collar had been
attached to the D ring.
While human it had been proper for me to wear a metal collar with
a good quality lock in deference to my dexterity. Now an ordinary
buckle was more that adequate.
Trying to be objective I felt that, once my fur had reached a
respectable length I would look quite a handsome beast,
unfamiliar perhaps but not unnatural.
Having given me sufficient time to take this all in my lady
stroked my head and said. "Well, pet, our relationship has
certainly entered another new level of intensity. At home there
was some unreality about your dependence on me. Coming here
reduced that unreality but on what we both knew was a temporary
basis since we are only here for a couple of weeks and I have my
job to go back to. Now though your dependence is completely real
and permanent. You really are an animal now. You will never be a
person again. It feels right. I know we were both ready."
I nodded enthusiastically. I had been apprehensive but now the
change was done it did indeed feel right. My humanity was like a
burden that I had finally found a way to put down.
Over the last few years the pet role, starting as a game, had
become who I really was. The person role I had played at work had
become a hollow pretense.
I hoped and believed that I would never have to play that role
again. At the same time I had seen her make the transition from
the girlfriend role to the owner role, gradually accepting the
responsibilities and decisions that society said should be mine.
The change in me had been, perhaps, more profound because I was
now and wanted to be nothing more than her pet whereas she was,
and always would be, much more than my owner.
She had a career and friends. She might eventually marry. Yet I
did not doubt, even in my darkest moments, that "my owner" would
always be a part of what she was.
She put me out in the kennel for a while giving me a chance to
discover that this was a far more comfortable body to lie about
in than it had been.
With no awkward feet, my legs tucked neatly away under me and my
chin lay along the ground without strain. It didn't seem too long
before she emerged.
"Well that's that sorted. Now lets go walkies. I feel like a
little shopping and then the beach."
For the first time I felt a cringing inside as she fastened my
leash, thinking about that awful punishment the collar had given
me before. Usually I find the snap of the S-hook a comforting
sound and I resented the way this little pleasure seemed to have
been spoiled for me.
We went down to the main shopping street, she browsing the
window, me carefully watching to comply with sudden stops and
starts.
She spent several moments outside what I realized was a pet shop
and we went in. She went over to a display of muzzles and tried
several of them on me until she found one that was a snug and
secure fit. She bought is and also a rubber bone (though only a
human would have the imagination to find a resemblance)!
She seemed, for a moment, in two minds as to whether I was to
wear the muzzle or carry the toy. But, to my pleasure, She
finally stuck the muzzle in her bag and gave me the toy.
As we left the shop she said, "The good doctor said that you
should practice with your mouth so I want you to carry that about
and chew on it for the next few days."
The next shop she entered was a dress shop and this time I had to
be tied up outside. Actually when it comes to dress shops I find
this preferable and it gave me some time to practice chewing.
I was careful and bit my tongue only once, and lightly. I thought
my new mouth was going to be the hardest part of my altered
anatomy to learn how to deal with.
She emerged with a large bundle and we went back to the hotel to
stash the plunder and then down to the beach where, for the first
time, I was allowed to run free.
Well I ran. I was clumsy and had several falls but I was
encouraged by slow but progressive improvement.
We played fetch with the bone and when I brought it back she'd
roll me over and tickle me. A simple but enjoyable way to pass
the time which became a pattern for much of the remainder of our
stay on the island.
That evening, rather carefully we made love. When we'd had our
first orgasm and I tried to withdraw we discovered that the
doctor had left us a little surprise.
Trying to withdraw hurt. I couldn't do it. We were tied like a
pair of dogs until my erection subsided, which it seemed in no
hurry to do.
Instead I felt the build up to another orgasm start almost at
once. I had three before my testicles finally admitted to
exhaustion and we could separate.
We were both gasping like stranded fish.
"That man has quite a sense of humor." She said at last. "I
wonder what other little surprises we have in store. He did say
that he'd taken steps to make you the world's best sex-toy, for
the use of woman or man but he wouldn't go into details."
I think that's plenty for tonight. I need a shower. Out you go."
The rest of that holiday was, for me at least, almost idyllic.
Like most pets the one thing I can never get enough of is my
owner's attention and in those weeks I had most of it.
Although I didn't notice anything strange at first my pleasure
every time I pleased her in some small way, when she petted me or
paid me some small complement was greater than ever before, as
was the anguish at letting her down in any way or the mildest
rebuke.
My pleasure at the snap of the leash returned even though I
continued to treat it with great respect.
It was nearly a week before I noticed that her left hand was
always in a pocket during these incidents. She was using the
control box to induce pleasure or suffering directly into my
brain!
I felt briefly outraged, violated but it didn't last long. She
was entitled to train me in any way she saw fit. If I had somehow
got power myself over that box it would doubtless have destroyed
me very quickly but used as she was using it made our wills more
perfectly one.
She seldom switched on the speech function of the box, at least
where I could hear. Whenever she was out of sight I would wonder
if she was listening to my thoughts.
I kept wondering what she would think of what I was thinking. It
encouraged me to meditate. To keep, as she had said, my mind
pure.
All too soon, though, it was time to leave. My mistress had
responsibilities to attend to, a living to make.
As we boarded the hydrofoil my mind turned from regret for the
end of the holiday to worry. There was no problem on the
hydrofoil, of course but how would we manage on the planes? I
could no longer pretend to be a person as I had on the outbound
journey.
On the boat my lady gave me about twice my usual ration of food
pellets and, even though it was much earlier than my usual
mealtime, made me eat most of it, so that I felt unpleasantly
bloated. She also had me drink my fill, warning me that I wasn't
going to get stewardess service on the plane.
As the boat pulled into its moorings she muzzled me. There was no
real fuss, for a wonder, at Seychelles customs, perhaps because
they new we were just in transit.
On the other side among the people waiting was a man holding up a
card with my mistresses name. He led us to a van emblazoned with
Hamilton's Pet Supplies and though I wasn't too pleased to see
what was in the back I can't claim to be surprised.
It was a sky kennel a lightweight but solid plastic crate with a
mesh door at one end, mesh covered ventilation slots and fittings
for handling by fork lifts.
I suppose it was the largest size the airline allowed but it
looked awfully small to me. And a moment later so it proved. It
was neither quite long enough for me to lie straight, tall enough
for me to stand fully upright or wide enough for me to curl up as
I'd recently discovered I could do.
I was forced to lie with my backside pressing against the back of
the box and my muzzled nose jammed against the mesh. This wasn't
going to be a very pleasant flight.
The man from Hamilton's drove us to the airport and, with the
help of a ramp and a porter, unloaded my crate onto the pavement
in front of the terminal. My lady paid him and went inside
leaving me feeling very lonely and vulnerable.
A number of people
I sat at my mistress' feet and watched the news segment with
growing fascination and arousal. Since I had been told to watch
the screen I didn't turn to look at her but felt her eyes on me,
not on the segment, which she must already have seen.
I was sure that she would be aware, at least, of my sexual
arousal. Indeed given that, as usual when we were private, I was
naked apart from my collar she could hardly have missed it.
Not that that embarrassed me any more. I long ago gave up my
right to hide anything from her.
When it was over I turned over onto my knees and waited.
"I was thinking we might visit the place, you and I." She said.
"Would that please you?"
I did not answer immediately.
One of her rules is that I must never speak without pausing for
thought. And indeed thought was needed to sort out my
contradictory feelings.
"It pleases me to obey." I began at last. "And what would happen
to me there might please me. It frightens me and excites me. I
find the things that are supposed to be done to slaves there
erotic in fantasy."
How I would face the reality I can't say. I would try to be
obedient to your will. I always will whatever happens. Johan's'
Island, the news segment had informed us, had been a typical
Pacific volcanic island.
Until '98 it was believed to be a French dependency but, in that
year, an examination of historical documents showed that the
French claim of sovereignty was invalid.
Ordinarily this minor fact would have been glossed over. However,
the Chief Barmat, the hereditary leader of the remaining native
population had the benefit of a combined honors degree in law and
business studies from an English redbrick university and he knew
an opportunity when he saw one.
He approached Biotechniques, already a world player in bio-
technology and soon did a deal that gave him the resources to
fight a case through the international courts. Soon Johan's
Island was an independent monarchy with its own constitution and
it's own laws.
Laws, It hardly needs to be said, peculiarly liberal in the area
of biological research.
When, in 2003 the Barmat research institute produced the first
effective anti-argathic the proportion of the resulting huge
profits that went into the island's coffers was a tribute to the
king's negotiating abilities. Barmat appears to be a complex and
often devious man but rather indifferent to the conventional
trappings of wealth.
With the wealth now at his disposal he turned Johan's Island into
what is probably the most technologically advanced community in
the world today.
He showed a knack for attracting pilot projects.
The island has the world's first 10 megawatt ocean thermal power
station, for example, and the associated aquaculture makes the
island a net exporter of foodstuffs. And yet the internal
combustion engine is illegal and powered vehicles of any sort are
available only for the emergency services and industrial use.
Now all this would bring the applause of the majority of
westerners, perhaps modified only by envy. Yet the history of the
Kingdom has been a continual struggle for survival.
Why? Because Barmat seems to have acquired , perhaps in his
student days, some very unconventional ideas about what should go
into a constitution. Above all because Johan's Island is now the
only country in the world where chattel slavery is recognized as
a legal institution.
Now in my own mind I am my lady's property and she may do with me
what she will. I willingly gave her that right three years before
this time.
Yet, of course, the laws of this country do not recognize such a
bond and always, at the back of our minds, is the knowledge that
if I ever wished to take back that right then the law would be
behind that decision and only my honor would prevent it.
On Johan's Island it would be very different. If we went their as
mistress and slave the law of the island would recognize that
relationship. She could kill me there and there would be no
repercussions either there or when she returned.
That was both the attraction and the source of fear. The last
element of unreality would go out of the roles we play.
This would happen too in a place where bio-technology was on the
leading edge and unrestrained by either law or, apparently, much
by ethics. A place where human beings, if rumor was correct, were
used as lab animals.
Human beings but not people. Human beings like me.
My lady did not mention the Island again to me until we were on
our way.
Two months after our viewing the film she suddenly ordered me to
hand in my notice at work. Four weeks later I looked into her
bedroom and saw her packing her clothes.
Disturbingly she ignored cupboard where my modest store of
clothing was kept was still locked.
I wondered if she were going to leave me here. It always alarms
me when she goes away and I have to fend for myself. It's
something I'm no longer used to.
Half and hour later she had me carry the suitcases downstairs.
She followed me and, much to my relief, I saw she had some
clothing for me. A pair of jeans and a thick sweatshirt. No
underwear.
She then produced the key to my collar and had me kneel while she
removed it, slipping it into a side pocket on one of the large
suitcases. That probably meant we were going to fly because the
collar causes such an embarrassing nuisance with airport metal-
detectors.
She had me dress although I hated wearing clothing around her.
She never seems to look at me when I am dressed.
I wore clothing at work, of course, without a qualm but in her
world it seems unclean and the nakedness of my neck compounded my
discomfort.
The way we act together in public often causes confusion and
embarrassment to third parties and I could see that the
stewardess on the first leg of the flight was taken aback at my
refusal to eat until my mistress had finished. On the second leg
though, as we flew to the Sachels when the same thing happened
I'm sure the stewardess, after a double take, knew just what was
going on because she gave me that poor crazy look that my collar
often attracts in parts of the world where such things are not so
uncommon.
My lady had not told me our destination but even before I saw the
destination of the second flight I could think of only one place.
We took a taxi from the airport, mostly for the benefit of the
three suitcases I think.
After telling the driver to take us to pier four she took out my
collar and locked it onto my neck I saw the driver looking at
this little ceremony in the rear-view mirror with a knowing grin.
As a result he had a near miss with a bicycle and cursed in what
sounded like Arabic.
Waiting at pier four was one of the most beautiful ships I have
seen. A large hydrofoil of the very latest design. There were no
formalities.
My lady just waved the smart card with our travel documents over
the sensor and we walked through an electric gate onto the
covered gangplank. At the other end we were confronted by a large
video screen which displayed a notice.
In six languages it said:
Important Notice
It is important that you study the laws of Johan's Island before
arrival. Laws on the island differ extensively from what you may
be used to. Failure to be aware of these laws may cause you
inconvenience or even danger. In particular note that it is
illegal for a slave of either gender to wear clothing that
obscures either genitals or anus. If you are importing a slave
you are required to see that this law is complied with before
docking. You should also note that it is a misdemeanor for a
slave to speak without being directly ordered to do so. Either of
these misdemeanors may result in a spot fine for the owner.
Having read this rather startling pronouncement we turned left
into a large cabin with seating. I noticed immediately that there
were many obvious slaves in here. Some naked. Some wearing
various bondage paraphernalia, many on leashes.
"Take off your clothes." My lady ordered, "and put them in the
small case."
Despite the numbers of my own kind present it was disconcerting
to undress in so crowded and public a place but of course I
obeyed.
She then found an empty seat and, sitting down had me curl up on
the floor in front of her. Each chair had a small screen and
keyboard in one arm and she began to use it, paying me absolutely
no attention for the time being.
I have always found it difficult being around other submissives
so I was rather glad of the no talking rule. As I lay there
trying to get comfortable I looked around and, between the legs
of the seats, could see many slaves in the same general position
as myself. Most of them looked nervous or even frightened and, I
suspect, would have wanted to converse with one another and me if
it were allowed.
After a brief scrutiny I decided to ignore them. They were none
of my business.
After about twenty minutes my mistress got up and told me to
heel. I obediently got up onto all fours and crawled after her on
hands and toes.
We descended some stairs and went through a narrow door being met
suddenly by a pungent smell of excrement, evidently confined to
the corridor beyond by clever ventilation. The corridor had cages
on both sides and was dark until we entered at which point some
sensor switched on red lights.
The cages were various shapes. The first few were full height
those on the left being about six feet deep, on the right perhaps
only two feet.
Further on there were two rows, one above the other. I saw that
there was a simple mechanism of the doors with a key and a money
slot.
My lady opened one of the bottom cages and told me to back in.
Then she closed the gate and I heard her work the mechanism.
Great! I was left luggage. I found myself in a narrow box about
three foot square by six deep . There was sawdust on the floor
with a few dry turds in it. Projecting from the right side near
the door was a large rubber teat like a penis complete with a
small hole.
"I'm going to get myself something to eat." My mistress told me.
"I'll fetch you something later."
She walked away without a backward glance, putting the key in her
bag and as the door closed behind her total darkness descended.
Once I got accustomed to the stench (didn't they clean these
cages out between trips? I visualized skeletons of forgotten
passengers lying unnoticed in cages at the back)
I was actually more comfortable in the cage that I had been lying
on the lounge carpet. Here I felt free to fidget to my heart's
content. I've always liked being caged or chained up anyway. It
takes away a whole galaxy of temptations and responsibilities.
I soon fell into the pleasant thoughtless mental state I usually
achieve under such circumstances. I believe that I become
mentally more like an animal than a human in this state. I've
always envied animals what I imagine is their habitual inner
silence.
We pay I high price, I often think, for the admittedly great
benefits of a verbal mind. My lady returned some indeterminable
time later. She fed me a packet of some kind of sharp tasting
snack pushing the flakes between the bars were I would take them
with my mouth. We made a game of it and she laughed but she
didn't stay long, put off perhaps by the outhouse stench of the
place.
After she left I sucked water from the teat and lay back down,
fairly content. For a while my head was full of worries about
what lay ahead but I finally managed to put them aside. I think I
slept then for some hours waking only briefly to piss in the
straw.
I think it was the commotion of owners come to collect their
property that finally woke me properly. I heard a girl greet her
master and the sound of a blow as he reminded her that talking
was forbidden.
I waited eagerly for my own mistress to come.
She was last, I think. That's her way in such things. Why hurry
only to queue further along the line?
She opened the door and as I stuck my head out grinning she
snapped a leash onto my collar.
"Wouldn't want us to get separated in the crush." She said,
tugging me out.
Initially I tried to heel properly at her side on all fours but
as we went up on deck it became impractical in the crowd and she
ordered me to stand upright.
The people, the ones with clothes, tried to avoid contact with my
somewhat dirty self as a result of which I was physically more
comfortable than most of them were.
As we emerged into the open the bright sun struck my naked body
and I thought, for the first time, about the problem of sunburn
and perhaps sunstroke. I had never been particularly well adapted
to outdoor nudity.
We descended the gangplank among the last to do so with her
luggage on a trolley. Inside the terminal we headed immediately
for a channel marked Slaves and Owners. We entered a side booth
and an officious looking woman told my lady to have me kneel and
read some words from a small notice aloud.
I read:
I acknowledge myself an animal with no human rights and the
proper property of [state your owner's full name here].
To say these words aloud gave me great satisfaction as well, I
may say, as a hard-on.
When I had spoken the woman produced a plastic gun with an
alarmingly thick needle projecting from it together with a small
sterile package and another device with a loop sticking out of
it. She walked behind me and I resolutely kept my eyes on my
mistress.
There was a cold wet feel on my left buttock and I braced myself.
The needle hurt like blazes but it was only there for a moment
and I managed to keep silent.
The official spoke to my lady and gave her a form to sign. "All
animals on the island over five kilograms in weight are required
to be tagged and registered with the international animals
registry." she said. "The transponder contains a permanent
official identification code. It is illegal to remove it while
you are on the island. When you sign this you take responsibility
for your animal. If you sell it the onus is on you to see to it
that the new owner registers their ownership officially or you
remain responsible."
"If it dies that too must be notified. We recommend you keep its
entry up to date even if the change of status occurs outside our
territory, that way if your animal is brought back here
everything will be up to date. Should you leave and return then
the transponder will be detected in the lobby and you will be
passed through without formalities."
"Once a human has formally renounced his or her personhood as
your slave just did it can never again be considered a person
under our laws. Enjoy your stay."
A moment later we were out in the late morning sunshine.
I felt curiously elated, despite the ache in my buttock. . Here,
at last, we could walk in the open with the nature of our
relationship plain for all to see and there would be no confused
or pitying looks. No explanations. I laughed aloud with delight,
hoping that this was not illegal.
Although she told me to hush she too was smiling broadly. I think
we both felt as if we had come home.
On the island people walk for the most part but there are always
people with heavy luggage at the port and we were quickly
approached by a small cart pulled by a rather overweight donkey
in a straw hat.
I put the suitcases in the back and walked alongside as the
driver nudged his beast into motion.
My lady had taken the leash off since it was too short to be
conveniently used under these circumstances. It was not far,
nowhere on the island is very far really and the ground, mostly
mud and grass, was forgiving to my bare feet.
The hotel was a little surprising. I'd been expecting the kind of
stateless concrete block that spring up at tourist centers like
pallid fungi in the night but, except for the lack of cars, this
was more like a rustic American motel with low wooden buildings
and individual cabins. In front of each cabin was a large wooden
kennel of the classic sort.
As we entered I saw two that were occupied by slaves and one by a
large dog, in each case tethered by a chromed chain. Obviously
the hotels around here would all have the "Pets Welcome" sign
out. I wondered if the kennels would get too uncomfortably hot in
the sun.
My lady checked in while I fraternized with the donkey whom I
found to be true to type, grudging of any display of positive
emotion though he seemed very well cared for. I generally get on
well with animals, perhaps because I have little of the
conviction of innate superiority normal in humans.
When she emerged with the key card we soon found her cabin. When
she entered I thought about it and decided I shouldn't enter
without orders because I was too dirty so I sat on the doorstep
and whined to attract her attention. She noticed after a moment
and looked at me for a moment.
"You are right. You are in no fit state for a civilized room. Get
into the kennel and we'll clean you up later."
As I scrambled to comply she came back outside and examined the
tether. One end was welded to a ring set in the ground on the
other was a small padlock which responded to the key card. There
was about eight feet of chain but she chose to lock it to my
collar about half way along.
It wasn't that she thought I would run away or anything like
that. She just knows what I like.
She filled a water bowl from me from a tap on the side of the
building. For someone used to lying on flat surfaces the kennel,
whose floor was covered in clean sawdust, was quite comfortable
and it was good to get out of the sun.
Already I could feel the first skin tightness that heralded
sunburn. I hoped my lady would notice or think of it soon.
Sometimes she would order me to tell her of the things that were
on my mind. Perhaps she would do that in the evening.
Some time passed. I suppose she settled in, unpacked and showered
because when she emerged holding my leash, there was a clean
smell and a floral scent to her. But when I emerged from the
kennel at her call she was suddenly dismayed.
"Oh, poor pet. You're quite pink. I'm sorry. I should have
thought of that. Stay out of the sunlight and I'll find something
for you."
Leaving me tethered she walked of rapidly towards the entrance. I
sighed with relief and crawled back into the welcome cool. The
way my skin was feeling a long exploration of the town in the
afternoon sun would have been disastrous.
I can't measure time under such circumstances but it seemed to be
quite a long wait. Part of the time I dozed, still jet lagged.
Occasionally there was interesting activity in the courtyard. At
one point there were the unmistakable sounds of one of my fellows
being beaten making me wince in the sympathy of one who has
earned a beating or two himself.
Eventually the light of my life returned with a paper bag in one
hand and a small box in the other which she was reading from.
When she reached me she put the box back in the bag and unlocking
my tether put me on the leash.
We went to the main building where there was an outside tap with
a hose. She tied the leash to a pipe and proceeded to give me a
thorough wash, the cold was instant balm to my hot skin.
Although I soon started to shiver I wriggled in the stream,
thoroughly enjoying my wash. Now for the first time she allowed
me into her room, a nice enough if compact bedroom. She took a
tightly folded sheet of some mat plastic from the bag and spread
it on the bed and patted it to indicate I should lie there.
Next she took a large red capsule from the box and put it into my
mouth, giving me a gulp of water to swallow it with. The next
things to emerge from the mysterious box were some film gloves
and a tube of cream.
I expected this cream to soothe my skin but when she started to
apply it, it stung like fire so that I could barely choke back a
cry. I fought an instinctive urge to get away from the hellish
stuff and accepted her ministrations. I didn't know if she
realized that the stuff hurt but it was not my place to tell her.
After a moment I was startled to see that it was leaving a blue
stain on my skin. I have faith. She often hurts me but she has
never truly harmed me. The initial burning sensation did not last
long, thank God, though when she did my testicles a whimper
escaped me. She was careful to cover almost my whole body
excepting parts of my face and the balls of my feet. The blue
effect was extremely startling, rather as I believe woad must
have looked.
Eventually she took off the gloves, being very careful not to get
the stuff on her own skin, and flushed them down the toilet. She
then stood back and watched as the blue color slowly faded, which
took perhaps twenty minutes.
Then she reached into the bag again and produced a second tube,
this one of ordinary sun lotion which she applied almost as
thoroughly though with less care. This operation was bliss and it
took away the last of the stinging.
"There." She said. "The sun block solves the problem in the short
term. The other should solve it in the long term. Now we can go
walkies."
I went on all fours at first. In the past most of my walking on
the leas h has been done indoors at home and occasionally at
parties and it has always seemed appropriate. Here though we were
going farther than I ever had on hands and toes and, despite my
practice, it soon became painful and then unsustainable.
My lady saw that I could not keep it up and told me to stand up
which I did to the protest of my leg muscles. It was a fairly
short excursion. I think that she too was more than a little jet-
lagged.
As we returned to the hotel she said. "Isn't it great to be able
to do that and not even get funny looks, let alone arrested?"
I agreed wholeheartedly. Despite the pain I had enjoyed our walk.
She put me back in my kennel and said she was going to stretch
out on the bed for a while. Some time later she went out past me
without speaking to me, presumably in search of dinner.
When she came back she gave me some scraps and then filled a bowl
with some kind of pelleted pet food which was bland but not too
bad. She also gave me another of those red capsules.
Though she didn't stay to watch I ate, as usual, without using my
hands. Afterwards I thought I should settle down for the night
but a while later she came out and fetched me into the cabin.
There she made love to me. You want details? Use your
imagination. I'm here to bare my murky soul to your gaze, not
hers.
About an hour later she put me back in the kennel before finally
turning in.
She makes love to me fairly often but I never get to sleep with
her. She is right in that. It would be blasphemy for me to see
her vulnerable in sleep.
I woke myself, scratching before the sun was up. I itched all
over so that I began to wonder if I had fleas (it wouldn't have
been the first time). My skin seemed strangely slick.
Then I remembered yesterday's sunburn and was less worried,
though no less uncomfortable. As dawn approached the itching
mounted to an intolerable crescendo then gradually receded.
In the first light of dawn I examined my skin and did an
authentic double take. Then I felt the parts I cannot see without
a mirror. Suddenly I burst out into laughter, hastily stifled as
I remembered my lady would still be asleep.
Here was the long term solution to my sensitive skin all right. I
was covered in soft tawny fur, still short but dense enough to
promise complete protection.
When my lady appeared much later I stroked my arm and tried to
put into my expression the thanks I was forbidden to put into
words. She unlocked the tether and gestured to the open door.
"There's a big mirror in the bathroom." She mentioned.
I was in there like a shot. She came up behind me as I was
admiring the effect.
The fur was not one color but shaded from a dark brown on my
spine to a lighter fawn on my chest. I felt it looked best when I
was on all fours.
Unexpectedly she stroked me, running her hand down the length of
my spine. It was an entirely new and delightful sensation and it
made me arch my back to get the best contact.
Even my penis was covered in short fur.
I hoped that it would bring her extra pleasure next time we made
love.
"I understand that in this climate it will grow to be about an
inch." She told me. "It's length will change gradually to suit
the temperature you are living in. The effect can be reversed but
I don't think I'll ever want to d o that. Do you like it? I love
it."
"Thank you my lady. It's a wonderful surprise."
"I'm very pleased with it too. I wasn't sure how it was going to
look but I like the way it came out. It makes you even more
completely my pet. I wonder what else they can do here in that
way. Perhaps they can give you a tail. What do you think about
that?"
"I doubt if that's possible, mistress, I don't see how they could
get a nerve supply. Having been born without a tail I won't have
the necessary circuits in my brain."
I hesitated a moment over the other aspect of the question, if it
were possible how would I feel about having one.
"If it were possible it seems to me that it would make me of less
practical use to you because it would be hard for me to get a job
like that. That would sadden me. I like you to have all the
things you want. But if it would please you to see me with a tail
more than you would miss those things then it pleases me. Perhaps
you could get the money back somehow exhibiting me at a carnival
or something. I think I might like that."
"To have people pay to see me in a cage. I don't think I'd like
that."
"That would be like sharing you with strangers. It doesn't
matter. I make a good living myself and I have lots of savings.
You're my pet and I love you. I don't keep you for practical
purposes."
What could I say to that? I turned and licked her hand and she
stroked me again.
Things developed rapidly from there. My speculations about the
effects of furry penises were resolved favorably although there
was as much giggling as gasping.
After a time we got up and went into town, me back on the leash
but this time not attempting all-fours.
The town was a curious mixture of the very mundane and the
extraordinary. There were perfectly normal shops. Clothing.
Groceries. Small cafes alongside brothels. There was a drug shop
advertising a special price on heroin alongside the toothpastes.
Looking at the ads, the books and so on there was none of that
specialness which, in our own society, separates sexual from
normal matters.
We came to a small cafe in front of which a Labrador was tied up
to a ring in the wall. My mistress tethered me to the same ring
and went inside for breakfast.
I sat with my back to the wall trying not to obstruct the
pavement. The dog sniffed me but would have none of my stroking.
Obviously a class conscious beast who would accept affection only
from his betters.
So, I sat and watched the passers by, none of whom gave me a
second glance despite my hirsute state. I soon saw why as several
creatures weirder by far than me went past, generally with their
owners.
One arrived that shook me to the core. She had, I think, been a
beautiful woman. Now she was a truly beautiful animal. She walked
as a true quadruped and possessed a pronounced snout. I could see
her paws were rather like those of a lion. They were quite broad
and furry although she had nails like a dog. They were definitely
paws.
Hands, however hairy, could never have moved like that.
Her chest too was of the deep shape typical of quadrupeds rather
than the broad flat affair of humans. Despite the snout her
facial expressions were remarkably human and readable, rather
like those of a cartoon animal but far more refined.
She was covered in black fur except for a broad white streak down
the spine. She did not, I noticed with some trace of muted of
satisfaction, have a tail.
Walking neatly to her master's heel she looked about her with
lively curiosity and the changeable expression on her face was
generally serene and sometimes amused. He held her loosely on a
chromed chain attached to a broad jeweled collar that glittered
against her black fur. She walked with all the unconscious grace
of a cat, her head held high at what should have been an
impossible angle to her trunk.
They passed quite close to where I sat, frozen in shock, and she
looked me full in the face and winked. Her unashamedly mammalian
scent reached my nostrils for a moment. I wanted to talk to her.
I wanted to run a mile. I wanted to stroke her. I wanted to look
away.
I could do none of these things.
The encounter left me stupefied by its implications. The
possibility of what had happened to her being done to me filled
my mind. It was at once terrifying and infinitely seductive. And
my mistress had not seen her!
I was torn between a desperate hope that she would never become
aware of such possibilities and the desire to rush into the cafe.
To call her out to see. To beg her to find for me the artist that
had given that creature her second birth.
I actually felt myself start to move and perhaps only the swing
of the leash which tethered me woke me to my own brand of sanity.
To do that would be deliberate disobedience. To untie the tether
she had tied was unthinkable.
I determined to put the internal debate aside. Such decisions
were not for me but for her, thank God.
I would tell her about the woman creature if she asked. I would
become such a creature myself if she wished it. I would neither
plead nor resist.
I try to live in the present like an animal. I guess that is the
main point of the life I chose.
I fought now to let the present take me back. But it's hold was
weak because I was haunted two ways.
>From the past by the sight and scent of the woman creature which
seemed to have burned its way indelibly into my mind and from the
future by the possibility of such transformation. I closed my
eyes and sought to focus the whole of my consciousness on the
breath moving in and out of my nostrils.
A few moments later a man emerged from the cafe and collected the
Labrador. To my surprise as he stooped to untie the dog's leash
he stroked me once.
I didn't know how to react to this but his attention was only
momentary. I had a flash of irritation but on reflection the
man's action had been kindly meant, not consciously
condescending.
He had stroked me in exactly the same spirit in which I had tried
to stroke the Labrador a momentary, meaningless exchange of
sensual pleasure. That kind of thing never really happened at
home.
Oh, when we went to parties and events within the scene someone
might pat me or pull on my collar but always as a self-conscious
challenge generally with their eyes on my mistress to see how she
would react.
In the future I would try to accept such actions in the spirit
they were offered. I have no right to react defensively to
unsolicited handling by strange people unless they go against my
owner's interests.
The meditation and the minor surprise had centered me when my
mistress reappeared but, although she said nothing, she looked at
me sharply. She is always sensitive to my mood and I think she
knew something had disturbed me. She had brought me a little
treat a section of a waffle with maple syrup on it and she
dropped it in front of me before bending to untie my leash.
As I worked it into my mouth I thought of the woman creature's
snout. How much easier it would be to eat from bowl or floor with
such a snout.
When people find out about the abnormal parts of my lifestyle
they often ask if eating scraps of the ground or the floor like
this doesn't cause stomach problems. Actually I've had far less
problems with my stomach since becoming a pet than in my feral
days. Modern pets get a regular and balanced diet, far better
than most people would chose for themselves.
As to germs well, I get my shots and regular exposure to low
levels of bacteria keeps my immune system in good shape. Too much
hygiene can weaken your defenses. As to why I pounce so gleefully
on such scraps, even though I'm not allowed to use my hands for
eating, the truth is I only get one real meal a day and I'm
almost always at least slightly hungry.
Most western people literally don't know what hunger is these
days. That's why there are so many cases of eating disorders. For
me hunger is a familiar companion which is as it should be. It
helps ground me in the present.
We spent almost an hour going around a shop with the most
complete collection of bondage and sado-masochist equipment I
have ever encountered. At home such stores are our delight but I
was still rather distracted and my lady too seemed to find it
hard to get interested although a selection of shock collars with
various kinds of triggers had her attention for a while.
We left rather suddenly and we went briefly back to the hotel to
pick up a towel and her swimming costume. Then we went down to
the beach where we spent most of what remained of the morning
larking about in the water.
She invented a game where she'd throw a stick into the breakers
for me to fetch. Of course I was expected to take it with my
mouth only and got several dunkings. Eventually we where both
fairly exhausted and she decided on more sedentary activity.
She made me roll in a small freshwater stream which ran down the
beach to get the salt out of my fur before it dried and she
spread out a blanket for sunbathing.
I found that sunbathing is not really for the fur covered but I
settled down at her feet and drowsed.
The warm sun was a powerful soporific. It was probably a little
after noon when I was roused by the sounds of galloping paws and
rhythmic breathing.
I looked up expecting some large dog to see my four legged
acquaintance of that morning in full flight. She flew in front of
me in an extended gallop which she made look effortless though
every muscle in her body must have been involved.
A little further along she spun to a stop and I saw a small black
object fall to meet her. She caught the ball on the first bounce.
Her athleticism was awesome. She made my own efforts at four
legged motion look like those of a beached walrus.
A moment later she was in flight again. This time heading
straight for me. Before I could get up off my side she had jumped
cleanly over me and was heading back to her master making two
sides of a shallow triangle.
I heard my mistress make a startled protest.
The girl creature reached her master and did a sit-up-and-beg
offering him the ball. But he was not pleased and flicked her
across the snout with the back of three fingers so the ball fell
to the ground. "Bad girl. You got sand on the lady's towel
showing off like that."
She put on an immediate display of contrition. Picking up the
ball and walking round behind him to his left where she stood at
heel with her head lowered Not though, it seemed to me, without a
furtive gleam remaining in her lowered eyes.
For the first time I was able to take a good look at the owner of
this remarkable pet as he approached us. He was a small man,
basically Caucasian with a hint of the oriental. He had a bushy
gray beard and appeared to be in his late middle age.
He had a friendly smile for my mistress, no more than a glance
for me.
"Madame, I apologize for the exuberance of my pet. Her contrition
will be more genuine when she learns that she is going to spend
the rest of our walk at heel."
My lady was sitting up now, one arm around her raised knees. "No
harm done. What a fine looking animal. May I handle her?"
The man agreed casually and my lady snapped her fingers for the
creature to approach.
Her handling was partly caressing, partly an anatomical
examination.
"May I ask where this work was done? It's not just idle
curiosity." She gestured in my direction, producing an instant
sinking feeling.
"The Selman Institute. A small company about half a mile out
along the greenway. You may have heard of Dr. Selman and his
reconstructive work. I don't know how he'd feel about doing this
kind of work for a visitor though. There might be legal
complications. Don't let him charge you too much though, I think
he'd have done this job for free, for the interest of it."
"Thank you, I shall certainly give him a call. Who knows?"
My lady now released the creature which, with a backwards glance
at her master came over to me.
I held still as she licked my face. I wanted to stroke her but
using my hands didn't seem proper or fair somehow and I didn't
have permission to speak (I wondered if she was capable of it). I
nuzzled her cheek and she broke my rather reverential mood by
nipping my ear.
Imagining what we must look like I got into the mood and
attempted to sniff her rear.
She swayed sideways nudging my side in a friendly way. And we
circled like a pair of dogs for a moment. I liked the way she
smelt and buried my nose for a moment in the fur of her flank.
My lady laughed and after a moment the man chuckled too.
"I think he's a prime candidate for conversion." He said. "It
should make him less clumsy, at least. I would think first,
though, about the legal problems you are likely to have at home.
By the way my name is Mark Thackery. You can tell Dr. Selman I
recommended you. Come on girl. Heel."
They left, the animal walking demurely at heel and we watched
them go in silence for a while.
"Was it something like that that shook you up this morning?" She
asked me at last.
I nodded.
"How do you feel about it?" I thought about an answer for a
moment. "I'm glad that the decision is yours mistress, if it were
mine I would not know how to choose."
She looked at me carefully for a moment, perhaps weighing my
response. "Well, we can at least explore the possibilities."
Dr. Selmar agreed to see us at five o'clock. He let us into the
building himself and we went straight into a small lab where I
was made to assume various positions inside a camera array,
allowing the computers to build up a three dimensional picture of
my shape.
The Dr. was a tall, gangling black with a thin face and a west
coast accent. As he worked the array he said to my mistress.
"I've thought long and hard about this and how any publicity will
affect me. I've decided the net benefit will be for the good. I
imagine if the world learns of my little hobby projects it will
think me a monster but, and this is the point, it will think me a
highly competent monster. So I've decided to offer to do this for
you at cost. Let's go into my office and discuss the
possibilities and then you can decide."
"I don't want him present while we have our talk. I try not to
burden him with the future," Mistress replied.
The doctor nodded and led us from the lab into another room which
smelled of rodents. There were many cages of different sizes most
of them containing laboratory mice, rats and rabbits but some
larger and a couple large enough for me.
"He seems frightened." said the doctor. "I could administer a
sedative. If you like he could sleep until it's all over one way
or the other."
"No. I'm not one of those people who believes in better living
through chemistry. Of course he's afraid. We're all afraid of
change but he's entitled to the full experience including, if
possible, the actual operation. I think you might be surprised
how tough he is mentally."
The doctor shrugged and they shut me in one of the primate cages,
turned down the lights and left.
Left to my own devices the first thing I did was to check that
the cage was secure. Don't misunderstand: If it hadn't been I
would not have left it anyway but I always settle more
comfortably once I have proved to myself that escape is not an
option.
I found I was shivering slightly with sheer physical fear so I
began to meditate. It's a simple enough trick but it works for
me.
If you can focus your awareness on the fear itself, instead of
the thing you are afraid of the fear fades.
Come on: Be an animal... The smells of straw and rodents are
real. The feel of the breath through your nostrils is real. The
throb of blood in your ears is real. The future is just fantasy.
It's a kind of mental judo. A force does harm only if resisted.
But if this was judo I was in the fight of my life.
Again and again the future would grab me by the neck and shake
me, my heart would race and I would find myself curling up into a
defensive ball, mentally and sometimes physically.
Then I would fight my way back to calmness. I realized that I was
hoping that my lady would chose to do this thing to me. Once done
I would not have to worry about it. If she decided against it, it
would always hang over me as a future possibility.
It seemed an eternity before they returned. The moment they
turned the lighting up I could see by my lady's face that the die
was cast. She was nervous and, I think, exhilarated. She studied
me, I think trying to fix my present appearance in her memory.
All she said was, "I'm going now You are to do everything the
Doctor or his people tell you. I mean to visit you each day until
you are ready to leave. Be good."
I put my fingertips through the mesh of the cage feeling the need
to hold onto something and thinking that I would not be able to
do this much longer and she briefly touched a finger with one of
her own. Then she left quickly and without turning back.
Not much more happened that evening except that the doctor gave
me an injection. I hope my lady slept better than I did.
Hunger was starting to take precedence over fear.
When the doctor and two assistants came to fetch me in the
morning, I found I was as limp as a dishrag so that they had to
drag me from my cage. I also saw that during the night all my
hair had fallen out. Not just my newly acquired fur coat but
every hair on my body.
That really upset me and I felt suddenly and ridiculously
tearful. It was my lady's gift and it had brought us both
pleasure.
The doctor saw my look. I'm sorry about your handsome fur coat.
He said kindly. But it's only for a few days and we have to be
able to get laser light through your flesh.
They loaded me onto a stretcher of some kind of very transparent
plastic which stretched to fit my form although, oddly enough, it
did not get hot and sticky.
I remember the next few days almost as a dream. Although I was
perfectly conscious most of the time complete helplessness gave
the experience an unreal quality.
They washed me and the doctor did a tracheotomy and inserted a
tube into my windpipe. He then gave me a powerful muscle
relaxant.
>From that time on I was able to move only my eye and a machine
did my breathing for me. I remember spending a long time in some
kind of multi-mode body scanner. Then hours on a clear plastic
table about which lasers rotated on gimbals sending pulses of
light into my flesh to activate the drugs I was being given.
I remember the Doctor operating on my brain. First through the
roof of my mouth and later through the left side of my head. As
he did this I had a series of powerful sensations. An instant of
pure joy. A moment horrible indescribable suffering. A tremendous
burst of sexual arousal, of hunger.
At one point I could hear the doctor talking to his assistants
and it didn't make sense to me at all, not like hearing a foreign
language but as alien as whale song. Throughout the whole period,
when they must move me they handled me with exaggerated care, as
if I were as fragile as an eggshell.
I think that may have been the case. Perhaps my skeleton was
largely decalcified.
During those three long days I really expected to die. The
thought of death was positively attractive. I clung to my memory
of the girl-creature. She had survived this, so could I. I must
have slept part of the time though there were no clear divisions
between sleep and waking.
My mistress came and comforted me several times and, though I
could show her nothing of my gratitude, her visits were the one
thing I looked forward when I could no longer believe that this
operation would ever be finished.
The first sign that it was coming to an end was that they became
more casual about handling me. Then I thoughtlessly moved a leg
and it responded. Shortly after that I started fighting the
ventilator and they removed it, sewing up the hole in my throat.
At last they carried me out of the labs into the open air at the
back, depositing me unceremoniously onto straw bedding in a pen
in one of the outbuildings. There, blessedly, they left me in
peace.
I lay there exactly where I had been dumped for a considerable
period of time, rejoicing in the feeling of strength seeping back
into my body. Then I began to pay attention to the demands of my
sadly empty stomach which said firmly that while intravenous
feeding might be all very well for me stomachs required less
rarified sustenance.
So, with a certain amount of trial and error, I got my legs under
me and explored my little world finding a bite drinker and some
pellets in a trough which I assumed were food. I was careful
about eating with my rearranged mouth, fearful of biting my
tongue. It was a strange sensation. I could feel my long tongue
emerge from the side of my mouth and touch the short fur on my
cheek.
When I had got a few mouthfuls down I decided to examine those
parts of my body I could see. which was not all that much of it.
I had the beginnings of a fur coat again though it was no more
than stubble as yet. My legs where narrower that I had expected,
much narrower than when they had been arms. To my surprise
turning as far as I could I caught a glimpse of a tail which
seemed to be moving independently of my will.
I wondered how they had solved the nerve supply problem perhaps
it really did have a will of its own. I began to walk around the
pen, gradually reaching an understanding with my new legs. As I
moved about, trying out various maneuvers I wondered about
speech.
I was tempted to try in spite of being forbidden to speak without
being at least implicitly told to. But did it count if there
wasn't anyone to hear?
This seemed too much like mere sophistry so I didn't try. I
wasn't sure if I wanted to know anyway.
When my lady and the doctor arrived I had just reached the point
where I was wishing the pen was larger so that I could try
running. She jumped over the railing and knelt, taking my head in
her hand and scratching my ears.
"Oh, It so good to see you on your feet. You'll look terrific
when your fur grows out again."
To my own surprise I found I was purring. It was quite
involuntary and, in fact, my intention to stop had no effect on
it.
Behind her the doctor said "There's no reason why you can't take
him away with you if you like. Here."
He held out a small black box to her, like an old fashioned T.V.
remote control. She took it and examined it closely. Then she
made an adjustment and turning back to me asked me how I felt.
"I feel..." I stopped in confusion.
My voice sounded odd, the way it does in a recording. Then I
realized it was coming from the box, not from my mouth.
"I still feel a little weak but relieved that it's all over. Or I
think it's over."
To add to my confusion when I had thought I had finished speaking
my voice continued to come from the box. It started to repeat
"I'm relieved that it's all.... "
Then I realized what was happening
"My God, it's my head-voice, my stream of consciousness." I
thought.
And, monotonously, the box spoke the thought aloud. It rambled on
like an echo of my internal thoughts, incoherent, repetitive. It
made me aware just how nonsensical most of what goes on in our
heads at the sub-vocal level is.
She laughed and switched it off.
"Well nobody can talk coherently with a snout like yours. So this
box takes signals from Brocca's area of your brain and simulates
your old vocal apparatus... when it's switched on of course."
"It seems to work not just on what you want to say but on
anything that reaches the sub-vocal level so from now on you'll
have to learn to keep your thoughts pure. Since it's got a range
of several hundred yards you won't always know when I'm
listening."
"The box has other functions too... the radio link is two way...
but you'll find out what these little buttons do as the occasion
arises. Suffice it to say that this little box plus the collar
you are wearing and a little device in your head give me more
control over you than I've ever had."
And I'd thought I'd had my quota of shocks for the week. Actually
I quite liked the idea of the voice synthesizer in the box though
the idea she could listen in on my thoughts was very frightening.
But what were these other functions? More surprises to come.
My lady put the box in her purse and took out my leash. Come on
then pet, let's go back to the hotel."
As she led me out of the pen she suddenly kissed the doctor on
the cheek. "Thank you doc, you're a true artist."
I was, to be honest, nervous about appearing in public but of
course my reluctance had no effect on events. At first I had no
attention to spare for onlookers anyway, getting the pace of
walking to heel and learning to manage steps and other obstacles.
Once my ill-placed forepaw slipped of the edge of a step and as I
stumbled the leash jerked tight. An instant of that indescribable
suffering I had experienced under the knife occurred and a yelp
escaped me.
Even immediately afterwards I could remember nothing of the
sensation, only the horror of it, only the knowledge that I'd do
almost anything rather than experience it again.
I was more careful of the leash from then on. I finally worked
out that the collar must have punished me for pulling too hard.
If so that probably meant that one of the buttons on that
innocent looking box could produce the same effect.
After a few moments I had recovered my equanimity and was
sufficiently confident to look around a little. People were
indeed looking at us. Their expressions suggested a range from
horrified fascination to aesthetic pleasure or even amusement.
I thought of what effect such stares might have on my lady. I
have no social status so it doesn't matter for myself but for my
lady it is quite another matter.
I tried to walk with more pride, keeping my eyes forward and more
of a spring in my step.
When we reached the hotel the first thing my lady did was to give
me my first real look at myself in the mirror.
My first impression was not too good. The girl-creature had given
an overall feline impression. But my pink skin showing through
the stubble of my fur gave, at best, a porcupine look.
Those hairless cats that some people dote on have always made me
shudder.
I told myself firmly that that condition would soon pass and
tried to look at my shape rather than coloring. I was confused at
first by the apparent smallness of my head.
Then I realized the artistry with which the shape of my torso and
the subtle stripe pattern emerging in my fur had been designed to
fool the eye in this regard. The result was that my human
cranium, which would have appeared grotesque on a normal animal's
body appeared only a little to large.
My snout was longer than that of the girl, perhaps five inches in
all with nostril slits about two thirds of the way to the tip. My
canines were only slightly pronounced and the sides of my mouth
extended only perhaps an inch and a half backward.
I had short pointed ears. It was more the face of a goat than
that of any sort of carnivore and, in fact, where the girl had
given the overall impression of potential fierceness my own body
seemed that of an inoffensive grazing animal.
On such a body hooves would have seemed more natural than the
small paws I actually possessed. My tail was quite short and
heavy, only just reaching the ground.
What was fascinating and disturbing is that I had no direct
control over its movements. It hardly seemed a part of me at all
and yet it's movements fitted in with those of the rest of my
body.
As I had walked I had felt it moving to help my balance. When I
sat down it moved out of the way. It seemed, literally, to have a
mind of its own. A mind that was aware of the movements of the
rest of my body.
My coat, such as it was, was mostly tawny but with white
markings: broad strokes for the most part but narrowed stripes
near the neck and on the haunches. There was a black diamond
shape just above my eyes and over the crown of my head.
Around my neck was a leather collar with a simple buckle, an
ordinary dog collar except for a shallow plastic box attached
under the chin. The identity disc from my old collar had been
attached to the D ring.
While human it had been proper for me to wear a metal collar with
a good quality lock in deference to my dexterity. Now an ordinary
buckle was more that adequate.
Trying to be objective I felt that, once my fur had reached a
respectable length I would look quite a handsome beast,
unfamiliar perhaps but not unnatural.
Having given me sufficient time to take this all in my lady
stroked my head and said. "Well, pet, our relationship has
certainly entered another new level of intensity. At home there
was some unreality about your dependence on me. Coming here
reduced that unreality but on what we both knew was a temporary
basis since we are only here for a couple of weeks and I have my
job to go back to. Now though your dependence is completely real
and permanent. You really are an animal now. You will never be a
person again. It feels right. I know we were both ready."
I nodded enthusiastically. I had been apprehensive but now the
change was done it did indeed feel right. My humanity was like a
burden that I had finally found a way to put down.
Over the last few years the pet role, starting as a game, had
become who I really was. The person role I had played at work had
become a hollow pretense.
I hoped and believed that I would never have to play that role
again. At the same time I had seen her make the transition from
the girlfriend role to the owner role, gradually accepting the
responsibilities and decisions that society said should be mine.
The change in me had been, perhaps, more profound because I was
now and wanted to be nothing more than her pet whereas she was,
and always would be, much more than my owner.
She had a career and friends. She might eventually marry. Yet I
did not doubt, even in my darkest moments, that "my owner" would
always be a part of what she was.
She put me out in the kennel for a while giving me a chance to
discover that this was a far more comfortable body to lie about
in than it had been.
With no awkward feet, my legs tucked neatly away under me and my
chin lay along the ground without strain. It didn't seem too long
before she emerged.
"Well that's that sorted. Now lets go walkies. I feel like a
little shopping and then the beach."
For the first time I felt a cringing inside as she fastened my
leash, thinking about that awful punishment the collar had given
me before. Usually I find the snap of the S-hook a comforting
sound and I resented the way this little pleasure seemed to have
been spoiled for me.
We went down to the main shopping street, she browsing the
window, me carefully watching to comply with sudden stops and
starts.
She spent several moments outside what I realized was a pet shop
and we went in. She went over to a display of muzzles and tried
several of them on me until she found one that was a snug and
secure fit. She bought is and also a rubber bone (though only a
human would have the imagination to find a resemblance)!
She seemed, for a moment, in two minds as to whether I was to
wear the muzzle or carry the toy. But, to my pleasure, She
finally stuck the muzzle in her bag and gave me the toy.
As we left the shop she said, "The good doctor said that you
should practice with your mouth so I want you to carry that about
and chew on it for the next few days."
The next shop she entered was a dress shop and this time I had to
be tied up outside. Actually when it comes to dress shops I find
this preferable and it gave me some time to practice chewing.
I was careful and bit my tongue only once, and lightly. I thought
my new mouth was going to be the hardest part of my altered
anatomy to learn how to deal with.
She emerged with a large bundle and we went back to the hotel to
stash the plunder and then down to the beach where, for the first
time, I was allowed to run free.
Well I ran. I was clumsy and had several falls but I was
encouraged by slow but progressive improvement.
We played fetch with the bone and when I brought it back she'd
roll me over and tickle me. A simple but enjoyable way to pass
the time which became a pattern for much of the remainder of our
stay on the island.
That evening, rather carefully we made love. When we'd had our
first orgasm and I tried to withdraw we discovered that the
doctor had left us a little surprise.
Trying to withdraw hurt. I couldn't do it. We were tied like a
pair of dogs until my erection subsided, which it seemed in no
hurry to do.
Instead I felt the build up to another orgasm start almost at
once. I had three before my testicles finally admitted to
exhaustion and we could separate.
We were both gasping like stranded fish.
"That man has quite a sense of humor." She said at last. "I
wonder what other little surprises we have in store. He did say
that he'd taken steps to make you the world's best sex-toy, for
the use of woman or man but he wouldn't go into details."
I think that's plenty for tonight. I need a shower. Out you go."
The rest of that holiday was, for me at least, almost idyllic.
Like most pets the one thing I can never get enough of is my
owner's attention and in those weeks I had most of it.
Although I didn't notice anything strange at first my pleasure
every time I pleased her in some small way, when she petted me or
paid me some small complement was greater than ever before, as
was the anguish at letting her down in any way or the mildest
rebuke.
My pleasure at the snap of the leash returned even though I
continued to treat it with great respect.
It was nearly a week before I noticed that her left hand was
always in a pocket during these incidents. She was using the
control box to induce pleasure or suffering directly into my
brain!
I felt briefly outraged, violated but it didn't last long. She
was entitled to train me in any way she saw fit. If I had somehow
got power myself over that box it would doubtless have destroyed
me very quickly but used as she was using it made our wills more
perfectly one.
She seldom switched on the speech function of the box, at least
where I could hear. Whenever she was out of sight I would wonder
if she was listening to my thoughts.
I kept wondering what she would think of what I was thinking. It
encouraged me to meditate. To keep, as she had said, my mind
pure.
All too soon, though, it was time to leave. My mistress had
responsibilities to attend to, a living to make.
As we boarded the hydrofoil my mind turned from regret for the
end of the holiday to worry. There was no problem on the
hydrofoil, of course but how would we manage on the planes? I
could no longer pretend to be a person as I had on the outbound
journey.
On the boat my lady gave me about twice my usual ration of food
pellets and, even though it was much earlier than my usual
mealtime, made me eat most of it, so that I felt unpleasantly
bloated. She also had me drink my fill, warning me that I wasn't
going to get stewardess service on the plane.
As the boat pulled into its moorings she muzzled me. There was no
real fuss, for a wonder, at Seychelles customs, perhaps because
they new we were just in transit.
On the other side among the people waiting was a man holding up a
card with my mistresses name. He led us to a van emblazoned with
Hamilton's Pet Supplies and though I wasn't too pleased to see
what was in the back I can't claim to be surprised.
It was a sky kennel a lightweight but solid plastic crate with a
mesh door at one end, mesh covered ventilation slots and fittings
for handling by fork lifts.
I suppose it was the largest size the airline allowed but it
looked awfully small to me. And a moment later so it proved. It
was neither quite long enough for me to lie straight, tall enough
for me to stand fully upright or wide enough for me to curl up as
I'd recently discovered I could do.
I was forced to lie with my backside pressing against the back of
the box and my muzzled nose jammed against the mesh. This wasn't
going to be a very pleasant flight.
The man from Hamilton's drove us to the airport and, with the
help of a ramp and a porter, unloaded my crate onto the pavement
in front of the terminal. My lady paid him and went inside
leaving me feeling very lonely and vulnerable.
A number of people
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