Bitch girl

You mull it over, but there's no contest. Two weeks ago, you would never have believed that you would choose to spend your life as a dog. But that was two weeks ago. Since then, the Obedience! collar, your father, and Christina have done their work well. You don't just like living as a dog ... you are a dog. You're a submissive puppy, and you want to please your master.

You nuzzle the leash affectionately with your nose and bark. Your father smiles. "That's a good girl. I would have been happy either way, but--well, you make such a good puppy."

"Woof!" you bark.

Christina comes into the main room. "Has she chosen?"

"She has," your father replies. "We're going to have a pet, my dear." Noticing your confused expression, he adds, "Yes, Ally. Christina and I are going to get married when we get back. She has actually proved a rather capable assistant in addition being good in the sack."

Christina walks over and strokes your ass. "I can't wait. This is going to be so much better than going back to college in the fall, Ally, just wait and see. I know your dad can get very ... busy ... throughout the year, and that he travels a lot." She grins mischievously. "I'm going to need some way of keeping myself occupied."

You've long gotten used to the increased hormones from the Obedience! collar coursing through your body and making you a permanently-aroused and eager slut. You press your rear up against Christina's hand, hoping there's time for her to play with you before the boat arrives.

When the boat does show, the driver doesn't blink as Christina leads you, naked and on all fours, aboard. A company jet flies you back to California, and a company car brings you to your father's villa. After a few days, you have all the doggy comforts you could desire.

Christina's parents don't make any objections to her marriage, despite the age gap. You're not surprised: your fathers have always been close, but yours has a lot more clout than hers; her mother is still around in body, but her mind tends to be under the influence of a drink ... or twelve. Actually, come to think of it, maybe your father is doing Christina a favour in rescuing her from that environment. Marrying him gives her security, she seems to like the sex games, and he's away from home often enough that she has plenty of time to herself.

The property around the villa is big enough for them to take you on long, luxurious walks. You can doggy-paddle in the pool, play fetch, and bury your chew-toys in the garden. Your father's servants are all well-paid, and if any of them think it strange that his daughter is now a dog, none of them say anything. They toilet and clean you without comment, and a professional groomer makes sure your hair looks good despite your new status. Your father likes it kept just shoulder-length and loose. He lets the hair in your armpits and your crotch grow free but keeps your legs waxed smooth. You're proud of your hairy pussy and the Obedience!-enhanced musk that emanates from it. You spend plenty of your free time masturbating.

The sex does not abate after your return home. If anything it picks up--your father invites numerous friends of both sexes over to play, and you have a wider range of toys at your disposal. Soon your pussy and ass are much looser than you ever thought they could be. Your cunt is always ready for a good fucking, a constant reminder that you're now an animal permanently in heat.

As the months go by, human thoughts become less common as doggy thoughts take over. When people bring other dogs over, you find yourself sniffing at their butts and encouraging them to reciprocate. The Obedience! collar might work too well, because the dogs certainly seem to respond to your scent. A few of the more randy males even attempt to mount you. At first your masters pull them off, finding it amusing but not wanting it to go any further--that is, until you whimper and whine enough that they eventually let it happen. Your first experience as a real doggy's bitch is the final confirmation of your new life. You let go of any lingering ideas of humanity: your name becomes less important than monikers like "girl," "dog," "puppy," and of course, "bitch." You don't hesitate to mark your territory with urine, even if you meet with punishments and nights outside as a result. What began as a spiteful joke on your father's part has taken over your entire existence.

No longer a thorn in his side, you are your daddy's obedient bitch, now and for the rest of your life.