You're a bad dog

It doesn't matter how hard your father tries: you won't let him break you. He can make you eat dogfood, parade you around naked, and fuck you all he likes. You're happy to be a bitch, but you won't be his little bitch.

You're glad you have Christina beside you over the next two weeks. It's doubtful you could have stayed so firm in your resolve without her support and ... relief. For after two weeks, the Obedience! collar's hormones have long since run their course through your young, nubile body. The changes are something to behold.

In one sense, you look more animal than human. Your long, blonde hair is tangled and matted in numerous places, despite your father's best attempts to groom it thoroughly. He has showered you and brushed your teeth only twice in the past two weeks. As a result, your breath is foul. Sand and sweat cover your body from your outdoor excursions, to the point where your father has banished both of you from his bed. Your crotch smells of a unique mixture of piss and excrement and your own sexual arousal, which is now full and unabating. It doesn't matter how often or how hard you're fucked or how much you masturbate: coming only takes the edge of this permanent heat that has taken root in your loins. Your labia are thick and red, and even your clit has grown larger and permanently protrudes from its hood. Your father hasn't bothered shaving or waxing you, so your body hair has returned in a hormone-fuelled frenzy of growth: your armpits and legs sprout hair in a most unfeminine way, but most notably, an impressive amount blonde fuzz covers your mons and curls down around your cunt. Combined with the copious quantities of juices produced by your pussy, this sight never fails to stir your father's and Christina's lust. Of course, she's in the same situation as you are, and you're disgusted by the fact that you can't resist sniffing and licking her cunt and ass for hours on end.

With your body thus transformed, it's a miracle you've managed to maintain your sanity. As the two weeks pass, you play your father's game, but you find little ways of fighting back. He doesn't fail to notice these lapses; the refrain "bad girl!" and slaps across your snout with a fake newspaper, or spankings on your rear, become quite familiar in the cabin. He punishes you and Christina without hesitation, and you've spent more than a few nights outside since that first one.

But the two weeks are nearly up, and with them your freedom. You vaguely recall your father saying something about further consequences if you've misbehaved, but it's not like he can ship two puppy girls back home and keep them a secret--can he?

Two days before your scheduled departure, your father comes home from the lab. He has left you and Christina tied up outside all day, an awning erected over your post to offer some refuge from the hot Pacific sun. Nevertheless, over the course of two weeks spent exclusively nude and mostly outdoors, your sun-kissed California tan has transformed into a deep bronze. Ironically you've managed to achieve one of your dreams--no tanlines!

The sound of a dog barking accompanies your father's return. That's strange. There are no dogs on the island--or at least, that's what you thought. But sure enough, he comes round the cabin with a large brute at his heels. It looks like a cross between a German shepherd and a black lab--all the bulk, but slightly cuter.

Your father introduces you to his new pet. "Meet Oscar. From now on, I may be your master ... but he will be your mates."

You give a plaintive whimper. He can't seriously be suggesting...?

"Oh yes, Ally. You and Christina have had your fun. You thought you could buck your punishment, bide your time until the end of the trip? Well, you thought wrong. See, your problem is that you have already become a doggy bitch. You look like one. You certainly smell like one. You even act like one. Since I've clearly failed at making you realize that, however, more **** measures are warranted."

He unclips Oscar's lead, and the mutt bounds towards the two of you. He immediately starts sniffing at you with interest. Oscar thrusts his muzzle into your wet pussy. His nose tickles you, and you grunt slightly and feel yourself getting even wetter. Fuck, the dog is actually turning you on more! What's wrong with you? The pressure eases off, and Oscar moves on to Christina.

"He's sizing both of you up. He recognizes you as bitches in heat. Both of you can be bred, but only one of you can be his alpha female."

Oscar turns and looks at your father, barking. The barks are short, sharp, staccato. Your father says, "Yes, Oscar. They will be yours," and Oscar barks again before your father seems to reply, "It doesn't matter to me."

You blink, and your father seems to notice your confusion. "Oscar isn't just any dog, Ally. He is a surprising side effect of one of our experiments, which produced pups with heightened intelligence and the ability to understand human speech. Oscar's muzzle can't form human sounds, of course, but we developed a way to communicate. He understands everything I'm saying, and he knows exactly what I've done to you."

Your father laughs. "In your heightened state of arousal, it's not going to matter whether you smell dog or human. Oscar wants what Oscar wants, and now we'll get to find out which of you he wants to be his bitch."