Your first day as dogs

When you wake, the first thing you notice is ... smell. A distinctive scent. It takes a few seconds in your post-sleep grogginess to work out that it's Christina. She's giving off a distinctive, musky odour, mostly coming from her cunt. The two of you are locked in a spooning embrace, and you can feel the slickness of her cunt against one of your thighs. Your face is pressed into her neck and your arms are wrapped around her chest. With little difficulty you can squeeze lightly her hard, pink nipples.

Christina moans slightly and stirs. She turns over and blinks to great you. She opens her mouth to speak before remembering she can't, and she settles for kissing you on the forehead. The sand has managed to work its way into every crevice over night; your hair is a tangled mess. You don't have to wonder what you look like: you just look at Christina. And it's pretty simple: you look like a naked woman who has spent the night sleeping on a damp, sandy beach.

You're also extremely horny. You don't know if it's a kinky kick from your situation, or if it's those hormones from the Obedience! collar starting to take effect. Whatever the reason, you can't help yourself. You know that you're giving off the same, **** scent of arousal as Christina. And hers is turning you on even more, which turns her on, acting as a vicious feedback loop.

You start touching yourself, eagerly stroking and finger-fucking your folds as you seek relief. Christina supersedes this with her tongue, and soon the two of you are taking care of each other's needs. You suspect that this will be far from the last time.

Your orgasm is more than pleasure; it's release. Suddenly you feel ... less animal, more human. Except a twinge in your bowels brings back the grim reality of the situation: you are tied up like an animal outdoors. And you need to use the toilet.

There's nothing to do for it. Nature calls, and you have to answer. You move away from Christina and your water bowl, choosing a patch of sand at random, and squat. A splash of urine soon dampens it--heh, you're marking your first territory. Nearby you see Christina has also succumbed to her bladder. From here, there seems little point in not going all the way--so you unclench your sphincter.

The two of you watch each other with undisguised fascination as you shit. There's something arousing about your bodily functions being on display to each other. It's a level of intimacy beyond the sex you had last night or this morning. You finish, and the two of you leave your little deposits behind on the sand--let your father deal with them, if it's a dog he wants.

You find yourself slightly behind Christina, her ass tantalizing close. You can't help yourself and lean forward, sniffing deeply. Christina's scent is stronger still, mixed with the smell of her bodily fluids. Extending your tongue, you probe her pussy and her ass, tasting her, licking appreciatively. Instead of recoiling, Christina thrusts her rear backwards into your face, forcing you to taste more of her. "Mmm," she moans.

It's just now that you realize your father has been watching the two of you from the cabin door since you awoke.

"Good dogs!" he booms as he approaches. "Very good girls." He rewards each of you with a pat on the head. Your pussy tingles appreciatively. You're disgusted by how fast your body is accepting this new situation as status quo. You want to fight it, to show you're not some puppy to be dominated ... but you can't.

Shortly thereafter Michael arrives in a quad towing a small trailer. He unpacks some items that your father obviously intends to use for your punishment. There are doggy beds, hopefully for nights indoors; two adjustable leashes, for proper walks; and some grooming equipment. Your father takes the latter immediately and brushes out your hair, but he doesn't do a very good job.

The last item is a pair of fingerless gloves for each of you. However, the fingers, thumb included, are fused together, kind of like a mitten. The overall result means your fingertips are exposed--you can touch and feel things--but your hands are useless as anything more than paws.

Michael leaves, and your father puts out a can of dogfood for each of you. Well, it looks like dogfood, though it tastes much better than that. Your empty stomach forces you to eat it up eagerly, whatever it is. While you do this, your father cleans you up, wiping your nether regions with a damp cloth. It's humiliating, but you know that you're dependent on him to clean you now. "Don't get too used to it, either," he says. "You'll just get dirtier as the day goes on, so I'm not going to bother doing this too often."

Next after breakfast comes a walk. With each of you leashed, your father changes into shorts and a T-shirt and takes you along the beach. It's undeniably weird, being walked like a dog. Crawling with your "paws" is an odd sensation, but mostly you just feel weird letting your dad see your ass jiggle as you move forward. You can't help it though: with each motion you make, you feel yourself unconsciously shift your weight from one hip to the next, causing your butt to roll left or right, compensating like ballast. But your father doesn't say anything, and Christina can't, so you enjoy blissful, companionable silence.

He stops you after you're about ten minutes away from the cabin. He picks up a rather long stick, hefting it. He unclips your leash, then he hurls the stick about twenty metres away.

You look at wear the stick landed, then you look at him. He has to be fucking joking.

"Fetch, bitch," he says. Nope, not joking.

Christina has already torn off in that direction, so you find yourself with some ground to make up. But cover it you do, and the two of you arrive at the stick at the same time, each of you taking one end in your mouths. Tug of war! You're determined to get the stick and present it back to your father. You don't even know why you're doing it; it's such a stupid idea, such a demeaning game ... but you need to.

Eventually you and Christina pull so hard that both of you lose your grip of the stick and tumble onto your haunches. You laugh, but the collar causes it to come out as a hoarse, barking sound. Hey, not bad. You deliberately bark a bit louder. Christina responds with her own bark. Stick forgotten, you nose towards her pussy and lick it, her chest, and her face.

A hand lands on your collar and pulls you off her. "Bad girl! We're playing fetch, remember?" Oh, right.

Your father throws the stick again. This time Christina reaches it first, retrieves it, and returns it to him. He rewards her with a pat on the head and a slap on the ass and throws the stick. The two of you compete, relatively equal in the number of times each of you win. But you're certainly getting a workout, running back and forth like this. Soon you are panting like--well, like a dog. Your chest heaves, and sweat mats your brow and runs down your face.

Eventually your father stops you. You're sad--you were just getting into it. But you're also happy, because you can see the broad smile on his face. For once, he's not angry or disappointed in you. You strain to remember the last time that had happened.

"Very well done, girls. We'll make fine dogs of you yet. Now it's time for me to be getting to work. I'll take you up there, but you'll have to spend the day outside. No dogs allowed, unfortunately."

So Christina and you spend most of the day chained up outside the lab, food and water both available. You amuse yourselves by licking the sweat off each other's bodies, revelling in your distinct but equally strong tastes. It's clear that, as long as you and Christina are in close quarters, the two of you aren't going to be able resist such play.

Halfway through the day Michael comes out to check on you. He pets both of you thoroughly, especially at your pussies, which you reward with some "Woofs." But he doesn't go any further than that, and you're surprised by how disappointed you are.

By the time your father takes you back to the cabin, you can't hold out any longer. The combination of the collar and the erotic tension in the day's activities has broken your resolve: you need to give in, to be fucked. He seems to sense this, because it's not long before he has stripped. The two of you stare at his cock with undisguised desire.

"Time for breeding, my bitches."

Daddy makes you howl.

You spend the night on his bed rather than in your doggy beds, curled up at the foot of it next to Christina's ass. Daddy's cum leaks from your cunt, and both of you smell of him. You feel so humiliated and denigrated. You want to run, to rip your collar off and escape. But you can't. And even if you could, you couldn't escape the fact that you loved every bit of it. You don't know if your father suspected, or knew, or if this was just a lucky guess, but it turns out you've always secretly wanted to be a good dog.

So the question is, do you embrace this newfound pleasure and accept your fate as a doggy bitch for two weeks? Or do you resist it, and your father, and risk the consequences?