Mittens make me miserable

Looking at which window the sun was shining through, I figured it should be about 1 PM. After waking up I hadn’t visited the bathroom any more after my first visit and I decided now would be as good a moment as any to go again. With just a dog bowl to drink from I probably didn’t drink as much as I usually did, but still I had been drinking from the bowl every 30 minutes or so, and so I could feel my bladder slowly filling up.

On all fours, my knees still lifted up high in the air to prevent the dolly and dumbbell from ramming my knees, I moved to the toilet. It was an easy trip to make, I had grown accustomed to walking like that this morning, and I had also left the door open to my little hallway as well as the door to the toilet.

I positioned myself on the toilet with my head just above my knees as the chain connecting the dolly and me did not have any more slack. As I sat down my bladder basically took over and a steady flow of pee exited my body.

This morning it had felt as if my bowels were full, but I wasn’t able to take a dump. No matter how hard I had tried, nothing had come out. However, I still felt my bowels were rather full, and so I contracted my stomach muscles in an attempt to empty them. It only took a second or so and I felt my bowels slowly but surely emptying. It didn’t come out in one clean sweep though, and I was definitely going to have to wipe.

That sounds pretty ordinary and mundane, until I realized that wiping anything was out of the question! With my hands securely locked in those damn mittens, wiping my ass was going to be impossible. It had just been a minor inconvenience when it came to wiping my pussy this morning, but not being able to wipe my ass for god knows how many days would be beyond annoying!

Slowly I felt a panic enveloping me. There was no obvious solution here. The mittens were padlocked and the keys were in the kitchen safe that was on a timer. That is, until I realized that I had only set the kitchen safe for 36 hours, so in theory I’d be able to unlock my hands Sunday morning, about 22 hours from now.

I breathed a sigh of relief and crawled back to my doggie bed. As I lay down I felt my buttocks touch one another and the remnants of my toilet visit got squished across my ass. It was just indescribably gross, made worse by the fact that it might last another 20+hours.

As I lay on my bed I figured I might as well get some shut eye for a bit. I’m living a dog’s life, after all! I closed my eyes and tried to nap for a few minutes, but I just couldn’t. My ass was just becoming more and more irritated by the remnants of literal shit that I could not remove.

I contemplated if I could really suffer this for 20+ more hours (as if I had any other options) and decided to drink, or should I say ‘lap’, some more water from my bowl. The water had become a little stale but was still drinkable. My tongue lapping the water, my ass pointing high up in the air.

I heard someone open my front door and walk through my little hallway. Once again it was as if I had no say into who was allowed into my own house. They just walked in on me whenever they felt like it. Some really conflicting emotions came over me. I hadn’t told anyone about me turning into a dog for the time being and my plans had not really included any visitors.

On the other hand, just watching National Geographic all day long and taking a nap every once in a while without seeing anyone could also turn out to be boring eventually. So maybe interacting with someone would not be so bad?

I decided to simply keep lapping up the water just like a dog might do. This did mean, however, that whoever walked in got to see my ass and pussy pointed at them.

At that moment mister Petersson walked in.

“Hi Bridget”, he said. I stopped drinking my water and turned around.

“Hello mister Petersson”, I said, unsure if I should cover up any part of my body. I decided that as I was a dog, albeit one that could talk, I was not going to cover up anything.

“I see you’ve moved some furniture around?”, he said as if that was the only thing that was there to see.

“Yeah, I wanted to be able to watch the TV from my new bed, mister Petersson”

“Right. And you wanted to do so while being chained to a dumbbell on a dolly, while you’re fully naked?”

“Right”

Mister Petersson looked at me rather questioningly, and so I explained to him that I was now a dog, pending my move to the zoo. He acted quite surprised, but what I didn’t know was that there were spy cams all around my apartment and so he had already been briefed by the Private Investigators about what had been going on.

After I was done, Mister Petersson continued; “the reason I’m here, Bridget, is to bring you your box that you can use to store anything that you might want to keep on hand in the zoo, like your phone. Just as we discussed before”

I hadn’t paid it much attention yet, but he was holding a box in his hands about 25 cm by 35 cm (10x14 inches) covered by a lid. Not a whole lot of space to store anything in really, but it should be enough for at least my phone and charger.

“I’ll just leave it here, so you can fill it whenever you like.” Mister Petersson said.

He put it on the floor and turned around, apparently proceeding to walk away.

“Wait!”, I yelled.

Mister Petersson turned around once more so he could face me; “Yes?”, he asked.

“Well, it’s, uhm, a little embarrassing, you see.”, I stammered.

“What is it, Bridget? I haven’t got all day” he said. I realized he is a busy man.

“Well, my doggie plans had not originally included these mittens, but I basically bought them as a spur of the moment thing”, I could see Mister Petersson looking very questioningly at me again and so I proceeded quickly; “and now I have a bit of a personal hygiene problem…”, I wasn’t sure what to say next, but I had to take my chances… “so now I cannot wipe my ass and it’s aching quite badly already. Would you maybe be so kind to wipe it for me, just this once?”

This might have easily been the most embarrassing question I have ever asked someone, but it was now or never, there simply was no other way. I looked at Mister Petersson with the best puppy eye impression I could come up with.

He burst out laughing; “Bridget, you must understand”, he said while he continued laughing, “I’m the zoo director, I don’t do butts or shovel shit. I direct a zoo and all its personnel. Sometimes it’s a thin line, but I try to steer rather clear from it. I do all the zoo director stuff, while the zoo keepers do all the zoo keeping stuff. So no, I’m definitely not going to wipe your ass”

This was definitely not the response I had hoped for. Just as I wanted to at least thank him for hearing me out, he continued; “However”, he said getting my hopes up; “what I can do, is send a zookeeper later today and once or twice a day after that to your place to look after you. They will definitely take care of it and other problems you might run into.”

All my disappointment evaporated in that moment. There was going to be a solution to my personal hygiene problem, and once again mister Petersson had been the one to think of a solution for my somewhat personal problems.

I thanked him wholeheartedly and he left rather quickly afterwards. I wasn’t sure when, or who would come by, but at least I now knew that someone would pay me a visit later today to help me out. Even though my ass was still aching I now quickly fell asleep, living the dream.