You're a good dog

Through some kind of unspoken communication, you and Christina agree to be good dogs. It's a humiliating punishment, one you could never deserve. But you know your father: if you don't go along with it, things will just get worse.

So you endure two weeks of acting like a dog. Fortunately, you have Christina. The two of you keep each other company during your long days of not doing much. Your father takes you up to the lab and ties you up outside, leaving little more than a water bowl for your thirst while he continues with his work. Sometimes Michael emerges, bearing treats and a boner, exchanging the former for your help with the latter. If it weren't for Christina, you wonder if you'd be able to put up with the sheer monotony of your doggy life.

You and Christina continue to explore each other's bodies in ways you had never dreamed of doing. With your hands little more than paws, your principal method of exploration is through your tongue. After days without bathing, the two of you smell ripe, and you're covered in sweat, dried cum, and sand. Nevertheless, you lick each other, eager for the experience of each other's taste. You become familiar with Christina's scent, which intensifies over the weeks as the hormones of her collar transform her quite literally into a bitch in heat.

Of course, they do the same for you. Your father bathes and grooms you, but infrequently. He brushes your tangled hair, but he does nothing to attend to the growing hair elsewhere on your body. By the end of the two weeks, your armpits are in open rebellion, and your leg hair has made a comeback--but it's your pussy, already neglected at the start of the vacation, that is most noticeable. What was once a small strip of pubic hair in need of a good waxing has now become a thick mound of dark blonde fur, covering your mons and tracing the curves of your labia towards your ass. Christina takes great pleasure in nuzzling and sniffing at it; you always return the favour with her equally-furry snatch.

The collar's hormones work in mysterious ways. Indeed, you can't deny that it has changed you: you eagerly submit to Michael and your father, whimpering whenever they present their hard cocks. Whether it's a blowjob--not a very doggy-like thing, you admit--or just a good fucking, your body ensures you're always in the mood. With nothing more interesting on your calendar, sex becomes the high point of each day. And, as you are behaving, you are rewarded during and after--the sex is often wild, but it's never brutal. It's energetic and frequent, but your masters are also attentive to your collar-fuelled needs. You're stroked, petted, called a "good girl," which turns you on even more.

As the time to leave the island approaches, your father comes up to the two of you. "Almost time to leave. I hope you've learned your lessons, girls. Next time you'll think twice before being bitches to the men in your life, yes?"

You and Christina respond with eager barks of assent. You have no problem vocalizing like a dog now. It seems natural, given your state.

Your father is pleased. He pets the two of you. "Part of me wishes I could keep you like this forever. But you have held up your end of our deal. And it's certainly easier getting you back home as humans. Maybe once we're back at the villa you'll be willing to indulge in more ... play."

So your transformations from human to dog reverse. Your gloves are removed, as are the collars. It takes almost a day for your voices to return, but return they do, and you slowly reacquire your habit of human speech. You shower yourselves, helping each other with your personal grooming as you do so, and soon your armpits and legs are once again smooth and becoming. Your pussy, however, you leave as is for now.

The boat arrives to pick you up on another typical sunny morning. Your bags packed, the three of you board it, and it takes you back to the larger island and the airport. It's a long trip home.