Date: Sun, 3 Jul 2005 03:33:07 -0700 (PDT) From: Alistair Bentley Subject: Headshop: Hound Chapter 5: Return Headshop: Hound Chapter 5: Return By Xformguy I drove for a while; I wasn't sure how long and it didn't matter. I pulled into one of those deluxe gas stations - - the ones with the convenience store built in - - when my stomach started to cramp. I plunged into it, snorting out the stringent chemical smell that hung around the gasoline pumps and the parking lot, and moved quickly to the bathrooms in the back. Whatever was going on with my stomach, I felt like I was going to spew and I wasn't sure which end it was coming out. The door to the men's room was locked - - FUCK! I stood there a minute, regarding the women's room when the door opened and a tall, big man exited. He wore greasy overalls and was wiping his dirty hand in a paper towel. He wasn't attractive and had a hard look about him, like he'd be glad to kick the shit out of you and leave you by the curb. His smell was strong and it hit me about as hard as his expression: oil, sweat, and cum? My stomach cramped again and I darted inside, pushing my pants down and sitting just in time. I smelt sex and cum strongly in the room and dammit! I wondered if I could ever get away from the biological functions of the men I passed by. No wonder guys were regarded as sex-whores, they seemed to shoot themselves whenever they got a moment. Luckily, my gut wrench was distracting enough. I reached down to angle my cock into the toilet and realized . . . I couldn't. I hadn't had the time to examine myself as completely as I would have liked when I left the dorm. My cock . . . it had changed again. It had lost none of its new size or girth, but there was a flap of skin that had grown in, attaching it to my lower belly. It was covered in soft, black hair and it kept my cock from lowering completely. I tried to angle it down, but it kept pulling up. I had to piss badly, so I wiped quickly, stood, and tried again. I felt like an idiot, circling the toilet from above, trying to figure out how to angle my cock into the hole. I finally had to pull my feet out of my pants and lean forward, bracing myself against the wall, lifting one leg, and holding it sideways a bit. I felt my cock slide against the smooth skin of the thick sheath I'd grown, extending . . . then I pissed. I sighed as I relieved my bladder, even though I felt like some kind of perverted acrobat. When I was finished, I stood upright and there it was, a thick pink rod extending out of a furry sheath. I was horrified to see that my glans had totally disappeared; instead, the shaft tapered into a tip. I touched it experimentally and, despite that my glans had lost all of its definition, it had lost none of its sensitivity. In fact, it was more sensitive than before. I stopped rubbing it before I got totally hard. In the mirror, I looked over myself. My hands were covered in black hair all the way up to my elbows. I had freed one of my legs from my jeans and my calves were totally covered down into my socks. I turned around and my back . . . it looked as if the hair on my head just extended down to cover my entire back and ass. It was weird to the touch, soft and dense. It didn't feel like body hair at all. I realized what seemed to strange about it - - despite its coverage - - it wasn't long. Body hair was long and tended to curl, looking like an ape. I'd seen hairy guys before, even guys with hairy backs. It was long and black and sparse enough to see skin. My hair was shiny, black, short, and very dense. I had to face it. It was fur . . . or at least the first layer of it. I sat on the toilet and pulled off my sock. I'd never seen hair on someone's ankle before. I had never seen hair on someone's heel or their soles. Jesus! I was turning into an inhuman freak. On the bottom of my foot, on the ball of my foot, my skin was bare, the only patch on my foot at all. The skin was dark and rough there. Fuck . . . it was a pad. I was growing a dog's pad on my foot. What the hell was I going to do? It was going to get worse. It was going to spread. How can I let this happen? I sullenly put my sock back on and shoved my leg back into my underwear and pants. I put everything back in its place and, with my jacket, I could look mostly normal. I certainly seemed to need a shave, but hey . . . there were hairy guys in the world and now, I was one of them. I rubbed my palm over my chest, feeling the hair bristle forward and back and realized that I had always wanted body hair. Now I had it. Why did it seem like a violation? I realized something. I fastened my belt to its normal notch and found it was still too loose. I hooked my thumbs into the waistline and checked it out in the mirror, pulling it away from my body nearly an inch. My t-shirt hung lower and my shoes felt too long or wide. I had gotten smaller. I suddenly remembered Benjamin on the path and how his clothes were too big and I remembered what he had said about "yap dogs." FUCK! I could actually turn into a yap dog?? Was that what was happening?? I was shrinking?? I swallowed my panic in a wave of despair. On the toilet, I leaned over so far my head was nearly upside down and sighed. I kept it there until I realized I could smell cum on the toilet seat. Fuck! I stood up and walked out. Outside, the attendant looked me over suspiciously; I'd been in the bathroom awhile. He was a clean-cut, military looking guy with short hair, a stern-yet-neutral expression, and thick hands that were restocking the rack of cigarettes behind the register counter. I glanced at him, turned aside, and browsed the rows of glass cooler doors, trying to pick out a beverage; I had no idea what I was thirsty for. I settled for an orange drink. I realized I was salivating wildly as I approached the counter. Whatever had happened with my stomach and my gut, I was now famished. Nothing I passed seemed appealing, so I settled on a handful slim-jim meat sticks. I paid for the drink and the jims, rebuffing the attendant's suspicion and in the front seat of my car, I peeled back the wrapper and started chewing on the meat stick. Ordinarily, the orange drink and the spicy, Grade F meat would have interacted poorly, but today, it was greasy, carbonated goodness. I chewed on the jims slowly, working them with my molars and enjoying the feel of it in my mouth. I sat in the car for a while, trying not to panic with very little success. My brain was working overtime, picturing my turning into a little back Chihuahua. I figured Benjamin was absolutely right, the brains of a yap dog were like a tenth the size of my human brain. If I shrank that much, I didn't see how I could come back to normal afterward. In fact, any dog was smaller than any human. I weighed about 150 lbs and most dogs topped out at nearly half that. I was going to have to face I was going to be small. I had trouble dealing with that. So I sat in the car and chewed the slim-jims slowly, taking intermittent swigs of orange drink. And that seemed to help. Just having the jims in my mouth and working on them somehow produced a soothing emotional reaction. My brain raced out of control on one level and my emotions were placid like an ocean on another. Sure, it was an ocean where chunks of terror, horror, and humiliation swam like sharks, but up here on the surface, I couldn't see them, even though I knew they were there. Benjamin had said that every time I came, I'd change and if I got fucked by another dogboy, I'd change back. So, I had to find them. They must be out there. I needed answers and I figured the place to start was where this shit happened to me in the first place. With a jim sticking out of the mouth, I fired up my car and headed toward the shop. If I thought I had smelled sex and pheromones before, I was being a pussy, because inside the shop, it was about ten times more saturated. Just entering, I could smell the personal hard-ons of every guy I passed, even if they were just thoughts about hard-ons. I guess when a guy is aroused, he emits a certain wave of chemicals on his skin and those trail after him in the air. It took my walking past exactly one row of videos to lose the terror feelings and be drug underneath the surface of my placid ocean by a squid of horniness. With whatever was left of my willpower, I managed not to pop a complete rod and to head downstairs. Naturally, in the leather shop, it was worse. I stopped mesmerized at the bottom of the stairs that emptied into the leather shop, the half-chewed slim-jim dangling from my loose lips. The "something" in my head jumped out from the background and shoved my normal intellect backward even as it moved my hand to cup and grip my rising cock. Since it had grown attached to my belly, it was angling up and it didn't take long for it to threaten to peek up over my waist band. I leaned against the door jamb, and just inhaled. I felt myself taking many short breaths and my head angling back to and fro, taking in the scents and getting some kind of snapshot on how everything was laid out. The smell of the leather was so intense it was almost excruciating. I just stood there for several long minutes, most of them with my eyes closed, most of them trying to shove my cock back to a presentable place. The "something" got its fill and obediently faded backward in my head and I entered the shop, moving toward the back where the curtained alcove was. The curtain was drawn and I could hear conversation inside. I tried to be unobtrusive and enter quietly, but there was a guy at the counter talking with the proprietor and he stopped his conversation immediately. There was a huge black bouncer type guy standing directly behind him, obviously to cover whatever he might do, but the proprietor - - a 40-ish daddy-type with piercing eyes - - seemed unfazed. As soon as I got through the curtain, the guy's scent hit me like a brick in the face. Of all the males I had smelled in the last couple of days, in my dorm and on the street, this guy smelled like a "man." That was what my brain was registering. The guy was tall and built like a brick house, his muscular frame virtually popping out of ultra-tight clothes he was wearing. His t-shirt was pulled so tight against his chest I could see the nipple rings. He had a tribal, spikey tattoo around one bicep and a dense goatee. He looked at me and exuded both sexual attraction and anger and it was all I could do to stand there with my erection and not fall at his knees to offer him my mouth. Instead, I took a couple of steps back by the dildo and waited. I could feel myself taking thousands of short breaths, just to keep his scent coming into my brain. It must have been pure pheromones; I had never been so attracted to anyone in my life. I could feel myself becoming open to him on an emotional level, like I was falling hard into an obsession, but without any hint of actual romance. He barked over his shoulder "Do you mind, boy? I'm having a private conversation." It was delivered with such force that it felt like a slap, but that made it all the more attractive somehow. I nodded sheepishly and edged my way out of the alcove, desperately suppressing the sudden urge I had to roll over at his feet and piss myself. Out in the leather shop I felt a little frantic, emotionally unsure, and I ended up over by a mannequin, crouched down on my heels, one hand on the floor in front of me. I moved backward enough to be half-concealed behind the full-length trench coat the mannequin wore and I sighed. My emotions were trembling and the "something" was neither behind or in front of my psyche, it crouched down next to it and we both hid. When I sighed, I naturally took in a deep breath and the smell of the leather in the room entered my sinuses. It didn't displace the guy's pheromones but added to them, causing fantasies to begin unfolding inside me. I felt a dollop of liquid ooze out of the tip of my cock and slide down my skin, trapped by my underwear into a puddle. I could smell it; it was pre-cum. I wasn't completely hard yet, but getting there fast. I pulled the leather coat over to my face and inhaled. I smelled the leather and . . . cigarettes? Sweat? That seemed weird for a display product. I smelled deeper, pressing my face closer to the mannequin itself. It was of a burly guy with the look of a pissed off construction worker. He had the stance of someone who was arguing with someone else directly in front of him, although there was no one there. He even had one hand raised and was pointing a finger at this invisible person, his mouth half-open as if in mid-sentence. I could smell other things on him, not the least of which was sex. I pressed my face closer and reached out a hand to touch his leg. It was solid and wooden, but smelled like normal flesh. I reached fingers up to where his t-shirt hung and slid it under. I felt hair on his belly - - it felt artificial, like a wig - - but the wood itself was warm. I pulled my hand back reflexively. This guy was a live. Fuck! He had been turned into a hunk of wood. I looked up at him and realized that there were no seams. Most mannequins had seams at their major joints to allow them to be posed or disassembled. This guy had none. He was a person. I stood up and moved away from the mannequin, understanding that maybe there were worse things to be turning into than a dog. I wondered how long he'd been standing there. I wondered if he was aware of what was happening. I wondered if he felt my touch. I drifted over to where the ankle and wrist restraints hung and felt them with my fingertips. Whatever pheromone the big guy was emitting was making my sense of touch hypersensitive. No longer scrunched in a crouch, my cock took the opportunity to fill out even more getting caught in my underwear. The curtain withdrew roughly and the big guy stalked out. "All yours," he spat, and stomped up the stairs. The wake of his pheromone cloud drew me after him and I stood at the bottom of the stairs, drinking it in until it had dissipated enough to let me think clearly again. It took a moment, but I realized why I was here and I went into the alcove, sheepishly looking inside before I took a step over the curtain's threshold. The proprietor stood there, waiting for me, with an amused look on his face. The scent he was giving off was inscrutable, absolutely different from every other male I had smelled so far, but still potent and exotic. I came up to the counter and we stood there for a second. I got the feeling he was waiting on me to initiate the conversation and I was suddenly at a loss for words. He stood there silently, regarding me. "Speak," he finally said, pitching the command like he'd say it to his pet. "You know what happened to me?" I asked him. I was offended at the command, but couldn't deny that it had worked. "I got bit . . ." "Yes, Mr. Stokes. I know what happened to you," he said. I reached up and indicated my face. "You know what's happening to me now?" "Of course." "Can you tell me?" I felt like I already knew, but I wanted some kind of confirmation. "Whenever you have an orgasm, you turn a little more into a dog," he said, "Eventually, you'll be a dog completely. A pet for Kane. He'll probably turn you back at some point. When he does, he'll fuck you several times. Probably until you become a dog again." I just blanched at this, taking it in. Benjamin had been right; I really hadn't had reason to doubt him. I realized that some part of me was hoping it was different than what he'd said. It wasn't. "Who's Kane?" I asked. "You met him," the proprietor said, "He bit you." "I know that," I said, "But who is he? Why me?" "Well, ultimately, he's no one special," the proprietor said, "But he's the source of what's changing you. As for `why you,' I think he liked your smell." "'Like my smell?'" I repeated. Suddenly, emotion broke inside me and rose up, overwhelming both the "something" and my normal personality. "He's changing me into a FREAK because he liked my smell?!" I shouted, "What gives him the right?!" "He has the power to do it," the proprietor stated calmly, "and, in any case, it's done." I felt very defeated suddenly. The proprietor was right. It was happening and there was nothing I could do about it, except play by the rules. That meant finding the dogboys, maybe even finding Kane. "What's being a dog like?" I asked quietly. "I could describe it," the proprietor said, "but, by the looks of it, you'll find out yourself." I wanted to be forceful here, to really let this guy have it. He was a willing party to what was happening to me. He knew about what was going to happen and he did nothing. My vision skittered off him, almost as if I could not confront him, and went to all the bottles, devices, and objects on the shelves all around us. I wanted to be hard, but my emotions were sluggish, cowed, and I couldn't muster the indignation. I remembered that I, too, had been a willing party to what was happening. "You sell all this stuff?" I asked him, gesturing around at the shelves. The proprietor just looked at me like it was too obvious an answer to vocalize. "All this turns people into things?" "Yes." "Am I going to be a yap dog?" The thought of this, of shrinking down to the size of my foot, of my brain being walnut, was to much to deal with. If it was inevitable I was going to be this dog, I didn't want to a tiny one. The proprietor looked me over, appraising me. "I wouldn't worry," he said, "You look more like a medium build canine." "But I'm still going to shrink, right?" "Yes. To probably half your normal height." "What about my brain?" I said. There was a tremor in my voice and fear rose up in side me as if I'd tripped on it absently as my thoughts were walking through their path. "Please, I don't want to get weird or forget myself." He turned around and regarded the shelf for a moment, then brought back a vial to me. "Normally, I charge for my products," he said, "But, since you were dragged into this without foreknowledge, I'll give you a one-time boon. If you drink this, it will guarantee that, no matter what shape your body is placed into, that your intellect will remain intact." It was a small bottle of blue, iridescent liquid and I took it without question. "Thank you," I said sheepishly, the fear overwhelming my indignation and making me a confused mess. "How can I find them?" "They will find you," he told me, "And soon. They'll need you as much as you need them." "Why isn't that comforting?" We stood at the counter another minute and I realized that my audience was over. I nodded at him, keeping my eyes lowered, and left the alcove. I walked past the mannequin-man, headed up the stairs, and back out to my car. It was already dark and my body was starting to physically ache, presumably from the exertion of the changes I'd gone through earlier. I felt like a complete mess, emotionally spent and unable to focus. I knew I should be trying to figure out what I was going to do, but I was just too tired. Sitting in the car, I looked at the clear vial of liquid the proprietor had given me. I wondered if I could trust him, but I realized I was already in the middle of such a problem that it might not really matter. I was going to be a dog, it seemed inevitable at this point. I didn't want to lose my mind to that of a dog's the way Benjamin had described. So, I popped the cork and downed the liquid in one swig. It evaporate in my throat, which was a little disconcerting, and I felt it ooze up my sinuses in a cool, minty wave. It invaded the meat of my head, bit by bit, I could feel this tingling coolness seep into it. I knew it was getting into the flesh of my brain and I decided that was good thing. It took a few minutes to complete and I just laid back in my seat, feeling my brain turn "minty fresh." It ended abruptly and I picked myself up and drove home.