Date: Wed, 28 Dec 2005 08:18:01 -0500
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Transformation, part 8

Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without
the author's permission.

Please note: the twelve parts of this story depict sex between males,
between minors and between adults and minors. They depict oral, anal and
vaginal sex as well as incest, rape, sadomasochism and transvestitism. If
any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or
you are under the age of 18, read no further.

All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.

Spring, Year Two

One time the Johnsons called me and asked if I could do them a favor. Of
course, Keith was listening in on the extension. He always monitored my
phone calls. Mrs. Johnson's aunt had died and they had to go out of state
for a few days for the funeral. They wanted to hire me to watch their
house, mow their lawn, water their plants, and take care of their dog while
they were gone. When they said what they'd pay me, Keith gave me the thumbs
up sign. Needless to say, he would claim the money for my work. So I agreed
and went over to their house to learn the ropes. For a couple days it was a
relief to get out of my own home and taste a bit of freedom.

Keith came with me one afternoon and watched me do my work. As I filled the
watering pitcher in the kitchen sink, he said "This dog wants to go out."

"Well, don't open the door."

"Why the fuck not.?"

"She's in heat. If she got loose every dog in the neighborhood would be
after her."

"No shit!" Keith was silent a long time. I could see the gears turning in
his mind.

When we were about to leave, he grabbed a dish towel from the Johnsons'
kitchen drawer. "Here," he said, "take this and wipe the bitch's rear end."

"Why?" Keith gave me a glare. I should have known better than to question
orders. So I did what he said, and he took the towel home. In the house,
Spike's nose immediately caught the whiff of something exciting. Keith told
me to take off all my clothes and go out on the patio. It was a cold March
day, but of course I obeyed. He had me kneel and lay my chest on the picnic
bench. Then he wiped my ass with the dish towel. He then let Spike out and
the dog lost no time in tracking the source of that delicious aroma. He
sniffed my asshole, and immediately mounted me. Keith told me to take my
hands and pull my cheeks apart to help him get ass-cess. Sure enough, soon
Spike's cock was rammed into my shit tunnel and it knotted there. Now I was
a literal bitch. Keith, Big George, Dad, two college boys, and now even
Spike had all used my asshole for their own gratification. I closed my eyes
and let the dog go to town. He pumped away at my ass, and eventually I felt
my bowels fill with warm canine jizz. Only then did his knot soften. He
pulled out, trotted over to the corner of the yard and began licking his
dick. I swear I thought the dog was sporting a big smile on his face.

Keith too was smiling. He felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. After
that day, about once a week, Keith would let Spike use his bitch. After
that first dog rape, he didn't need to use the Johnsons' towel. For Spike,
my own natural smelly ass was enticement enough.

Once, Keith instructed me to give Spike a blow job. Shit, that wasn't
easy. I guess dogs don't do that kind of thing. I laid on the kitchen floor
with Spike and held him with one hand while I took his dogcock in my
other. But Spike kept squirming around. Keith came over and gently petted
the dog.  "It's OK, big boy. Let the bitch do this. You'll enjoy it. Trust
me, it's gonna feel good." Spike settled down a little, but his big eyes
still showed he was confused. I began to gently stroke his dogcock, while
Keith continued petting him. Then I got my mouth in position, wrapped my
lips around his organ, and began to suck hard. Spike soon caught on. This
face was yet another bitch hole. He wiggled out of Keith's hands and got on
his four feet but kept his cock in place in my mouth. My face was covered
in dog belly. My tongue soon felt his cock knot. Of course, unlike my
asshole, I could have released his cock, knot or no knot, but I didn't. I
kept sucking and sure enough, I was soon rewarded with a throat full of dog
jizz.

Keith was ecstatic. Too bad he couldn't give Spike a big high five like
that summer when he had congratulated Tommy, the great wunderkind, mature
beyond his years. Now he had taught Spike also how to get a blow job. He
rolled around on the kitchen floor with Spike and told him what a great dog
he was.

Spike got the idea. He was a fast learner. After that, all I had to do was
lay on the floor with my mouth open, and Spike would come over plant his
hind legs on either side of my head and start fucking my face. There seemed
to be no end to that dog's jizz. A half hour after getting his nuts off in
either my mouth or my ass, he'd be ready for another round. Now Keith had a
new show to put on for his friends: The Spike and Francine show.

---

Throughout the year, as soon as I came home from school, Francis became
Francine. I took out the pony tail I wore and let my blond tresses fall
over my ears. I got out of my boy clothes, put on my makeup and got into
something from my ever-expanding girl wardrobe. I loved my new persona. It
felt so right. I wished I somehow could have made the change at school
also, but I didn't. At the end of my junior year, I was still that weird
boy with the hunky stud for a kid brother. A lot of the kids, both boys and
girls, now knew about my crossdressing because they had seen it at our
house or in our car. The teachers, as well as other kids who didn't know us
that well, just figured I was a faggot.  There were a few girls who never
caught on that the sister who drove Keith around was the same as the boy in
school.

Mr. Arnoldson, the PE teacher, didn't need to see me in a dress to know
what I was good for. He called me into his office one day and asked if I
thought I was going to pass gym this year. I had barely squeaked by up to
now, but the curriculum was getting harder and harder for me. I couldn't
climb the ropes. I didn't like volley ball because I broke my nails. I
stunk at basketball and most, ^Ö no all ^Ö other games. So when he asked
the question, I shook my head. "Well, if you'd like to pass, we might be
able to work out an arrangement. You might have to show me you've got
skills that don't come out on the gym floor." I knew what he meant, and he
was glad I caught on so quickly. It saved him the trouble of thinking up
further lines.

I dropped to my knees and opened my mouth. Arnoldson opened his zipper and
took out an olympic sized baton. I looked up at this god of athleticism and
said softly, "Please, Sir, let me suck your cock." He obliged, of course. I
began by licking his helmet and piss slit, then working my tongue down his
shaft to his balls, which were probably the largest I had sucked on up to
that date. My left eye was half an inch from his cockhead now and I could
see it glistening in precum. My mouth returned to it and welcomed it
inside. I wrapped my tongue around his shaft and begun sucking in
earnest. His hands held my head like a dodgeball. He asked me quietly if I
swallowed. I nodded yes and with that he showered my parched throat in
delicious mancum.

After zipping up, Arnoldson wrote out a late pass to give my next
teacher. We made it a regular weekly blow job, and by the end of the term,
he was going up my ass as well. I passed gym.

One day in June, Mom got a call from Mrs. Miller. They had bought a
vacation home and wouldn't be going to the lake any more. She lied that
Charlotte, Amy and Benjamin would miss their playmates.  Keith and I
guessed that probably the Millers considered us and Birnhoff kids a bad
influence and that was why they bought their own place.