This story contains Adult themes. Deal with it as an adult.
Ken Barnes loved his hobby, racing sled dogs, Malamutes of course. This year Ken had only two dogs, his prize female Malamute, Moira, a lovely dog who's beauty turned canine and human heads alike. The second dog, a handsome male by the name Windigo, was a recent acquisition. Moira had accepted Windigo as friend and consort. She would be in heat soon and Ken hoped the two would produce a fine litter of pups.
Ken bit his fingernails in expectant worry. Moira was like a daughter to him and he hovered around her like a nervous expectant grandfather. His Museum job demanded he take a business trip out of town for the next four days, the same period Moira's biological readiness would peak. Fortunately, his cousin Martin was home from college for the summer. He had agreed to house-sit, watch the dogs and confirm the upcoming breeding event.
Dogs appreciated Martin, people did not. An intelligent young man, his overbearing attitude earned him few friends amongst humans. Proudly displaying a Mensa membership pin, Martins' arrogance vastly exceeded his IQ. Ken tolerated Martin primarily for his abilities as a kennel caretaker. Before he had entered college at Cornell, Martin had helped Ken with dog care chores. Moira adored Martin, the two got along famously.
Well, Ken thought, at least I won't be around....Hmmm, Martin could offer Ken an opinion on the sealed clay jar a donor had brought to the museum. Fired clay with an waxed sealed stone stopper, the jar was overlaid in Arabic script. The jar's style did'nt fit any known period of pottery from the Middle East. It looked suspiciously recent. Martin liked a challenge, the notes Ken left should stimulate his interest. On Thursday, Martin arrived at Ken's place, an anonymous ranch house. The backyard contained chainlink dog kennels, empty except for two, a dog run, exercise area and shed. Martin greeted the two dogs, Moira overjoyed at Martin's return. Windigo, meeting Martin for the first time, was wary at first, but seeing Moira's reaction, harumphed a friendly greeting. Martin cleaned their kennels, poured fresh water into their bowls, and took both dogs out for a walk. Upon returning, Martin led Windigo back to his kennel, Moira followed Martin into the house. She was the only dog allowed into the house.
Martin sat down at Ken's work desk. Moira curled up on a rug nearby. He turned on Ken's computer. He pulled out a disc from his shirt pocket. He planned on submitting some stories and surf the net for his favorite web pages. His favorites were the Anthropomorphic art sites and stories.
Martin contributed frequently to the story archives; themes involving Anthropomorphic character's or 'furries'. Martin ignored the clay jar Ken had deliberately placed next to the computer. Yes, he had read Ken's letter describing the jar. No, he had no intention of examining it until tomorrow.
One letter and several web pages later, Martin glanced at a sleeping Moira. You couldn't find a more beautiful dog. He felt a pang of loneliness, Martin had no girl friends. Jealous, he envied Windigo's breeding status. Sometimes Martin would fantasized about himself, as a canine, romping through a meadow with Moira. Just a fantasy, real life demands you adhere to social conventions. Martin sighed. As he reached for a pencil, his elbow bumped the clay jar off the desk. Oh damn, too late!
The jar bounced once, twice, then settled on its side. A relieved Martin picked up the unbroken jar. He examined it closely. The wax stopper seal was cracked, curiously the jar was warm. With a loud bang, the stopper popped off like a Champaign cork. Martin dropped the jar, blue smoke oozed out. Moira woke up from her nap, barking furiously, she cowered against the wall with Martin as they watched the smoke plume form into a thick tall shape.
The plume materialized into a blue-skinned man. He was dressed in Bell-bottomed jeans, a tie-dyed print shirt and wearing a peace sign on a neck chain. "Cool place you got here man, are the Sixties over?", said the man in blue. "Oh...I'm rushing things a bit, let me introduce myself. My name is Raterlianmickleparient, or you can call me Jerry after my musical idol Jerry Garcia. I didn't catch your name?"
Martin regained his voice, "I'm Martin and this is my cousin's dog Moira." The blue-skinned man bowed to the canine and uttered a series of high-pitched squeaks. Moira pricked her ears up, she relaxed, curled up on her rug and closed her eyes.
"I just told the lovely creature, she could take a short nap, since there's nothing for her to worry about. By the way, I suppose you want to know who I am?"
Martin thought, this is a setup, one of Ken's practical jokes. Ken had a few contacts among Hollywood Special Effects companies in Los Angeles. I'll play along with this guy until the joke is over. He said, "From the looks of you, Jerry, I'd say you're an Afrit, you're the first one I've ever seen. I've thought Afrits dressed up like an extra from the Arabian Nights?"
The Afrit replied, "A man of superb education. I'm pleased you know the correct term for my kind. I've never liked the slang word ‘Genie', so vulgar. As for my wardrobe, I dress with the times." The Afrit glanced at Ken's computer. "Oh is that a small computer on the desk? The last time I was about, they filled an entire room. May I take a look?"
Before Martin could get in word, the blue colored Afrit sat down in front of the computer. With a few clicks of the mouse, the Afrit began reading some of Martin's stories. He rapidly scanned through several files, the text scrolling by at high speed.
He turned to Martin and said, "Technological advances abound. Yet the old dreams persist, people still wish to change some aspect about themselves, be something, or someone else. Martin, I like your imagination. Take Canines for example. Swift of limb, elegant in movement, acute hearing and smell. An entire universe to themselves. I can see why some folks would want to be one for a short while. Your cousin's dog Moira, to name an example. Although she has Windigo for a suitor, she would love to see you as a dog. I sense your desire to experience transformation."
"Well, I've written a few short stories. I find them just a flight of fancy.", Martin replied, "Jerry, what are you proposing? Granting three wishes?"
The Afrit chuckled, "I don't grant wishes. What I do is ask a willing participant to play the wishing game. The object is to try to gain something you would avoid paying a steep price for. What you say, I interpret, create situations for your desires, all subject to interpretation, the choice of words in your request, grammer and other things. How would you like to begin?"
Ken thought a moment, keep playing along with him, Ken will pop in sooner or later to announce the joke is over. "Okay I'll play the wishing game. How's this for a challenge. I, Martin will receive a great kiss from a dog (nothing to that!), I change into a dog, have a wonderful affair with Moira, then you can transform me again."
The Afrit furrowed his forehead, "Four situations, I can do the first one immediately, the other three will take a little longer to manifest themselves. What kind of dog do you want to ‘become of'?" Martin missed the emphasis of those last words, he said, "Well since Moira is used to Windigo, how about me becoming Windigo?"
The Afrit replied, "Excellent choice. Now Martin, against my interpretations, are there any questions on how it's to be done?" Martin shook his head. Any moment now, Ken will arrive to end this elaborate farce. The Afrit lifted his arms. The ground rocked beneath Martin's feet. He was enveloped in a flash of light.
Martin found himself standing naked on a stone platform. He tried to focus his eyes, an enormous white building loomed off in the distance. Surrounding him were skyscraper structures of wire and huge metal towers.
Wait a minute, this all looked familiar...imagine it in a smaller scale. Crimeny! This was the back yard! The white thing was Ken's house, and the towers were the posts in the dog kennels! He was SMALL! How in the hell did this happen? The Afrit wasn't joking when he said he could grant wishes! But he did'nt wish for this! He stared at a metal post, gauging his size. He must be about four inches tall! Tall as a mouse!
A gigantic furry shape slid by him, blotting out the sun. Jerry looked up into the enormous yellow eyes of a dog. It was Windigo. Oh shit, he was in Windigo's kennel! The Malamute pounced, great paws banged down on the concrete floor on either side of Martin. Martin fell backwards, he was squeezed between two front paws, he felt Windigo's door-size nose touch him, dog breath flowing around him in a warm fog. Martin screamed.
He heard a booming voice surround him, it sounded like Jerry, the Afrit. "Now Windigo, remember my instructions, be gentle with the Lad! How are you doing Martin? Just relax, the first wish has unfolded. Have fun and enjoy the ride! Carry on Windigo!"
Still holding Martin, Windigo lowered his haunches and reclined on his belly. A mattress-wide tongue snaked out of his muzzle. He licked Martin, the first stroke covered him from chest to face. Martin couldn't help but lay on his back and enjoy the sensation from that warm, slick, soft tongue. Windigo gave him a vigorous tongue bath as the enormous tongue washed his body from feet to head. It was the most sensual body caress he had ever received. His body trembled like an excited tuning fork being played by an expert canine musician. The dog stopped, he withdrew his tongue, a soaked Martin panted in the glow of sweet delight. He wondered what did the Afrit mean 'enjoy the ride'?
He looked up at the enormous snout. Suddenly, the dog's mouth yawned open. A huge, long cave filled with hot winds and carnivore teeth. A pink waterfall poured out. Martin was buried under the dog's tongue, the prehensile tongue curled around his shoulders, legs and feet. He was yanked skyward, over piercing fangs, between canine gums, to land heavily head first in the back of Windigo's mouth. For a few moments, he laid face-down on center of the wide tongue. Abruptly the lower jaw hinged upward. Stalactite teeth meshed with stalagmite carnivore molars. The light snuffed out, Martin was firmly sandwiched between the roof of Windigo's mouth and tongue. He felt his buttocks dig into the animal's hard palate ridges, chest and legs enveloped in the hot, slick tongue. He felt his cock stiffen into an erection against the soft pebbled centerline crease of the dog's tongue.
Windigo pulled back his lips. Light leaked in between the stone rows of teeth. Martin stared into the deep blackness of the Malamute's throat. Great gouts of saliva poured forth, wrapping Martin in a slick, slimy blanket.
Windigo swallowed. Like a surfing wave, the powerful tongue surged backward, pushing Martin deep into the waiting gullet, pressing him against the soft palate. The tongue slid underneath, towards the front, ready for another go. Windigo swallowed again, The tongue jammed him down the animal's throat. The smooth throat walls tightly constricted around him as another muscular thrust squeezed him into the esophagus.
Martin smoothly slid down the slimy tube; the snug walls contracting rhythmically. He writhed in ecstasy from the embrace. After several seconds, he felt himself pass through a thick, muscled ring and then drop into an open chamber.
Thick with heat and humidity, the dog's stomach was lined with slick, ankle-deep ridges. Martin struggled to his feet in sludgy muck. The stomach chamber contracted and relaxed in the wave-like motion of peristalsis, pushing Martin around in the undertow. He fell, tingling gastric juices oozed up from underneath and around him. The acrid foul-smelling air was thin and difficult to breathe. Martin stopped breathing, amazingly he did'nt loose consciousness, he remained aware of his own body slowly melting into the digesting mix of enzymes and acids. A warm relaxing sensation spread over him, his essense spreading out into a fog of particles.
Windigo yawned, curled up on the kennel floor to wait while he absorbed his snack. The dog closed his eyes and slept.
The scattered particles coalesced. Awareness returned to Martin, he felt a steady intake and outtake of breath. A beating heart. His own? Eyelids popped open, vision distorted in an unfamiliar way. He felt a long, furry body rise up and stretch. A great yawn, flicking a long tongue, stretching padded fore limbs and back muscles. The sensually smooth body trotted off. Martin tried to stop. He couldn't control anything at all! He was a dog! But in a body that moved on it's own accord, Windigo's accord. It took a few moments to realize he was plugged into Windigo's mind, all of the dog's senses flowing through him.
The Afrit watched Windigo approach him. He was pleased to see a glint in the dog's eyes; Martin. Well the little voyeur is about to get his third and fourth wish. The Afrit, called Jerry, let Windigo out of his kennel. The dog followed him as Jerry, now wearing a casual outfit of Dockers and a polo shirt, strode to the back door. Jerry opened the door; Moira bounded out. Windigo skidded to a stop in front of Moira, she dropped to her elbows in an invitation to play. Chase me, her gesture said. The two delighted animals ran around the yard, their feet lightly touching the ground in shining eyes and bursting energy.
After a period of play and chasing. Moira felt ready. Planting her feet firmly, and looking affectionately over her shoulder at Windigo, she swept her tail aside until it lay almost along her body. Windigo mounted, throwing his forelegs over her back. He thrust his massive boner home. Moira yelped once, but did'nt move. Windigo's penile base bulb swelled, locking him to his canine mate. They folded their ears, faces gentle and smiling, mouths open, rapid breathing as their body temperatures soared. Windigo slowly climbed around. They turned rump to rump and sank to the grass, Windigo's prostrate pumping fluids.
Martin was immersed in the most ecstatic pleasure he had ever experienced. Suddenly, he felt himself wrenched loose from Windigo's mind. A strong force pulled him down in a tightening spiral, he shrank to minute dimensions. He found himself floating in a thick fluid. Forceful contractions propelled him along a huge pipeline until he and others were blindly swimming in an endless reservior. Swim, swim, taste out a direction. There..hard about, push against a moving round object. The object sucked him inside. Being dissolved again....Martin's memories were slowly etched away, he forgot his name and slept.
The two joyful dogs came apart, they cleaned themselves and took a nap together, resting their heads on each others flanks. For the next few days, Jerry hung around Ken's house, he fed the dogs, took them for walks, cleaned kennels and composed a believable excuse for Martin's absence. According to the letter Ken would see, the breeding was a success, but alas, Martin was called away on a trip to a summer archeological dig in Canada.
A few hours before Ken's arrival, the Afrit visited the dogs. Patting them on the heads, Jerry congratulated Moira and Windigo, "Take good care of your future offspring, teach them manners. Moira, pay attention to one male in particular. He's going to be an Einstein among canines. Just make sure he learns a little humility."
Jerry walked into the house, he carefully placed the jar on the desk. The Afrit thought, a well played wishing game. In a back-handed way, the recipient did receive his wishes and more. Poor Martin, he never specified how the transformations would be done, in what order, or if it would be permanent. Oh well, the future canine will make better use of his intelligence as a dog than he ever did as a human.
Bored with his brief spell of freedom, the Afrit hummed a Grateful Dead tune and transformed into a plume of smoke. The smoke flowed back into the jar, the stopper flew through the air to land on top of the jar; sealing itself tightly.