CANDY, BEING TAKEN BY HER NEW OWNER<br/><br/>The cage door opened. Bleary-eyed, I flinched.<br/><br/>And already, I worried I was in trouble.<br/><br/>I didn’t care that I had the stupid tail or the stupid ears of a dog. Or that my breasts were constantly swollen, and needing to be milked … or that I constantly needed to be fucked.<em>Constantly.</em>I didn’t want it, at all – but dear god I was always wet and horny, like a stupid slutty bitch in heat, and despite whatever I could rationally tell myself, whenever a lovely thick cock slid into my wet snatch I was in absolute heaven.<br/><br/>But I didn’t care about any of that. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.<br/><br/>Because I was a girl, trapped in a dog’s body.<br/><br/>It wasn’t a mistake. I’d thought my conversion to being a dog was a mistake, at first … why wouldn’t it be? But during the past few days, being ‘trained’ at the Club where I was taken, I knew that was a lie. The people at the Club, they knew<em>exactly</em>what had been done to me. They knew my mind hadn’t been altered, that I could still speak. And they took great delight in using and abusing me like a common dog, letting me know quite plainly that should I ever try to explain my predicament – to anyone – chances are I’d be put down and destroyed.<br/><br/>So, it wasn’t a mistake. I was the victim of depraved, inhuman monsters, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.<br/><br/>The first nights were the worst. I’d been raised in a religious household, and had been saving my virginity for marriage … I know, silly. And quaint. And old-fashioned. But that<em>meant</em>something to me. And I’d heard rumors of handlers assaulting freshly-converted dogs while being taken to their new owners … so when I wasn’t touched, I assumed that maybe my condition was indeed a mistake.<br/><br/>Turned out I was wrong. An older gentleman at the Club – an award-winning actor, you’d know him if you saw him – paid extra so he could take a ‘special’ dog’s cherry. I cried and screamed as he ravaged my virgin pussy, a crowd of Club members applauding, cheering, and snapping pictures as he kneeled behind me and fucked me rotten. I screamed and wept hot tears of shame, and that made them cheer all the louder. When he was done, he made me clean his cock with my mouth.<br/><br/>And the worst part was, I came twice. No, scratch that. The worst part was … my body enjoyed it. All of it.<br/><br/>Other horrors unfolded after that. One evening was spent with a pair of exquisitely beautiful women, Miss Green and Miss White, who took great pleasure in forcing me to eat their pussies, and even greater pleasure in whipping my tender breasts and ass. They laughed as they took turns buggering my ass with a giant strap-on, one of them kissing the tears from my face as I sobbed hysterically while the other fucked me. I’d been raised to believe that homosexuality was simply<em>wrong</em>… and yet again, my body betrayed me as I came, again and again, delighting in the touch of these decadent women.<br/><br/>My final test – as I came to think of it – was when a visiting football club was brought to the Club. One of the Club owners or managers (I wasn’t quite sure of what his role actually was) explained gently to me that the footballers had no idea that I wasn’t properly converted, that they thought I was an ordinary dog … and that they planned to have sex with me.<br/><br/>All of them.<br/><br/>And if I uttered a single word – if I acted in any way besides a dumb, delighted dog eager to be fucked, again and again – I’d probably be killed. But if I thought death was preferable to my current condition … maybe I<em>should</em>say something.<br/><br/>Twenty football players. They all fucked me. For hours. Their cum dripped from my face, my tits, my pussy and my ass … I was drenched in their spend and my sweat, when they finally finished. I collapsed on the floor, listening to them congratulate the owners of the Club for providing them with such a fine little piece of ass … and utterly despising myself for smiling, uncontrollably so, while they fucked me. For barking and yipping like a dog. And for having orgasmed so many times that I lost count.<br/><br/>Because I was a girl, trapped in a dog’s body.<br/><br/>Honest.<br/><br/>This morning, though I’d caught rumors that I was to be sold, that I’d be going to a home. And that I’d have proper owners.<em>Owners,</em>I thought. The idea seemed reassuring. Yes, an owner – or a few owners – would probably rape and abuse me, but so what? It seemed better than the Club, where an endless parade of sick people would relentless fuck and torment me, and the nightmare would never end.<br/><br/>Maybe an owner would be nice. Or at least nicer.<br/><br/>So I flinched when the door opened. And silently cursed myself, since an honest-to-goodness converted dog<em>wouldn’t</em>do that, they’d be happy to see someone new and slobber all over them and probably hump their leg.  But I didn’t.<br/><br/>Instead I saw my new owner – younger than I’d expected, handsome. Probably a businessman of some sort. I meekly did as he bid me, crawling like a dog as I followed him out of my cage, down long corridors to a loading dock.<br/><br/>He said something I didn’t understand – in French, probably? – and then I felt a slight pain in my rump. The world got fuzzy, and I found myself drifting away.<br/><br/>I hoped when I woke up, I wouldn’t be a dog anymore.<br/><br/>Since I knew that was a lie, I hoped instead that when I woke up, things would be much better than they were at the Club.