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Chapter 3 - Everyone Needs Clothes

"Enjoy yourself, James," said Caiden as he left, closing the door.

James became increasingly needy as they walked back to his room; he stared at passersby, attempted a short-lived escape from Caiden, followed by clinging onto Caiden's body. And he saw his muzzle grow yet larger. The tip of his nose started to itch, too, and when he closed one eye he could see that it had darkened. But he hadn't been able to inspect his changes, the things that had happened to him.

He walked up to the mirror and took a good look at himself. His eyes were the same, his ears too, but everything else seemed off. Everything else was different. His cheeks that were almost non-existent extended out to form the still small muzzle. The nose had been turned up and become black; when he touched it, it felt wet. It also had a different position, sitting at the tip of his muzzle. If it wasn't for the eyes, the hair, the ears, James could have passed for a small dog.

James heart started beating faster, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He should not be okay with it, the way he was. He should not think that he's cute, but he did.

One could still spot skin through the strands of fur, but the skin rapidly became less and less visible.

He turned on the sink and splashed some water onto his face, staring and challenging his reflection, blinking several times. It was happening. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't fake. He was becoming a dog, and he was liking it. That was the annoying part, because James remembered the nut jobs and their conspiracy theories. If they were right, if they were real transformees that had managed to escape... They can't have felt the way James did. Horny, fantastic, and great.

Closing his eyes, James felt at his cock and started to imagine things. He slowly moved to bed as the fantasies started taking hold. Caiden stood above him, while James was on his knees, licking and serving a thick shaft.

It wasn't the James in the mirror that James saw. In his mind, he could be anything. He could see anything. He had finished transforming, becoming a lithe German Shepherd-mix, his white paw had been accompanied by a white ear. James found himself hot. It was wrong, but that was who he wanted to be. That shepherd, on his knees, pleasing someone better than he.

Caiden was the same, mostly, but something about him was odd. His image was becoming blurry, his shape a little fuzzy. James had no control of what the canine did in his mind. Caiden stepped away, though James begged him to stay. Caiden stepped away, falling backwards, a blur.

Then, his fur became dark, his cock became thicker, his muzzle a little different, and his body once again sharp. Caiden was gone, and in his place was a black dog of uncertain breed, wearing a police hat. James jumped onto the dog laying on his back, and the fantasy continued.

James stroked himself, groping and feeling his groin. It felt electric, a jolt surged through his body upon first touch. The skin bunched up at the bottom was covered in the same fur as the rest of his body, and his cock was a stark, meaty red. As if it for the first time felt the freshness of air. In way, though it had been out for a long time, it was its first time. It reacted to his touch, liquid started to ooze from the tip. He stroked up, he stroked down, using the pre-cum for better friction, feeling it pour over his hand.

The imaginary, black dog stood behind him. James was on his bed, on his knees, stroking himself and wagging his would-be tail. The black dog held his hands in a tight grip around James' abdomen, placing his cock at the entrance underneath the tail. James started to stroke his cock with more intensity, faster, and with a harder hold. The cock started to heave, as if breathing, the pre-cum stopped flowing, and he kept stroking. But his strokes became shorter as his hand started bumping into a growth at the base of his cock. A growing little knot.

Brought out of his fantasy, the black dog vanished, James only thought of himself. Of the knot forming at the base of his cock. Of the intense pleasure, the burning fire inside his loins. He stroked the cock one last time, spurt after spurt of cum flew onto the sheets, and fell down on his stomach.

His cock slowly shrunk and crawled back underneath himself, seeking shelter inside its cave. James felt disgusted as he lay in his filth - he was unclean, dirty, a disappointment. A day ago he would not have stayed in that bed, and he would not have cum from that fantasy. He had been a human. He had a good future ahead of himself. Now, all he had was himself.

All he had was his own cock, stealing all of his energy, cumming copious amounts.

An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion came over James, and he fell asleep.

***

James woke up to the same music as he had done when he first awoke in the room. That classical, cheery song that whose composer was difficult to pinpoint. He tried to think of the name he had thought of yesterday, the one that he had been studying in school, but the name wouldn't come to him. James thought the name might have started with a D, but he was unsure.

That is the issue that annoyed him the most when he woke up. James had hoped it was one of those likeable nightmares, when you truly enjoy all of it, but don't want any of it to be real. But it wasn't. He still had the fur, his balls still rested heavy on his thighs. That was the part he liked the most of it all. The big balls that smelled nice.

James shook himself awake and sat up in the bed.

There was no clock and no window to tell him what time it was, but his stomach was growling. Rumbling. He put a hand on the angry stomach, clenching it, hoping to silence the empty pain. He had to sit wide with his legs - if he had been at a train, people would have been very annoyed - in order to give himself and his new set of tools enough room. During his sleep, the balls had remained their delightful size, but his cock had changed. It was no longer visible, having delved into the new found cave. Just the red tip was poking out. It looked very similar to Caiden's set.

Out of nowhere, or perhaps triggered by a brief pause in the music, his ears started to spasm. James yelped in surprise, though it didn't hurt. It felt as if something moved in his ears, a parasite crawling and nibbling at his flesh. James rushed up to the mirror and stared at the ears. With each movement, spasm, the ears made, they changed shape. They became more sizable up top, and their bottom of them moved upwards on the side of his head.

He ran a hand over the top of one, starting to feel himself become excited, and felt the round top become pointy. The ear lobe underneath fused to his skin, the shape inside of the ear shifting. The sides of his ears were pushed outwards to become bigger, but the inside of the ear remained in place. If it wasn't for the fur that covered them, on the right side white and on the left side black, they would have looked like over-sized elf ears.

In certain ways it was fascinating seeing himself transform. For one, he had never actually seen anyone transform. But he also liked how forbidden it felt. They had always said, his parents, his peers, the society as a whole, that no one should want to become a fur. James liked how forbidden it felt to like it. As he stared at his reflection and let go of his ear, he could feel his cock grow longer.

The memory of the black dog that replaced Caiden was still fresh in his mind. The image, or idea, of himself as fully transformed. James wanted to sit down and revisit that fantasy, but he couldn't. The hunger in his stomach was growing at the same rate of his ears. He had to eat food. Or not food. Garbage. Anything.

Every sound around him sounded more there. They distracted him. The distant ones were becoming louder and certain details were becoming easier to distinguish. James couldn't find the word he was looking for, but he knew that different animals could hear things at different levels of it.

A human would perhaps hear up to, say, "40", whatever that meant. The number must have been wrong, but that wasn't important. James didn't know which concept he was thinking of, and he knew he must be at a higher level now.

He could no longer just hear the music, or the constant rumble from the outside. He could hear the movement in nearby rooms. A light clickety-clack on the floor, the repeated creaking of a bed, the sound of more grumbling stomachs. James thought he might have imagined the last one. He was becoming light-headed.

Someone walked in the hallway, four wheels on the floor and glasses bumping together. A door opened and it would be silent for a while, except the sound of hushed voices. Then the wheels would return to stalk the hallway, followed by another door opening and another period of silence.

When the person walking came close to his door, James hurried to get a sheet to cover himself with. Despite enjoying his changes and liking his new look, he was still slightly ashamed. It was nothing he wanted to flaunt. Yesterday, he didn't mind. But he had been in a state of shock, and he had been forced to walk naked. Asserting some control meant that he could still remain a part of himself. That was his theory, at any rate.

As when Caiden had entered the day before, the scramble of keys could be heard. When the door opened, the man standing outside did not come inside. Instead he stood still, peeking in.

"Hello!" He said in a cheery tone. He was a cat, wearing an apron but nothing underneath. Whereas James felt slightly drowsy, the cat seemed nothing of the sort. A morning person with a cart filled with food. It smelled good.

James, holding the sheet tight around his body, yawned, "Good Morning, Mr..." He didn't know the cat's name, so he fell silent.

"Chef," the cat said, grinning and squinting his eyes.

"Mr. Chef isn't a good name."

Mr. Chef leaned on against the doorway, chewing on something, "It's not my name, it's what you call me. You know, show some respect? Typical canine." He sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Chef." James remembered talking to Caiden and Leo about his own name. "I don't even know what my name should be. A lion said he wouldn't call me by my current name, and by no name until I picked one." He had been intent on keeping James, but Leo's talk would get annoying. And Caiden had also found his name boring. If everyone disliked his name, he should probably use another. "But I think I will keep James."

"Interesting," the cat said, having turned away to face his cart, "but I don't have time to chit-chat. Here's your food," he said and handed James a bowl, before turning back to the cart, "and here's your clothes." The chef threw it on the floor.

"My clothes?" James ears perked up, and he looked at the cloth on the floor. A single piece of underwear. "What for? I thought you all ran around naked..."

"Do I look naked?" The cat asked and waved his hands over his apron. James took note of the lack of breeches, or underwear.

He muttered under his breath, "Close enough."

"What was that?"

"No, you don't look naked."

"And why do you think that is, dog?" James had no clue, and shrugged. The cat explained, "Because I am working." The cat turned back to his cart and grabbed a carton of milk, walked up to James and filled the bowl to the brim.

They were both silent for a couple of seconds as James pondered it. "So I will work?"

The cat shook his head. "Testing. They'll come here to get you later, in an hour, two, or three. Be prepared. I have to give the other dogs their food. Catch ya later, mutt."

James lifted one hand off the bowl to say goodbye, but the cat closed the door before he had time to wave. He looked from the underwear to his food, from the food to his underwear, and then back to his food: There was no spoon.

The brim of the deep plate was filled with milk, with brown little bones helping to fill it up. There was no desk to place it on, and he couldn't put it down on the uneven surface that was the bed. James lowered himself to his knees slowly as to not spill a drop, until he could safely place it down on the floor. He threw his sheets to the side.

He hadn't realized it when it happened a minute ago, but the cat filling it up to the side had made it so that he could no longer put the bowl to his lips, tilt the deep bowl, and eat it that way. He would spill milk all over himself. His stomach was growling and there was only one solution that he could think of.

"Asshole cat," said James outloud, before he got on his knees and elbows, bending his neck down. For being a form of cereal, it smelt more than fine. Instead of being based on corn, rye, or anything else, the bone-cereal smelt as if they were made of meat jerky. He put the top of his muzzle down into the milk, slurping and sipping at it, getting a taste. Tasty, he thought.

He continued to sip at it, a little faster, and a little more. The plan had been to take the bowl in his hands when he had ensured a lack of spillage, but James threw that plan out of the window. When he finally reached his head back out of the bowl, there was only a few drops of milk left. James sat down on his butt and leaned his head onto the bed, sighing.

It wasn't every day he felt content with breakfast. This time, it had been great. He could get used to it. James patted his stomach, feeling full and round, when he noticed a nice smell.

The mess from the night before was still there, stuck in his fur. His eyes darted from side to side, seeing no shower or bath, before realizing the sink was there. That was the only option.

His legs felt heavy when he stood up, almost having to drag them along. The muscle could not quite carry their size, it felt like, like back when he had been taking "leg day" too seriously. Tired and restless he started the water, listening to it pour down the drain, then the pipes. There was a soothing tone to it. Low, and calm, unlike anything he had heard before. James couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, but he felt his ears twitch. He looked himself in the mirror, leaning forward and splashing water into his face.

He liked how the ears looked. They moved, partly on their own, to follow the sound of the water. They were covered in the fur, and they seemed almost complete, with the way they sat on the top of his skull. He found the white ear on his left side incredibly cute. At the bottom, it mixed with the shepherd blonde. At the top, it mixed with the shepherd black. James put his right hand up to stroke the lush fur, when he realized.

The mirror image had used its left hand, to stroke its left ear. He was stroking his right ear. It was his right ear that was white, not the left one. His head was hurting, his mind was clouded, and the water kept flowing into the drain. That was not the type of mistake he would normally do, he was sure of it, and it annoyed him he had made it.

"I'm not dumb," said James to himself, "I'm not." But what Caiden had said when they first met echoed in his mind. Not an intelligent bone in your body. Nevermind that bones can be neither intelligent or dumb, Caiden must have meant that James was stupid. And he was not. He knew he wasn't. At the same time, he knew that if he was stupid, he might not know it.

Shrugging the thoughts off and attempting to clear his mind, he started to splash the fur on his stomach with water, cleaning the stained fur. That was the easy part.

As he had to clean himself by the lower abdomen, he could see himself start to stir. This was the hard part. His heavy balls heaved up, and down. The sheath doing the same, with the red tip poking out further.

James continued to work, ignoring the pleasure, the cock reacting to the touch. There was a balance in his mind. No doubt that he was horny. That if a thousand asses presented themselves to him, right then, he would take care of each one with care. Or let a thousand cocks take care of him, one at a time. Or two. But it felt wrong to listen to his cock: to start stroking right there. For one, he had to be cleaning himself.

But also, it felt selfish to take care of himself by his lonesome. To sit and stroke himself was one thing. If Caiden came and asked him for his services, and he was already spent, that would be another. It could not happen.

James heaved his balls with one hand and started rubbing them with the other. His cock was a sword by the time he had finished. He walked over to his bed, fetching the underwear meanwhile, and sat down.

He had almost finished changing. He had his claws on his hands and paws. He had the padding on the same. He had a large, full muzzle. A fur coat. A lean and muscular body, though nothing like Caiden's. All he missed, really, was a tail.

He wanted a tail.

The underwear, boxers, had a hole in the back. A hole for the tail that James did not have. James sighed and pulled them over his legs. It would be a long day.

---

I am tired. It is midnight. I hope you enjoyed this story - feel free to leave feedback! Of any sort! It is always a welcome sight to wake up to. I mean, if you have wi-fi...;_;