I should have been dead. Nobody survives a train crash, riding in the first carriage, as it got crushed to a quarter of its original length. But somehow my body was found in a gap, between all warped metal.



Except for all of my limbs. They had become part of the warped mess. And cutting me out really meant cutting off my arms and legs. The chance of me surviving that was less than the chance of winning a billion dollar jackpot. Yet here I was.



I was kept in coma for months, as they stabilized my body. And when I finally came out, I wished they'd let me die. It wasn't just my arms and legs, I had lost my manhood, all my teeth and the ability to speak. And my hearing had been greatly reduced, due to the heat of a fire close to where my body was found, together with all hair on my head and face.



They were able to tell me what had happened, as my eyes were still working, and they showed the wreckage of the train on TV. But I couldn't respond without any of the tools we normally use to communicate. All I had was my eyes and a weird sound I could make if I blew out air from my mouth.



Simple yes and no's were the easiest. Moving my eyes up and down was "nodding" yes, and looking left and right was "shaking" no. Physiotherapy was needed to train my neck muscles again, so that I could nod or shake with my head as well.



In the beginning, when I had to relearn everything, it was sufficient. But when I wanted, needed, more independence, like changing the TV channel, or pee by myself, it was impossible to explain. One of the surgeons that had worked on me, took special interest. Her name was Diana, and she sat often by my bedside, explaining things, and questioning me. From her I learned that my manhood was gone, and early on a decision was made to reroute my urinary track very much like a woman's.



That at least explained the small growths on my chest, that I had noticed during physio, which she said was because of the lack of male hormones.

What was more interesting though was that she was linked to a lab where they were developing arm and leg prostheses for me. She had been able to save a lot of my nerve ends, right after the amputation, and secure them in a way, so that she'd be able later to hookup the prostheses to, and with a bit of luck I'd be able to control my artificial arms and legs after that.



She showed me a picture of her dog, with four artificial legs, made by the same lab years before. The dog had lived until recently, being able to run around even, until it died from old age. Her work would live on in me, she promised. It was just that human arms and legs were highly more complicated than the dog's legs.



The first piece of high-tech designed for me was a wheelchair though. Not like the one they used to take me to the bathroom or the therapy class. No, this one I could control myself. Once I was in it, that is. It strapped me in automatically, with no chance I could slide out. And then it had a mouthpiece that would swing towards my mouth, so I could take it in. Then, using small movements of my head and with my tongue, I could make it move and turn. For the first time I could go somewhere by myself again.



There were some nifty tools built in the chair as well. A small robot arm, so that I could push buttons in the elevator. Also a special suction cup that would line up with my pee hole or anal hole, allowing me to do my business, then later dump the content of a reservoir in the toilet and flush it.



It's amazing how quick you learn, if you can't do anything yourself. My tongue became very agile, as a result of controlling my chair and its tools. And so, for the first time in months, I was outside in the hospital gardens, all by myself. Enjoying the sun. And for the first time I had hope again, hope that maybe things would turn my way again, even if it was with bionic arms and legs.



Diana found me there. And she asked me if I was ready to do a road trip with her. Of course, I nodded. So the next day we left, first to her home to pickup some food and drinks. But when we were there, she asked me if perhaps I wanted to wear something more interesting than my hospital robe.



When I nodded, she grabbed something from her drawer. It was black and looked like leather. My first thought was a bathing suit, but she said it was a leotard, with holes in exactly the right place. With no arms or legs in the way, it was fairly easy for her to put it on me, even though there were no zippers or anything, but it was stretchy material. It must have had some padding in the built in bra cups, as it suddenly looked like I had real breasts.



With the short sleeves my missing arms didn't look as bad, and she wrapped a skirt made from the same material to hide my leg stumps. But in the mirror I still saw my heavily scarred face. She showed me a black hood that would cover all. No idea why she even had a thing like that. But she said it belonged to a Halloween costume as she had once dressed as catwoman.



Again, there were no zippers. The material stretched around my bald head with ease, with just holes for my eyes and mouth, and tiny ones for my nose and ears. There was no more skin visible on me. Diana put some very red lipstick on me, and a blonde ponytail appeared from the top of my head. Looking in the mirror there was no mistake about it. I looked like a woman. But no longer seeing my ugly burned skin was actually worth it. In a fetish kind of way I actually looked sexy. And jokingly she called me Michelle, after the original catwoman.



We drove to a mountain about two hours away, and I loved every minute of it. Diana talked for the both of us, all I had to do was nod or shake every now and then. The mountain had a stunning view point and we spent several hours there on our picnic. The liquid food she had brought for me tasted quite good.



Slowly rain started falling and most people left. But I thought it was wonderful. My leather clothing kept my skin dry, and I enjoyed the soft popping as the drops simply bumped off me. Diana clearly noticed I was enjoying it, so she gave me my time, although she put a full length leather coat on herself, against the rain. Then things got worse.



Lighting and thunder was suddenly close around us, and the wind was fierce at once. Probably not the best situation for my wheelchair, so Diana suggested we go. And then, before we could move even, lightning struck. And this time I really died.



We were lucky that a passersby saw it happen, as Diana had fallen to the ground. Despite the bad weather, the ambulance was there in minutes. I was pronounced dead at the scene, but Diana was alive still, and we were both loaded into the ambulance. They concluded that her long coat had saved her life.



My body ended up in the morgue and the paperwork of my death was signed and preparations were started for my cremation, as it was known I had no family. The only problem was my clothes though. The heat of the lightning must have melted the leather into my skin, and no way could it be removed anymore.



In another day or so Diana was up and about again, and she stopped the cremation and requested my remains, so she could investigate the leather skin issue in her lab at home. Everybody was happy to get rid of my leftovers.



Diana was crying when she carried my body inside her lab. But soon she was stunned to measure a body temperature much too high for a dead body. And whatever had happened to my skin made it impossible to detect a heartbeat, until she stuck a finger in my mouth and she could only conclude I was still alive. In a coma yes, but again I had beaten the odds with death.



She didn't report it yet that I was still alive, as she knew the paperwork would be gruesome, if not impossible. And if I didn't come out of coma, it would all have been wasted time. Hooking me to an IV however was tough, as no needle would penetrate my skin. Until she found that inside the short sleeves was still some of my original skin.



For three weeks she sat at my bedside reading to me, calling me Michelle, or just talked about the happenings of the day. They'd sent her on leave for eight weeks, to recover from the lightning strike, so all her time was spent on me.



When I finally woke up, I knew immediately there were gaps in my memory. I knew my name was Michelle but I could not remember my last name at all. And of course it was clear I was a woman. I had no recollection of ever living with arms or legs, or even teeth, and it made it much easier to accept my situation than it had ever before. Diana was the most important person in my life and I loved her with all my heart. And she loved me as the daughter she never had, and that paperwork was much easier to fix.



So I became officially Michelle Johnson, daughter of Diana. The only problem was that because of my official death, the work on my robotic arms and legs had stopped and the critical parts been assigned to another project.



Add to that that my wonderful wheelchair had been fried by the lightning strike and all I had now was an old beater that my mom had to push around. So much for independence.

But as she pushed me around the house we stopped at the bionic legs her old dog had used, and we both thought the same thing.



It took days of her frantically working, but eventually she was ready to fit the legs on me. A friend she trusted helped her with the surgery. And once again, after I recovered my life had changed. It took long before I finally got the hang of it and managed to move one of my new limbs with just a thought. But from then on it became more and more natural. Until finally I did my first steps.



The human brain isn't used to move on four legs, but that doesn't mean it's incapable. When you walk on two legs, your arms move in perfect harmony with your legs. Same when you run. And for me, walking like a dog on four legs, soon became second nature. Or should I say my only nature?



After walking I learned to run, a completely different control of my legs, but again, the brain adapts. And when I could run, I wouldn't stop, until I needed recharging. More and more my behavior started changing towards how Diana's dog had been, and slowly I went from being her daughter to being her new pet. One she loved dearly.



Since I still didn't have teeth all my food was liquefied and it was much easier to slobber up from a bowl, than trying to sip it from a bottle. Likewise, the way the legs would bend, it was easier to sleep on her old dog pillow than in a bed. The funny thing though? My name was Michelle, cat woman, remember?



When Diana started covering my metal legs with black shiny rubber, so that I could safely run in the rain and even swim, I looked more and more like a sleek cat than a dog. A black panther, she said. And to finish my looks she developed a black tail, which at some point I managed to control somehow with whatever part of my brain had been dormant for millions of years.



I loved swimming. And I became quite good at it. With my leather skin I could handle the cold much better than any naked human. And that's how I found a friend.



I loved the small lake, not too far from our house. I'd run full speed down the hill and tried to jump as far as I could, before landing in the water. And one day I saw a big dog do exactly the same on the other side of the lake. We swam toward each other and met about in the middle, and from that moment on we were unseparable.



He knew I was different, yet also similar. I could not speak, hardly make a sound even. But I tried, and in doing so, the few sounds I managed to produce were very similar to his. I called him Babe in my mind and my sound for that was very distinct. Likewise he always barked in a short special way when he saw me. It was a form of communication and we understood each other.



He was very aware I had no teeth and when we started sharing food, he would chew it all for me and mesh it so small that I could pick it up with my lips and swallow it. He himself really enjoyed my liquefied food as well.



We enjoyed sleeping together in the sun, often grooming ourselves and each other with our tongues. One time, when I was cleaning his belly, as he'd rolled through some of my minced meat, I licked along what only could be his sheathed penis. And it came to attention right away. He produced a growl I had never heard before, but I recognized it wasn't angry. It was horny.



He was gentle when he took my anal virginity, the only hole I had for him to penetrate. Memories came back that had been buried deep, about having intercourse. But no memory was there about being penetrated. But it was enjoyable, and my body and brain, having missed sex for so long, adapted to the situation, and I became his bitch. I came twice, unable to disconnect from him, before he finally shot his load deep in me. He breathed in my neck, licking me, until he could pull out again. And our friendship suddenly became deeper.



It took awhile before Diana found out. I knew I had to get home, to get my legs charged. But my babe was horny and he took me quickly. And his cum was leaking from my hole while I was lying on my pillow as the charging went on. At first Diana was worried as she thought I was sick. Then she asked me if I had been having sex, and I simply nodded. It's hard to explain if you can't talk.



It took a couple of weeks, I think. Life is so simple when you're in love with your best friend, who happens to be a massive dog. We were out every day, sleeping, swimming, running, checking out the neighborhood, and making out. But then one day, right after I emptied my bowl, it turned dark and I passed out.



It was weird when I woke up. I could hear Babe whine my name, over and over. And Diana's voice soothing him, and soothing me. Her face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, and it was filled with love and concern. I felt a weird pain between my "legs", but nothing I couldn't handle. I survived a train crash, remember?



Babe was licking my face and he made me laugh. I called out to him and he stopped whining. It took me a couple of tries, but finally I was back on my feet. Diana let me go and told me "no swimming or sex for a few weeks". And I realized I had some tight pants, or was it bandage, under my skirt.



Apparently no running either, my legs really didn't want to move fast. But walking side by side with Babe was enough. And when I got tired we dropped and rested. And slowly I got stronger and the pain disappeared. After two weeks Diana removed the bandage pants and she told me to have fun again.



It was like Babe knew. He sniffed between my rear legs and got very interested. And I couldn't help myself, I needed him in me. So I urged him, but it wasn't necessary. He was ready. I lifted up my tail and waited for him to mount me. But when he did, the feeling was so much different. Better, where I had thought before that it couldn't get any better. I came twice already before he was fully inside me and his knot locked me tight.



He hit spots I'd never felt before and I hit new highs over and over again. And when he finally came and squirted his load in me, it felt so different, so amazing, it took me over the top again, like never before. What had Diana done to me?



When Babe pulled out of me, he licked me clean, and even that felt so good, I shuddered from another aftershock. And I suddenly realized it did not come from my rear. Which was confirmed later by Diana, when she asked me if I liked my new pussy. So that's what she'd been doing. She'd made me a real woman.



Things went wonderful after that. I noticed my breasts being slightly larger as well, which was fine, as I truly felt like the woman now, that I had accepted already so long ago. Until weeks later, things changed again.



I knew something was wrong when I woke up horny. I ran outside to find Babe. Normally we'd swim around the lake a few times, but he acted differently too. He was smelling me and licking my pussy, making me hotter even. I pushed back at him, thinking of waking up his dick, but it wasn't necessary. He mounted me already, and I could feel my usual orgasms manifest. But it wasn't enough, I just could not get satisfaction. Even when he shot his load, already I needed more.



I could smell myself and apparently so could some other dogs from the neighborhood. I went to chase one, as Babe barked the other one away. But my new friend turned around now and concentrated on my pussy. I couldn't help myself and let him, needing him in me. But Babe wouldn't let him.



In two growls and a serious bite, the new dog was gone, and I heard myself whine. Then Babe took matters in his own, eeeh, paws, and he was ready for round two. It helped, but never did I get fully satisfied.



Three more times we mated that day, until I laid down on my pillow that night and fell asleep right away. And when I woke up the next day, thank goodness, everything felt normal again. We had a couple of lazy days, with no sex, and we were both fine with that. But then I started feeling weird. Little things that were off, and nausea here and there.



Diana noticed it too, and she performed some tests on me. Verdict: pregnant.

That's when she confessed my surgery had been more severe than providing me with "just" a pussy. A female dog had died after being hit by a car, but her whole reproductive system was intact, and was transferred to my body. And weeks ago I was in a bitch's heat and now I was pregnant.



After my initial devastation of being pregnant, I got used to it, even enjoying it. My breasts grew heavy and Diana had to do a small procedure to make sure my nipples could release their milk through my leather skin. That's when I started leaking milk, much to the pleasure of Babe. And his licking along my now very sensitive nipples put my whole body on fire. We had wonderful sex up until close to the due date.



I had two pups, like nature knew I only had two nipples to feed them. They looked so much like a miniature Babe, and I loved them from the first moment. Babe was there through all of it, and for a while we were a happy little family. Until my pups were big enough to leave the nest. My girl was promised to the people who had loved their dog through whom I'd been given the chance for motherhood. I knew she'd be okay. My little guy stayed with Diana and me, giving me a chance at seeing him grow up all the way.



Living the life of a pet may not seem very exciting. But when you survive a train wreck and a lightning strike, and gain the ability to give life, you know that every day is precious. Every day, I live like it could be my last, with the opportunities given to me. And if that means being a pet, then I will make the best of it. Until the day I really die.