(Man to Female Bulldog)

Mark swallowed anxiously, looking to the collar in his hands. The bitter taste of guilt hung in his mouth, and his chest ached with worry.

He was one of the better dog walkers in the city-not the best, but certainly not the sort to lose track of one of his charges. Or so he’d thought. Of course, he had to lose track of Ms. Harris’s retriever. It wasn’t his fault; the dog slipped her collar. That’s what he kept telling himself, and was what he’d planned on telling the woman.

But, once she opened the door, all sensible thought fled his mind. She was a gorgeous brunette, wearing a cocktail dress that looked at odds with the indoor life he knew she led. She also happened to be rather quick-minded, as her eyes flitted from the man to the collar in his hands, a knowing smirk soon spreading across her face.

“You’ve gone and lost Duchess, haven’t you?” A grin spread across her face, the one reaction he hadn’t expected.

“Um. Yes, ma’am. But don’t worry, I walk that route almost every week. I’ll put up signs up and down, and I’ll keep an eye out for her until she’s found. I’ll also be returning your payment immediately.” That last statement was one reserved for good customers such as herself.

She laughed, the sound almost light and airy. Her right hand slipped under the man’s chin, her nails gently trailing along his skin. It took him a moment to realize that she was scratching under his chin, and he blushed.

“Oh, you poor thing. Please, don’t worry about it. After all, I was in the mood to trade for another breed. Maybe this time… I’ll go with a bulldog.”

Mark opened his mouth to ask what she was up to, only to realize that his mouth didn’t quite feel right. His cheeks felt oddly heavy, and they were oddly warm… His brow furrowed, then his eyes widened as he saw that Ms. Harris was heading indoors.

He followed her as though he was on a leash, her fingers nor once leaving their delightful contact with his chin. In spite of himself, he started to smile in a dimwitted fashion. He couldn’t help it, there was just something so oddly welcoming and pleasurable about her touch.

The door clicked quietly shut behind him, and a shudder passed through his body at the sound. The young man groaned, his head listing from side to side absently. “So… Where you planning on getting bulldog?” He mumbled, thoughts sluggish.

“Where, indeed…” Ms. Harris hummed. She trailed her other hand along Mark’s face, moving her fingers in a circle from under his chin to along his cheeks to the top of his head. Everywhere she touched was left with a delightful warm, the lingering pleasure of her fingertips driving every thought from his mind.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, almost as though it was swelling. His heart rate quickened, and he let the muscle spill over his lips. A thick trail of drool accompanied it, and the man blushed in embarrassment.

“Wait, I’m thorry…” He slurred, wiping his hand just under his lower lip. He paused at the feeling of his own tongue against the back of his hand, and his blush only worsened. The man tried to slip his tongue back into his mouth, but it didn’t quite fit.

“Sorry? Don’t be. After all, you’ll be quite the fitting replacement.” The woman laughed, and her fingers danced along his chest. The man’s clothing flowed from his body as though it had turned to water, leaving him naked in her house. This state didn’t last for long, as an itching soon spread along himself from head to toe.

Mark scratched at his burning skin, questions forming only to die on his stretched tongue. The tingling along his body was accompanied by a growth of coarse, short fur. It was brown and white, of a pattern that was very familiar to the dog walker.

Worse, the more he scratched, the more his arms and legs began to ache. This wasn’t a surface itching like the tingling along his arms and legs. Instead, this was a deeper ache, one that settled deep within the man’s bones.

He looked to the woman, only to have to look up to meet her eyes. He’d been her height just moments ago, so this came as quite the shock to him. A glance downward confirmed what his brain was beginning to suspect: his arms and legs were shortening. It looked like they were pulling in towards his shoulders and his hips at the same time, giving him an awkwardly-proportioned body for a human… But one that was perfect for a bulldog.

As the though passed through his head, it began to change further. He let out a sound between a whimper and a groan, feeling his jaw ache and his skull shrink. The man’s hair fell from his head, replaced by the short and stubby fur of his breed-to-be.

His lips thickened, cheeks getting heavier and heavier still as they lengthened into jowls. He flopped them from side to side in confusion, gagging as his tongue stretched out even longer. “Wghrry?” He asked, the sound mangled by the changes to his face.

“Because.” Ms. Harris laughed. “A witch does need her companion. You were a good man, and that’s how I know you’ll make for a wonderful pet. Now, down on all fours like a good dog.”

Mark’s back wrenched violently, arms and legs snapping forward. He fell onto them with a dull thud, another one of those faint moan-whimpers exiting his thick, black lips. His lower lip jutted out, and his nose flattened against his new snout. His neck turned upward a second later, helping him to see in spite of his new posture.

“There we go.” She cooed, chuckling. Her hand slipped between his canine legs a second later, and his eyes widened in shock at the feeling of her warm touch. “Don’t look so surprised, dear. After all, I happen to want a good girl; not a good boy.”

A sharp ache accompanied her words, and he nearly doubled over with shock. He couldn’t deny what he’d just felt… What she’d just felt. Like it or not, Mark was a male no longer. She whimpered, groaning as a tail slipped form her backside as though it was replacing what she’d just lost.

“There we go.” The woman laughed, pinching Mark’s floppy jowls between her fingers. “Now all we need is a name. How about Buttercup? I think that’s rather lovely for someone with such short, stubby legs.” She cooed, and the dog whined.

It was the oddest feeling, like being drunk and unable to recall something vitally important. Buttercup knew that her name wasn’t some flower’s, but she also couldn’t recall what it was. Worse, the thought of flowers made her hungry. She did like to snack on them… Didn’t she?

Ms. Harris noticed her new pet’s confusion, cooing softly. “My poor dear… Don’t look so distressed. After all, you know that you’re in good hands, right?” She stroked said hands along Buttercup’s back, subtly straightening what had once been a human spine. Then she trailed her hands along Buttercup’s own.

The dog whimpered, feeling her fingers shorten and widen at the same time. They were soon fat and stubby, tipped with sharp little dewclaws. Drool trailed from her wide jaw, and she wiggled her rear anxiously. She could feel the same thing happening to her feet, but her body wasn’t built to look down at them easily. Instead, she could only stare at her hands, then her legs.

They were shorter than her body was tall, and her belly was just barely above the ground. Something about that felt wrong to her, even though she knew it was right… Wrong? Right? Buttercup didn’t know. Buttercup only knew that she wanted pets and affection from her owner.

Her ears flopped over as Master tousled them, and Buttercup drooled and barked with delight. She couldn’t remember why she was upset; and so she decided not to focus on it. After all, it was so much easier to listen to Master and be a good girl.