Mcstories Dog

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Mcstories Dog
Anyone who is under the age of 18, along
with anyone offended by stories of a sexual nature or containing
sexual situations or offended by the idea of mind control in any
fashion, please do not read this story.
This story takes place in the fictional city of Chrystal
Heights. This is not significant in any way other than I hope to
continue creating stories involving this town.
The people and events in this story are fictional and do not
represent anyone or anything from real life.
Synopsis: A woman tries to get a neighbor’s
dog banned from a local dog park. The neighbor is not
pleased.
NOTE TO MY READERS: For those of you who read
my stories regularly, please be warned that this story is slightly
more hardcore than what you may be used to seeing in my work. Not
horribly so, but I do like to warn readers when I’m throwing a
curveball.
NOTE: This story owes a debt to “ Janie’s Hell ,” by
Mr. Hymie .
“Ariel, don’t you dare pee on the bed!”
I smiled at my little joke. Ariel wouldn’t do that, of
course. Ariel was my adorable, prize-winning Yorkshire Terrier, and
she was far too well behaved for that kind of behavior. I had brushed
her coat until it shined, and now it was time for our walk.
I attached the leash to her harness and we made our way towards the
front door. We stopped briefly by the full-length mirror and made a
final inspection. My black hair was cut to perfection and I looked
exactly like the serious up-and-coming businesswoman that I was. I was
already taking on more responsibility than the typical twenty-four
year old, and I had made sure there were no MySpace or Facebook
embarrassments hovering around. And certainly no boyfriend
embarrassments, either.
I smiled at my reflection, then turned and walked out the
door. With Ariel’s neckerchief color-coordinated with my outfit, she
made the perfect accessory.
Ariel and I made our way down the street until we arrived at Hymie
Park. Dogs were permitted to roam free inside this fenced park-assuming they were non-aggressive, of course- so nearly every dog
owner in Chrystal Heights’ Northlake neighborhood passed through here
at some point during the day. We were all at least passingly familiar
with each other by sight, even if we didn’t know each other’s
names. And that was inconvenient today, as I knew why the man who was
approaching me now was doing so.
“Hello,” I said, after a moment’s pause.
“You don’t even know my name, do you?” he said, chuckling. “You
should, considering you’re trying to get Squire banned from the
park.”
“I am not trying to get your dog banned,” I said, my voice
cold.
“Okay, you’re trying to get the home association to ban every dog
over forty pounds from the park,” he said, “but you’re doing that
because of Squire, aren’t you?”
I glanced at his dog, who was sniffing thoughtfully around
Ariel. Squire’s coat was stainless steel-silver with sharp black
streaks length-wise along his body. It was a striking two-tone effect
that identified Squire as a purebred Chrystal Shepard, a breed of dog
native to Chrystal Heights. They were rare and highly-prized due to
their unusually high intelligence, but traditionally only single men
owned that breed of dog.
“Your dog tried to attack Ariel,” I said. “Ariel has the right to
come to this park without the threat of assault.”
The man laughed. “If Squire had attacked your little dog, you would
have taken your dog home in separate pieces. Squire growled at Ariel,
and that was only because your dog bit him on the leg, and even then
it was only a playful growl.”
“Oh, give me a break, Mister...ah....”
I didn’t return his smile. “Give me a break, Jack,” I said. “Ariel
probably bit him because he was trying to mount her. Everybody knows
what a randy species those Chrystal Shepards are.”
Jack looked displeased at my summation. I may have sounded
judgmental, but Chrystal Shepards had a reputation for enhanced sexual
instincts. In centuries past- when Chrystal Heights was simply a
coastal fishing village- Chrystal Shepards had been used extensively
as guard dogs. Men who were gone for a day or several days for hunting
or business trips used to leave their wives and children with these
shepards for protection while they were gone. However, according to
urban legend, there were many reports of the shepards forcefully
mounting any adult females in the households, sometimes even while the
women were sleeping. Chrystal Shepards allegedly enjoyed mounting
human females as much as they enjoyed mounting other dogs, and they
were supposedly able to identify adult females by smell. Apparently
women over eighteen smelled slightly different from minors, and
Chrystal Shepards were able to instinctively recognize the
difference.
Granted, I didn’t take the stories all that seriously, but, still,
Chrystal Shepards did seem to be truly horny dogs. And Mr. Jack could
bet the farm I wasn’t going to let his dog mount my little Ariel. I
didn’t care how purebred Squire was.
Jack’s smile suddenly returned. He reached out unexpectedly and
lightly stroked my hair. “Well, that’s water under the bridge,
Erin. In fact, since the motion about banning dogs over forty pounds
from this park has been dropped, I’ll even forgive and forget. All you
have to do is put your gorgeous hair into pigtails for me and we’ll
call it even.”
I blinked incredulously. Jack certainly had confidence, I would
give him that. Of course, I was about to give him a lesson in
arrogance he wouldn’t forget. Jack didn’t seem to realize he was
dealing with a bitch-on-wheels, and I was more arrogant before
breakfast than Jack could match all day.
“Well, Jack, you’re wrong on both counts. Not that I’m
surprised...inbreeding does catch up sooner or later, doesn’t it? Not
only am I going to get the home association to ban undesirable dogs
like your mongrel from the park, I’m going to get them to ban Chrystal
Shepards from the neighborhood altogether.” I paused for effect,
allowing my words to sink in, then continued. “And, furthermore, even
if I wasn’t busy keeping your ill-bred mutt from polluting the park, I
wouldn’t subject my hair to your pre-pubescent fantasies even if I was
paid to do so. In short, you can go fuck yourself, Jack.”
My final biting remark delivered, I turned to leave. I know how to
make a dramatic exit. Jack’s voice followed me as I left, however.
“You’ll be back, Erin. You’ll see. And you’ll be begging me to fuck
your ass when you do.”
I woke up the next morning in a foul mood. I hadn’t cared for
Jack’s threat when I was leaving the park the day before, and I was
going to address that later today when I met with the head
administrators of the home association. Jack was going to learn not to
mess with me.
I sat in bed for a minute, trying to clear the sleep from my
brain. Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then,
finally, it hit me.
My hair was all the way down to my waist.
I blinked and leaped out of bed. I reached behind me, and, sure
enough, my hair was all the way down to the top of my ass. That was
impossible, as my hair had been barely past my shoulders when I went
to sleep the night before. Heart pounding, I raced to my bathroom and
looked at my reflection.
My hair now flowed down my back like a black silken waterfall, the
ends hovering just above my ass. My heart was pounding, and I forced
myself to calm down. I had to think things through. How the hell could
this have happened? It had to be some kind of weird cellular thing or
something. Or a freak shampoo accident. Everything else seemed normal,
so it was apparently just my hair that was affected.
I pulled the mass of hair together and wrestled it into a
ponytail. The weight was unfamiliar, but not incapacitating. I was now
thinking a little clearer, and I knew what I had to do. I had to go
see Gustav, my hairdresser.
I got dressed and put the leash on Ariel. I locked the door behind
me and we turned to make our way to the car, but Ariel and I stopped
when we noticed a figure casually walking along the sidewalk. The
figure was whistling a jaunty tune and holding the leash of a Shepard
who was sniffing at an unoffending bush.
I was hoping he’d continue walking, but he smiled broadly when he
saw me.
“Good morning!” he said, his eyes running along the length of my
ponytail. “Why, that’s delightful hair you have this morning,
Erin. Why, if someone were to give you perfect hair for pigtails, I’d
say it would be about that length...wouldn’t you agree?”
I suddenly felt breathless as the significance of Jack’s words
struck me. Pigtails. My hair. Suddenly it was clear. Somehow, some
way, Jack had done this to me. Well, he wasn’t going to get away with
it.
The dam inside me burst. “If you think I’m going to cater to your
twisted little fetish, you’re insane, Jack,” I said, my teeth
clenched. “I’m going to get my hair fixed right now, without your
help. And as soon as that’s done, I’m going to get you and your stupid
dog kicked out and arrested, and not necessarily in that order!”
Jack burst out laughing. “Really?” he said. His voice took on a
solemn, mocking tone. “Mister Jack, you are charged with growing Miss
Erin’s hair. How do you plead?” He laughed again. “Be real, Erin. All
I asked for were pigtails. Still, you’re continuing to be very
uncooperative. Have it your way, then. Have a nice trip to the
hairdresser.”
Jack casually strolled away and I glared at his back. I couldn’t
wait to take him down. First, however, my hair needed emergency
service.
Gustav, my stylist, was cool as a cucumber despite my walking in
with hair two feet longer in length than when I left the salon two
weeks ago. “Oh, sweetie,” he said, “with all the chemicals in things
these days, who knows what happened? Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll fix
it for you, ‘kay?”
I nodded, my faith in Gustav undeterred. Looking at the mirror in
front of me, I saw him strike a dramatic pose as he sawed through my
ponytail. I felt the weight of the hair dropping gradually as the long
strands piled on the floor. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he said. “This
style will scream, ‘I am a woman of power, hear me roar!’ but without
the whole butchy thing. No dreadful butchiness for you, sweetie!” His
scissors and comb moved confidently over my head.
At last he finished, and I was pleased with the result. In fact, my
hair looked better than it had before. It was feminine, but distinctly
business-like. A perfect balance. I paid Gustav and added a generous
tip, feeling better already. Gustav patted my hand. “Oh, you sweet
thing, you look so fetch! Go get ‘em! Rawr!”
I left the salon feeling like a million dollars, my dignity intact
once again. Jack was certainly going to be disappointed, and I was
entirely fine with that idea. Putting Jack into his place had
definitely shifted to the top of my priority list, however. I couldn’t
give him a chance to stir up any more trouble. So I headed towards
home so I could speak to Nancy, the president of the Home Association
for Northlake.
Unfortunately, when I got to Nancy’s home, the house was dark. She
wasn’t home. So my ultimate revenge was going to have to
wait. Unsatisfied, I made my way home. I could wait a day or two to
deal with Jack.
I woke the following morning instantly registering that my
long hair was back. All the way down to my ass again, no less. Teeth
clenched, I threw off the covers and stomped my way to the bathroom. I
wiped the sleep from my eyes and glanced in the mirror to confirm that
my hair was indeed long again. But this time, it wasn’t just long.
My eyes widened as I gasped in surprise. A soft wave of pure golden
blonde flowed over my shoulders and down my back, stopping once again
right at my ass. Blonde hair!
I stepped back from the mirror, heart pounding. I blinked in
shock. How the hell did he do this? How the hell could anyone take me
seriously when I looked like a bimbo beach bunny? What could I do?
Jack. Damn Jack and his stupid dog! Grrrrrr!
I raced to Gustav’s salon. I walked straight in, ignoring the fact
that he was with a customer, and that was a mistake, as Gustav saw me
and nearly shaved a stripe in the woman’s hair that he was working
on. Scandalized, he fanned himself for a moment, then bustled me into
the next chair and told me to wait while he finished with the now
stewing woman. Fifteen minutes later he had cleared his schedule for
the day and he went to work on my hair.
Platoons of color shades were mixed into my hair, and chemicals
flowed generously. The smell of various concoctions hovered
everywhere, and nobody dared light a cigarette for fear of blowing up
the salon. Scissors and razors slid around my head, and hair flew
freely through the air. My scalp burned and tears from the fumes wet
my cheeks, and Gustav worked like a warrior through it all.
Hours later, we had to admit defeat. The colors refused to cling to
my blonde, and my hair was growing back even as Gustav cut it. In a
moment of desperation, Gustav had even shaved my head bald, but the
smoothness had lasted mere minutes before blonde stubble
appeared. Gustav was aghast and I was pissed, but it was obvious there
was nothing a mere hairdresser could do against whatever Jack had done
to me. Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Teeth clenched, I grated out, “Put my hair in fucking
pigtails.”
Gustav patted my hand mournfully. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he
said. “Pigtails can be so chic.” His hands stroked my shoulders in
sympathy, however.
I fumed as I left the salon and made my way towards the dog
park. Because of the length of my hair, Gustav had tied the twin
pigtails off on the top of my head. That kept me from sitting on my
hair while I was driving, but it gave me an embarrassingly bubbly sex
kitten appearance. I was so going to kill Jack the first chance I
got.
I stomped my way to the park with Ariel in tow, and, sure enough,
Jack was waiting there. He took one look at my hair and offered a
broad smile.
“Well, now, look at you!” he said. “Don’t you look adorable!”
“Screw you,” I said, pigtails bobbing. “You got what you wanted,
alright? Pigtails. So fix my hair already.”
Jack chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so, Erin. You
did not put your hair in pigtails when you were supposed to, so I’m
not feeling inclined to fix your hair. However, because you look so
cute right now, all you have to do to earn my good will once again is
flash me your bare boobs for...hmmmm...let’s say sixty seconds. That
should suffice, don’t you think?”
A wave of indignant anger swept over me. “What?!?” I
screamed. “You’re out of your mind! I am not showing a pervert like
you my tits under any circumstances! I’m not!”
Jack simply shrugged. “Suit yourself, Erin. You still don’t get it,
do you? Ah, well.” Then he turned and walked away.
I walked Sofia home. I looked in the mirror as soon as I entered,
but there was no change in my hair. I was beginning to regret my
outburst, as it only served to make Jack mad. Not that he could do any
worse to my hair- alright, he could do worse, but I didn’t think he
would, since he obviously liked the blonde pigtails- but I couldn’t
get rid of this embarrassing hair style until Jack gave
his...permission. Grrrrrr!
I woke up the next morning, and I knew immediately that
something was different. I sat up, then gasped as I surged forward
from unfamiliar weight on my chest. My head jerked down, and I
realized that two huge bubbles inside my tee-shirt were jiggling and
still hadn’t settled down from my abrupt sitting up movement.
Eyes wide, my hands flew to my boobs. I sputtered as I realized I
was cupping melons that were easily three cup sizes larger than I had
gone to sleep with. This wasn’t happening. I did not have these
ridiculously swelled tits! I didn’t!
I realized I was getting a little wild-eyed, and I forced myself to
calm down. I got to my feet and stood up, and it took my boobs several
heartbeats to settle into place. I took a breath and walked to the
bathroom.
I stood in front of the mirror and slid my tee-shirt over my
head. Now naked except for my panties, I looked in the mirror. It was
as bad as I feared.
Two huge globes sat high and firm on my chest. Porno tits. There
was no way I could go out in public without attracting attention. I
had no clue what bra size I would require now, but it had to be at
least a double D, probably an E. They were lush and firm and just
demanding to be touched. They felt embarrassingly hot and
obscene. Guys were going to talk into my cleavage now instead of
listening to a fucking word I said.
I had no idea what to do. Hell, I couldn’t even get dressed. I
didn’t have a bra anywhere near the right size. I jiggled over to my
dresser and pulled out a tank top. I slipped the tank top on and
pulled it down over my swelled bosom. It was a tight fit and created
cleavage that would likely cause car accidents, but at least I
wouldn’t be bouncing all over the place...just jiggling.
I looked through my closet, and I finally settled on a heavy
sweatshirt that looked voluminous enough to fit my swelled
mammaries. I slipped the baggy top over my head and pulled it down to
my waist. It settled into place easily, but something wasn’t right. My
nipples had hardened. That in itself wasn’t unduly troubling, but my
eyes widened as the sensitivity in my nipples suddenly expanded what
seemed to be a hundred fold. I gasped, my knees weakening from the
intense sensations, and then it felt like millions of ants were
walking across my nipples and sensitive boobs. I jumped and slapped at
the front of the sweatshirt, but that had no effect on the
sensations. In desperation, I ripped the sweatshirt off, and, like a
switch had been thrown, the sensations suddenly disappeared.
I dropped to my knees, my boobs jiggling for several seconds before
settling into place. I dully realized the significance of what had
just happened. I had to go out looking like a dumb busty beach
bunny. I wasn’t going to be allowed to cover my boobs in any
significant way. The whole neighborhood was going to get to see me
jiggling along with pigtails and huge boobs. And my colleagues would
too, unless I got Jack to stop this and fix me.
I clenched my teeth as that sunk in. I was going to have to admit
defeat to Jack, dammit. And worse, I was going to have to flash him
with these silly bimbo boobs. Grrrrrrrr!
I waited until sundown before attaching Ariel’s leash to her
collar. If I was going to expose my boobs to the world, I wanted to at
least make sure it was dark outside when I did so.
I checked the mirror before we left for the park. My hair was
divided into golden pigtails dangling all the way down my back. My
monstrous boobs were pressed together and bulging out the top of an
overwhelmed tank top. I looked like a sex kitten fetish model, but
there wasn’t anything I could do about that. I would just go there,
show him my boobs for one minute, and then forget this whole
situation.
Ariel and I made our way to Hymie Park. Sure enough, Jack was
waiting there, looking relaxed. Squire was running loose in the
park. He looked up at our arrival and gave a lazy smile.
“Well, look who’s here,” he said. His gaze dropped to my
chest. “Nice rack,” he added. Then the bastard smirked. Grrrrrrrr.
I glanced around...there was nobody near by. It was time to get
this over with. I reached down and grabbed the bottom hem of my tank
top. I took a breath, then pulled my top up over my rounded boobs.
My nipples hardened from the cool night air. My cheeks were bright
red, but I continued holding my top up, keeping my breasts
exposed. Jack, however, appeared bored, and after thirty seconds, he
waved his hand at me.
“You can stop,” he said. “You’re too late. You were supposed to do
it when
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