|The Transformation Story Archive||Horses and Doggies and Cats, Oh my...|
From the outside looking in, it was a world of glamour and beauty. Models strutted on the monitors pointing out into the mall, showing off their looks to any and all who passed by. Fashions for the summer draped across the mannequins, bright colors that glowed from the spotlights. Shoppers passed through the doors, searching for that special outfit that they could wear, or gifts for friends and loved ones. Patricia Hobart peered through the glass windows with a wistful longing. Her own plain t-shirt and jeans were a far cry from the dress she saw others wearing, but there was little she could do about that. There was little she could do about her life, truth be told. Her father vanished some years ago, presumed dead from a crash. A father she remembered little of, only the memory of his smile, his gentle touch, a warm feeling of love. Her mother, on the other hand... "Patricia!" The scratchy sound of Marsha Hobart's voice carried across the din of the mall. Patricia winced at the sound, the running of fingernails across a blackboard sounding more melodic and soothing. "Patricia what do you think you're doing?" Her mother came up alongside her and swatted the side of her head, making her wince in pain. "What did I tell you about going off on your own here?" Marsha Hobart looked nothing like her daughter, a rather plain, frumpy female with black hair that curled in odd patterns. Her figure had gone to pot since the death of her former husband, gaining about 40 pounds in all the wrong spots. Her taste in men had also dropped, exhibited by the unkempt and unwashed biker on her arm. "I'm sorry, Mom," Patricia said softly, her eyes immediately going to the floor. She wished she could get out of sight, people stopping to stare a moment before quickly heading off. Even the security guards vanished, not wanting to interfere. Marsha snorted, a sound echoed by Duke. That's the only name he'd give Patricia, saying she didn't need to know anything else. "Well I've told you time and again to stay with us here, and I meant it. Next time I'm going to leave you at home. I swear, I can't take you anywhere without you trying to sneak off her." Marsha continued berating Patricia, but she blocked out the sound of her voice. Almost 18 years old, and still being treated like a child. Inwardly she seethed in anger and frustration, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. The last time she tried to run away, Duke had caught her and beaten her raw. Her back still carried the scars of those beatings, along with other damage done to her. The broken wrist, the scar across her cheek, the slight limp in her walk. Another cuff against the side of her head broke off anything Patricia was thinking. "Pay attention to me when I'm talking to you," she nearly screamed. "Now we're going down to Mervyn's, and you're going to behave yourself, is that clear?" "Yes, mom." Patricia sighed and nodded in agreement, the easiest way to end the scene. "Good." Duke rumbled and looked at Marsha. "Let's go." Patricia followed behind them, still unwilling to look up at her mother. They chatted about Harley bikes, new jackets and making a run up to the next Harleyfest in a month, ignoring Patricia totally once more. She was used to it, knowing that they'd remember she was behind them only after a while. A flash of light caught her attention, something off to her left. There, one of those small side entrances was visible with a few stores. One had a wooden sign hanging in front of the entrance, the letter in gilt. Spells 'R' Us. Oddness, Patricia thought. Who'd heard of a store called Spells 'R' Us? Maybe they were like one of those magic stores, showing sleight of hand tricks you could learn. The impulse to look was strong, and she intentionally dropped further behind her mother, then ducked into the hall, heading towards the store. A bell jingled as she opened the door, and a wizened old man came from behind a curtain. The place was filled with all sorts of items, from small ceramics to jewelry to clothing. He smiled warmly, and waved a hand towards her. "Come on in, Patricia," he said in a cheery voice, not at all matching his appearance. "I was hoping you'd come and visit." "Do I know you?" Patricia asked, puzzled by the fact that he knew her name. He smiled, and shook his head. "Not really, but I know you," he replied. "You're looking for something special, something just for you. Let me go and fetch it for you." He turned away and headed into the back, leaving Patricia totally confused by the events. "Ah, here it is." The old shopkeeper came back out with a small ring box. But before he could hand it to her, the door to the shop slammed open, Marsha striding in defiantly. "Damn it Patricia, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off!" She screeched so loudly that a mirror shattered from the voice. "So help me I'm going to whip the hide off of you once we get home." She started to try and cuff the girl again, but the old man somehow managed to keep her from striking her. "Madam, if you please, this is my shop and I'll have no violence here." The old man's eyes glinted with danger, but Marsha ignored his implied threats. "Listen, you old coot, that's my daughter and I'll deal with her as I see fit, and if you're wise you'll butt out." Marsha held a defiant look in her pose, making the old man mutter to himself. Suddenly his expression changed, and a deep chuckle came from him. "Marsha Hobart, I think I have something that's perfect for you." Before she could say a word, he pulled out a silver necklace. "This is just the thing for you." Marsha looked at the necklace, the intricate scrollwork catching her eye. She looked back up at the old man, who merely smiled. "Go ahead, take it. Compliments of the store." Without a word, she unclasped the necklace and placed it around her neck. Marsha glanced in another mirror, this one only slightly cracked, and smiled. It did look nice on her, the way it was snug around her neck. "Come on, let's get back to Duke." Marsha turned and headed out into the mall again, while Patricia cast a longing look back at the old man. "Don't worry, you'll be back."
The Hobart place was on the outskirts of town, a few miles away from the mall. Originally built by Marsha's ex-husband, the clean lines of the house and the yards had fallen into disrepair. Weeds grew most everywhere, while the home itself needed a paint job desperately. Inside was equally bad. Marsha never was much of a housewife, and Duke could care less about how clean things were. Calling their bedroom a pig sty would insult any self-respecting pig. Patricia tried to keep the rest of the house clean, but there was only so much she could do. Marsha preferred to spend money on alcohol and take-out, only doling out enough to provide marginal clothing and other essentials. Once home, Patricia went straight into her room, locking the door behind her. She ignored the calls behind her, shutting out her mother as firmly as she could. Duke crumpled the beer can he was drinking and tossed it into a corner. "I still don't see why you keep that brat around," he said to Marsha. "If I was her father, I'd kick her out of the house by now." "But you're not her father," Marsha said, finishing her own brew. "Besides, you know I'm not going to let her go, not yet. She's been the meal ticket here with those trust fund checks for the last four years, and as long as she's living here, we're going to keep getting the money." "Until she's 18 next month, then what?" Duke let out a belch and shook his head. "She'd likely scram faster than a fox being chased by a hound." Marsha snorted. "Not likely. I'll have her declared incompetent legally, and then we'll have access to all that money in the bank." Her expression grew angry. "Money that should be mine anyway, but that no- good ex locked away from me when he died." She spat on the floor, then slid up next to Duke. He grinned at her, knowing that expression on her face. Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her close and kissed her with warm passion. "So what are you thinking of, hmmm?" She grinned, scratching lightly across his chest. "I'm thinking that maybe we should have some fun and fuck like wild animals," she said in a low tone. "I'm just suddenly feeling real hot for you." Duke gave her a sly wink. "Right now?" She nearly pounced him on the couch. "Right now."
Patricia drowned out the sounds coming from the living room as best she could, but she couldn't fully block out the grunts and cries. The small walkman was turned up as loudly as she could stand, hard rock nearly shattering her ears as she tried to put the action out of her mind. In the living room, Marsha was on her hands and knees, legs spread wide. Duke was behind her, thrusting away hard. He loved it when he could take her doggy style, it gave him total control over her this way. Marsha moaned and shuddered, the silver necklace the only thing on her body. Yet she felt hot, hotter than she'd ever felt before. Her skin itched everywhere, but the feeling of Duke cock inside of her drove away the discomfort. To have that thing locked inside of her, she'd go crazy then. The itching sensation increased, then her body twitched oddly. She tried to say something, but all that came from her was a low growl, her throat feeling strange. For that matter, her face felt equally strange, like an increasing pressure pushing outwards. Before she could do anything, her face did begin to push outwards, forming a muzzle that increased in size. Her body burned as a thin coat of fur began to spread, muscles starting to spasm as she lost control of herself. She let out a sound, a cross between a moan and a howl, and the sound caught Duke's attention. He looked down and let out a cry as instead of Marsha, a strange half-human, half-dog form met his gaze. The fur grew thicker, while her body started to thin, hands and feet becoming paws, the muzzle panting in the air, howling in despair. He tried to pull out, but found himself locked inside, her muscles gripping him tightly, not letting go. The changes spread quickly, and he watched in horror as fur started to spread across his chest. A plea formed wordlessly on his lips as the same changes took hold of him, his body wracked with spasms as he went from human to canine. Howls filled the air as the new hounds continued to hump away, thoughts and memories of being human shattered as instincts took hold within them. Soon, Marsha and Duke were no more, the only signs of them being human being the silver chain around the bitch's neck, and an elastic band around the hound's forepaw.
Patricia wandered the mall, searching for the store she saw the day before. Her morning was filled with mystery and puzzles, finding Marsha and Duke missing, and a pair of hounds tearing up the living room. At first, she thought that they were bought by one or the other, but when she saw what was around the neck of the female, she realized that it was them. Somehow, in a strange bizarre way, they were now dogs. The old man was the key. He gave Marsha the chain, she remembered that. And the odd way he looked at her when she took it was clear in her mind. It took a little hunting, but she found the store, hidden in the corners. The sign read 'CLOSED', but she pushed open the door. The little silver bell at the top jingled, and a curtain was parted by a hand. "I thought I set the sign to..." His voice trailed off as he saw Patricia standing there. "Oh, hello there. I didn't expect you until later this afternoon." He looked a bit sheepish at her and smiled. "But I'm glad you did show up here." "You did that to Marsha, didn't you?" Patricia didn't even bother with idle chatter. "You made her become a dog with that necklace you gave her yesterday." "Me?" The old man chuckled. "I didn't do anything. I just gave her a necklace that would let her become her deepest desires. It's not my fault she became a real bitch." The way he phrased it made Patricia laugh. "I had to say," she finally managed to get out after a bit, "that it's fitting." "I'm glad you felt so." The old man smiled, then went behind the counter. "I've a few things for you here, things your mother didn't want you to know about." He handed her a packet, letters and notes. "One is your father's will. In it he left everything to you. Your mother would have found a way to take it away from you." Patricia peered at the document. "What do I do with it?" "Take it to the lawyer listed, and he'll do the rest. Since you'll be 18 next week, it'll be fairly simple." The old man smiled. "The other letter is from the university, offering you a full scholarship. One of your teachers lobbied on your behalf, and that's the result." "Must have been Mrs. Hart," Patricia said to herself. "She always thought I could make it." "She's right, you will." The old man smiled warmly, and handed over the last thing, a small ring box. "This is from me. To remember things with." Patricia opened it up, and blinked. A white gold school ring was there, the same kind that everyone else was able to get when they graduated. She looked up, a tear in one eye. "I can't take this," she said, choking up a bit. The old man smiled warmly, and squeezed her hand. "Put it on." His voice was gentle, reassuring. Patricia took out the ring, and slipped it on her finger. The stone glowed for a moment, everything suddenly becoming fuzzy as she felt dizzy. She placed her hand out to catch herself...
"Are you ok?" Patricia blinked as she looked into eyes of a concerned saleswoman. "I'm.. fine, just a bit dizzy." The saleswoman nodded. "Better sit down, just to be sure." She motioned towards a chair, but Patricia shook her head. "No, really, I'll be fine." She started towards the exit, wondering how she got in that store. She was sure she was in the old man's shop just a few seconds ago. She passed a mirror, then blinked and backed up to look at the image. The scar on her cheek was missing, erased entirely. She brushed the smooth skin with her fingers, then stared at her wrist, the pain missing for the first time in ages. Another scar on her arm was no longer there, missing from her vision. The young woman that met her eyes was no longer thin and gaunt, but rather healthy and whole. If she didn't know better, Patricia would have mistaken the reflection for a model from a catalog. She definitely didn't look anything like she was used to. Her thoughtful expression carried over as he walked into the mall, not really seeing where she was going. Without warning, she heard a muffled shout, looked up, and collided with someone. Her purse dropped to the floor, along with the package the young man was carrying. "Oh, I'm sorry," Patricia said, blinking as the young man offered his hand to help her up. "I wasn't looking there, guess I was busy thinking." The young man smiled. "No, it was my fault, I shouldn't rush so much." He tilted his head, then suddenly remembered his manners. "I really should get going here." "No, it's ok." Patricia smiled warmly, and the young man's nervousness faded. "My name's Patricia Hobart." "Brian Carver." He smiled back at her, and looked down at her hand. "Harris graduate?" Patricia blinked, and looked at her hand. "Yeah, this year. Going to the university in September." "Cool. I graduated three years ago, working on my degree." Brian gave a bit of a wry grin, and offered an arm. "Buy you a coke in the food court?" Patricia took the offer and placed her arm in his. "Sure."
Off in the corners, the old man smiled warmly at the scene. "Sometimes it's all a matter of timing." With that, he went into the shop, locking the door behind him.
Dog Days copyright 1999 by Tal Greywolf.
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