Country Dog Part 1

Chapter 1

Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

That was phrase uttered by the man who sat on the other side of picnic table at a secluded park on the edge of town.

He wasn't a stranger. Far from it.

We went to high school together years before. We didn't run in the same circles.

He was a large country boy who lived on a farm. I was more of a scrawny book work. Neither of us were in the in-crowd.

We weren't great friends. We weren't enemies. And like most of the people I went to high school with, we'd lost touch after graduation.

We would reconnect a few years later when we both ended up with similar "fetish" tastes, and were in a pansexual BDSM/Ds group. He was married, moved away from his folks and bought a secluded piece of property. He and his wide were both dominant, and had submissives, but they didn't really stick around that long.

I was a submissive to a couple of dommes, but that didn't last, either.

I had a deep secret, one that was masked in pup play at our events. I wanted to be owned as a full-time dog. I dare shared that with very few people. I guess that's why my previous relationships ended in failure.

"Big Country" and his wife admitted enjoying my scenes with dommes as a pup. They would scene some with their subs, but none of it involved pup or pony play. After a while, they stopped coming to the events. I wondered why.

One day, out of frustration, I put an ad on an online site expressing my desire to live as a dog. I had inquiries, but they were always from people too far away. It really wasn't doable. If I was going to turn my back on this life, I wanted to make sure it was for the right owner.

And I also wanted to make sure I really wanted the life of a dog.

I kept going to the group even after being released. One day "Big Country" showed up. His wife wasn't with him.

We went outside and talked. His wife had died of cancer only a few months before. His favorite dog also passed away and he was struggling to pull his life back together. He admitted he was lonely.

I told him I wasn't in much better shape. I was in a dead-end job and struggling to stay afloat and a failure at relationships. Then I mentioned about the profile I put up on the website ... and was thinking he would think I was absolutely crazy.

He laughed, and mentioned he'd been on the website. He'd seen the ad, but had no idea it was me.

"But I came close to responding," he said. "And it was because of what I'd seen you and your dommes do at parties."

We both had a good laugh. And promised we'd keep in touch. And went our seperate ways after the party.

One night, after a long stressful day it work, he called and wanted to know if we could get together and talk. It had been nearly a month since we last spoke at the party. He suggested meeting at the park, so we wouldn't be bothered, and have a couple of beers.

I agreed to meet, and he was there waiting on me.

He had an envelope sitting on the picnic table.

We exchanged a few how things were going lines, when he got around to why he wanted to meet.

He said he decided to get a dog to replace the one he'd lost. He checked around a few breeding kennels, and had even went to the local animal shelter.

"But you know, I really couldn't find the one I was looking for," he said. "I may eventually get a dog from one of those places. But I believe I've already found the dog I want."

I told him that I was glad I'd settled on one.

Then he said I might not understand which dog he was talking about.

"The other night, I decided the dog I wanted was you," he said.

I was shocked.

He had spent the two previous days thinking about what was necessary for me to become his dog.

He showed what he had typed up in the envelope.

In it, was a letter giving him my power of attorney. He would assume all of my debts. He would sell whatever assets I had to put in an account in case I needed it.

"But you want need anything," he said. "I'll take good care of you."

He went on to explain his land was secluded enough for me to live completely interrupted as a dog. It was not the most luxerous farm in the world, he said, but I would have full run of the property.

"But you'll find the pen and doghouse I built for Lucky will suit you," he said, confident that I would want to live as his dog.

I told him I didn't know what to say.

He said he understood.

He handed me a contract he had drawn up, which explained to me how I would live, and how he would treat me as his owner.

I would be expected to walk mostly on all fours, learning and behaving fully as a dog. I would be allowed breaks were I could stand on two legs. Most of the time I would be forbidden to talk as a human, but days would be given where I was allowed to talk and interract as a human.

"But for the most part you would be my dog," he said. "No responsibilities, no freedom, no worries, no outside job, no bills and no worrying about what to wear. You would be my animal. And animals don't wear clothes."

He told me to take as long as I needed to decide.

He also invited me to come to supper one night at his house and see the property.

"I believe once you're there, once we talk, and once you've had time to soak it in, you'll want to become my dog," he said.