Country Dog

by Want2bdog66

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 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 wife 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 he’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 won’t need anything,” he said. “I’ll take good care of you.” He went on too explain his land was secluded enough for me to live completely interrupted as a dog. It was not the most luxurious 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 interact 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.

Chapter 2 – 

Maybe it was the bad day I had at work and just wanted to get away. Maybe it was the fact I couldn’t quite get my mind off his offer. I decided to take him up on his offer to visit him at his place. It was a few miles out of town. And he wasn’t kidding about it being secluded. He left the gate open to a long narrow gravel driveway that led away from the road. You couldn’t see his home from the road. It wasn’t until I drove by a few trees and bushes before it became visible. It wasn’t a Taj Mahal, or some secret plantation. It was a nicely kept double-wide mobile home. He had a pickup, small car and a four-wheeler parked where the the gravel driveway way ended. He was waiting on the porch, looking every bit of the part of a small country farmer. “Come on in!” he said.

Just looking around the place, you could tell he was both a hunter and a fisherman. He had racks for his guns and his reels. “This is my humble abode,” he said. “Not anything special. But it suited me and my wife.” I thought it fit his personality. And really, it beat the apartment that had become my place of existence. He already had steaks on the grill and he was cooking fries on the stove. He pulled a couple of beers from the fridge. “Used to have friends over all of the time,” he said. “But it’s been a while.” It had been since his wife died. He had withdrawn, but he was finally beginning to get back to “living.” I told him he had his life more in order than I had. “I promise to change that if you,’ll let me,” he said with a laugh. It was still a little uneasy to talk about why I was there, and we went on to talk about people we knew from high school and other things before getting down to the subject, although he did slip in a comment every now and then. “I hope you’ll be down at my feet enjoying your meal in your bowl the next time we have a meal together,” he said as we ate. That thought, at least, had crossed my mind.

Finally, he decided to take me on a tour of his farm in his pickup. He had a lot more acreage than I originally thought. He had woods on his property with a pond stocked with fish where he said he did a lot of this thinking. “It was here that I really came up with the idea to have you as my dog,” he said as he leaned up against the tree overlooking the pond. “Lucky and I used to spend a lot of time out here. I hope we will, too.” We got back into his pickup. He showed me his pasture where his cattle roamed. He had a few head, not anything major. We drove back up toward the house. We walked passed a chicken coup and a small garden before entering his barn. He told me how much work it took for him to maintain his farm, which was a lot considering he also had a landscaping business. We walked into his barn, where he had three horses in stalls. He came up to one and asked me what I thought of him. The horse was a reddish color and clean. He ate an apple right out of my friend’s hand. “Looks like you take good care of him,” I said. “I take good care of all of my animals,” he said as he stroked the horse’s main. “I would take good care of you, like I do them.” My heart sort of skipped with the thought. He talked about getting a hired hand, or a “sub or slave to help out around here.” “But I’m not talking about you,” he said as we left the barn. “You would be like my horses, one of my animals, my prize possessions.”

We walked over to a pin next to the house. In the middle was a nice dog house he built for Lucky. There were tears in his eyes as he talked about their relationship. He had the run of the place, but he stayed in the pen at night. “He was my guard dog,” he said. “Nothing moved at night around here without him barking. I would expect the same thing from you once you learn how to really bark.” We walked toward the porch. He pointed out the food bowl and water bowl. Lucky ate some of his food in the house, but some on the porch and in his pen. He sunned on the porch a lot, my friend said. He pointed out Lucky’s wash tub. It was shiny and silver. “He didn’t like baths much when he was a pup,” he said. “But I think he began to enjoy them, especially after a long day with me on the farm. I’ll be honest, I enjoyed it, making him look his best. We frolicked a bit.” He told me that he cleaned it up in anticipation that I would accept his offer. I was warmed by his words. A part of me longed for that kind of relationship. He was surprised by what I did next. I think I was surprised. I took off my shoes and socks, then took off my shirt. Next came my jeans and underwear. I stepped naked into the small tub and sat down. He smiled. There were tears in his eyes. “Good boy,” he said as he petted me on my head. I licked his hand and he rubbed my back. “Stay boy!,” he said as he went to get some soap, a sponge and a brush.

He turned on the water and put the hose in the tub. It was cold. I nearly jump out, but he
held me firmly down. He then proceeded to scrub every inch of me, including firmly scrubbing my ass and my cock and balls. I stepped out of the tub and tried to shake dry. He laughed. “That’s a good boy!” he shouted. He then looked at me and seriously asked: “Is this your answer?” I shook my head and whimpered. He smiled. “Stay!” he said. He scooped up my clothes. “Someone left this trash on my porch,” he said as he took my clothes away, where I don’t know. He came out with a leather collar he said he had bought earlier that day. “I think it looks a whole lot better on you than what you had on,” he said as I walked on all fours by his side into the house. He reached into his fridge and grabbed a beer and snapped his finger and I followed him to his den. He sat down in his chair and turned on the TV. He pointed to his feet. I sat down. He scratched my ears. He was my master. I was his dog.