Paws for Effect -

Chapter 6 -- Four of a Kind

*****

"Oh, shit," Thiago leaped out of bed. "I slept in," he washed up in the bathroom, went for a leak, and quickly threw on his clothes.

Max squinted his eyes and yawned, still feeling the bliss of the orgasm earlier that morning.

"Will you be ok?" Thiago said over his shoulder as he checked himself in the mirror, not paying attention to his boyfriend.

"I'll be fine," Max said lazily, still half asleep. He stretched his body beneath the blankets. Only his head was in plain view to Thiago so he appeared the same as yesterday. "Go, don't be late."

"Alright, well give me a ring if you need anything," Thiago gave him a quick peck on the forehead before running out. "Bye, babe."

"Bye, see you later," Max called before shutting his eyes and napping for a bit longer.

An hour or two passed. The morning light grew brighter. Max groaned awake and stretched, feeling his muscles crack. "I'd better get up," he thought to himself. He swung his legs out from under the blanket and onto the floor, standing up as usual. As he put his full weight onto his legs, he fell forward flat onto his face.

"Whoa, what was that?" His balance had been completely off, as if his body wasn't working properly. He pushed his hands against the floor and tucked his legs in, trying to gain composure to stand on two legs. Up and up, he raised himself, shakily trying to stand on two feet but he fell forward again. Lying there for a few seconds, he regained his breath.

"What's going on?" There was something off about his limbs; they weren't working how they usually did. Peering down as he laid on his side, his heart sank. Further changes had progressed to his feet. They were no longer clawed feet but the paws of a dog. Up to his knees, the legs had also morphed into the hind legs of a dog, covered in brown fur and much thinner in appearance with a lot less muscle. No wonder why he hadn't been able to stand on two legs. There was no way they could support the weight of a human, or part human, or whatever freak of nature he was becoming.

Across the rest of his body, there were further changes. His tail was much bushier and longer. It swung beneath his legs, tickling the skin of his inner thighs. From his knees up to his arms, he was pretty much still human, albeit slightly hairier, thankfully. But when he looked at his hands, his heart sank again. Similar to his feet, his hands were also no more. No longer clawed hands, they had developed into the front paws of a dog, thin and bony. Brown fur came up to his elbows. They were no longer the forearms of an adult man but the front legs of a dog.

"Please no," Max almost started to cry. Numerous times he tried to readjust his posture and stand on two legs but it was no use. He kept falling onto all fours. His legs would no longer support him. The only way to stand was on all four legs. With a frustrated sigh, he had to accept the fact that this was how he had to walk.

Trying out his new posture, he walked on his former hands and feet, now fore and hind legs. It was strange. The pads on his feet made it more comfortable than if he were crawling as a human. There was something quite natural about it, which made him feel even more disturbed. It wasn't meant to be normal or convenient, but the more he padded around, the more comfortable it became. It was difficult at first, coordinating his right legs to move together and then the left legs so he could make a progressive movement forward. He turned in circles and tried different motions until his feet no longer bumped off each other. Soon he got the hang of walking on all fours like a dog.

"I can't believe this is my reality," Max was getting depressed. Each day a little more of himself was being robbed from him. He was continuing down a route where he was becoming less and less his old human self. As time passed, the changes were restricting him to the life of a pseudo dog. His hands and feet had been taken from him so his ability to walk around on two legs was no longer possible. He was little more than an animal crawling on the ground.

Max padded over to the full-length mirror. He needed to see if there were any other changes. Thankfully, the only additions had been his bushier tail and fore and hind legs. The other parts of his body hadn't progressed. He couldn't help but look himself over, seeing his former human self still in his reflection, albeit beside some dog features. It was a strange hybrid, like a fantasy creature or something thought up by an eccentric artist.

He gazed upon his face. If he ignored his pointy, furry ears, and kept his fangs hidden by closing his mouth, he could imagine he was looking at his old self: a handsome face, kind eyes, nice bone-structure, cute nose, stubble above a strong jaw line. There he was in his reflection: the human Max. The only trouble was holding onto that, and not losing himself to his transforming body.

All of a sudden, Max's mouth popped open. He had been breathing through his nose, but open-mouthed it felt a lot more comfortable. His tongue lolled out and he panted. The illusion of his old self was gone as he looked at the fangs protruding from his gums and the long tongue twitching as he panted for air. A mixture of horror and fascination filled him. It was the involuntary behaviour of a dog, of course, so it couldn't be helped, but without any context, it was almost like he was at a magic show and had been hypnotised into acting like a dog. "I really am becoming a dog," the realisation sank into Max. "I can't help but act this way," all he could do was watch as his body betrayed him, giving into this new dog identity.

Growing tired of the self-pity, he passed his gaze lower down his body at the neck and torso of his human self. He had always been proud of his physique from working out at the gym regularly: his chest was well developed with muscular pecs and he sported large round nipples and defined abs. The shoulders and biceps were still strong and muscular. Thankfully, he hadn't lost those to the changes. They looked even bigger now that his forearms were the skinny forelegs of a dog. If it weren't for how tragic his situation was, it would've looked hilarious: the strong muscles of a human attached to the nimble limbs of a dog.

Like his arms, his legs looked similar. His muscular thighs were powerful and well developed. The legs were thick until they reached his knees when they tapered off the thin legs of a dog; the proportions were striking.

It was all so curious to look at as he sat on his haunches, gazing upon his hybrid body. He had naturally sat himself down into the position of a dog, his hind legs curled up beneath him, his forelegs out in front of him keeping balance, and his human dick resting on the carpet below. After a few minutes, he noticed his tail wagging behind him. It gave away how he was feeling: scared but curious. The feeling was strange as he looked at himself in the mirror. Like a child during the stages of self-recognition, he was recognising the parts of himself and who he was. He saw himself as something both human and dog. The dog parts of himself were once foreign but the more he peered upon them, felt them, used them, the more they became who he was. His thoughts began shifting, and a small part of him began to accept his dog self. Whether subconsciously or not, the acceptance was growing.

He had to pull his scrutiny away from the mirror, his thoughts betraying him. Focus needed to be placed on the human parts of his body, on the muscles, his skin, his dick, his face. As long as he kept those in his mind, he could remain positive about staying human.

Max looked around; it was strange viewing the bedroom from the floor. The perspective was different. Everything looked a lot bigger. "Has the bed always been that tall?" he thought. His neck strained as he peered across the floor and up across at various things in the room, the muscles in his neck not used to the angle. The windows and furniture seemed a lot higher to him as he walked around, checking everything out.

"I better call Thiago," Max decided. His phone was on the bedside locker. He could just about reach it with his head. Using his forehead, he knocked it off the locker. It thudded to the floor. He stood on all fours above it and lowered his head, flipping it over with his teeth.

The trouble was unlocking it. A paw to the side of the phone allowed him to get the screen on. He swiped the screen with his nose and tapped the unlock code with his paw. The pads on his paw were too big and his first attempt was unsuccessful. He tried again a second time, but the attempt failed. The third time, he used his nose to tap in the code but it wasn't fruitful either. Sighing deeply, he had to give up as he had run out of attempts and was locked out of his phone.

There wasn't any time to feel sorry for himself as Max felt a sudden urge to use the bathroom. He padded over the bathroom and realised his conundrum. How was he supposed to use the toilet on all fours? He was at chin-level with the toilet seat. It wasn't reachable from his current position. "Let me try standing on two feet."

He placed a paw on the toilet seat pushed down, trying to push himself upwards onto the toilet but he couldn't gain any traction on the polished surface and his paw slid off. His head whacked off the edge of the plastic seat as he fell. A few seconds were needed to recover from the collision, black spots winking in his view.

"Let's not try that again," Max concluded, shaking his head. "I guess I'll have to try it like dogs do," he sighed. Beside the toilet, he lifted one of his hind legs and placed his dick as close as possible. "Come on aim, don't fail me now," he concentrated on getting the pee to land in the toilet. As the piss started flowing, he heard to heart-sinking sound of pee splashing off the toilet seat and sprinkling onto the tiled floor. "Shit," he moved his hips to direct the stream into the toilet, but it was no use, he couldn't quite get the angle right, and the pee went all on the floor, sopping into the bath mat, splashing off the tiled floor and walls, and even sprinkling off himself. The release was too satisfying to stop, so all he could do was watch as his pee covered the bathroom in yellow liquid.

As the final drips left his dick, he lowered his leg, his head low and his tail tucked in between his legs. "Fuck, what a mess." Toilet paper was needed. Trotting over to the toilet paper, he pulled some length from the roll with his teeth. He tore it away, using his newfound fangs as best he could and carried it towards the pee to soak up the liquid. The wet paper soon gathered up the liquid into pitiful sops of tissue. "Eww, I'm not picking that up," he decided. The paws wouldn't allow him to carry it to the bin, and there was no way he was using his mouth to dispose of the pee-sodden tissue.

"Sorry, Thiago," Max concluded that he would have to leave it to his boyfriend to clean up later. He could hear a whine bubble up in his throat at the embarrassment. He had to clear his throat to shake the feeling away.

Max went back into the bedroom to get dressed but realised how impossible a task that was. He grabbed a t-shirt with his teeth and tried to push his head through it but there was no way he was getting it on without his hands. Giving up on that idea, he found it warm enough without clothes anyway. "What a turn in events," he thought, "crawling around the house naked on all fours. Thank God the neighbours can't see in."

A rumble from his stomach convinced him to go downstairs to get something to eat. Only problem: the stairs. He hesitated at the top, gazing down. "Have the stairs always looked that long?" he thought. There was such a long length to descend. He put a shaky paw forward on the first step but retracted it and padded nervously from paw to paw. Now he knew why young pups were so afraid of stairs.

"It's just stairs, pull yourself together," he said to himself out loud to stop the whine that was bubbling up in his throat. One paw on the first step, good, followed by another paw on the second step, good. This continued down a few more the steps. "This isn't so bad," he thought, getting cocky until one of his hind paws slipped and his weight pushed him forward. "Shit," he screamed as his muscular human torso threw him off balance, his little paws unable to sustain his well-built body at the awkward angle, and he slid forward down the stairs. All he could do was watch as he soared towards the wall at the bottom of the stairs. The carpeted stairs burned the skin on his upper arms and thighs. He came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs, pounding into the wall. Luckily his shoulder took the brunt of the collision and not his head.

"Uhhhh," he moaned, shakily getting to his feet. He rolled his shoulder and sighed. It wasn't broken or sprained but it was going to leave one hell of a bruise. He shook his head and padded into the kitchen.

"Everything is so high," he ogled at how high all the drawers and presses were from his vantage point on the floor. "Ok, cereal, nice and easy," he decided, going through the mental arithmetic of what that entailed. "Bowl first," he clawed at a drawer to get it open but his paws wouldn't allow for the grip. After a few attempts, he gave up and tried his teeth. His iron grip was successful as the drawer came loose, opening up in front of him.

He dipped his head in and clenched a bowl between his teeth, but the slippery ceramic fell away from his mouth and crashed to the tiled floor, smashing to pieces. His ears drooped sadly and started to whine, crying at his inability to function like a normal person. Tears flowed down his cheeks. He made a mental apology to Thiago for all the mess he was making throughout the house. The ceramic shards clinked as he used his paws to tidy them into a corner on the floor out of the way. "Now I know how dogs get up to so much trouble when left alone," he sighed.

"I guess cereal is out of the question," he concluded. He peered around and spotted a loaf of bread on the counter. "Better than nothing," his stomach was grumbling so he would've been happy with anything. It was so high though. He would have to try to stand on two legs.

He repeated his earlier attempt with more vigour this time, keeping steady as he pushed his fore legs off the floor and shakily staying up on his hind legs. Bending upwards, he drew up into his former posture as best he could until he was standing vertically. "Finally, a bit of luck," he was overjoyed and fell forward, his front paws catching on the counter so he was resting against it. He used his face to knock the loaf of bread to the ground. Before dropping to the floor, he peered around the counter to see if there was anything else he could use. The sliced ham in tinfoil he had left from yesterday's dinner was on the counter. Thankfully, he hadn't put it in the fridge. That would do for breakfast. He knocked it to the floor.

Jumping back down to the floor, he gathered his spoils, ripping into the bread and ham right there on the floor, throwing away any inhibitions due to how starving he was. His sharp teeth made it a lot easier to tear into food now that his paws couldn't function to grip. The food was scoffed down quickly and he was thankful for the nourishment. He hadn't realised how hungry he had been until he had had his fill, sitting on his haunches and panting.

A sinking feeling came over him as he realised what had just passed. He had hungrily gobbled down food off the floor, standing on all fours like a dog, not caring what he had looked like or the fact that it was a completely absurd thing for a person to do. Then he had sat their panting with satisfaction. All inhibitions had been forgotten and he had taken on the behaviours and mannerisms of a dog. His dog personality was growing within him and taking over. He needed to be careful or he was going to lose himself all together. Shaking his head, he needed to remember what he was: a man, not a dog.

After all that effort of getting downstairs and acquiring something to eat, he had grown thirsty. He successfully got on two legs again and managed to turn on the tap, gulping down water as it streamed from the tap.

*****

Max spent much of the day lounging on the couch. There wasn't much he could do due to being restricted to all fours. He had managed to hop onto the couch so he watched a bit of TV, just about able to use his paws to navigate the remote, and then took a few naps throughout the day, the boredom getting to him.

Later that evening, Max awoke to the sound of Thiago calling him.

"Hey, what happened? What's with all the mess?" Thiago burst into the living room but stopped dead in his tracks.

Max lowered his gaze to the floor, his ears drooping as a whine came from his throat. A feeling of sadness and embarrassment passed over him.

"Oh, Max," Thiago's face dropped, seeing the changes that had happened to his boyfriend.

Max explained everything that had happened since he had woken up: the paws, being restricted to all fours, the messes he had made in the bathroom and kitchen, not being able to ring Thiago. He welled up and apologised for everything that had happened.

Thiago was been amazing as usual. He sat next to Max, hugging him and holding him in his lap as he comforted his boyfriend. He cooed Max, telling him it was ok and that it was not his fault as he petted his boyfriend's back and head.

Max appreciated Thiago's understanding nature and support. Truth be told, being petted was doing wonders to soothe how upset he was. He knew it was his dog personality coming out but he didn't care, he had a wonderful boyfriend helping him through an awful period of his life, and for that he was grateful.

Thiago continued to comfort his boyfriend, petting him and talking him through everything as Max slowly drifted off to sleep. He had been shocked by seeing his boyfriend on all fours, more dog-like than ever. "What is happening to Max and how do we stop it?" The thoughts ran through his head. He hated seeing what was happening to Max. Every day he lost more and more of his boyfriend and was gaining a pet. And now that Max was on all fours, he was becoming more dependent on him for support. He wouldn't be able to do any normal human things in his condition. But Thiago didn't raise any of these concerns with Max, who didn't need both of them to be worried. Instead, he put Max's comfort before his own, making sure he was soothed and supported.

Thiago looked down at his boyfriend in his lap, sound asleep. He was still his boyfriend. There were still remnants of the human Max there: the face of the man he had fallen in love with, his muscular shoulders, chest, and torso, and thighs, his dick. But then there were the other parts. The dog parts. The delicate fore and hind paws that twitched as he slept. The fine brown fur that covered his limbs up to his elbows and knees. The furry tail that tickled him as it moved. The pointed furry ears that flopped across his head.

He sighed and caressed Max's paw, feeling the bristly fur. It was such a strange sensation. That was Max under there, so real, yet, not him at all, something new and alien to who he was. He moved his fingers up to touch Max's face, feeling the short stubble of his jaw. He drew a kissed on his boyfriend's lips, feeling the soft skin he knew all too well. That was his boyfriend Max, not whatever was going on with the rest of his body. Max, the man, was still there, but less and less so as the days went on. Who knew how long they could hold out? They needed a solution, and they needed one fast.