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Story Notes:

Content: animal transformation, sex swap, beastiality, giant male (dog), extremely graphic sex, humiliation. Read with caution. 

Content: animal transformation, sex swap, beastiality, giant male (dog), extremely graphic sex, humiliation. Read with caution. 


The tavern boasted little in the way of fine offerings, but as it was the only stop in town, the fact that it had the space to house all those looking to drown their troubles in drink and the good sense to allow the patrons to make their own entertainment made it a booming success. The many dented tankards and the occasional shattered stool was more than worth the traffic, and kept the carpenters and smiths happy for the business, backing the owners against the town’s wishes for quieter nights. 

And since there was hardly anything else the town could claim, it had garnered a sort of reputation for those whose voices could carry over the crowds. That was where Merrick shone, the fur covered seat he favored becoming something of a throne, with gathered ears paying service to his grand recollections. 

It had not started with stories of the witch, but as his hunting accomplishments lost the luster that earned him his place and interest in her rose, Merrick was one to capitalize. Most kept out of the witch’s path, fearing what she might do, but there was a ravenous edge to the stares directed at her. She was, after all, exotic in all that she was unfamiliar. None of the folk had any mind for magic, simple as they were, and so there was a thrall that consumed those who wondered at her. 

Merrick was positioned as the man she might go for, talked up by the louts that hung in his words, and through their bolstering, he got it in his head. He was determined to make her his wife and thought himself deserving. 

She seemed to agree, and whether by the amorous pull of his physique—as he believed—or the courage of his proposition, he found himself in her company, invited into her home. Alice—he learned her name to be—was strange, disinclined to listen to his talk of hunting or merriment with the lads, but neither was she shy in bed. 

She wanted to be heard—to engage about her reading and her thoughts—something that was off-putting in a woman, and Merrick was sure that when he got the town’s approval to officially wed, he would train that out of her. 

And so in the tavern, he lied. He didn’t bother to be discrete in his telling, letting the tale spill beyond his closest listeners. After all, she never deigned to visit the establishment—too absorbed in the books and crafts that kept her in the little cottage on the outer reaches of town—and the young girls that overheard always wanted to emulate her. The embellishments had girls lining up to get on their knees for him, hungry for the pictures he painted without knowing better, willing to let him take control and fuck their throats good and sloppy. 

Alice never knew about it, never had the sense to discredit him, and so he was free to spin his tales of conquest. He got to enjoy the innocence of the girls and remain the only man who dared to bed the witch, earning him the respect and envy of all the lugs who couldn’t see past their own insecurities to challenge him. 

Over the foaming rim of his tankard, Merrick watched a fawning thing, with a youthful wonder in her eyes, hang on his every word from behind the crowd of uproarious men that jeered and laughed when he said Alice sucked him good that morning. 

“Wetter than your sweaty cheeks, I reckon,” one fellow capped another on the back, making him couch into his drink and spew it all over the floor, Merrick’s boots among the victims. 

He rose as the man’s ears flamed and the rest howled at his sputtering, but Merrick was glad for the excuse to move on. “You would know about his sweaty cheeks, wouldn’t you, Donny boy,” he drawled as he departed, and the laughter rose higher, shoving and elbowing each other, making a mess of themselves before tipping back a fresh round. 

Merrick conveniently wandered towards the girl who’d watched him, and when he asked if she minded helping him clean himself up, she happily followed him to the little store room where he made a mess of her—lips bruised and throat raw.

He left the tavern sated, but that didn’t stop him from stopping by Alice’s cottage. 

Merrick was greeted not by his pretty conquest, but instead by a fit of snarling, his unannounced entry bringing him face to face with a massive dog.

The beast put his hounds to shame, its shoulders reaching his hip, broad with muscle that was well defined beneath its thick black coat. His boot lifted without thought and a single yelp brought Alice out from her brewing station tucked behind the kitchen. 

“Oh Beast, that’s just Merrick,” she soothed, petting its snout without any hesitation, her hands small enough to fit on either side of its jowls. 

“What is this,” he demanded to know. 

“Oh, him?” The witch was unperturbed by the hulking dog and its manner towards her was much less aggressive, near to playful if it were not for the wary eye it turned towards him. “I found him in the wood, up by the babble.”

Merrick’s lip curled into a snarl. “You shouldn’t be off in the wood like that,” he huffed. “It’s not safe for a woman—“

“Oh,” Alice just waved his comment off, beaming as she kissed the dog’s head. Merrick did not take well being dismissed, more so even than being interrupted. “It was hardly a long walk,” she assured, entirely missing what he meant, or choosing to ignore it. 

And that was where the trouble began. 

Alice insisted on never collaring the dog, against Merrick’s wishes, allowing it free reign of her home, and it did not take to his discipline. In fact, it was the opposite of obedient, choosing instead to tear apart his leather boots and piss on his pants, and the last straw was when it tried to jump his leg. 

“Get rid of it,” he demanded. 

“Never!” Alice was aghast at the suggestion, standing protectively over the thing. “He was just playing around, there’s no harm. You were just a little horny, weren’t you?” She turned to look down at the dog, speaking to it as if it had as much say in the moment. 

Merrick was beyond his patience with the woman and the dog, his tolerance for his authority being challenged past its limits. “If you won’t, I will.” 

He lunged forward, pushing the small woman back and grabbing the dog by the scruff before it could bite him, yanking hard enough that it whined. 

“I’ll put the beast down,” he announced, hauling it towards the door as he retrieved his hunting rifle. “It’s too feral for this world.”

“Stop!”

The word itself would not have kept Merrick from storming out the door, but something else rooted him to the floor. His rifle dropped, clattering sharply against the wood, and at the same time the dog bounded back towards Alice, released without Merrick having meant to let go. 

“You would kill him for what? Humping your leg?” He was turned by a force he couldn’t see, couldn’t know, his body succumbing without his say. “What offense do you take in that?” 

“The beast hasn’t been broken, it’s not worth keeping,” he ground out. He’s never seen such steel in Alice, her eyes fiery, much like the swirl of light that wreathed her outstretched hand. 

Merrick had witnessed very little of her magic, had not known her to have the power to hold his movements locked. “Let me go, witch. This is what’s best.”

“That’s not how I see it.” 

Merrick spat on the ground. “You don’t get a say. You are my woman, and I—“

The first crack of bone wrenched a howl from his lungs, emptying what breath he had before he inhaled with a bewildered sob. But it was far from the last snap, his body crumpling under the squeeze of her magic, twisting and reshaping. He was blinded by the pain, his mind unable to comprehend the searing that lit through every nerve, agony writing itself into his muscles and bones, tears and drool mixing on his cheeks and chin as he writhed. 

Delirium was Merrick’s only savior, and he was soaked in his own sweat and piss by the time he was conscious of anything beyond the sensation. He roused on the floor, in a puddle of his own making, shaking and exhausted from screaming. 

“What—” the word didn’t form properly in his throat, slumbling incomprehensibly past his lips, shill and cracking. He tried again, but the noise that escaped was nothing more than a breathy woof. 

Merrick blinked, confusion further mudding his mind as the room distorted, color stripped away and everything appearing more distant than he had recalled. He was assaulted by the ripeness around him, his own scent sharp with fear and exaggerated, making his nose wrinkle, oddly elongated within his view. 

And furred. 

He jolted up, or tried to, but his balance was off, weighed down by the tangle of his clothes, overly loose as they draped around his frame. He stumbled and slipped, further wrapping himself up, falling and then wriggling until he was free. 

“What a mess you’ve made.” 

Alice’s voice had a derisive edge to it, haughty in its amusement, but that wasn’t what stood out the most. The volume of it boomed in Merrick’s ears, the once soft lilt rattling his skull, drawing a pained whine from him. 

His gaze dropped to the wet pile of his clothes, then lower to his hands—misshapen, his fingers shortened and a shine of claws peeking past the coat of light fur. They were paws, and as much as his mind tried to dispute it, deny it, he stumbled on all fours, confirming his new form. 

Merrick’s head whipped up, and then higher still, neck craning to meet Alice’s eye, far above him. She looked much the same, muted and a little fuzzy, but most notably, enormous. 

There was no time for questions, no chance to even process the well of panic that knotted in his gut, because her attention turned down to her side, to where her dog sat at her heel, its head cocked, observing him with a rapt interest. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth when its head turned up, well above his own, and Alice grinned. 

“Go ahead, beast,” she chimed with a brief scritch of its ear, “breed your girl nice and round.” 

Merrick’s stomach dropped, his knees going weak, his body trying to protect itself, a tail curling up between his legs to flatten against his belly. 

“We can’t have that,” Alice chastised. 

A quick flick of her fingers in his direction brought a fire like he’d never known to lick beneath his skin, an itch setting in that he couldn’t understand, but that stirred his mind into a frenzied haze. 

The dog recognized what was happening before Merrick did, scenting the air as it rose up, bounding happily forward, circling around the startled man. He was still trying to get his bearings with the dog towering above him when a cold wetness nudged against the flushed heat between his hind legs, beneath his tail—which he had hardly recognized was actually his. 

Merrick didn’t think, he just acted, teeth snapping at the large dog as he spun, but before Alice could reprimand him, the beast’s jaw clamped on the back of his neck, the bite flaring through him, eliciting a reaction he couldn’t have predicted. His body went slack, the urge to expose his belly or neck lighting through his skull. 

Instead he was held there in the dog’s jowls, feeling its saliva seep into his fur, the heat of it sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Do you understand yet?”

Merrick hadn’t even realized Alice had approached, too absorbed in the position he’d found himself in. She stooped so that her head was level with the mighty beast once it had released him, her hand rising beneath Merrick’s chin, holding his whole snout easily. 

“Beast won’t hump anyone’s leg anymore,” she noted with a smirk that darkened with the bleeding of her pupils outward, her arousal something he recognized, “now that he’s got a little bitch to fuck full of pups.” 

Merrick whined, the implication sinking in past the thick fog that kept his thoughts sloppy and incomplete. 

“She’s all yours.” Alice was no longer talking to him, instead giving him to her beloved dog. 

A quick glance between his legs confirmed the horrifying reality that he had nothing hanging there, and more concerning, when the beast began to circle again, he spied the monstrous cock that had unsheathed, the smooth shine of it impossible to look away from. The shift in his perspective wasn’t something he had the mind to calculate, but as far as he could tell, it dwarfed what he had once sported. A long string of slick dangled from the angry head and bounced as the dog pranced about him.

Alice left him there, brought over a chair and removed her skirts, ready to enjoy the show, fingering herself lazily. 

The beast demanded Merrick’s attention when it mounted him, the sudden weight of giant paws on his shoulders forcing him down, his chest pressed hard into the floor as the dog’s body settled over him. It humped without a care, its prick flopping about, slipping first along his back past his tail and then against his trembling haunch. 

There was no bracing, no chance to guess at what it might feel like, not while Merrick spiralled through the course of events, still behind, still reeling. And then the hot tip nudged against the puffy lips of his cunt and he lost all sense of whether it was even wrong. He was panting with the heat of his body, delirious with the mix of fear and anticipation that laced every sensation. A mewl rolled in his throat when the sharp buck sent the dog’s cock downward, its whole length rubbing along the mess of flamed flesh. 

The beast rutted uselessly for a moment before it tried again, paws dancing forward for a better angle, teeth nipping at his neck. Merrick had already submitted, not having the mind to struggle, but when the beast’s cock finally caught and drove home, the instinct sank deeper, took hold in his belly and bloomed into obedience.

Merrick belonged to the dog, to its cock, and the stretch of it--thick and unyielding--seared that fact into every nerve. It rammed in without mercy, tore him open with little thought beyond the pleasure it took from his body, lanced deep into his gut and forced his belly to make room. 

Merrick lost track of Alice. Whatever enjoyment she derived as a witness was meaningless. All Merrick knew was the blinding heat of the dog’s cock rearranging his organs, the suction as it withdrew, and then the impact of his womb being pounded into a soft mush that would welcome the beast’s seed. A puddle formed beneath him as he drooled, his mind melting, spilling out with his tongue. 

There was no discerning push from pull anymore, a fiery numb bleeding through him, overwhelming all other sensation until Merrick felt a new pressure knocking against his cunt, thicker than even the girthy shaft that molded him. 

The beast was going to knot him, was determined to, and Merrick could only take it. That was his purpose. 

The push ignited new pain in him, cutting through the numb. He didn’t know if it would fit, worried it wouldn’t, but the beast insisted, rammed it against him, again and again. His cunt was slow to loosen, the rawness and the bruising not enough to encourage what his body could hardly give. He began to take it, opening around the swell of it, accepting more and more, until a brutal thrust popped it in, and his cunt locked tight around it, tied them together before the beast could yank free. 

White erupted behind Merrick’s eyes. There was no telling if it was pain or pleasure; they were the same thing to him. Whatever was left of the man was irradiated as the dog rutted his knot deeper, jerking his hips, stirring Merrick up with his fat cock as seed pumped into him. He could feel the slosh of it in his belly as it gathered, each twitch of the beast’s shaft spilling more into him, drowning him in its semen. 

By the time the motion settled and Merrick was aware of himself again, his belly was heavy with the dog’s load, dipping low with the bend of his spine. The knot kept them tied, its presence constant in his sloppy thoughts. The dog laid over him, not bothering to turn around, bucking any time an itch gripped it. 

“Enjoy yourself?”

Through the haze, Merrick saw Alice had stuffed her own cunt full of a carved dildo, her face flushed and sated. He whimpered, earning a lick to his ear from the dog. 

 

“You’re gonna give him so many litters,” she mused, leisurely pumping the dildo into herself. The dog preened above Merrick, woofing and huffing happily, as if it understood her. His gut twisted and plummeted, but a little jerk of the beast’s knot had him mewling, utterly ruined, his cunt knowing who he served. “You’re going to make him a very happy boy.”

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