The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day One Hundred and Thirty Five(ish) — Home away from home.

I’ll say little about our stay “up-north”, for although it was a happy time for me; my rider loathed it. Oh, we were together and had a secluded bungalow to ourselves: but she did not enjoy the University course that she was on and did not take to the tutors or to any of her fellow students..

“Oh, Hansa, I hate it!” She confides to me at the end of the first week, she is almost in tears. “It’s so boring, so dry and very dull!”

Anika and I look at each other in despair. “Miss, what do I tell your Mother? She expects me to report back on your progress.” The Maid/Housekeeper almost wails.

Hamsini throws down her briefcase and flops down onto the hearthrug. “Just tell her the truth.” She snaps. “I’ll never be an Economist!”

My mind is racing... I catch Anika’s gaze and growl.

The two women stare at me. Hamsini looks surprised but Anika is genuinely frightened. After all, a human being is a large, powerful animal. “Please, Hansa, no!” The blonde wails. “I’ve never harmed you!”

To her relief, I ignored her and tear open the briefcase: I spend the next hour going through the syllabus and through the pile of text books. By the end of that time I had produced an outline study plan that would take my darling as far as the Christmas break. The textbooks have gained lots of highlighted passages and hand written notes in their margins and my rider seems happier.

Her relief is obvious as she lies on the rug watching me. “Oh, my darling, I keep forgetting that you were a teacher!” She frowns. “But what about my assignments and essays?”

I did a play-bow: my bum stuck up in the air, and swished my tail from side to side—the closest that I could get to a wag.

“Hansa? You? You’ll do my course work?”

They say, or at least someone does, that a trouble shared is a trouble halved... My rider is going to pass this course and get her degree: I am determined to see her succeed. I had spotted the ‘assessment method’ in the syllabus: 75% continuous assessment; 25% by examination. I knew that that would work to our advantage. All she had to do was attend the lectures and write detailed notes: I would do the real work, including word processing any thing that she had to hand in.

Her relief is obvious as she drags me into her bedroom where we remain until Sunday afternoon. Anika brings us our meals but ends up joining us, despite her feeble and not very persuasive objections. With a twinkle in her eye, Hamsini decides that the weak objections must be punished and she gives the tall blonde a stinging slap on her well-padded arse. “Anika: you are hereby forbidden to wear panties around the house and you are to shorten all your skirts by four inches.”

The housekeeper looks perplexed. “But you’ll both be able to see my pussy!”

“Good!” Announced Hamsini, fighting back a fit of the giggles, eventually asking, “...and what do you think, Swan?”

I yelped happily, deciding to sniff said-pussy every time I saw it.

The bungalow is small and secluded and has a walled back garden that is not overlooked by anything. The three of us settled down to an easy routine which I will not go into except to mention that the roles of ‘Mistress’, ‘Servant’ and ‘Pet’ rapidly become blurred and that Anika slept in Hamsini’s king-sized bed more often than in her own room and quite often neither of them bothered dressing, particularly at weekends.

Most evenings, I spend several hours seated at the computer working on an essay or an assessment with my darling rider curls up at my feet. She has taken to licking and kissing my toes, but I don’t care: I love her more than life itself and this is all that counts, isn’t it?

My rider’s bedroom is the largest in the little house and is actually two knocked into one: but all the same, with her large bed and my basket, there isn’t much room. Anika has the tiny box-room to herself so that she can have some privacy... Which she has until my darling decides to remove most of the internal doors: she insists that I walk around on all fours and this makes it easier for me. No, honestly, I do not mind for I am well used to it. I am, after all, her pet and do not object.

I think her Mother expected her daughter to get off by humiliating me just like she had tried initially. It did not take long for her to realise that this part of our relationship did not appeal to the gentle and kind-hearted Hamsini. There is a major personality difference between Mother and Daughter—Mother is a control-freak.

It is a Tuesday and my lover is away at university... I am at a loose end. Anika is busying her self around the bungalow tidying up things that are already tidy. Mischievously, I push a pile of magazines off the lounge coffee table right in front of her.

“Oh, Hansa, you are a naughty girl!” She chides me but does not sound very stern, instead she bends down to pick them up.

I see my target right in front of me so I stick out my tongue and lick her pussy-lips from behind.

She squeaks and jerks upright. This is the fourth time she has fallen for this in the past week.

Anika spins around. “What will Miss Hamsini say when I tell her? I’ll bet that you get a smacked-bottom. Bad puppy-girl!”

I whine and stick my bum up in the air swishing my tail from side to side until she laughs. “Oh, Hansa, what am I going to do with you? If I play with you all of the time, I’ll never get any work done!”

She kneels down and begins to pick up the magazines but this time I have ideas other than mischief. This time I grab hold of her slim waist, I lean forward against her back and take her completely by surprise.

“Hansa!” She squeals as my weight forces her down onto all-fours. She tries to wriggle away but I cling to her with all of my not inconsiderable strength.

I feel my clitoris stiffen to its full (almost) three inches and ease forward. She is ready for me, I know this as I can smell her arousal and can feel how wet she is with the end of my oversized clitty.

“Stop being a silly girl and let me go.” I rub my little rod against her lips and get the surprised response of: “Hansa?”

I slip my clitty into her waiting cleft, I enter easily with only the minimum of force necessary and hear the taller blonde’s pleasurable gasp of surprise: “Oh!”

I push forward until my mound is pressing against her arse and use my hands to pull her back as tightly against me as I can. I am rewarded with a more drawn out: “Oooh!”

I smile as I jiggle my hips to make sure that I am in the right position and relax. I cannot draw back too far as I have only got about three inches to play with, but I know from experience just how I can put it to good use. The old adage that it’s not what you have, its how you use it has never been more true... You men with your five or six inches don’t know how well off you are... Pity cocks don’t come with a book of instructions... You might know how to use them if they did.

No, I carefully ease back and then thrust forward, pulling her hips backwards as I do so. I repeat the moves and gradually build up a rhythm of pull back—thrust forward... Pull back—thrust forward... Pull back—thrust forward. I increase speed and the force of the thrusts rapidly until I feel her well padded seat slapping into me. By now I am getting a moaning response of: “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Which is in time with my short, forceful thrusts; each “Oh!” ending with the slap of flesh against flesh.

After a minute or so I feel Anika stiffen and convulse with the first of a series of orgasms... A few more thrusts and I join her: the orgasms aren’t simultaneous. But who cares? I certainly don’t, I just enjoy the waves of sexual pleasure as they slam through me becoming more and more intense. The yelps of “Oh!” have built into involuntary screams as the woman that I have mounted begins to spasm and and twist uncontrollably. I lose control as well as I feel her slump sideways onto the carpet. I am still inside her as I black-out and lie twitching uncontrollably against her well padded backside. The orgasms are still rippling through me as I regain consciousness. I am still clinging to her hips as if my very life depended upon it.

I roll away and lie on my back staring up at the ceiling. Her head and torso suddenly enter my field of vision. She stares down at me. “Wow!” Is all that she says. She repeats it very quietly. “Wow!”

I feel her fingers exploring my pussy and open my legs to give her better access. Not surprisingly she finds something that she does not expect. “Hansa! You’ve got a little dick!”

I see her frown. “Oh, you are a special puppy-girl, aren’t you!” She proclaims as she begins to play with it.

Of cause, being a clitoris and not a ‘dick’, it is erect and I am ready to go again in next to no time. There is no messy ejaculation to recover from so I do not need much persuasion before I mount her again and off we go. I ride her to orgasm after orgasm as we have the time of our lives. Her dress is discarded and so is her bra and we are both as naked as two puppies when Hamsini arrives home in the early afternoon. The whole house reeks of our arousal and so she is not surprised to find us mating in the middle of the lounge. She doesn’t say anything: not that either of us are in any mood to listen. I forget about her as there is only one thing on my mind and it is blonde and I am humping it.

I feel hands grab me around my fleshy hips and suddenly I lose my rhythm entirely as My Rider slams into me none too gently with her eight inch strap-on. It is my turn to gasp in surprise as she thrusts into me again and again. There we are: the blonde, the red-head and the ravenette. Hips thrusting: tits bouncing as we lose ourselves in each other’s passions. By now My Rider is doing all of the work. Her thrusts are pushing me into Anika with at least as much force as I was using earlier and the three-way shrieks of pleasure are getting louder and louder. Eventually we tire ourselves out as Hamsini rides us both to one final explosive orgasm and we roll around on the carpet like the three animals that we have become,: we are laughing uncontrollably.

Needless to say, it takes a long time for us to recover from our three-backed-dance.

NOTE: By now I am beginning to realise that I have been a pet-girl for a whole lot longer than the two hundred days of my reckoning. There are chunks of time missing: at this stage I believe that weeks at a time have been obliterated from my memory. No, not during the previous year, but before that. Days would pass and a woman’s hair would suddenly become two inches longer: or the grass on our lawn would grow three inches overnight. I recall poppies going straight from bud to seed head without the need for flowering... No! There is not a glitch in the Matrix, there is a glitch in my head.

I think about writing my darling a note, but in the end cannot be bothered... The answer will turn up, if I am but patient.

Day Three Hundred Plus a Bit — Time passes, I am put on display...

Christmas comes and goes, and by mid-January my beloved Rider’s second term at University is underway. This term passes also and soon it is the summer. I breath more than a sigh of relief when I discover that Hamsini has absorbed enough economics to pass her exams with a middling grade... We count the first year as a success.

Soon we are back at home... Well it is MY home now... This I know and deep down. I love our rooms and walled garden. I know that I will never leave—not if I have anything to do with it.

First evening back is out of the ordinary: I am dozing curled up in one of the white armchairs in our playroom; Anika is back learning how to be a humble maid all over again while My Darling Rider is off doing something somewhere. The move back to the “Big House” has hit Anika the hardest. In effect she ran the little bungalow on Hamsini’s behalf: made sure that everything was clean and tidy, that food was purchased and that meals were laid on at the correct times. Now she is just another little cog in the big household machine whilst at the bungalow, she was the machine. She really grew into the role of our beautiful domestic goddess. Anika: tall and slim with long blonde hair. I say “tall” because five foot ten seems tall to me. Her hair is ash blonde and hangs down to her plump and rounded arse or, whenever she leans forward, hides her magnificent 38D’s. The hair and breasts should come as no surprise as they are one of Mother’s little “house-rules”, although they might be better described as “laws” that all female, non-family members are obliged to obey. The only reason that Anika’s breasts are not larger is that she would be out of proportion and hence would not look right. Anika: I have spent hours playing with her magnificent superstructure and agree... Not only does she look perfect, but she feels perfect also. Okay, she is no beauty: her face is too square and a little on the long side; but so what? Her willing personality is loving and kind and she has the ability to be the centre of a group without flaunting it.

Suddenly I realise that I am not alone when a feminine “cough” wakes me. I awake with a slight start and see Dawson, the butler standing a respectful three feet away. She bows politely... Unnecessary as I do not count as a person.

I smile at the woman in the stern black business suit with the brushed back hair secured with a black velvet bow; the short skirt that still hides everything and the business-like, highly polished shoes. Her face is expressionless: Dawson never comments, never judges.

“Excuse me for interrupting your relaxation, Miss Hansa, but Madam requests the pleasure of your company in her drawing room.” Dawson’s voice is as precise as her appearance.

I look at her with more than a hint of puzzlement on my face and she smiles. “If you would be good enough to follow me, Miss. I will be happy to conduct you there.”

I notice that she is holding a black-leather dog lead which I allow her to clip onto my silver collar. “This way, Miss!” Her voice is sympathetic but has an undertone that indicates that she will not tolerate descent. Dawson, after all, runs the household.

I drop instantly onto all-fours and trot at heel by her side. She is sympathetic and does not pull at me when I do not make the correct manoeuvres. She also walks at what is a comfortable pace for me and it is obvious that she has done this kind of thing before.

As we walk through the house, I am informed that Madam is hosting a family gathering and wishes to display me to the other ladies. For only the second time, I ascend the stairs and enter the Family’s part of the luxurious mansion.

The bottom floor, where I live with Hamsini, is taken up with the kitchens, the laundry and all of the little rooms that the servants and other staff need to keep the household running. The rooms occupied by My Rider and myself are in the basement of the east-wing: the utility rooms take up the rest.

The next floor up, the ground floor is taken up by all of the family rooms: the reception rooms, the dining room, the library, the studies and offices that are needed to keep them all occupied. For, or so I am told, the mansion doubles as the Head Offices of the Family Business Empire.

The next floor up, the first floor, is taken up with the various family bedrooms and bathrooms. While finally; right up in the roof are the servant’s quarters.

Oh there are other rooms, rooms that would not normally be found in a family home: a computer room, for instance and a cafeteria for the ‘day-staff’ . The people employed at the HQ of various companies managed from here.

Today, I am led up the main staircase at the front of the house and into the reception hall. Behind this is the long gallery, a 150′ long room running across the front of the house. It was originally intended as somewhere that the family could take exercise in inclement weather but now it is exquisitely decorated and arranged to resemble some sort of long, endless art gallery.

Dawson leads me part way along this gallery until we arrive at one of the many side passages. We turn into it: Like the rest of the house it is panelled in pale oak. Part-way along is another of the identical doors. The butler knocks on it quietly and opens it—we enter.

It is a bigger room than the ‘blue drawing-room’ where I was interviewed by the policeman last year. In some respects it is as much an office as anything else.

Dawson leads me in and I find myself under the scrutiny of about eight Indian matrons: the ‘Aunties’ that Hamsini had once laughingly warned me about! Dawson bows towards Mother. “Miss Hansa, Madam!” She announces as she deftly undoes the clip at the end of my lead which she placed on the silver tray on the little table by the door.

I gaze around not knowing what to do and hear many gasps of surprise and admiration. The Aunties are staring at me.

“Ah, Hansa, come and sit by me.” Mother exclaims and indicates a large satin cushion placed on the floor by her feet. I scamper over and sit on it.

As I feel her hand stroke my hair and mane I become aware of the comments from around the room:

“So this is my granddaughter’s pet!” -From a grey-hired lady wearing a sky blue sari... I give her my best smile.

“Is she an android?” -This from the younger woman seated in the armchair on the other side of Hamsini’s Mother.

“No, Tarika, she’s all flesh and blood.” Mother answers proudly, then adds with a chuckle. “And before you ask, she’s not a cyborg either.”

There is another middle-aged Auntie seated to the other side of Tariki; she looks up from her knitting, gives me an appraising stare then addresses ‘Mother’. “Padma, dear, I understand that our software division has been equally successful?”

Mother Padma smiles proudly and strokes my mane, causing me to shiver in appreciation. “Oh yes: ‘Stella’; our electronic receptionist has successfully passed the ‘Turing Test’.”

Grandmother looks up, her dark bird-like eyes sparkle. “Turing Test?”

Padma smiles proudly. “It can fool people into thinking that they are speaking to a Human Being and make rational decisions on their behalf.

I lean over and rub my shoulder against her leg.

Grandmother nods. “I thought that we had agreed not to create ‘Artificial Intelligence’ because of the possible risks?” Her expression is that of a fierce canary as she challenges Padma.

Never the less, Mother Padma only laughs musically. “Oh you worry too much, Mummy, we haven’t even come close to developing ‘Artificial Stupidity’ yet. Stella only gives the impression of intelligence.”

“So do most of the people that I know!” Grandma replies stubbornly.

The next to speak is Auntie Deepti, the solicitor, she looks up from the documents and the laptop on the coffee table in front of her. “So, Hansa, I hear that you have been doing my niece’s University coursework for her.”

I stare aghast at her as does everyone else, including Mother who picks up a tiny silver hand bell and tinkles it.

The Door opens and the redoubtable Dawson bows herself in. “Yes, Madam, how may I help you?”

“Dawson, please be good enough to ask Miss Hamsini to join us.”

“Certainly, Madam.” The Butler bows herself out.

There is much murmuring in the drawing-room over the next few minutes: I take the opportunity to take a good look at the Aunties. They are a formidable looking group and are seated in a horse-shoe with Mother in the centre. Grandma, however, is cackling with laughter. “I always knew that that girlie would go far: see how she utilizes the resources that are available to her?”

I am not sure that I like being classed as a resource... A bit demeaning, that! A look across at Grandma who catches my gaze and gives me a friendly little wave.

I am slowly beginning to realise that this is rather more than a family gathering: this is confirmed when another of the Aunties points at me as she asks : “Just how much has this little bitch cost us so far, Padma?”

Mother looks up. “About £2,000,000 from the r&d budget to date: there is probably another £50,000 to be found, but she is more or less complete. So, without further ado, let me introduce you all to ‘Hansa’, the prototype ‘Lady’s companion’; although, after a certain incident last year: perhaps I should add ‘bodyguard’ to her specification.”

She stood and helped me to my feet. As I stood there, with all of my assets on display, I felt myself blushing which caused Grandma to begin cackling all over again.

Padma continues. “She is very dog-like, both in loyalty and behaviour; and as would be expected, she is very easy to train.” She looks at me. “SIT!”

I instantly drop into the pose that imitates a dog sitting: I am kneeling but with my bum planted on my heels and am leaning forward with my hands pressed to the floor.”

Another Auntie interrupts. “That tail: surely it can’t be real!”

I raise it and swish it from side to side and am rewarded with a surprised gasp: strangely I feel pleasure at her response.

Mother Padma moves in front of me and holds out a hand and commands: “Give me your paw!”

I lift my right hand and place it in hers. My faithful-dog act earns a chuckle or two which I feel is faintly rewarding.

“So!” An Auntie interrupts again and demands: “And just what can she do for her owner that a perfectly well trained dog cannot?”

“I thought that it was obvious, Indira: sexual intimacy! You cannot be sexually intimate with a dog!” Mother announces.

“Pah!” Interrupts Grandmother. “I had a cousin in India who was!”

This causes a titter to run around the room but earns a glare from Mother.. “Yes, well...”

“And a goat!” Grandmother cackles much to Mother Padma’s increasing annoyance.

She glares at the elderly woman who ignores her and gives me a another friendly little wave, naturally, I cock my head to one side and swish my tail as a reply. Oddly enough, I am enjoying Mother’s discomfort. She is a woman who must be in total control: a control-freak, if you will: but her own Mother clearly does not give a damn about anything. “Mother!” She purrs in annoyance. “Will you please stop interrupting. I really do not wish to hear about your cousin!”

The old woman laughs again. “Your cousin too!”

“MOTHER!!” She shouts.

The old woman pantomimes being afraid and hides her face in her hands then peeks out cheekily. I really like her!

Just then the door is flung open and my rider slouches in: she is clearly unhappy about something and glares at her Mother pointedly.

“Yo, Kiddo!” Calls her Grandmother cheerily and earns another glare from Padma.

“Yo, Ancient Relative!” My Rider answers cheekily. Her Mother’s eyes roll upwards and I see her mutter something: she is rapidly losing patience.

Then with ice in her voice, she continues. “Ah, Hamsini, it is high time that you began attending our Monthly Oversight Meetings: you will need to be conversant with all strands of our enterprises so that you are ready to take your rightful place within our organisation when you graduate. We are in sore need of a reliable economist.”

By “reliable” I assume that she means a family member. I watch carefully from my place in front and to the side of Padma’s seat. I see Hamsini freeze, turn and glare at her Mother.

“What? Does that include the illegal parts as well?” She asks pointedly.

There is a sudden stony silence. Even Grandmother keeps quiet as Mother and Daughter glare at each other.

It is Hamsini who breaks that silence. “I have done a great deal of thinking over the last year: I do not want to carry on studying economics—I hate it! I’m going to change to a graphical design course instead!”

I see her Mother begin tapping her foot in annoyance. “You most certainly are not: designers are ten-a-penny; we hire and fire them regularly. We do not need one in the family: you, Miss, will carry on studying something worthwhile: it is high time that you made yourself useful!”

There is a general hubbub from the gathered Aunties and other family members and against this background I watch Hamsini round on her Mother. “I don’t care what you want: or what the family wants or about the stupid family business empire... I don’t want anything to do with it!” She shouts.

“Oh, really, child, be sensible. It is precisely that that puts a roof over your head and food on your plate!” Padma shouts back.

Other women are now on their feet and join in the shouting match. While this is going on I creep over and sit by my owner: I feel the hair of my mane begin to bristle as I become more and more tense.

It is now that Hamsini makes her mistake. Her Mother moves over to her and grasps her arm: my rider shakes herself free and she says something to her mother before storming out of the room. I follow, Hamsini’s words ringing in my ears as the heavy door slams behind us, cutting off the heated exchanges that we have left behind.

We hurry down the corridor: me no longer on hands and knees, but scampering along with both my hands and feet on the hard polished floor. I can move quite fast this way.

“That gave them something to think about!” Hamsini says sharply.

It certainly did! I remember thinking. We head back to our basement rooms. Oh, my darling, why did you have to say such a stupid thing?

“If you try to force me, I’m going to the police, they’ll find certain aspects of your family business very interesting!” She had said: I knew precisely how Padma would regard a threat like that and was dreading the consequences that would befall us both.

Days ??? to ??? — Time fractures — reflections in its shattered mirror.

Next day I learn that I am to undergo a series of operations to elongate my tail and widen my mane as was promised earlier. Padma, Hamsini’s Mother is calm when she tells me personally. She is civil to her daughter and does not mention yesterdays outburst. In fact she smiles at us both.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she says to me with a smile, “Dawson will drive you to the clinic tomorrow morning and Hamsini can accompany you in the back of the estate car... That way you won’t need to be sedated!”

I smile and rub my head against her legs: she strokes my hair. Everything is going to be alright after all!

We spend the rest of the day having sex in our garden and in the newly restored summerhouse: it is finished but not yet furnished. We enjoy each other’s bodies as we run through all of our favourite positions. Life is idyllic as we make love in the warm summer sun! I may be ten years older than she is, but I belong to her: it seems so right, so natural. She is naked and so beautiful with the the sun making her black hair and brown skin shine.

Anika brings our evening meal out to the patio and we eat and exchange kisses between mouthfuls. Anika hurries away and does not hang around after serving the meal as she usually does: I should have smelled a rat there and then, but my rider and I were too into each other to notice.

The meal is almost gone before I realise that I feel light headed and sleepy: I am puzzled but for a few seconds before I realise realise that the vindaloo had something in it. I try to stand but my arms and legs fold under me so I crawl to my beloved. I manage to get my head onto her lap and the very last thing that I remember for a long time is the musky smell of her arousal as she asks me what’s wrong . The world goes dark while that heavenly scent fills my nostrils.

The next block of memories are not coherent. Some are real, others are dream-like and surreal. The ones that revolve around the clinic and doctors and such things may be but almost all of the others probably are not. There was the white wedding with two brides, Hamsini and myself: we both stand at the alter rail facing the priest: we are both dressed in magnificent but identical white wedding gowns and are holding identical bouquets of red roses.

The priest asks: “Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?”

We both bark at him. Can it mean anything other than I am delirious?

I remember being awake, or dream that I do: my mouth is clamped open and there seems to be a lot of hardware jammed into my throat. I don’t feel anything... Yes I do! The doctor or who ever it is is moving the instruments around, something tugs at what ever is in my throat.

“Now growl,” the doctor says, “Louder than that!”

I oblige and she fiddles around again. “Growl!” She commands again.

I do and the sound is deeper, more powerful. Louder even. The medic looks satisfied from behind her green mask.

I see her! I see Devya—Hamsini’s vicious, bullying older sister. I growl and hurl myself at the bars of my cage. There is a bang and the cage shifts.

“Shut her up!” Someone shouts. “She’s frightening my pet!”

Then it dawns on me: Devya is naked and being led past on all fours. She is on a collar and lead. She is being led by Deepti, one of Hamsini’s aunties. The bully has been turned into a pet. Am I dreaming or has Padma been as good as her word?

I am out in the country. There are a line of women with shotguns: they are all of the women that inspected me at the oversight meeting... Even Grandmother is there.

They are shooting the pheasants and ducks which are flying over. The birds land on the heathland in front of me. The shooting stops and Padma shouts. “Send in the dogs!”

Someone un-clips my lead and I race forward and pick a duck up with my mouth. I feel its blood runs down my chin as I run back and present the bird to Padma who takes it from me.

“Clever girl!” She says and is clearly pleased with my skill as a retriever.

I slowly regain consciousness, or dream that I do. I am in traction with my arms and legs suspended in slings... My legs seem shorter and all the joint angles look wrong. I try to move but cannot so I whine piteously.

“My God, its awake!” Someone calls out.

I feel something sting my thigh and drift off to sleep again.

I am being taken for a walk. It is a strange dream, but I feel that I have had this one before. No, Wait! I see Hamsini... She’s come to rescue me. Our eyes meet and I see that she looks terrified. Then she is gone.

I am back at the college where I was a lecturer. It is not one of my own classes, or at least not one that I recognise. I look around and see a couple of students from previous years and cannot understand why they are here now, after all they left several years ago: didn’t they? Well... Didn’t they? I look around again and see that Hamsini is in the middle of the front row.

I write “Geomorphology” in large letters across the top of the whiteboard and am met with a chorus of groans and shouted remarks. I am a Humanities lecturer but it seems that this group are expecting me to teach them Economics. I freeze... I know nothing about that subject.

Suddenly I am a student sitting in the row behind Hamsini. Her Mother walks into the room, apparently she is now the lecturer. She wipes off my “Geomorphology” and writes “Economics” at the top of the whiteboard: she is also met with a barrage of groans and cat-calls which I seem to add to, but I don’t shout, I bark.

Hamsini jumps to her feet and shouts out louder than anyone. “I refuse to do economics: its rubbish! I’m here to learn finger-painting!”

Lecturer Padma spins around and glares at the class who fall silent immediately. She sees me and becomes angry. “You! You are a trouble maker! I might have known that you would be the ring-leader. You’ve put silly ideas into everyone’s heads: get out and report to the Principal’s office!”

I stand up but am suddenly naked and the dream fades as I scamper out of the room on all-fours: it is a dream, isn’t it?

It is a physiotherapy session: my limbs are being manipulated and stretched by a large severe-looking woman. I am woozy and try to fight her. She is Irish and calls me a “stupid fecking bitch” but never-the-less she takes the opportunity to fondle my breasts whenever she can. I dream that I know her and seem to recall having this dream before.

I am back in the walled garden. Hamsini’s Grandmother has mounted me and is using a strap on to have sex with me. I don’t seem to mind. Suddenly Padma is there and stares at us: disgust writ large across her face. “Mother!” She snaps. “You are fucking the dog again! You are as bad as that cousin in India!”

I am out walking: I am fully human: suddenly Detective Constable Mainwaring is blocking my path: he is accompanied by half a dozen armed police officers who are all pointing guns at me.

“Hansa Patel?” Enquires DC Mainwaring. “I am arresting you for impersonating a human being.” Suddenly he looks frightened and snaps: “Careful men, she bites!”

I drop to all fours, and snarl: my clothes have vanished. I charge and snap at the policemen who all drop their guns and run away.

I am in my cage: there is a row of cages opposite. I can see Hamsini in one and her sister Devya is in another. There is a blonde girl in the cage between them: I do not recognise her. Two medics are staring down at me: they are dressed in scrubs and there faces are hidden by surgical masks. They look down at me in my cage and suddenly Padma and her sister, Deepti, join them and also look at me.

“She’s ready.” One of the medics says. “If she is what you want.”

Padma looks at me as if I am a piece of meat; she orders me to turn around, which I do so, presenting my arse and tail to her.

“She’s okay! What about the others?”

The medic half turns and looks at the other cages. “Two need further physio to get them used to their new joint and limb angles. Say another week to ten days... The blonde needs further surgery and some more mental conditioning but the procedures seem successful, so if you are happy we can process ten to twelve a year.”

Padma nods. “That is satisfactory.” She turns to her sister. “Sorry Deepti, we’re going to have to wait for our companions!”

A medic suddenly fires a pistol at me. I feel the dart prick my ample bottom and that dream ends.

I dream that I am lying on the grass the sun is warm against my skin. I am lying similar to the way a dog would with my knees and elbows on the ground. I flop onto my side and drift back to sleep... Why do I dream that I have a headache?

There are a series of hazy dreams like this, or maybe they are memories of dreams? Sometimes I wake in my basket sometimes outside. Sometimes it is sunny, other times, cloudy. I notice that the trees are turning gold: it must be autumn.

I try to get into the house several times, but the glass door is locked and the blinds are down. I rattle the door handle and bang on the glass but no one ever comes.

I am eating in some of the dreams: everything is confused and I cannot focus or concentrate. My thoughts flow like treacle in wintertime. They are more like snapshots than dreams: why am I so tired? Why am I dreaming that my basket is in a strange room? Where is my beloved Mistress’s bed? Why is my basket larger? Why do I even bother wondering? Everything is just so because I dream that it is! That is enough, isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?

Strange dreams, but time seems to be passing, or at least I dream that it is.

I awake and stretch. Odd! Everything seems real! Am I awake? I sit there for a few minutes and look around. This is the summerhouse: I am awake: I am no longer dreaming and the dream-state may be over but I feel different somehow. I frown and wonder how long have I been here. Time has definitely passed, I can feel it. I concentrate and feel uneasy... This has happened before... This is how I felt after first arriving, when? How many years ago?

I realize that my bladder is full and climb out of my basket. I trot over to the toilet... I am not surprised that I know exactly where it is: it is in the alcove next to the shower. The toilet pedestal is only about half the height of a normal one: I squat on it and realise that it is low because my legs are shorter. I have been surgically altered to walk on all-fours. As my bladder empties I know that I should be angry but I am not. I become aware that something else has been altered and peer at my mound. There is something new down there—its a cock!

No it isn’t! My oversized clitty has grown again: instead of being about the same size as my thumb: its now about four inches long and will no longer fit between my lips. I reach down and stroke it and find that it is vert sensitive. It’s still a clitty; I can’t pee through it, thank goodness: but it is seriously sensitive—as I touch it, it hardens and becomes erect, it lengthens and is thicker too. I wonder what my beloved will think of it. What a daft question as it was probably her idea.

I get off the toilet and flush it: the flush is only two feet from the ground and in easy reach. I head into the shower and boy, its a big one with multiple shower heads. The controls are also only two feet from the ground: I turn it on and reach for the soap, As I am alone, I do not feel like playing with myself so I shower quickly, trot out and grab a couple of towels. As I dry myself I attempt to stand up straight... I manage it, but my legs won’t straighten and I cannot get my heels onto the ground. My new shorter legs are “Zed” shaped, just like a dogs. I now walk on my toes and on the balls of my feet. My hands and arms have been altered too: the hands bend more easily and there is no strain when I am on all-fours. My elbows also point backwards and don’t stick out sideways. My arms are now thicker and more heavily muscled. I experiment with them and find that they have been changed into front legs and will only move forward and backwards... I can no longer reach out to the sides.

I sit down with a thump and find that it is now natural to sit doggy-fashion with my hands on the floor. I chuckle... All those dreams that I was a dog... Someone was messing with my mind! Now there’s a surprise! Or rather two because I am not angry: I am Hamsini’s dog after all!

I hear a door being unlocked and it jars me out of my reverie and I actually bark: it is the loud, deep note of a large dog.

I notice that there is a door in the rear wall of the summerhouse: it swings open and Anika enters. She sees me sitting there and smiles.

“Hi Hansa! I see that you are fully awake!” She is carrying my breakfast in a bowl which she places on the floor by me there is a spoon in it so I am not expected to eat like a dog... That’s a blessing as my flat face is ill equipped for such a task which I found out a long time ago.

I jump up and bounce around Anika... Its wonderful to see someone real, someone familiar, someone friendly.

Anika strokes my head and my mane. I swish my tail, actually it is more of a “wag” than a “swish” as the tail is definitely longer and less like that of a horse. Strangely enough, I am pleased.

I love the fuss that I am getting from Anika who tells me that I will see mainly her in future as looking after the summerhouse is her responsibility and it will be a lot like when Hamsini was away at university. I am happy about this but wish that I could ask her where my beloved rider is.

“Come on,” she chides, “be a good girl and eat your breakfast.”

Then after a last pat, she slips back through the door and vanishes. I eat the food which seems to be a mixture of meat and biscuit—rather more of the latter than the former.

After breakfast I drink from the water bowl, which re-fills automatically. Next I head out into the garden to try out my new body and find that not only can I walk much more easily than before the modifications, I can run quite fast on what essentially are four legs. In fact I seem to be able to run faster than I could when I was a two-legged human being. I yelp with joy and run around the lawn as fast as I can. I love the feel of the wind tugging at my long red hair as it streams out behind me. Something else has been altered: my neck has been curved so that my head points naturally forward when I move and does not tend to hang downwards.

I stop and sit down in the middle of the lawn. A lot of thought has been put into my modifications: so why have I been taken so far down this road? I remember one of the dreams about the others at the clinic and suddenly it dawns on my: I am the prototype!

I am still pondering this point when I hear someone approaching across the garden and look up. It is Padma, Hamsini’s mother. I trot over to her and look up at her. She smiles down at me and says nothing for almost a minute. I wag my tail, but still she just stands there looking at me, gauging my mood and reading my body language which is no longer fully human.

I realise now that the most dangerous animal on this planet is a woman who smiles but remains silent. Padma is certainly dangerous as well as being totally devoid of scruples.

After a minute she reaches down and strokes my hair and mane: it is almost as if she is appraising me all over again. I sit in front of her and whine. I want to know where my beloved rider is and she knows it.

“Oh, Hansa, you beautiful girl, if only all of my daughters had been as smart as you!” She says, more to her self than to me. Then she looks at me and smiles again. “Hansa, promise me that you will look after Hamsini, guard her, make her happy and make sure that no harm befalls her?”

I am puzzled. Need she ask? Surely she has not forgotten that I live for her daughter, that I was her birthday present a couple of years ago? No: something has changed... I look her in the eye and nod solemnly. Oh cause I will look after my rider: haven’t I always?

To my surprise she kneels on the grass in front of me and gives me a hug, then she kisses me on the top of my head and sighs happily. “Well then you beautiful red-headed swan: She is yours, I give her to you!”

What can she mean? I wonder. I am Hamsini’s pet: how can she ever belong to me?

While I am pondering this fact, Padma stands up, takes her mobile ‘phone out of her pocket and makes a brief call. She speaks in rapid-fire Hindi: a language that I have never learned.

The ‘phone vanishes and she is clearly waiting. “I’ve had you equipped to act ‘the dog’, because I need you to take the lead in the relationship.” She says cryptically. “Just protect her and don’t let anyone or anything hurt her!”

Again I am at a loss, but not for long... I see the glass door in the big house open and Dawson? Yes Dawson emerges with another doggy-girl on a lead. I see the butler point towards Padma and myself and slip the girl’s lead... The girl bounds towards us on all-fours... She is an Indian doggy-girl... I cannot believe it... Its Hamsini!

“Here comes your bitch!” Padma says and walks away, I forget her... I only have eyes for one other.

Suddenly Hamsini is there in front of me, we are both so excited that we wet ourselves as we dance around each other. I grab her and we roll over and over on the grass. We are both yelping and barking happily. Hamsini, my beloved Swan Rider, what has your Mother had them do to you? Why did you threaten to go to the Police? Didn’t you know how ruthless she is? What else did you say? What things did you say that you would reveal? Why didn’t you know better than threaten her? My mind races as we hug and kiss out there on the lawn. I now know what her mother meant: I also know that some of the dreams that I had experienced were more real than I thought.

The relationship has been reversed: I have been forced into the more dominant role. I am indeed the “dog” to Hamsini’s “bitch”. She is truly mine now, far more than I was ever hers. I am the faux-male in her life. She is smaller and slimmer than I am, that much has not changed; but her body has been re-shaped just like mine and her breasts are no longer small and pert but she is still fully female with a tiny clitty. Oh, I am still female, I still have my pussy and my large breasts: but I have the one thing that my darling lacks: I have a tool. I take her there and then on the lawn in full view of the house. I mount her and we make love doggy-fashion—which, when I think about it, is more than fitting. She is surprised by the size of my rod and squeals happily as I enter her. After that we both yelp and squeal with passion and enjoy each other’s new bodies... Dearest Hamsini, it is no longer you that is my rider... I am now yours, despite the meaning of your name which is woven into your new silver collar.

So time passes and we settle down to our life together: two dogs who share a kennel. Anika is our kennel maid: she feeds us and keeps our home clean: often she joins us and we have a threesome—but it is different to how it was in the bungalow when Hamsini was a student at university. It is different because Anika is merely human whereas we are doggy-girls, human-animals, superior. I doubt that Anika realises this, but we do!

I found my notebook in a corner of our summerhouse/kennel, Padma must have ordered that it be returned to me, and so I carry on writing down my thoughts and experiences. It is quite a story.

Sometimes another doggy-girl is put in with us for us to train and to reassure: it is often one who is having trouble adjusting to her new role. We help her come to terms with her new life as we enjoy her, er, company.

The years pass and Hamsini and I are happy, we have each other, what more could we ever want?