The cage was made of grey fencing about about six feet deep, five feet wide and four feet high. Near the door of the cage are two metal bowls. Those as well as a thin pillow that occupies some of the cage floor are the only contents. The floor of my cage, like the rest of the room is a large concrete structure. On either side of my cage is an exact duplicate of my accommodations. There are six in all, but all, aside from mine are empty at the moment.
Across from me is a heavy metal door with a small window. Sunlight fills the window, but from my angle I can see nothing of what lies beyond. The wall beside the door is covered in hooks. Hanging on the hooks are a half dozens of leashes of varying lengths. There are also a few things that look a lot like whips. Under the hooks is a large round bin and next to that is a hose attached to a faucet.
My head has been in a fog for hours now. At first the world was numb to me. I saw shapes, but nothing registered. As I started to get my wits back I start to test my surroundings. My first goal is to get out of this cage. I inspect the closing mechanism on the door and not only does it not have a lock, it seems simple enough to operate. I crawl, because I can’t possibly stand up in such a short space and reach for the latch. I just need to slide a finger beneath between the thin slit and lift.
I try, but for some reason my finger isn’t sliding into the slot. Perplexed I look down at my hand and realize to some shock, it’s no longer a hand. The tips of my thumb and all my fingers have been removed down to the first knuckle. The ends neatly coming to tapered ends, and tipping each is a blunt and slightly curved claw. I hook one of these claws into fencing and pull at it. It is firmly part of my hand, or should I say paw, now.
I need to scream, but find that I can’t. The sounds I make are unintelligible and raspy, I realize my throat is sore and put my paw to it. But quickly pull it back as the semi-sharp claws scrap against my flesh. I push back into the cage, a reaction from the scratch and fall half over, onto my side. For the first time I notice that I’m completely naked. My bare breasts heave as I breathe heavily from the fright.
Further down my naked body I notice that something isn’t quite right with my feet. My feet are arched, like I’m standing on tiptoes, but I’m not standing on tiptoes. I try and relax them flat, but they don’t do anything, just stay in that position. More of the blunt claws protrude from my toes and I notice something else about the balls of my feet. The skin there is rough, almost like leather. I inspect my paws and sure enough the underside is covered in the rough leather like material. I prod at it with a claw and can withstand a great deal of pressure before it starts to hurt.
I return my attention back to my legs. Everything seem all there, but something’s not quite right. I move them back and forth and realize my range of motion is slightly different and then to my shock I realize they are shorter than they had been before. Both my upper and lower section of legs have been shorted. I quick turn and get up on all fours. Sure enough my back legs and front arms, no front legs, are about the same length.
I move my back legs up and down trying to get used to the new arrangement. There is something else, a new sensation that I notice. As I move my bottom half around, something is weighing on my lower back. The sensation starts when I move and even continues after I stop, but it decreases in severity until it is gone. I twist my body around to see and there at the base of my spine is a long furry tail. It is curved slightly and swishes back and forth when I move my bottom.
Turing my attention back to the front of the cage I start to scream, but I still can’t make the sounds. All I can do is make sounds that start in the back of my throat. Gutheral and animalistic sounds. I try and form an “o” with my mouth and find I can howl. I howl with all my strength.
I howl and howl for what seems like hours until the metal door slams open and a man looms in the doorway. The bright sun, silhouetting him.
“Cut that racket out you bitch,” he yells.
I am caught off guard and my last howl ends in a whimper. The man, who is quite tall with broad shoulders moves into the room. In the light of the room I can make out features. He is in thirties with a well kept beard. He shoves his hand into the bin beside the door and comes out with a scoop filled with pellets of some manor. He twists the faucet and grabs the hose with his free hand.
At my cage he dumps the pellets into the one bowl and uses the hose to fill up the rest. “Bon appetit,” he says and then turns away from the cage. He shuts off the water and tosses the cup back in the bin. “Eat up, you’re going to need your strength,” he says not unkindly. He steps back out into the sun and shuts the door behind him.
I look down at the bowls and find that my stomach is gnawing with hunger and my mouth is so dry. I reach for the bowl of pellets with my hands, no paws and try to grip the bowl to bring it to my mouth. I left it about three inches and then it falls through my claws. It clatters against the water bowl and turns over, scattering pellets across the concrete.
I lean down, putting my mouth to the floor and start to scope up the pellets with my tongue. Which for some reason seems longer than it used to. I start to chew the pellets, they taste vaguely of meat and other bland flavors of vegetables. As I chew I realize something else different about my teeth. With my tongue I explore my mouth and find two long and fairly sharp fang like teeth protruding from my row of simple human sized teeth.
The hunger overcomes my worry and I lean down again eating more of the pellets before lapping up the water with my now unusually long tongue. I’m finished with the food and most of the water in no time. As I eat and drink, my world shrinks down to just that eat… drink… eat… drink. Until the food is gone. I lay down. My hind legs, at their new length and angle, sit below my body easily. I think about howling again, but do not want to be yelled again again. Instead I lay my head on my forpaws and wait.
Seconds pass although it could just have easily been minutes or even hours. The door swings open and in walks the bearded man.
He is smiling this time and snatches a leash from one of the hooks. He walks to my cage, notices my empty bowls and says, “That’s a good girl, aren’t you?”
Despite everything this bit of praise lights off endorphins in my brain. My tongue hangs out of the side of my mouth and then I began to wag my tail.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/d8b357/thats_a_good_girl_mfpetplaybdsm