Strange

 

Detective Marcus Kane had spent a year infiltrating the criminal empire of Vinny "The Bull" Russo, a 300-pound mafia boss whose muscular bulk and slovenly habits made him a grotesque titan of crime. Marcus, a wiry 35-year-old with a chiseled jaw and a talent for blending in, was thwarted at every turn by Vinny’s paranoia and loyal goons. Marcus had managed to find a way into the organisation as a low level dealer but had found it impossible to get any closer to Vinny. Marcus had hoped tonight he would have got a glimpse of the titan as he hovered in the back of the warehouse, even if he could overhear part of a conversation it would be something to report. However, Marcus was left frustrated and disappointed once again as he was dismissed by a goon along with a rucksack filled with gear.

Marcus fought  hard to hide his anger and disappointment as he took his package and headed out the back of the storage facility. As soon as he was outside and alone Marcus’s anger reached a boiling point and he punched the nearest dumpster. Marcus howled in pain and bit his lip to stifle any more sound, he grimaced as he looked at his bruised hand. He deserved this, he was supposed to be taking down the mob but instead he had failed to even see his target in months. Desperate, Marcus stood in the damp alley clutching his injured hand and made his wish, green smoke dancing above him “I wish I could just get close to Vinny.” A deep chuckle then echoed throughout the alley and the green smoke descended on the detective, Marcus tried to scream but a barrage of green acrid smoke plunged down his throat. Marcus’s eyes watered and he clawed at his throat until finally he seemed to inhale the entire cloud and a horrid, stirring full feeling tortured his body. Marcus tried to stand but he was then hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea.

Marcus soon felt his body consumed by a searing heat. His skin prickled, then burned, as if molten wax were reshaping him from within. Marcus felt like he was being suffocated by his clothes that they were trapping him in a super heated cocoon and the desperate detective tore his shirt and pants from his body, kicking his shoes and socks off into a dark corner of the alley. In nothing but his underwear Marcus found himself panting as he tried to cope with the overwhelming heat that surged through him.  Marcus had no idea what was happening to him, he knew he needed help but as he looked around for assistance or at least something to help him stand the world around him seemed to grow and move. It was only when the first snap from his backbone rang out in the alley did he realise that the world wasn’t moving, he was, he was getting smaller. The snapping continued as his broad shoulders collapsed, bones grinding with a sickening crunch that echoed in his ears. His chest tightened, his pecs softening into a delicate, curved form that felt utterly foreign. His arms shrank, muscles dissolving into slender, trembling limbs while his legs quickly followed the same transformation. Marcus could barely register what was going on with the pain and heat, he knew he was smaller and thinner, it was only when he looked down and saw his hands and fingers starts to shrink and his finger nails getting harder and sharper that he realised he was in more trouble than he thought possible. 

 The detective watched in horror as his  hands morphed into small dainty paws, claws pushing out and clicking on the floor.Marcus tried to scream but the sound that emerged from his mouth was only half human. Marcus looked down at the petite pathetic paws in front of him, he was becoming an animal! He needed to run for help. He needed to stop this horror but as he tried to stand his arms and legs cracked and his bones moved. The detective almost started to sob as he body crunched until he was forced onto all fours his new skeleton making it impossible to ever be bipedal! His back legs had now shrunk to match his front legs and paws and then an awful pulling sensation radiated from just above his asshole. Craning his now more stationary head Marcus was only able to witness part of his growing humiliation as a tail grew from his backside. Marcus didn’t think things could get any worse but the most horrifying change was yet to come and it was in between his legs—his penis, a cornerstone of his masculinity, seemed to melt away, retracting inward with a sharp, tugging pain that left a smooth, empty void, the sensation lingering like a phantom ache. The void was sooner replaced with a foreign and animal slit that even Marcus could identify as female. Marcus screamed, his voice fracturing into a high-pitched yelp, his throat no longer human. Fine white fur sprouted across his skin, tickling and itching as it spread, each strand a reminder of his lost humanity. His face contorted, his nose elongating into a snout, his eyes growing large and liquid, reflecting his panic. His six-foot frame had collapsed, shrinking to that of a tiny, ten-pound dog. As the last of Marcus’s new fur sprouted and his anus moved until it was on display the burning inside him and the fullness finally ended leaving his new form trembling with terror. Marcus stayed frozen hoping that it was some horrid nightmare and this couldn’t be real, that was until his tongue flopped out of his mouth involuntarily and he began panting to cool himself down. Marcus recoiled in horror and disgust he hadn’t wanted to do that but his new dog instincts had and they had paid no attention to this human side. Marcus was in a state of shock this couldn’t be real he couldn’t be an animal, it had to be a dream!

Marcus found himself letting out a sad whimper as he took his first canine steps, the floor felt cold, he could hear cars in the distance and he could smell the rotten garbage around him with intense detail. Taking one more step his paw hit a puddle and Marcus looked down at his reflection not that of a hard working detective but of a tiny, delicate, female purebred poodle. ‘This can’t be real!’ his mind shrieked, his human memories—every case, every stakeout, every moment as Marcus Kane—vivid and intact, yet powerless and trapped in his much smaller body and brain. Marcus felt his body flood him with humiliating canine instincts to please, to obey, a desperate mental struggle had already started, his stomach churning with shame as his tail started wagging involuntarily, betraying his detective’s resolve. Marcus wanted to vomit, he was a dog, a fucking poodle! How was this possible? Why had this happened? What the fuck was he going to do now! His miniscule form trembled in the cold and he felt weak, vulnerable and pathetic far from the powerful officer of the law he was. Marcus soon became overwhelmed, his new smaller brain unable to handle all of the complex thoughts, his vision blurred and he started to feel faint. However, before he passed out a door opened and the goon from before came running out - ‘oh jesus there yous are! Stupid mutt we’s need to get yous ready for da boss!” Marcus could barely react as he was scooped up by the huge man and fell into unconsciousness. 

When Marcus awoke he hoped he would be in his own bed and that he has just had the most terrifying nightmare of all time but sadly he found himself in a crate in a smoky warehouse, his canine body quivering with fear. Marcus hated how he trembled, his form was pathetic and weak, plus the empty feeling between his legs was a dagger to his sense of self and identity. It was humiliating he was a man not some bitch! However, Marcus soon found that his weak form and new dog cunt were not the only things making him a bitch. Marcus scrambled to his paws as he looked at his body and how his previously pristine white fur had been dyed a garish bubblegum pink, groomed into fluffy curls that screamed absurdity. A heavy, rhinestone-encrusted collar weighed down his slender neck, its gaudy tag engraved with a name that made his human memories recoil: “Sissy.” The collar was too large, dragging painfully as he moved, a new constant reminder of his degradation and form. ‘Sissy!? I’m a goddamn detective not fucking Sissy!’ he thought. For a moment his memories of precinct briefings and undercover ops clashing, his success in the force and the respect he had garnered from his colleagues collided with his new reality. There had to be a way to reverse this and get his human body and life back, but how? Marcus had no time to ponder this as a door swung open and a greasy goon entered and scooped him up, chuckling. Lifting the crate up to eye level Marcus realised just how small his new body was, the guy's hand could easily wrap around his new body and his huge dumb face seemed gargantuan. His breath was hot and in painful accuracy Marcus could smell the beer, tobacco and leftover burger on the guys breath. “Boss’ll love this prissy dame,” the thug said as he started carrying Marcus through the warehouse. Marcus froze as he was jostled about in the crate - the boss! Did he mean Vinny! It then hit Marcus like a truck as his wish to get close to his target replayed in his mind, this was his chance to nail Vinny Russo! He would gather all the intel he could and then return to human form to take that loser down! Marcus found his body barking with glee as he thanked the universe for such an amazing plan! His tail wagged and Marcus relished in the thoughts, putting the mobster behind bars for life. However, Marcus’s elation started to fade as his crate was placed in front of a monster of a man, a nasty sweaty sulphurous stench radiating from him.

The mobster’s eyes gleamed, his meaty hands clapping as he lumbered over, his bulk filling the room. “Well, ain’t you a dainty little thing!” Vinny boomed, his huge hands darting into the crate giving Marcus no chance to hide or dodge them. The huge hands were soon lifting Marcus effortlessly like he was nothing, not a full grown man and detective but a dainty dog who had been presented as a gift to his worst enemy. Marcus wanted to growl as he looked into  the meathead eyes, the vicious mobster had ruined countless lives and was a disgusting muscular slob. Marcus's memories screamed at him but his body betrayed him, tail wagging as Vinny scratched his ears, the instincts unstoppable. Vinny fastened the heavy collar tighter, cooing, “My Sissy, you’re Daddy’s good girl now.” Vinny’s smile then faded as he started to talk to the goon about having the trucks ready for a shipment and how the Chinese were sending a premium package to the docks next Tuesday. Marcus's ears pricked up, this was the intel he needed, this is what he needed to remember and report. Marcus steadied himself and looked up at Vinny as he began to take in the intel, that was until Vinny started stroking his back. 

A wave of humiliation hit Marcus like a truck as his dog body betrayed his thoughts and he licked and nuzzled at the horrid hand holding and petting him. ‘No No No stop this!’ Marcus cried out internally only for his body to barely respond. The giant mobster continued stroking Marcus’s back and Marcus found himself sitting and allowing it to happen just like a good sissy girl. Vinny smiled “Good girl Sissy aren’t you just the cutest bundle of fluff”. Marcus screamed for his body to stop as he found himself rolling into his back and exposing his belly allowing the mobster to tickle and rub everywhere. Marcus couldn’t believe what was happening! Why couldn’t he control himself!? Why was he acting like a pathetic obedient dog, he hated this man, despised him but now he was licking at his sour fingers hoping for another belly rub! 
“C’mon girl let's get you home, you need your rest for tomorrow”. Vinny smiled and Marcus realised he had not heard a single detail about the drugs or the Chinese, he was too busy being a fucking pink poodle! 

The only thing Marcus could do was whine as he was put back in his crate and transported back to Vinny’s Russo’s private estate, a fortress that no officer of the law had ever stepped foot in. This should have excited Marcus as who knew what secrets he would uncover at the Russo estate but as Marcus’s was transported all he could think about was how he fucked up before. His dumb doogie instincts had got in the way of him being a detective and he needed them under control if he was going to do his job and get back to his normal human body. Marcus tried hard to control his dog instincts, not to lick at himself and wag his tail, if he was going to take down Vinny he needed to be more human than dog. Marcus found it hard but with intense concentration he could do it, he just needed to keep this resolve. Marcus found himself lifted through the mansion until they reached an extravagant bedroom, Marcus and his crate was placed on a bedside table and forced to watch as Vinny began getting ready for bed. Perched on the edge of Vinny’s massive bed, Marcus’s liquid eyes followed the mobster as he stripped, his human side recoiling at the sight. Vinny peeled off his sweat-stained shirt, revealing a barrel chest matted with coarse black hair, glistening with perspiration. His pants followed, dropping to the floor with a thud, exposing thick, hairy legs and a sagging belly that jiggled with each movement. A fat stumpy cock flopped around the musky odour getting stuck in Marcus’s new sensitive nose. While Marcus was disgusted by the thick fat cock that had just been swung around inches from his tiny face,  it was Vinny’s large, hairy, wobbly ass that dominated Marcus’s view as the mobster turned, bending to kick off his socks. The cheeks were massive, covered in a thick layer of wiry hair, each wobble releasing a foul waft of odour, a rancid mix of unwashed skin, sweat, and a lingering fecal stench that hit Marcus’s sensitive canine nose like a physical blow. The smell was suffocating, worse than anything Marcus had inhaled before, clinging to the air like a miasma. ‘I’ve smelled corpses less offensive’ Marcus’s mind screamed as he tried in vain to escape the stench but his poodle body remained frozen, instincts forcing him to stay put as Vinny scratched his ass, oblivious to the tiny poodle’s disgust, before climbing into bed, the mattress groaning under his weight and his huge hairy pale ass exposed to the air. The Mobster then leaned over to Marcus, his fingers poking into the crate “Sorry Sissy girl, I’ll get you a dog bed soon enough. Good night my gorgeous girl”.

Each word felt like a knife as Vinny spoke them, girl, sissy, dog bed. While Marcus knew he had a job to do, the humiliation of being a pink poodle with a doggie vagina and a heavy collar around his neck was just too much. He was a man, a powerful man that demanded respect not a pet forced to smell the ass of a poor wiping mobster! Marcus wanted to get angry but instead he found himself laying down his eyes watching the naked form of his new owner and the criminal he would soon put behind bars!


Marcus’s morning began with a shock as he was jolted awake by a loud booming trumpeting sound and then hit with the most vile smell imaginable. Marcus found his body whimpering in distress as it was forced to inhale one of Vinny’s booming morning farts, a thunderous blast that shook the air in the mobster’s penthouse bedroom. The stench hit Marcus’s sensitive canine nose like a tidal wave, rotten eggs, spoiled meat, and a rancid undercurrent of unwashed flesh, so potent it made his eyes water and his stomach lurch. Marcus wanted to bite and scratch at his crate, he needed to escape the stench but instead his poodle body just quivered, pathetic and weak. As Vinny stirred, rolling over in bed, Marcus’s liquid eyes were forced to confront the mobster’s massive, hairy, wobbly ass once again his disgust heightening to new levels. Marcus tried to tell himself that this was only temporary and that the horrid hairy ass would be locked up for good soon but that did little to stop the shit smell wafting and getting stuck in his poodle nose. Vinny, oblivious, grunted and swung his legs out of bed, opening the crate and scooping Marcus up in one meaty hand. The detective’s tiny body was soon pressed against Vinny’s sweaty chest, the damp hair and musky odor enveloping him, the heat of the mobster’s skin suffocating. ‘I’m a fucking cop, not a toy!’ Marcus screamed internally as he willed his body to bite the mobster, but his instincts forced only a submissive whimper and a wag of the tail as Vinny carried him downstairs, cooing, “Time for breakfast, Sissy girl.” The heavy collar dragged, and Marcus’s small frame trembled, trapped against Vinny’s reeking bulk, the humiliation searing his pride. It wouldn’t be long before the idiot spilled his secrets and then Marcus would escape and soon be back to human form and justice would be done.

In Vinny’s opulent dining room, Marcus was perched on a velvet cushion beside the mobster’s chair, his pink fur stark against the dark wood. Vinny devoured a breakfast of greasy bacon, runny eggs, and sausage links, the aromas torturing Marcus’s canine senses as his mouth watered uncontrollably. Vinny’s goons gathered around, discussing drug shipments and hits, their voices a goldmine of evidence Marcus’s human memories strained to catalog. ‘Focus, Kane, you’ve got this’ he urged himself, but the scent of bacon overwhelmed him. Vinny dangled greasy scraps above Marcus’s snout, chuckling, “Want a treat, Sissy?” Marcus tried to rebel and resist just like he had practised but the hunger and the smell of the bacon was strong, overwhelming and with an agonising ‘NOOOOOOOO’  his poodle body betrayed him, yipping and pawing the air, tail wagging furiously. Each scrap, slick with grease and dripping with flavor, consumed his attention, his instincts drowning out Vinny’s incriminating words. The humiliation deepened when Vinny, mid-conversation, barked, “Sissy, sit!” Marcus fought hard, he was not a dog and he certainly wasn’t taking order from this low life creep! Yet the urge to obey to be a good girl, it ate at him, it pained him and once again Marcus lost his free will and his body obeyed, instincts overriding his will. His small haunches dropped to the floor, tail still, as he sat obediently, his liquid eyes burning with shame. Vinny laughed, tossing another bacon scrap. “Good girl!” The goons snickered, and Marcus’s pride crumbled. While his body seemed happy and playful his mind was awash with humiliation, degradation and failure. He was acting like a fucking bitch like a subservient slave to a monster. This was not him, this was not the proud detective and defender of justice, he had missed another vital opportunity to gather intel. Marcus found himself looking down at his paws. How was he ever going to get the information he needed and if he couldn't get that how was he going to be human again. Marcus barely flinched as Vinny’s massive hand scooped him up again, the feeling of helpless and inferiority still strong and pervasive in Marcus’s mind as he plopped at the mobster’s feet.

Marcus looked up and the towering slob as he gave a toothy grin to his miniscule pink pet “Time to meet your new pal, Sissy!” he said, whistling sharply. Marcus froze as he heard thundering paws rush in his direction. “C’mere Brutus”,  It was then a massive 150-pound Saint Bernard, lumbered in, his slobbering muzzle and musky scent overwhelming. Marcus wanted to run in horror but he remained petrified like a statue. ‘That thing is a monster!’ Marcus whimpered and his tiny poodle body trembled as Brutus rushed over and towered over him, his dog huge cock swinging visibly, a grotesque, intimidating sight that made Marcus wince. The disgusting sight also reminded him of what he had lost and his own lack of masculinity making him weirdly insecure as he shivered next to the huge beast of a dog. Vinny laughed, nudging Marcus closer. “Go on, Sissy, say hi!” Brutus’s wet nose dove toward Marcus’s pink-furred rear, sniffing aggressively, the hot breath and musky odor sending a shiver through Marcus’s small frame. Marcus found his instincts surging and to his horror, Marcus’s snout twitched, drawn irresistibly to Brutus’s rear. Marcus screamed at his body to stop to stay away, he was human, he was a man he would not become some dumb disgusting animal! Yet his body continued design closer until he sniffed the Saint Bernard’s butthole, the rancid, earthy stench burning his sensitive nose, a humiliating betrayal as his tail wagged faintly. As the smell of dog arsehole ravaged his senses, Marus found himself on the verge of tears. He was a cop, a human man but that’s not how he was acting. He could have coped with belly rubs and sitting but sniffing another dog's anus was just too disgusting. Marcus was forced to face the fact that his human side was losing the battle of wills and his pride was now forever damaged. As Marcus felt Brutus sniff his own anus he found himself unable to think of anything but escape, he knew he had a dog to do but was it worth this humiliation. He had wished for a way to take down Vinny but not like this! He couldn’t let himself go for pink poodle; this couldn’t be his life, screw gathering intel Marcus just needed to get as far away from Vinny and Brutus as possible. As if on queue Vinny pushed open the double doors from the dining room and sunlight poured in to reveal an extravagant, lavish garden. 

Marcus’s wide eyes stared and he knew he had to bolt for it. Yet, before he could even take a step Marcus heard a loud clink and the poodle detective turned to see he had been leashed to a glittery pink lead. Where Brutus has been attached to a much more masculine black rope. Marcus hated being pulled around the private garden, Brutus constantly bothering him and Vinny constantly calling him a good girl. Marcus seethed with anger as he was paraded around in front of staff and henchmen, all of them either laughing or coddling him. Marcus tried to ignore the obvious humiliation as he scanned for holes in hedges and fences, places he could dig or squeeze through when he was off his leash. Marcus was halfway through devising a plan to shimmy through a rabbit hole near a patch of marigolds when his stomach gurgled and a familiar feeling hit him. A feeling that would tell his human self to head to the bathroom, ‘Oh no, please no not this. Not in front of Vinny please body hold it in!” Marcus begged his body to stop but this primal need was always going to win against Marcus’s futile human attempts. Marcus would have blushed bright red if it was possible as he squatted to poop in front of the mobster, his tiny body trembling, the act of relieving himself under Vinny’s gaze a crushing blow. He was a detective that had taken down thousands of criminals and had been respected by his whole community but now he was pushing out a small stinky turd in front of Vinny ‘the bull’ Russo. Vinny laughed, clapping his hands. “Look at my Sissy makin’ a mess!” Then, Brutus lumbered forward, squatting mere inches away. Marcus was forced to watch, his sensitive nose assaulted by the rancid, earthy stench as Brutus produced his own steaming pile nearly as large as Marcus’s tiny poodle body, the grotesque mass dwarfing his own small deposit. Marcus found himself weirdly emasculated by Brutus as the huge smelly dog shit was nothing compared to what he produced. The sight and smell pungent, overwhelming, like a landfill on a hot day made Marcus’s human mind reel. His instincts kept him rooted, tail quivering, unable to look away as Vinny chuckled, “Big boy’s showin’ you how it’s done, Sissy!”

When both dogs had finished their business they were both led back inside much to Marcus’s disappointment. Once both off the leads Marcus urged his body to run, anywhere in the house was better than with Vinny and Brutus. Marcus took only 5 small steps before Brutus took one stride and blocked his bath, the huge beast dwarfing the pathetic pink poodle bitch. Brutus a slobbering, horny beast took an immediate interest in Sissy. Brutus, loomed over Marcus’s tiny frame, his drooling muzzle and musky scent inescapable. Brutus lumbered closer, sniffing aggressively at Marcus’s pink-furred rear, his arousal obvious in his low growls and the monster that swung between his legs. Marcus recoiled, but his poodle instincts, almost unstoppable, urged him to freeze or reciprocate, horrifying him. Vinny egged Brutus on with, “Go get her, boy!” as Marcus heard those words he knew he had to run no matter what his body was doing. With all his might Marcus forced himself to scramble and escape, his small paws slipping. The little pink poodle tried his hardest to sprint away, adrenaline pumping through his bitch body Marcus could not let himself be caught by the aroused Brutus. Marcus had barely dealt with the indignities he had suffered so far but being bred would be the nail in his psyche’s coffin! Marcus ran and ran from room to room looking for escape or even a hiding spot, he dared not stop or even look behind him. Marcus felt like he had been running at full speed and as he entered a back utility room he looked for a small place to hide. “That dumb dog will never find me in between the washing mach-” Marcu’s thought was cut short as Brutus pinned him with ease, his heavy body pressing Marcus down, hot breath on his neck. It had taken all of Marcus’s effort to run that far and it had taken Brutus less than a second for him to catch up. The pink poodle was no match to the giant saint Bernard, there was no escape. Marcus felt the throbbing hot rod graze his behind and he screamed his mind on the verge of breaking and his new canine urge to submit growing ever stronger!

Marcus closed his eyes but instead of an invasion of his new female parts he instead felt the Saint Bernard’s massive tongue lapping at his fur, the wet, slobbering strokes covering his back and rear. The sensation was invasive and humiliating but far less so than being turned into a breeding bitch! Brutus’s tongue was huge and the drool he produced was in such vast quantities that it soon began soaking Marcus’s pink curls, the musky odor sinking into his fur and overwhelming his sensitive nose. Marcus was still too frightened to move and just allowed the humiliating slobbering to occur, his mind screamed with disgust as drool started to collect and drip down his face and body. He was becoming sopping wet and reeking of dog breath but all he could do was quiver under the huge dog and allow the grooming to happen. After 20 minutes Marcus was soaked a looked like he had been out in the rain, he reeked and felt disgusted. Like a humiliated drowned rat Marcus felt less fear and more frustration as he tried to wriggle free from Brutus and to his surprise he was granted release. Marcus’s human side immediately wanted to head for the small gap he had found and hide from the new hell he found himself in but his new canine instincts had other plans. After such an extensive bath, Marcus’s poodle body felt it only fair to return the favour.  Then, to his horror his own tongue flicked out,licking Brutus’s coarse fur. Marcus pleaded with himself to stop but he was now driven by an unstoppable canine urge. His small snout moved lower, drawn to Brutus’s rear, where he lapped at the Saint Bernard’s butthole, the taste rancid and earthy, a mix of musk and filth that coated his tongue. Each lick was a stab to his pride, his memories of leading investigation, conducting raids, leading teams and receiving medals clashed with each degrading lap of Brutus’s back side. Yet his body did not show its disgust, humiliation and crushing defeat, instead his tail wagged faintly as both dogs licked and groomed each other. Marcus found his brain fighting harder and harder to retain his dignity and identity as found himself taking more of a back seat in his new body and this filled him with terror. Marcus would have unwillingly cleaned all of the smelly dog’s body if he hadn’t been interrupted by Vinny yelling for both of them.

Marcus found his body running behind Brutus as they followed the stench of unwashed ass back to Vinny who lounged, cigar in one hand, beer in the other in arm chair. The large mobster eagerly scooped up Marcus and placed his dainty form onto his lap where Vinny nonchalantly unleashed a booming fart that hit Marcus like a toxic cloud. His sensitive nose burned with the stench of rotten eggs and beer. Vinny then scooped him up, pressing Marcus against his sweaty chest, cooing, “My Sissy loves her Daddy, don’t she?” Marcus’s body leaned into the touch, tail thumping, his urges binding him to obedience. As Marcus sat on Vinny’s lap his mind raced with thoughts of the future, he had been a dog for barely a day and had almost lost himself entirely. Could he survive another day? Could he regain some of his human function? It was as he was contemplating his current situation that a herd of men entered the lounge, all of them in pristin suits and sinister faces. Marcus recognised them all, every single member of the mafia was here, even the ones that hadn;t been seen in public for years! Marcus remained still as the crime family began to discuss in great detail its entire operation and with Vinny having his hands full and no bacon to distract him, Marcus was able to listen to it all. This was it! The ultimate bust! He could end organised crime in this city for good. Marcus was even able to stifle a whimper of excitement as he took in every single speck of information. Marcus was on cloud nine as Vinny scooped him up and started to carry him away, this would be the pinnacle of his career, they might even give him the key to the city! Marcus was barely aware of his surroundings as he was plopped into a back bedroom along with Brutus. 

‘I’ve got you now Russo!’ Marcus exulted triumphantly, his detective mind racing to memorise the evidence, a case airtight enough to lock Vinny away for life. Now all he needed to do was get the information back to the station. Marcus was too busy thinking of what he needed to do to notice Brutus approaching him. Brutus’s eyes gleamed, his heavy body shifting as he lumbered closer, his musky scent intensifying. Marcus ignored Brutus as he loomed closer. It was far more important that he look for a way out of this room, perhaps if the detective was not so distracted he would have noticed that Brutus’s huge cock was now visibly aroused, swollen and glistening. Marcus, misreading Brutus’s approach, assumed a bath was imminent, recalling their earlier grooming. ‘Just a quick lick, I can handle that’ Marcus rationalised as he looked at the nearby window that seemed ajar. Perhaps he moved a chair so he could jump up? Marcus would have continued to formulate his plan if it wasn’t for the sharp, unmistakable scent of cum hitting his sensitive nose, a pungent, salty odor that shattered his delusion. ‘Wait!’ Marcus tried to turn away but Brutus growled, pinning Marcus against the wall, his massive weight inescapable. Marcusfought trying to escape but his pathetic pink poodle body was no match for the larger stronger beast who quickly overwhelmed him. Marcus screamed and internally he was thrashing about trying to do anything to escape and not allow this humiliating act to take place, an act that would no doubt seal his fate as nothing but a breeding bitch. Yet while Marcus’s mind was going crazy, Sissy’s body was reacting in a different way. Marcus began sobbing and wailing as his poodle body yielded, tail lifting, a submissive yip escaping as Brutus happily and eagerly bred him. The act was a brutal sensory assault: the coarse fur scraping Marcus’s pink curls, the musky cum scent choking his nose, the soreness flaring as Brutus’s dominance crushed his resistance. His human mind wailed, the evidence against Vinny now useless in his trapped form, his pride shattered as Sissy took over and became Brutus’s bitch once and for all.

As Marcus lay pinned beneath Brutus, crying and wailing at his current fate and the loss of any hope for escape, the bedroom door swung open, and Vinny’s booming laugh filled the room. “Well, damn, look at my Sissy gettin’ busy!” he roared. Marcus recoiled and his humiliation intensified as Brutus continued, oblivious. Vinny lumbered closer, cigar dangling. “Looks like you’re gonna be poppin’ out a litter of pups soon, Sissy! Brutus got you good!” The words shredded the last of Marcus’s control as Sissy’s need to be fucked and impregnated took over the horny bitch not wanting the breeding to end.’PREGNANT!’ Marcus wailed into the endless void of the poodle's head as his brain broke under the pressure and horror of his new life. A pitiful whimper escaped, high and trembling, as he cowered under Brutus, his liquid eyes wide with humiliation. Vinny chuckled, scratching Brutus’s head. “Good boy!” Marcus wailed ‘I’m a man, a detective, a human!’ but all anyone heard was the whimper of a horny bitch. After one session with Brutus, Marcus’s tiny body ached, his delicate limbs sore from the Saint Bernard’s crushing weight. His pink fur was matted, his rear tender, each step a painful reminder of his violation. His human memories burned with humiliation but were now locked away along with the rest of his human mind. The soreness pulsed, a physical echo of his degradation, his tail twitching despite his mental anguish. Brutus, undeterred, loomed nearby, his musky presence a constant threat while Vinny towered over them both staring at his favourite pets.

Marcus’s life as Sissy would be an inescapable nightmare, his human memories—every case, every triumph—vivid but useless against his bitch instincts and body. Each day would just be a blur of farts, Brutus’s advances, the heavy collar and the sight of Vinny’s fat pale hairy arse cheeks. He would overhear Vinny’s confessions, but his poodle body offered no escape. The thought of pups haunted his nights, whether in Vinny’s bed or curled up with Brutus, the stench a reminder of his fall. His memories fought, but his instincts ruled, forcing him to beg for treats, submit to Brutus, and endure Vinny’s mockery. Sissy was his life now—a pink-furred bitch, forever Vinny’s pet and Brutus’s mate, his detective’s badge a distant memory, buried under the jingling tag of his collar. Nothing but a pathetic poodle bitch expecting her first litter of many to come.