Anthromorphic?

A Story by Shaibelle

A girl in the form of a dog- short persona piece.

From woman, to dog is a very awkward conversion in the eyes of the public. Many aspects of yourself are flipped aside, while other meaningless things are gained. The fixation with small spherical objects was first to grow on her- Declan had her new favorite green, rubber sphere in his hands, tossing it. Teasing her with it. Stupid human. Her ears flicked full-forward, their gold-gingery tips twitching, “Throw it!” Bouncing off down the hall, the green ball, whooshing into her master's room. Furred limbs flashing, she pursues it, sliding first into a door, followed by a wall, and then finally into the side of her master's bed. Tail whirling she play-bows on the floor for him- the return glance from him is more questioning than playful, and she clomps on the ball, then tears back to Declan.

She drops it, paws at it, wraps her tongue around it, slobbers over it- oh the sweetness of green rubber ball. Lifting the sphere to his hands, she rolls it around to make sure his palms are thoroughly coated in slime before letting him tug it free of her jaws. Burnt orange hair swaying he pretends to throw the ball time and again, laughing at his own joke. She growls, “Throw it. Please.” Excited yawn from her, followed by the padding of front feet, tail flailing in between paw movements. “Please. Throw. Throw it. Please-” she lets it roll into a growl. He listens, sending the ball sailing over her canid head; skittering across the floor, she bounds after it yet again.

Ramsay, Declan's twin, distracts her from retrieval of the ball, and she growls at him, watching him slink away. Tail wag, and she pads after him, licking his hands. Dirty look from the man and he smacks her nose. She licks his hand one more time, watching the disgust and anger rise up in his cheeks. She bounces away from him in pursuit of her original purpose- the green ball.

Her owner's voice, the second aspect of this animal form, was law. And his voice is what brings her to a halt, “Lori, sit.” Green rubber only a few feet away, she sits as told, glancing over at him, tail still wagging. Tristan, the master, scuffs past her, limping on a cane- the bandages on his chest restricting the kneeling motion he uses to set down her food dish. Her owner's injuries had previously left him bedridden. He cold almost stand again. Maybe they could go on walks together.

Dog food again. Something utterly vile- rolling it about on the floor would increase it's flavor, and so she tips the plastic container. Tristan, red-haired like Declan, brushes his hands over her ears and through all her blondy-red and white fluff. She pauses to study his face, soft like all human faces, and much younger than he acted. Animals did not have human love, and that she regrets in this form. He scratches along her neck, and she nuzzles his hand to encourage more pets. At least he hadn't noticed the stealing of his sandwich earlier...no love when that happened.

Lori lifts her paw, waiting for his hand to receive it. He shakes her paw up and down within his palms- she licks them. Her person. Human heart in a beast's form.