Amp Drooling Dog
The events of this story take place after those of the story of Chapter 3: Moto Horny Dog
It is not necessary to read the story before this one to understand it and have a great experience, but if you do, you will have a better experience.
Any relevant information from previous chapters cited in this chapter will have its context introduced so as not to detract from the experience of those who have not read the previous chapters.
In a sleepy herbal shop somewhere in the middle of the city, the front door jingles as a handsome, dark-haired man pushes his way in. After walking into the shop, the man looks around slowly, but all he sees are shelves filled with products, a counter with a telephone and bell resting on it, a television hanging on the back wall with commercials playing across it, and a broom propped against the wall next to a closed door.
Hoping someone behind the door will hear him, the man shouts, “Hey! I’m Krynshar! Is there someone here who can help me?!” Without waiting for an answer, he sidles up to the counter and slaps his hand onto the bell, ringing it insistently over the loud noise of the commercials.
“I’m coming!” comes a muffled shout from behind the closed door. After another minute passes, Krynshar rolls his eyes, sighs loudly, and turns to browse one of the many shelves lining the shop walls.
At that moment, the back door bangs open, and a severe-faced man in a cleaning uniform enters. Krynshar looks at the man and opens his mouth to speak, but the man holds up his hand to interrupt him. “Nope, I’m not the store clerk. I’m the janitor, and I’m just here to get my broom.”
Krynshar pauses for a moment and looks the janitor up and down, and the corner of his mouth quirks upward into a smile. Suddenly, he leans closer to the man and breathes in deeply. “I just want to tell you,” he says, watching closely for the janitor’s reaction, “that it was almost the smell coming from you that drew me in.”
The janitor’s face turns bright red, and he furrows his brows in protest. “Look, I’m not gay!” he says, backing away and raising his hands in the air.
Krynshar’s eyebrows raise in amusement at the man’s obvious discomfort. “Oh, you thought that…?” he said, trailing off into a loud laugh before he turns away, toward the shelf lined with products. He grabs one of them – a glass jar filled with some strange herb – and begins to roll it around in his hands, still chuckling at the response he provoked in the janitor.
“You break it, you buy it,” the janitor says gruffly, crossing his arms and frowning as Krynshar tosses the jar between his hands.
His eyes still focused on the jar, Krynshar responds, “if I see any five-year-olds, I’ll let them know.”
The janitor mumbles something inaudible in response, picks up his broom, and pushes his way back through the door he entered from.
As the door closes behind the janitor, the loud commercials blaring on the television end and the handsome face of a news anchor appears on the screen.
“Welcome back from the break, and thanks for tuning in to Channel 6 News,” he announces, shuffling his papers and smiling into the camera. “We turn now to our reporter, Francisco, who is joining us now from The Jackhammer, a popular dance and sex club that was attacked by a terrorist last Saturday in an event that has become known around the city as the Red Night. Francisco, thanks for bringing us these updates. What have you found?”
Krynshar looks sharply toward the television an expression of shock, and the jar rolling between his fingers drops suddenly to the ground, punctuating the news anchor’s words with the jarring sound of breaking glass.
As the camera pans across the front of The Jackhammer, flashes from the night of hunting stream through Krynshar’s mind.
Pushing his way through the doors of the sex club, glancing around, seeing throngs of bodies pressed up against one another; gyrating on the dance floor; talking to his latest target; Red Mist pouring from his body, covering the entire club, the thuds of bodies crumpling to the floor as people slip into unconsciousness; the screams of his target as he flees through a back door and locks it behind him; melting into Red Mist and trickling through a small opening below the door, only to reform in wicked glory; sending a monstrous creature in pursuit of his target; watching the terrified man enter a building that is completely surrounded by Red Mist; watching the creature demolish the building as people run, scream and drop into sleep from the Red Mist; watching the creature find the target amidst the rubble of the demolished building and capture it; watching and laughing as the man is reshaped into a dog.
On the television screen, Francisco is nodding into the camera, looking serious. “Thanks for having me, John. I'm standing here in front of The Jackhammer, the club that was attacked just last weekend by a terrorist suspected of wreaking havoc across the city! Local police are reporting that he threw bombs of red toxic gas with sleep-inducing or hallucinogenic properties inside the club and through the streets of the city.”
Krynshar raises an eyebrow. "Red toxic gas?" But his attention snaps back to the television as the picture of a man appears on the screen next to the reporter.
Francisco clears his throat. “We’ve also been informed of the existence of a missing person. His name is Thomas, and his friends knew him as Moto. He is an employee of The Jackhammer and disappeared during the Red Night. I have one of his friends here – thanks for joining me. Could you tell us what you remember the night of the attack?”
The man next to Francisco nods and begins to speak nervously into the microphone. “Uh, sure…it's kind of hard to remember. When I woke up after breathing in the toxic gas, my memory was foggy! I just remember hiding behind a counter when the gas started filling the club, and I guess I fell unconscious after that.”
Nodding stoically, Francisco begins to speak into his microphone. “There it is, John. Just like all the other witnesses I interviewed who were affected by the gas, his memories of the chaos are faint. But we’re in luck – we’re joined here for an exclusive interview today by a man who was arriving at The Jackhammer but avoided inhaling the toxic gas!” As the first witness shuffles away, Francisco beckons, and a handsome blonde man walks onto the screen to join him. Francisco smiles and points toward the new man. “This witness says he saw and remembers the terrorist's face!"
Krynshar’s eyes widen slightly in amazement, and he takes a single step toward the television.
On the screen, Francisco is encouraging the blonde man to speak. He starts nervously. “H-hello! First, I would like to say that I always watch Channel 6, and I am happy to be able to contribute to the local news!” The reporter nods again and smiles.
As the man speaks, Krynshar finds himself taking in the man’s appearance: his handsome, nervous face; his styled blonde hair; the fit body he can see beneath the man’s skimpy clothing. And around the man’s neck… Krynshar raises an eyebrow. “Another puppy going to that sex club?” he murmurs, looking at the collar around the man’s neck, with the name Amp inscribed into its leather. “You are so… ruinable,” Krynshar murmurs, as he bites his lip in excitement and steps even closer to the television.
“Tell us what you saw,” Francisco encourages.
The collared man nods and looks towards the camera. “I was pulling into the parking lot behind The Jackhammer when I saw Moto speeding away on a bike. So I went around to the front, and when I opened it, I saw this toxic red gas spread through the whole club. I didn't know what it was when I saw it, but I got scared and decided to leave! When I darted around again to the back, I saw the terrorist standing in front of the club’s back door – he was laughing and was surrounded by that red gas, so I ran away before he saw me!”
Nodding furiously, Francisco leans back into the microphone. “Thank you very much for the exclusive interview! We really appreciate this. I won't take much more of your time, I know you still have to go to the police station and give your reports in detail. Goodbye, and have a nice day.” The blonde man nods and waves goodbye as he walks away.
Francisco looks directly at the camera. “There you have it, John. I also got reports from people who said they saw the terrorist disappearing next to the collapsing building. People are confused because of their impaired memories, and even those who remember something are having trouble describing things clearly – it seems there was so much gas scattered around the city that it hindered their vision. The police suspect the terrorist was crushed by rubble from the collapsing building, so he is believed to be dead. But we'll have better information once the search for bodies in the rubble are finished. That’s all we have at the moment – back to you John!"
“Dead?” Krynshar thinks.
The television flashes back to the news anchor, who beams into the camera. “Thanks for the report, Francisco! We hope that the account from this last witness will help the police in their investigations so the villains behind this Red Night are held responsible for their crimes. Thanks for tuning in – we'll be back with more news after this break!” The Channel 6 logo whirls across the screen before the program gives way to a reel of commercials.
Krynshar strokes his chin thoughtfully, still staring at the television.
The door behind the counter creaks opens, and a store employee enters. “Oh – hello!” he says, waving at Krynshar. “I'm the attendant here, Marco. Apologies for the delay! I heard the sound of breaking glass – are you okay?”
Still distracted, Krynshar glances over at Marco and waves away his concern. "Oh, I'm fine!" Rolling his eyes at the television, his voice takes on a sarcastic tone. “But Channel 6 disagrees with that.”
Confused, Marco asks, “E-excuse me?”
Krynshar raises an eyebrow, takes a few steps toward Marco, and breathes in deeply through his nose. For a long, silent moment, he stares at the uncertain employee. Then, with a disappointed expression, Krynshar steps back. “It wasn't for you that I came here,” he says.
His confusion building, Marco asks, “Oh, you want to be served by my colleague? I didn't know you were already a customer! I would call him, but he just left! We were changing shifts.”
Krynshar smirks. “Oh, don’t worry. I'll be back another day. I found I have more pressing matters to attend to.” He turns his back and starts to meander towards the front door, still lost in thought.
Now completely bewildered, Marco waves cordially. “B-bye! ... Check back often?"
Just a few paces from the door, Krynshar stops suddenly and looks at one of the shelves, as if he's just finishing formulating some plan. His face breaks into a smile, and he looks back at Marco. “You better call the police,” he says, “because there will be a terrorist attack on your shop.”
Taken aback, Marco asks, “W-what?”
Krynshar grabs one of the shelves and pulls it, sending the entire shelf and its glass wares crashing to the floor.
Suddenly terrified, Marco backs up away from the counter, and shouts, “My god!”
Krynshar's eyes begin to glow red, and he begins to stealthily emanate his Red Mist across the floor of the store as he walks towards another shelf.
As he reaches toward it, the back door flies open, and the janitor jumps in to see what's going on. With a wicked smile, Krynshar pulls the shelf to the floor, breaking everything on it, and immediately walks on to the next.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Marco squeaks in fear, his hands on his head.
Krynshar knocks over another shelf, sending more products tumbling to the floor. “Redecorating!” he replies, mockingly, and walks to the next shelf.
His face contorted in anger, the janitor yells, “You will pay for all this!”
“The redecoration is almost done,” Krynshar says with a smile, looking toward the janitor as he knocks over another shelf.
The furious janitor starts running towards Krynshar, his fists raised. "I'm the one who's going to have to clean this up later, you cunt!" He pulls back one of his arms, winding up to punch the man that’s wrecking his store right in the face.
Krynshar’s smile widens, and his eyes shine brightly as he turns to face the charging janitor. "This place needs a touch of red." And he opens one of his hands.
In an instant, the Red Mist that had been stealthily trickling across the ground builds into an opaque cloud that fills the store. Behind the counter, Marco slumps to the floor in a deep sleep, and just before the janitor’s fist reaches Krynshar’s nose, it stops suddenly in mid-air, almost like his entire body is frozen by the red fog filling the store.
The janitor hears the thud of Marco falling to the floor and says, “Marco? ... Marco?! Are you well?! Marco?!" He feels his heart pounding in fear as a terrifyingly strong grip closes around his wrist and pushes his arm lightly to the side, leaving the janitor face-to-face with Krynshar.
Krynshar’s eyes blaze red, and the janitor finds himself trembling in terror. “W-what did you do to Marco?! Why can’t I move?!” Instead of an answer, Krynshar only laughs.
“Please,” the janitor begs, “Please! Don’t kill me!” His eyes flit over toward the back door behind the counter, and he strains against the magical bonds keeping him frozen in place. He knows it would take only a few seconds to dash out of the store and make a break for safety, but the red fog has him completely immobilized.
Enjoying the janitor’s fear, Krynshar raises his eyebrows. “Kill you? And where would the fun be in that?” He leans in even closer to the janitor until their faces are only inches apart. “Did my beautiful red eyes scare you to that extent? It's a great irony of fate, such beautiful eyes...” Krynshar smiles, and his voice deepens dramatically, taking on a demonic timbre. “But so scary.”
The janitor whimpers, and Krynshar rolls his eyes. “Too bad you won't remember them when you wake up. But,” he says, looking the terrified victim up and down, “I'll leave you with something unforgettable for a man like you."
Still struggling in vain to move any of his limbs, the janitor’s fear turns to rage at the demon’s taunting. “What the fuck are you?!” he demands. “What the fuck did you do to me?! Let go of me now!”
Krynshar smiles and raises a finger. “Enough foreplay.”
The Red Mist pulsates, and Krynshar lets his eyes travel down the janitor’s body until they come to rest on the large bulge in the janitor’s pants, between his legs. “Nice,” he says, as the bulge begins to slowly deflate. The janitor’s eyes fly open wide suddenly, and the man’s mouth drops open in a silent scream as his brain struggles to grasp what’s happening to him. Krynshar watches, grinning, as the bulge dwindles smaller and smaller and smaller until finally his pants lie completely slack between his legs.
Suddenly able to move his head, the janitor looks downward and screeches, “What did you do to my dick?!”
Laughing, Krynshar looks at the phone on the counter in front of the sleeping Marco and then looks back again at the horrified janitor. He smiles calmly, and the Red Mist pulses again, sending the dickless janitor slumping to the floor into a deep, sudden sleep.
A short time later, the door of the store bangs open, and an armed policeman pushes his way in. “Is this where they called for police help?!” he calls, to no answer. Cautiously, he glances around the environment, noticing the row of broken shelves and a strange fog gliding just a few centimeters above the floor, making it difficult to see the things scattered around the room. Broken bottles, mostly, and a lot of packaging from the shelves… and was that… a body…?
His heart leaps in his chest when he looks up and suddenly spots a man in a dark suit sitting on the counter, staring at him.
Krynshar tilts his head to the side, his expression dark. "Seven minutes?" He slides off the counter and starts walking towards the policeman. The corner of his lip turns up, and he asks mockingly, “Why all this delay?”
Confused, the officer waves a hand around the room. “Are you the one who made the call about a madman attacking the store? What happened here?!"
Krynshar approaches the policeman and stops in front of him. He raises an eyebrow. "I like your mustache."
The policeman stares at Krynshar.
Krynshar smiles amiably and extends a hand. “I'm going to need you to give me your car keys and some information, very likely confidential, about the city police station.”
The officer laughs and steps backward, his expression darkening. “You're funny."
Krynshar’s lips twist in mock pity, and he shakes his head. "It really is an unpleasant situation."
The policeman stops laughing. “Why?"
Krynshar smiles menacingly and his eyes start to glow red. "Because it's so much easier to understand what others say when they're not screaming in sheer desperation." As the final word drops from his lips, all the Red Mist accumulated on the ground rises suddenly, completely filling the room.
The policeman’s heart jolts in fear at the glowing red eyes, but they vanish into the crimson fog billowing up around him. As he glances frantically back and forth, looking for those wicked eyes, he begins to feel a strange vibration in one of his hands. He raises it up in front of him and a terrified whimper escapes his lips as he watches his fingers begin to warp and change in front of his eyes. When the change finishes, and he realizes that his fingers – no, his entire hand – has become nothing more than clumsy pig trotters, he begins to scream out loud in desperation.
From within the fog, Krynshar begins to laugh as he watches the policeman’s expression twist in horror. His eyes narrow and the fog pulsates around the helpless officer.
The policeman’s screams continue as his ears begin to stretch and grow, wider and wider, and his nose pushes forward and upward. The changes ripple down through the rest of his body and it begins to swell, his uniform splitting at the seams as his chest and belly expand and his joints begin to reorient themselves.
Finally, the policeman’s screams begin to take the shape of words. “Help! Someone help me!"
Krynshar steps out of the fog, laughing. He raises his hand to his own forehead in mock exasperation. "Help? Aren't you supposed to be the help?”
The policeman continues to scream as his words give way to squeals.
A short time later, the Red Mist completely blanketing the interior of the store starts to dissipate. Krynshar tosses the cop's car keys between his hands and smiles downward at a horrified-looking pig.
The policeman stands unsteadily on his four trotters, looking around the room in utter disbelief.
Krynshar walks past the pig and pushes his way through the door, spinning the car keys on his finger. He looks back over his shoulder. “Thanks for the info, officer. I know I can be a little persuasive.”
In shock, the policepig turns awkwardly and waddles to the doorframe. He watches Krynshar walk across the parking lot, get into his police car, and peal out towards the city police station.
On the second floor of the city police station, sitting on one of the many benches scattered around the crowded waiting room, the blonde man wearing the Amp-inscribed collar is idly scrolling on his phone.
The receptionist, slouching in her chair with her feet propped up on the table in front of her, pulls her lollipop out of her mouth and shoots a look his way. "Hey blonde boy, your turn. Go ahead."
With a smile of thanks, the blonde man climbs to his feet and walks behind the receptionist, where a policeman waves him down a long hallway and through a door.
As the blonde man passes through the door, he sees a table and four chairs, a laptop, a closet, and a glass window. The policeman closes the door and waves at one of the chairs. “You can sit here.”
The blonde man makes himself comfortable in a chair and grins at the officer. “I’m happy to be able to contribute to the investigation! Anything to help find Moto.”
The officer sits in a chair on the other side of the table. He nods. “Thank you for your time” – he pauses to peer at the name written on the collar, and smiles – “Amp.”
Amp beams at the officer.
The policeman leans back in his chair. “I imagine you have information that could be very useful to us.”
Just as Amp opens his mouth to respond, a scream from outside the room cuts through the air. The two men widen their eyes and look at each other in alarm.
The policeman bolts to his feet and grabs his radio. “Stay here.” Amp nods, and the cop opens the door, walks through it, and pulls it shut behind him.
A few seconds later, Amp’s heart leaps in his chest as he hears the policeman scream. He stands and crosses the room to lean heavily against the door, hoping to hold it shut against whatever is happening in the hallway. He can feel his palms beginning to sweat in fear as the great silence that followed the policeman’s scream builds.
Amp begins to notice the room seems to be darkening. He glances toward the window, and his stomach drops when he sees a strange, thick red fog roiling against the panes of glass.
"The terrorist's toxic gas?!" Amp shouts in surprise, just as the red fog begins to seep in through the edges of the window. Amp scrambles into the corner of the room furthest from the window as he watches tendrils of Red Mist trickle down the wall and across the floor. As he stares at the fog in a panic, trying to decide if he dared to try to escape into the hallway, a truly terrifying voice, gravelly and demonic, resounds from just behind the windowpanes.
“I can't wait to see your panicked face.”
The voice breaks into a perverted laugh, and the tendrils of crimson fog begin spiraling quickly toward Amp. Just as Amp decides to make a break for the doorway, the Red Mist billows up and blankets the room in dense, opaque red.
Holding his breath amidst the thick mist, Amp begins to sidle toward the door, keeping his back pressed against the wall. He knows it’s not far – just a few paces and he’ll be able to open the door and get a breath of fresh air.
But then, within the densest part of the fog, a glowing pair of eyes opens. Chills slice down Amp’s spine and he slides closer to the door as the tall silhouette of a man forms around the eyes. Three more steps along the wall – nearly there – and the man-shape in the fog begins to laugh. Amp’s lungs are burning, but he’s so close, just a bit further – his hand closes around the doorknob, and he turns it, and – and then the demonic voice was back.
“Your escape is not impossible, only very… very… very unlikely.” Another sadistic laugh booms around the room.
Amp jerks the door open and dashes into the hall, gasping for air even as his brain registers all the red fog hanging throughout the hallway. He doesn’t know how long it will take for the gas to take effect, and another peal of laughter splits the air from the room behind him, so without wasting a moment he takes off running down the hallway toward the waiting room.
After only a few steps, he pitches forward suddenly, tripped by something heavy and large lying on the ground. Amp groans and rolls himself up to a sitting position, and when he puts his hand out, he feels the body of the policeman who had just left that room. Startled, Amp heaves himself to his feet and begins to run again. As he sprints down the hall, he can’t stop hearing that wicked laughter echoing from the direction of the room he was in.
Though it’s difficult to see through the fog, Amp realizes he’s made it to the waiting room. He looks around wildly and puts his hands out, trying to feel his way through safely.
“Help!” he cries. “The terrorist broke into the building and attacked a police officer!” As he inches forward, his foot bumps up against another heavy obstacle, and when he kneels down, he realizes he is surrounded by the sleeping bodies of the people in the waiting room.
Fear seizes him, and he stands and begins to run blindly in the direction he remembered the door to be. “Why am I the only one who hasn’t fallen asleep?!” he wonders. “What does he want with me?!”
Then Amp hears the sadistic laugh again, but now it seems to echo from all directions. The blonde man raises his hands to clutch his head and wails, “Is it just because I saw him that night and came to talk to the police?!"
Coming from all directions, the demonic voice replies, “Nothing personal. I just need you to be degraded for the rest of your life.”
Amp starts to shake in fear, then darts towards the stairs and stumbles down them, trying to escape the laughter of the man with the red eyes.
Even at the bottom of the stairs, Amp is unable to see anything but Red Mist, but he runs through the room, arms out, hoping to find an exit.
The demonic voice follows him, somehow all around him. “It's fun to see you try.” Another long laugh, this one somehow in his bones.
Amp runs forward through the long room, arms thrown outward as he feels for a wall or door. As he stumbles on, the laughter rings around him, and he wonders how much further the room could possibly go before some way out. "This room can’t be so big!"
But then Amp notices a faint light glowing through the fog ahead of him, and he continues to run toward it as the wicked laughter behind him grows more distant. He sprints forward, desperately happy he had finally found an exit, reaching eagerly into the brightening light. He squints and shuts his eyes as he runs into it, determined to find help once he made it out of the blur of Red Mist.
Amp stumbles to a halt and rests his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, as he realizes the crimson fog no longer surrounded him, crowding at his vision. But as he blinks down, he notices the unfamiliar green grass below his feet. “This isn’t…” he thinks, before looking up.
The blonde man’s jaw drops, and he suppresses a yelp of disbelieving surprise when he sees three different human-animal hybrid freaks staring at him. He freezes in silence, trying to process what he's seeing.
One of them, with bovine features and a heavy udder between its – his? – legs, moos. Amp takes a horrified step backward when he speaks. “A still-huuuoooOOOOoooman man got in here?!”
Amp stares at the cow man in fear and disbelief and screams, "Did that thing speak?!"
The dog-like freak pads forward on his four legs, looks at the cow man and barks, "Wait, Logan!" He turns to look at the blonde man. “Hey! Amp?! I'm Moto, rrrrRRRUFFF—recognize me?! How’d you get in here? Can you help us get out?!”
Amp widens his eyes. “M-Moto?!” Shocked, he drops to his knees and holds his head in his hands. "That dog is talking to me, that dog is talking to me!"
The third freak squeals and rushes forward, his fat piggy body jiggling with every step. “Help! We’re – OINK! – trapped! Help us escape this place!”
Amp blinks at the pig man in shock for a moment, then looks slowly around and notices that the green grass field he is in is completely encircled by a circle of dense Red Mist.
“Trapped?” he manages, not wanting to believe he’s actually responding to these impossible creatures. “I… I was just running from a terrorist… through a room full of this… red toxic gas… and I ended up here.”
The dog – Moto, it really did look like Moto – sighs and shakes his head, staring at the pig. "Give up—aaaAAARF—Andrew!" Moto clears his throat and shakes his head, his doggy ears flopping, and looks at Amp. "Sir Krynshar must have sent him here!"
Logan moos in response. “SoooOOOOOooo he's trapped here with us.”
With a roll of his eyes, the pig named Andrew grunts and turns around in disappointment. “Damn it.”
Still kneeling on the ground, Amp falls forward onto his hands. He wails, “Did I just answer a pig? Maybe it’s the toxic gas. Yeah. The toxic gas.”
Amp and the strange creatures all freeze when the demonic voice resounds around them, concentrated in the dense Red Mist behind Amp. "Usually, my victims only end up on all fours after being transformed into my art." Another perverted laugh shakes Amp to his bones.
Quivering, Amp turns his head and looks back to see the pair of red eyes glowing from inside the Red Mist. For an instant, Krynshar's silhouette is visible, and then a wall of Red Mist billows inward toward the blonde man, completely engulfing him.
In despair, Amp pushes himself up to flee, but he trips over his own feet and falls back to the ground. He struggles to his feet again, and when he spins around to run, he sees Krynshar standing right in front of him. In complete shock, Amp freezes, and the demon reaches forward and hooks a finger through the collar around his neck.
Krynshar smiles. “Stupid dog.”
Amp tries to heave himself away, only to realize his body seems to be completely unresponsive. He even tries screaming without success, but for all his mental thrashing, he remains motionless and passive in front of the grinning demon.
Then the Red Mist pulses, Krynshar lets go of the collar, and Amp falls to the floor, asleep.
When Amp wakes up, lethargic and aching, with his eyes still closed and with a hazy memory of the night before, he wonders what gave him such a nightmare.
Then he feels a hand running down his legs, like a particularly intense massage, almost as if they were bending and reshaping them. Before he can process what he is feeling, he hears a familiar voice. “And that guy? What will he be? I'm sooOOOoo curious!”
The memory, the fear, the horror, the shock, it all comes crashing back. Amp cracks his eyes open and looks in the direction of the voice to see the cow man standing next to him, looking with surprise in the direction of Amp's feet.
Logan takes a step back and says, “I'll be quiet, sir! No need tooOOOOOooo send me away again!”
Scared, Amp tries to move his body, but finds he can’t, so he looks down toward his feet to understand what’s happening. Just as he looks, Krynshar, sitting on the ground, shoots an angry look at Logan as tendrils of Red Mist emanate from his body and curl towards the freakish cow.
Amp tries to scream, but all he manages is a desperate moan. Realizing that Amp has woken up, Krynshar passes his hand over Amp's face, trailing Red Mist from his fingertips that return the blonde man to a deep sleep.
When consciousness returns to Amp, he realizes he’s lying on the floor, in a position he can’t quite work out. He cracks open his eyes and sees Andrew and Moto watching him. Adrenaline seizes him, and he tries to heave himself to his feet to make another attempt at escape, but something’s different about the way his body is responding, and he ends up tripping over himself and landing in a crumple on the ground.
Panting with the effort, Amp shakes his head in confusion. He looks down at his body and yelps in shock when he sees the horror that his body has become: a hybrid composite of human and dog, like the freaks in the field who had been trying to warn him.
Amp staggers upward onto his new paws and yells, “What happened to me?! AARF?!” He looks around in horror, noticing the way his head moves strangely on his newly shaped neck and the way his ears flop against his head. His tail – his tail – twitches wildly when he feels someone’s nose press boldly against his exposed ass.
He jerks his head around and sees Moto’s head buried under his tail. Amp blushes and yelps, “Why are you doing that?!”
“I dunno,” Moto says, still sniffing.
Amp’s eyes widen at the contact, and the panic and adrenaline give way to an excitement that begins to wash over the blonde dog, sending prickling pleasure down his body. He tries to reach for his dick, but then curses inwardly when he remembers his new paws – completely useless for what he needs them for now. He would need help.
That realization makes the strange pleasures and exhilaration build even more, and Amp’s dick begins to drip beneath him. His nose twitches, and he finds himself wanting, almost instinctively, to return the favor to Moto. Surely his friend will be able to satisfy his new needs.
Logan jangles out of the circle wall of Red Mist, the cowbell around his neck clanking. “Sorry for the delay,” he moos. “Sir Krynshar sent me way far this time!”
Andrew looks silently at Logan, then looks back toward Amp and Moto.
Logan shuffles over to Andrew and follows the pig’s gaze. “So Sir Krynshar’s new artwork is another dog?”
Trying to resist his desires, Amp takes two steps away from Moto. Moto, seeming unbothered, takes two steps after him and continues his sniffing efforts.
The feeling of Moto’s nose up against his ass has Amp’s dick drooling, and he looks back at the cow and pig watching him. The sight of their awkward bodies and their unabashed stares make him blush in shame, and suddenly he feels Moto’s tongue brush up against his ass.
Amp’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and his eyes go wide in ecstasy. A surge rushes through him and concentrates in his dick, which spurts cum out onto his new belly, the ground below him, and over his paws. When he comes down from the orgasm, panting, all concerns about the staring livestock seem ridiculous, and he dives into Moto’s ass with his own doggy nose.
To the sounds of licking, sighing, and moaning, Logan looks at Andrew and shakes his head. "Should I warn our new colleague that trying toOOOOOOOooo escape through the Red Mist circle is pointless, as he will be sent back here?"
Andrew gives Logan a long look, then rolls his eyes toward Amp and Moto and says pointedly, "Won't be necessary. OINK!"
Cowritten by Krynshar and nowvoyager64