By: Socks Catt
© 2006 Socks Furrotica, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 4

"I can't believe you're getting rid of all this!" Steve said.  He turned the CD cases over in his hand.  "You love Creed!"

"I've changed." Winchester said.  "And I don't need this stuff anymore."

Steve nodded slowly.  "Ok, you know the routine Carl.  I can only give you store credit for each one and..."

"Can you get me cash?"  Winchester said.  "Look I know what I'm asking.  But I'm leaving town and I don't have a lot of resources to spare.  I need all the cash I can get and I need it fast.  Getting my plane ticket back from Florida killed me and the airlines were less than helpful.  I don't want to take this to a pawn shop, they'll rape me hardcore."

Steve shook his head a little, thinking.  "Ok, tell you what.  I'll buy your store credits and figure out how I'll make that back, ok?"  Winchester nodded as Steve idly fingered through the CD's.  "So why the rush to leave?  You know you can crash here for a while if you need it."

"No." Winchester said.  "My dad's going ballistic.  I got my car and ID's and stuff after he left the house.  He's probably drinking himself stupid, if he finds me I know he'll start something we'll both regret."  Winchester rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.  "I'm just happy I never told him where you live.  He won't come here."

Steve put the CD's down and lay down next to the dog.  He ran his hand up and down the dog's furred chest.  "Can I help you unwind a little?  You've had a long day."

Winchester opened his eyes, and craned his neck up.  "What are you doing?"

"Helping?" Steve said quizzically.  "You just look like you need to..."

"You're straight." Winchester said.  "What are you doing?"

"Just helping a friend." Steve said.  "Let me help you slip out of those pants and into my mouth."

Winchester blinked a few times, and quickly rolled over away from Steve to get on his knees.  "This isn't like you." He said.  His paws fell on his hips, and he felt something in his back pocket.  He looked, and saw a light blue bandana sticking out of the camouflage pants awkwardly.  He took it out of his pocket, trying to remember ever putting it in.

Steve blinked hard a few times, and looked at Winchester with a dazed look on his face.  "What just happened?"

"I don't know." Winchester said.  "You were acting all weird."  Winchester put the bandana back in his pocket without thinking. "Like you wanted to do stuff to me."

Steve's eyes got a little glazed over, and he looked at Winchester with a grin.  "And that's so bad?  Come on dogboy, we'll have a good howl, you'll..."

Winchester ripped the bandana out of his pocket and threw it on the couch.  Steve shook his head and looked bewildered.  The dog stared at his friend in disbelief.  "Do you know what you just said?"

"Sort of." Steve said, backing away a little.  "I had an idea of doing something with you, but...  Oh God did I just say I'd suck your dick?"

"Oh fuck." Winchester said, looking at the bandana.  "Sweet fucking fuckberries."  He picked up the bandana, and watched as its color changed from light blue to the dark blue he had in his pocket at the convention.  "Oh shit.  This thing is dangerous."

"What?" Steve asked, sitting upright and seeming a little dazed.  "What's dangerous?"

Winchester shook his head.  "No, nothing."  He quickly stuffed the bandana in his suitcase, feeling an emptiness for doing it but knowing he had to.  "That thing affected you."  He shook his head a few times.  "Now I understand why I was getting hit on so much after the change.  Fuck."

"You know I'm not that way." Steve said quickly.

"I know." Winchester said.  "I know.  I didn't know it did that.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  He sat back down on the floor, looking at the pattern in the carpet.  "Look, I'll leave it in that suitcase as long as I'm here, ok?"

"You better." Steve said, trying to force a joke.  "I wake up and find you humping my leg or something and I'm gonna hurt you."

"That's a deal." Winchester said apologetically.

The next day Winchester ran around town trying to dodge where he figured his Father might be but trying to beat him around town.  He stopped at the bank, the DMV, post office, and in fact everywhere he could to sever his father from himself.  He hit dead end after dead end, only managing to secure his finances and stop his personal mail.  He tried to use his cell phone several times, but that was turned off before noon.  Even with his misses, he felt some sense of accomplishment as he had at least enough security to start his next step.

Near the end of the day, he wanted to make one more stop.  He pulled up in front of the shop he had always loved.  He walked through the door, and almost stopped when the aromas hit him.  He expected it, but not to the level of complexity his new nose had.  Individual flavors were discernable, he could tell the quality of each aroma, and where it came from.  Winchester smiled, and felt a moment of absolute happiness.  He heard a gasp behind the counter.  He looked over to see the man behind the counter, and Winchester smiled warmly to the man he knew so well.

"I need to see some ID." The shop keeper said nervously.

"I'll show you but you won't believe it." Winchester produced his driver's license.  The shopkeeper looked it over, and kept looking up at Winchester, and back down at the plastic card.

"Carl?  That's you?" the shop keeper asked, putting the pieces together.  "You were at that convention!  You were in...?"  Winchester nodded happily.  "And you became...?"  The dog still nodded.  The shop keeper laughed.  "I knew that costume was something else but you were wearing it when it happened?  That's simply incredible!"

"I know.  I'm getting used to the looks." Winchester said.  "If I stay here a while you'll get a crowd at the window."

"I can't believe that happened to you!  Look at you!" the shopkeeper marveled at the dog-man in his store, coming out from behind the counter to touch Winchester's fur.  "So why did you come back here?"

"To say goodbye." Winchester said sadly.  "I'm leaving town as soon as I can, I don't intend on coming back."

"Where are you going?"

"No idea." Winchester said.  "But I need to buy some supplies before I go."

"Name it."  The shop keeper patted Winchester on the shoulder a few times, still staring at how he looked.

Winchester looked at the wall, and saw something he had wanted to buy for a long time, and now was as good a time as any.  "That pipe."  He pointed to a half-bent with a deep bowl.  "The entire rack of corncobs there, and probably all of apple blend you've got.  And..." he sniffed the air a few times, and pointed to a jar of extremely dark Cavendish.  "THAT!  I don't care what it is, I know I'll like it.  It'll work for the new pipe.  Probably another good pipe too, like that one there.  Some sweetener too, a couple of those pipe stands and some matches.  That should set me up a while."

The shopkeeper grabbed the things at first laughing at the craziness of the dog, then with a sad smile knowing what it meant.  As he rung up the sale, he looked at the fox-red lab wagging his tail.  His demeanor softened, an he let his face melt into a gentle smile.  "Thirty bucks."

Winchester stopped moving, and looked at the man.  "This is way more than thirty dollars of stuff."

"But I'm only charging you thirty dollars." The shopkeeper said.  "You've been a good customer, and a loyal one at that.  I've seen you come in and out of this shop for years before you were 18 and you even waited until you could legally purchase before you did.  And since then you're in the store every other week when you're in town to buy more or just talk with me.  And I reward my loyal customers.  You know that."

"I can't let you work at a loss." Winchester said.  "At least let me give you two-hundred."

"Fifty."  The shopkeeper laughed.  "I can't believe I'm haggling to charge a customer more than I asked for!"

"Believe it." Winchester said.  "At cost this is more than fifty.  Come on, at least charge me your cost.  If you're going to be nice at least be fair to yourself."

The man shook his head.  "All right then."  He grabbed a calculator and started punching numbers.  "I'll have you know I wouldn't do this for any other customer."

"How many other customers are covered in fur?"

"You'd be surprised at some of the businessmen I get." He said with a grin.  "Not to mention that I'll never sell apple to anyone else but you.  I only stocked it because you asked for it."

"I do appreciate it." Winchester, pulled cash out of his wallet and counted it quickly.  "I do have one more question.  Wherever I go, will you do mail order?"

"For you, sure."

Winchester smiled, and was about to put his wallet away when he noticed he had his bandana in his back right pocket.  He cringed as he looked at it.  Tan.  He closed his eyes and cursed to himself.

Steve was playing a video game when Winchester knocked on the door.  "SOPEN!"

Winchester walked in, holding the bandana in his paw.  "I have to learn how to control this thing."

"Why?" Steve asked.  "I thought you liked the buttsex?"

Winchester barely registered the comment in his mind.  "I don't remember putting this in my pocket." Winchester said.  "But it was there when I bought stuff.  I probably could have slept with a bunch of straight guys if I wanted to."

"Damn." Steve said.  "Got another one that works on ladies?  I could use it."

"It's dangerous." Winchester said.  "I wouldn't..."  He looked at Steve and perked an ear.  "Can I ask for your help?  I promise I won't do anything bad."  He licked his muzzle a few times nervously.


That night Winchester fought with and learned how to control the power of the bandana in his pocket.  Steve was nervous at first, but trusted his friend.  By the end of the night, Steve had his dignity intact and Winchester had a basic grasp on how to control the reach from the bandana.  He could keep it in his pocket without Steve wanting to reach over and fondle him.

Winchester got out of his clothing in the bathroom, and put on a pair of boxer shorts.  He lay on the couch as Steve played his game.  "Hey, Carl?"

"It's Winchester." The dog said wearily.  "I'm not Carl anymore."  He tapped the tags on his orange collar for emphasis.

"Ok, Winchester." Steve said with a sarcastic tone.  "What are you gonna do now?"

"Sleep." The dog said.

"I mean long term." Steve said.  He hit pause and turned around.  "I've been thinking and I'm out of ideas on what else I can do for you.  I mean I can let you crash on the couch as long as you need to but I can't like give you anything..."

"No, I know." Winchester said.  "And I'm really stretching our friendship right now, I know."  He rolled over to face Steve. "I figured that tomorrow I'd do some final things.  I gotta go buy some new clothing, give what I don't need to the Salvation Army or just people I know will like it, fill my car with gas, and go north.  I don't know, it just feels like where I need to be.  Wisconsin or Minnesota, possibly the U.P. or something."

"So you're going to fall off the planet?" Steve asked.

"Hardly.  Just get the hell out of the city." The dog nodded to himself.  "I feel nervous here.  Too much motion, too many people.  I'm getting stared at when I go into a store or something.  I can't live like that, ya know?"

Winchester propped his head on his paw, and looked at the space the TV was in.  He waived his other paw to emphasize himself.  "I can't explain this without sounding like I'm insane or making shit up.  But when I was laying on the ground, right after my change, I looked at the sky.  Suddenly, BAM.  I was hit with something.  When I came out of it I just knew stuff.  Ya know?  And I know I have to get out of the city to use what I know." 
Slowly he rolled off his paw, tapped his tag with a claw and looked directly at Steve.  "I have so much knowledge of hunting its just stupid.  Give me a gun and some ammo and I'll bring back anything from a deer to a bear to a pheasant.  Hell I think I could skin the damn thing too and prepare the meat if I had to.  Where did it come from?  I have no clue.  But I can't hunt here.  I need to go rural."

Steve looked at his friend and shook his head.  "So, what, you want to go be a hermit somewhere?"

"No.  I need to find something.  Like people.  People are a part of it, but I don't know what I need to find."  Winchester shook his head.  "It's so fucked up that I don't have all the pieces yet, but I know that I have to go north to find them."  Winchester looked at his friend and smiled.  "When I find it, I'll let you know."

"Ya better." Steve said, turning back to the TV.  "I'd always wanted to vacation in Minnesota in a cabin somewhere.  Make ya put up with me a while and I'll crash at your place."  Winchester fell asleep to the sounds of "Grand Theft Auto".

Winchester put the clothing down on the counter and fumbled for his wallet as several onlookers stared.  The woman behind the register looked at the dog in amazement.  "Go ahead, say it." Winchester said with some amusement, still pawing in his jacket.

"I'm sorry?" the woman asked.

"No, that's not what you want to say." The dog said.  "Something about Halloween being a while ago, or no dogs allowed, or barking at me or something like that."

The woman looked at the dog, who was not looking at her as he fumbled with his paws.  "How about you would look good in denim?"  Winchester stopped cold and looked at the woman.  "The faded especially."


"I couldn't help but look as you were shopping, and the faded blue overalls looked good with that dark blue shirt." She said, pointing at the pile.  "I wouldn't go with the dark denims, they don't work at all on you.  And I wouldn't wear the blaze orange collar with these shirts."

Winchester looked at the pile of clothing, and then back to her.  "Umm...  Okay....  It's just that I need new everything, and...  Wow you really threw me off there."

"My brother was at the convention too." She smiled.  "He was dressed up as an 80's drag queen pop star."

"Oh." Winchester said, ears drooping a little. "Is that good or bad?"

"Hilarious." She said with a smile.  "He's trying to find a doctor to remove his permanent falsies and everything he wears becomes this gaudy clash of colors.  It looks like someone threw the 80's into a fan and he was standing in front of it."  She snickered to herself.  "Serves him right too for all the stuff he did to me in high school."

Winchester grinned himself.  "So I guess that a dog shopping for new clothing is pretty tame in comparison, huh?"

"I didn't think I'd see another person from Kublai Con," the woman explained, "but I'm guessing you were there too."  She folded the overalls efficiently on the counter.  "And I figured you were just grabbing random things that might fit you.  But it looks like you're a typical guy, don't know what goes with what.  If you've got some time, I'll be glad to help you out."

Winchester sighed in relief, and allowed himself to smile for the first time in a while.  "I would appreciate that, Ma'am."

They looked at the racks of clothing together.  "Why the work clothing?  You know you'd probably look very nice in some khakis or a nice light polo shirt.  It would go with your natural coloration."

"They don't feel right." Winchester said.  "Don't fit right, don't sit right, it's just not right."  He picked up a pair of carpenter jeans.  "This feels better.  I didn't try anything on, I just guessed on what my size is but my tail wouldn't..."

"So try them on?" She encouraged.  "It may be hard to fit your tail around them but you can see if they'll work for you.  You can always cut a hole in them for your tail after you buy them."

Winchester took them into the changing room, and tried on the carpenter jeans.  When he brought the jeans around his hips, the fabric warped in his paws.  He saw a hole open up in the backside, and a flap of denim form over an opening with full finished seams and stitching.  "I'll be damned." He said.  He pulled the beltline over his hips, and his tail came out the back of the pants like they were tailor made just for him.  Winchester shook his head, looking in the mirror.  "Now that just figures."

When he explained it to the woman helping him, she got a good laugh.  "Look at the bright side." She said "It didn't turn into a pair of skin-tight stonewashed jeans."

"A fact I'm thankful for." Winchester said.  "Ok, I'm getting the hint.  Looks like I'm buying Dickies and Craftsman and Carhartt." He shook his head.  "At least it'll last forever."

By the time he was done shopping, he had enough clothing to live in: coveralls, overalls, denim jeans and work shorts, quilted and insulated clothing, t-shirts, underpants and the rest of the essentials.  Every pair of pants transformed as he tried them on to fit his hips and tail.  The insulated clothing even grew fully enclosed sleeves on the backside for his tail to keep it warm.  Each new set of clothing made him feel more comfortable.

The whole while he talked with the woman about the convention, her brother, and what life was like for him.  Winchester told her about his life, how it had changed too.  Somehow, it helped them both feel better.  They spent a few hours talking while looking for clothing for him.  She even helped him remove all the tags after the purchase so he could get dressed in his new clothing before leaving the store.  They packed the rest in his old suitcase, stuffing it to almost breaking full

Before leaving, he looked at the last bit of clothing left from his old life.  A pair of Tommy Boy jeans and a t-shirt from his college.  He put them in a plastic shopping bag, and brought them out to the sales lady.  "If I gave these to you, would you have a use for them?  If not I'm throwing them out."

She smiled with a wicked grin.  "I'll make sure my brother tries them on."  Winchester grinned, and left the store satisfied.

His next stop was a hunting supply outlet where he bought himself a few new collars, sunglasses, supplies for all season camping, as well as some proper hunting apparel for a few seasons.  He amused himself by correcting the salesman about what camouflage would work best for his needs.  By the end of the afternoon, he was outfitted with all the gear he would need, except a proper firearm or bow.  But that could wait until he passed whatever course he needed to in whatever state he was in.

Winchester stood outside the outdoor supply store, packing his new camo-sided gear bag with the last supplies he purchased.  He put his blaze orange collar in the side pocket, and patted it with a smile.  His life now fit snugly into the trunk of his car.  He stood, looking at his gear bag and his smaller suitcase.  He didn't bother with a checklist, he knew what he had.

Gently, he closed the trunk.  He ran his finger along the fresh leather band of his brand new collar. When his fingers jingled the tags, he felt a sense of pleasure.  He adjusted the strap on his denim overalls casually, wagging his tail through the open flap.  He tossed his quilted jacket into the passenger seat of his car, got in and quietly packed his pipe while ignoring the gawking people walking by.

He took in the first muzzle full of smoke, and exhaled it slowly letting the apple and tobacco scent fill the car.  He put on his sunglasses, and smiled with the pipe in his muzzle.  "North ho."  The car started up and he began to drive.

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DISCLAIMER : All stories included in this archive are Copyright 1994 - 2006 Socks Furrotica Press. Distribution is permitted in electronic format, as long as 1) the entire text (including this disclaimer) remains intact and 2) My e-mail address remains on the work (sockscatt@gmail.com) Permission is also given to print this text out for personal use. If you wish to include this story in a web site or for publication, e-mail myself (sockscatt@gmail.com) and we'll talk it over...
These stories are (unfortunately) all works of fiction. They depict sex. Lots of quite graphic sex between several genders and arguably a few species. Af any of this offends you, or anything vaguely pornographic bothers you, don't read this, and don't send me your nasty e-mail (I may enjoy it, you know...)  If this is either illegal, offends you, or you have no interest in this, don't read it. You have a brain, don't fear it. Go here instead.