“Whoa, hey, you’re naked,” I blurted at my roommate when I walked in the door. The smell of pot hung in the air. I knew he liked to get comfortable when he smoked but he’d never gotten naked before.
He just smirked at me. “Yeah, I’m naked,” he said, then giggled. “Man, you gotta try this new stuff. I never been so relaxed.” I glanced down at the pipe of the coffee table. I didn’t usually smoke and was about to say no, but there was something sweet and pungent about the scent hanging in the air that called to me.
“What the fuck,” I thought, “it’s been a long day at work. Why not.” I picked up the pipe, lit it, and took a breath.
“Yeah dude,” he smiled, leaning back and opening his legs to show off his sexy soft dick and dad bod. The weed smelled sweet, and the pungent salty smell, I realized, was actually from him: his sweaty musky body odor. I slowly exhaled, feeling the burn of the smoke in my throat and the woozy high that immediately hit me. It tingled, a prickle that warmed my blushing face and crept down my neck, my chest, my belly, my hips and ass and cock, then flushed my legs with heat.
Suddenly my clothes felt so heavy and tight and wrong and I had to get them off, pushing down my pants and underwear and tearing off my shirt. I yanked off my shoes and stepped back, staring down naked at the pile of clothes with one sock in my hand.
My roommate laughed. “You look good, man,” he said. “We oughta get naked all the time.”
I looked up at him, and started giggling, even though I had no idea why. This weed was making me so stupid, I thought, then forgot about it immediately and looked down at the sock in my hand. I couldn’t even remember what it was for. Was this clothes? How do people wear clothes? I picked up another item from the pile, a shirt I think. I stared at it, baffled. I knew I’d been wearing it just a moment ago but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how. It was like all knowledge of wearing clothing was just … gone.
I dropped whatever it was, and looked back up at him. He was so hot, I thought. So fucking sexy. That hairy body, the untrimmed bush, the metal in his nipples and his thick strong chest. I felt woozy again, my dick getting hard. He saw that and got another fit of giggles, wiggling back and forth in the chair. “Wanna fool around?” he said.
Absently, I picked up the pipe and lighter again, lit the last bit of green weed, and took another breath. “Whoa, man, careful, that might be too much,” he laughed. I set the pipe back down as another warm tingle swept over me.
If the first dose made me dizzy and dumb, the second completely emptied my mind. For a moment I couldn’t remember who I was, where I was, what was going on. But I knew that my arms were heavy, my legs sore, my balance off.
What was I doing up on two legs? I was confused. My heavy arms sunk to the floor, my legs bending to go down on all fours, like I belonged. Two legs are for humans. I wasn’t a human. I was a pup. Right? That’s who I was. I was pretty sure.
My master said something, and laughed, but he said it with human words so I didn’t know what he meant. I just barked, and sniffed the pile of clothes on the floor. Why did they smell like me?
Then he said something I understood – “come” – and patted his bare lap. Panting, I trotted over on all fours, and sat obediently at his feet. “Good boy,” he said, and rubbed my head. I whined and pressed my head into his hand, then barked and licked his finger. He laughed and said some more human words, then pointed to his dick. I understood what that meant, and put my paws up on his lap to take his soft cock in my mouth.
“Ahhh,” he sighed, leaning back. He smelled so good, sweaty and strong, my alpha. I felt his dick hardening between my lips, and I swirled my tongue around it. It tasted salty, manly, a single droplet of pre-come smearing on my tongue. I loved it. I wanted more. I wanted his come.
“Good boy,” he grunted, rubbing behind my ears as I sucked. Yeah. I am a good boy. His good boy.
Read more stories of sexy gay transformation: https://amzn.to/2KKrepA