Canine Cyborg Boyfriend

Chapter Two

Barkly jolted awake like he'd been struck by lightning. The sun was peering through the windows of the flower shop and things were not normal. Not normal at all.

He had... hands? He jumped, standing up on TWO feet and spinning around. He had feet? He had legs? His eyes focused on the window to see two old ladies pointing and laughing at him. He looked down. He was naked!

He tried to run, but it just looked comical. He rushed to the counter, its backsplash was a horizontal mirror. Barkly leaned against the countertop, shaking as he put his hands to his face. The mirror revealed a new face; his jaw was chiseled with dark stubble. His hair was tight, textured golden curls and his eyes were burnt umber. His new body with tawny skin and bulging muscles, which flexed in the reflection.

Those eyes scanned his new body, tight and muscular with arms meant for holding the soft, non-existent curves of a certain woman. A chest meant to rest a head on. A foot long dick meant for wrecking that pussy.

He knew there was something else about him that wasn't just man. He felt his blood pumping, but... he also felt circuits... megabytes, cogs, levers... He was more than a man, he was everything a tattoo artist and Twitter extraordinaire deserved-- he was a dog turned cyborg boyfriend.

Frantic, he knew he had to get out of there. Karen would be coming in any minute and she couldn't find him like this. Yes, he had been a dog all his life, but even he knew humans were supposed to wear clothes! He scrambled out the bathroom, his giant dong flopping as he rushed out the back door.

The trash pandas scattered. He didn't know what his next move was. He grabbed a piece of loose cardboard from a pile of boxes near the garbage.

"Duuuuuuuude.... Rough night?"

Barkly spun around. The sunlight caused his eyes to blur and readjust. Coming into focus was a lanky twenty-something guy, dressed in crumpled, stained chef's whites. He had been slouching against the back of the neighboring Tex-mex diner, Tequila Mockingbird, hunched over a library book with a black bird on the cover.

"Cl-clothes," Barkly stuttered and stared. "Give me clothes," he whined.

The guy laughed, clapping the book shut and waving Barkly over.

"That bad a night, huh? Let me guess... a woman?" He eyed Barkly. "Or a man, I don't judge."

Barkly just nodded, his eyes showing pure confusion. The cook sighed and shook his head.

"Wait here," he commanded and then disappeared back into the building. Barkly looked around nervously and whimpered. Finally the cook came back with a pair of basketball gym shorts, a t-shirt, and some smelly old gray Converse in one hand, a bowl of cold spaghetti in the other.

Barkly grabbed the bowl of spaghetti, diving in face first.

"Dude, I had a fork... dammmn." The cook watched Barkly finish the whole bowl and then laughed. 

Barkly took the clothes, exchanging them for the empty bowl. He held them up to him, thankfully they were stretchy to contain his ripped bod. He examined them, finally putting his head through the neck of the shirt and pulling it over him. Thankfully he managed to figure out how to put the shorts on without much help either.

Despite him being a dog his whole life, he had been around humans as well and knew how most of this worked or perhaps it was his advanced AI kicking in. He gave the cook an embarrassed, but grateful smile.

"Thanks," he blushed.

"What's your name?" The cook leaned back up against the wall.

"Uh..." Barkly looked around quickly, trying to think of a human name. "Ben."