This is part of a long running series of commissions for Newenglander. I don't usually write story to go along with commissioned art, but sometimes it just happens. =) Enjoy!

Previous commission/chapter: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/9333234/

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Carrie was pretty sure “fake it ‘til you make it” had never been applied to anyone posing for a bikini photoshoot while they’d been changed into a walking, talking, blue-furred husky. Playing it up had worked out okay for the shoot itself, but once she’d escaped back to her air conditioned trailer, the panic started to come back.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, and turned up the fan on the AC. Even at full blast, it barely got through her thick fur. “I’m a dog. I’m a dog. This is insane!”

Sooner or later someone would come check on her. They would want answers about her “costume”, where she’d gotten it, how it worked, how it looked so realistic. Carrie didn’t want to have that conversation with anyone, especially since she had no idea what had caused it, aside from maybe too many blueberry bars, which she still couldn’t stop eating! The snack basket from craft services was down to one energy bar, an apple, and a banana that had seen better days. Empty Husky™ blueberry bar wrappers overflowed the trash can and littered the trailer’s floor. Carrie couldn’t even remember eating most of them. It was an addiction.

This was one side effect the FDA really should have caught! The idea of spending the rest of her life locked in a lab being poked and prodded really didn’t appeal much. She stripped off the bikini she’d worn for the photoshoot and studied her reflection in the mirror. The transformation was perfect, right down to the last detail. Fingernails had become small, neat claws. The only exposed skin left were sensitive black pads on her palms and the soles of her feet, and her nose. Fur covered everything else, soft and dense and impossibly blue and white, contrasting with her auburn hair.

“This isn’t happening,” she said, reaching up to tug on her ears. A miserable canine face stared back at her.

She was still frantically mulling over what to do when someone knocked on the trailer door. Yelping, Carrie dove for the fold-out bed and burrowed under the rumpled sheet. “Don’t come in!” she yelled. “I’m--I’m not decent!” Technically that was true, since she’d ditched the bikini, but the thick fur covered everything. Unfortunately, she forgot to account for the big blue-furred tail curling up from her rump. It stuck up like a flag, ruining her attempt to hide.

“Carrie, it’s Jason. Can you throw on a robe or something?”

“I-. No, I think I’m getting sick again,” she lied. Lame. That had barely worked the first time around. Jason? Jason was one of the assistant camera guys. They’d chatted a few times before the whole turning-into-a-dog thing kept her shut in her trailer. He seemed like a decent guy, but Carrie didn’t want anyone to get too close. “You shouldn’t come in!”

“That’s why I’m here. I was offsite getting props for the next shoot, and I heard you showed up this morning in ninety degree heat wearing a full body costume! Are you okay? I think you might have heat stroke on top of food poisoning. Come on, Carrie, let me in.” The trailer’s flimsy doorknob rattled.

“No!” She flailed, realizing she hadn’t locked the door when she’d come back from the shoot. Carrie lunged for the latch, but tangled in the sheet and fell short. She landed in a heap with her nose inches from the short stairwell that led out of the trailer just as Jason pulled the door open.

He stood there blinking at her. A disturbingly canine whine escaped her throat, and Carrie’s ears folded back against her skull. She was never going to get used to that sensation, or of the tail wagging. Jason’s gaze flicked from the tail to her face and back again.

“Um, hi?” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Carrie? Is… Is that you?”

“I have a problem, okay?” She burst out, struggling to untangle herself.

“I, uh, I can see that.” Jason scratched his head. “That’s… Not a costume. How are you… Why are you…?”

“A dog?” Carrie said glumly as she finally managed to get herself upright. She wrapped the sheet around herself like a makeshift toga, uncomfortable to sit there in just her fur. “I don’t know! I think it might… might be the blueberry bars.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know!” she wailed. “But I woke up like this, and it hasn’t gone away and I can’t stop eating them, and, and…”

Jason held up his hands. “Wait, wait, hold up a sec. You’re telling me the product did this to you?”

Carrie snuffled and swiped an arm over her eyes. “I think so. I thought maybe it was just a bad dream, but it’s been days now. I was afraid to tell anyone.”

“Woah.” Jason moved inside and pulled the door behind him. He hadn’t stopped staring. “So what will you do now?”

“That,” Carrie said, “is the real question, isn’t it?”



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