You wake after what feels like hours and quickly try to regain your senses. After opening your eyes, you see you're in a rather small room, laying on some form of cot. The floor is made up of polished tiles, and there is a bright florescent lint above. You sit up, and decide you needed to get someone's attention.
"Uh, hello? I'm not sure what's going on; is anyone here?" you yell. Soon, the door to your little enclosure opens and a beautiful mutt with black fur walks in. She's carrying a clipboard and wearing a rather form-fitting dress. It doesn't take you more than second to recognize her as one of your school's counselor's. She specializes in helping human-male students as they prepare to turn 18 and be enslaved.
"Ah, so you're awake. I'm Juniper, your school's slave-counselor. I'm surprised we've never met, but better late than never, Mr.McGregor." she says, kneeling down beside you.
"Wait, where am I?" you quickly sputter.
Juniper gives you a look of pity at your confusion before responding, "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're in the K9 restroom at school, in your own little stall actually. You've been sold as its first toilet slave!"
No, that can't be true, your school wouldn't have toilet slaves installed. They didn't like they idea of underage human males getting in close proximity with active slaves, and said they would never have slaves in the building. Besides, you were supposed to be sent to a retirement home, to care for old and slow bitches.
"That can't be right, I already have an assignment. I'm not even trained as a toilet slave!" you exclaim. Sure enough, she had a quick response.
"Well your position at the retirement home had already been filled. Besides, this new toilet slave initiative is very important to the school. You see, we've come to realize how close you boys have been getting to us canines, and it was decided something needed to be done to remind everyone of their proper roles. We've had future slaves and dog-girls socializing, bonding, and in extreme cases, dating. This needs to be stopped." she argues rather bluntly. "What better way than to have canines use your kind for their most basic needs? If you really need more proof, just be quiet and listen closely."
After she finished her little speech, you don't say word. Listening as hard as you can, you move to one of the walls waiting for a sound. Sure enough, after putting your ear to the wall, you can hear an orchestra of farts, splashes, streams, grunts and sighs. She wasn't joking, you are in a canine restroom. Nonetheless, that didn't explain while you were chosen. So your next question comes quick: why you?
"Oh, it was a simple selection process. We knew we needed a boy who was somewhat well known and popular, got along especially well with the canine females, and showed aptitude as a future slave. After drawing up that list, we kept adding limiting factors to get the perfect candidate: was about to turn 18, healthy, and unaggressive. Eventually it came down to your interest in the position." Juniper replies.
"But what interest did I ever show? I never received toilet slave training." you quickly point out.
"Well let's look at your record." she says, turning to her clipboard. "It's spotless expect for three incidents. In each case, you were caught in the K9 girls restroom. Now, it does say you argued it was an accident and an honest mistake each time, but that's a little far-fetched. One time is believable. Twice is unlikely. But three? It doesn't take a genius psychiatrist to see that those incidents weren't exactly accidental."
"You mean, because I was found in the doggy bathroom a few times, I must have an obsession with canine girls relieving pissing and shitting?" you practically shout at her.
"That's the idea! I mean, what other reason would you have for coming in here so many times if you didn't have a related fetish?" she questions.
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