Intermissio: Helga III

His pet play is boring. He’s on the phone talking business half of the time. You outperform to be the best dog or cat, having no idea what he wants you to be. You eat and drink from the bowl; you put the tennis ball on his lap to kick; you pee outside; you don’t pull on the leash. You lick his face when he comes in. You have his attention for a moment, but as soon as the phone rings, it’s gone.

You try to get negative attention by peeing and pooping inside, chewing on the living room carpet, and scraping the paint off the door with your nails. You would welcome any negative attention with glee. But he makes excuses for you. He blames himself for leaving you alone too long. If you leave food that looks like dog food but tastes like meat from a Michelin-star restaurant, he’ll give you something else instead of leaving it there until you eat it.

Finally, after two weeks stuck inside, he takes you to a club where it’s apparently Pet Night. Dogs and cats of all sizes, ages, coat colours, and breeds. You walk on all fours on a leash. Nude, of course. When you see a young cat with small breasts and cute ears on her head, you growl and lunge at her. He hadn’t expected your reaction. You bark and rant. Suddenly, the entire room’s attention is on you. He makes a stupid joke and thinks the show is over. Halfway through the evening you see a male human dog who looks yummy. You lead your guide to him and shake your butt invitingly at him, wiggle it a bit and spread your legs enough for him to see your pussy. He follows his instincts and starts fucking you like the bitch in heat you are. Both owners try to pull their dogs away, but animal instincts are stronger. Not long after that, you’ll walk out of the club with a white trail along your thigh.