becoming pet

chapter 1

"I fell behind on my payments." The words still make you flush with humiliation, even now. The idea that you couldn't manage your financial life as an adult woman fills you with frustrated shame. And now here you are, after your debt hearing and then the auction, packed with dozens of other defaulters like animals into wire cages in the back of a van.

The anxious chatter and protests from the young women died away as the long minutes turned into hours in the uncomfortable transport cages. The crates don't give enough room to lie down or stand up - only to kneel on all fours or curl up on the cold floor as the truck jolted and shuddered its way.

Eventually your exhaustion overcomes your anxiety, and you fall asleep curled on the cold wire floor, awakened by noise of the door being opened as daylight streams in. You rub the sleep from your eyes, watching as burly young men lift the cages from the truck, carrying them into what resembles a barn or a warehouse and setting them down in rows.

From where you are you can see four other girls, each looking some combination of shocked and terrified at their situation. You glance anxiously at your neighbor to either side, a plump and tearful brunet in a dark blue velvet dress on your left side, a slender more androgynous girl on your right looking sullen and resigned. You nod to her in acknowledgement, and she purses her lips in response. "Don't give them anything." She whispers angrily. "They can't make us do this." Before resuming her blank forward gaze.


"Listen!" A male voice shouts, and you are dragged from your self pity, looking up at a large man in blue jeans and a plain t-shirt who is standing in front of the row of cages. "You are all here because you have failed to become productive responsible adults. It is my job to make you into fun and beloved pets instead. You may have opinions about this. I am not interested in them. You may have preferences and ideas. They are not important here. My company has bought your debt because you have the potential to become obedient, affectionate, playful, and profitable. I will make you into desirable playthings - dumb animals whose only role is to pleasure and entertain their owners."

Your mind races with panicked anxiety, trying to decide whether to shout a protest or stay quiet and hope to be overlooked. Your thoughts are interrupted by a shriek of anger from the girl to your right. "How dare you!" She begins, a tirade of obscenity and threats emanating from her angry mouth.

The man smiles at her, reaching for his back pocket and producing what looks like a tv remote control. As suddenly as it began, her protest dies with an agonized shriek. "You will all be fitted with obedience collars later, but your time here will be easier if you can learn obedience without them." He says calmly, with a note of insufferable smugness as he watches the girl next to you sob softly as she recovers from what you guess was a shock to her cage. "Does anyone else have something to share with the group before we proceed?"

"No? Then I want each of you to remove your clothes and put them in a neat pile at the front of your cage, then kneel down with your forehead on the ground and your forepaws presented. Anyone not naked in that position in three minutes time will be punished."

You breathe deeply, dismayed at the display of brutality you have just observed, horrified at the thought of being naked in front of strangers. Your mind is unable to dismiss thoughts of the handful of people who have seen your undressed body since you came into your womanhood. Your doctor, a kindly woman who talked in euphemisms about your body parts and their mysteries as she prodded you impersonally; a first boyfriend, eagerly fumbling under your clothes as you squirmed uncomfortably; a graduate teacher, softly persuading you - and - no! Wait! How much time has passed? Your neighbors have both almost finished undressing, each one moving with a aggrieved resignation, resentful of their immediate subjugation, cowed by the prospect of sudden and overpowering punishment.

Your eyes dwell on the larger woman as she kneels in her cage. Her movements are awkward as she lifts her shapeless dress over her head. Her thick buttocks and thighs are strange to your eyes, her belly hangs flabbily as she shrugs herself out of the dress. You watch with fascinated pity as she fumbles with the clasp on her thick and utilitarian bra, letting her heavy breasts swing free like udders under her chest. You wonder if she feels the humiliation you feel on her behalf, grateful for the gentle curves of your own body.

You snap back to the reality of your own predicament, realizing you are running out of time. Never courageous, you begin to hastily unbutton your blouse, slipping out of it, the cold air on your skin reinforcing the strangeness of your fate. You unfasten your skirt and wriggle it awkwardly over your hips, a cumbersome task in the low wire cage. Fear overcoming your modesty, you negotiate your panties past your knees and kick them off, then, with a last pang of embarrassment, release your bra. You are proud of your breasts - neat, pert mounds, not ungainly pendulous organs, but your self-consciousness is no less for it. You kneel, thighs pressed tightly together, grateful to be head down and for your buttocks to be pointing away from the man, your pile of clothes in front of you, your hands in front of you.


Your body feels cold and clammy, your mind races, paralyzed with fear as you wait helplessly. You are aware that the man has approached the girl on your left, opening her cage, but you cannot focus your attention, not daring to look up. It is only as you hear your own cage open that your body stiffens in dread, fearing pain even more than humiliation. The man picks up your clothes, then places his hand on the back of your neck, rubbing you in a way that feels more reassuring than you expected.

"There girl." He soothes. "There's a good girl." Pulling your hair back off your back, you shudder as you feel him wrap a wide collar around your slender neck. The smell of new leather fills your nostrils, evoking incongruous memories of shoes and handbags. You whimper softly as you feel him tighten the collar, hearing a gentle click as he fastens it in place.

Your breathing quickens, coming in shallow gulps as you try to adjust to the sensations of the collar. It is not tight enough to restrict your breath, but it is impossible to ignore. You're surprised at the immediate feelings of deference it evokes in you, as if by accepting the collar you have already accepted your fate.

"Well done Pet." The man soothes. "Now, its important that you realize that your bark collar will immediately punish any human words that come out of your mouth. From now on it's only barks, yips, grunts - even meows are fine - but no talking. I want you to signal that you understand me by barking twice while I fit your paw mittens."

Force of habit makes you almost cry out in protest, but you have the presence of mind to stifle your words. The idea of not being able to speak feels somehow more upsetting than anything so far. Your voice is how you make yourself understood - how you articulate your needs and wants - to have it taken from you feels like an erosion of what makes you human.

You feel the man take your left hand, letting him guide it into what feels like a soft leather glove. He cinches a strap tightly around the wrist. Releasing it, he takes your right hand and repeats the procedure, and you sigh weakly, realizing that your delicate hands are now thickly padded paws, no longer able to manipulate the world. You flinch at the indignity, trying to quell your anxiety with deep deliberate breaths.

"I'm waiting. Do I need to encourage you?" The man asks, a slightly sinister note of impatience in his voice, and you remember that he is expecting you to bark. The thought of making animal sounds disgusts you, further underlining your dehumanization, but the thought of being shocked brings your mind into focus.

"Erm. Woof?" You manage weakly, your voice quavering. "Woof?"

"That will do for now Pet." He chuckles, not unkindly. "I understand how overwhelming the first day can be. Now - I'm leaving you a bowl of kibble. Eat, you will need your strength, and it will help with your adjustment. I will be back later for your first training session." With that, you hear the latch on your cage close as he moves on to the next cage.

You kneel there, too shocked and frightened to move, the sensations of your situation dominating your thoughts. The collar feels more commanding than makes sense to you, its presence a constant reminder of your new status, never letting you forget for a moment that you are just a dumb animal. You consider your hands, realizing how much you had taken for granted your opposable thumbs. Without them you could not even open a door, let alone operate your phone or a computer.
2 chapters, created 5 years , updated 5 years
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