He held out as long as he could. For a while, just having the gear was enough for him to feel better–even his performance at work improved, though he still found it difficult to care about any of it. He would get done, rush home, and spend a few hours in the gear Joel had given him, parading around, doing tricks, fantasizing about a…Master coming home to find him there, and he’d greet him like a good boy and suck his cock. He kept the mask on all night, even when he had to go back to doing human things, like making dinner, or doing chores around his apartment. It was hard to look at himself without it on, in fact–he just felt so ugly when he had to look at himself. It was no longer a face he could ever want to have, for the rest of his life.
In time, this became failed to satisfy–mostly because he found himself longing for something he imagined every dog must long for to some extent–he wanted an owner. He wanted a master. He wanted a man who would come home, like he imagined in his dreams–who would play with him, and feed him, and fuck him, and go to the dog park with him. That’s what he really wanted, and thinking about it while he jacked off with his paws, it felt so empty–his life felt empty. One night, when he’d had too much to drink, he asked an old boyfriend to fuck him while he was in gear, but the guy called him a freak and blocked him. No one from his life would understand this–no one except one. He knew where Joel was–why wasn’t he going to him?
One Saturday, he decided he’d go and see what the place looked like. Strangely enough, he couldn’t find anything about the place on the internet, and he worried that Joel had been leading him on just to make him suffer. He went to one of his regular bars instead and after a couple of drinks he asked the bartender about it, and the man grew quiet. “Look, if you’re smart, you’ll stay the fuck away from that place. It’s a fucking freakshow, trust me.”
He pressed the young man for more details, but he seemed…a bit shaken. Still, he managed to get directions out of him, and after chugging down the last bit of his drink, he grabbed his bag from the coat check and headed over to Pigtown, which it turned out was just a few blocks away, towards the area of the neighborhood which dissolved into the industrial and warehouse district. Sure enough, there it was–how had he never even heard of the place before? He buzzed the bell, and was a bit worried when it didn’t open right away, and he saw a camera in a corner of the doorframe. Were they inspecting him for some reason? Still, he heard the lock click and he slipped inside, and found himself in an antechamber with a coat check and benches lining the walls.
“Put on your gear, boy. Joel’s at the bar, waiting for you.”
The huge man at the window had spoken to him with a grin, and he froze–how did he know about him? He went to speak, but the only thing which crossed his lips was a bark, making the man laugh. “You’re new here, pup, so you’ll find out this bar ain’t like the rest. You are who you are here–and what you are is a dog. Now gear up or get out.”
He’d come this far, and the way the man was speaking to him…he liked it. He stripped out of his clothes quickly, and got into the gear Joel had given him. As soon as he did, he found himself on all fours and unable to stand back up–the man behind the window came out and collected his discarded clothes for him and took the bag behind the counter.
“I’ll hold this for you, if you still need it when you leave. Get goin’ pup–don’t keep your friend waiting.”
He crawled down the hallway and found himself in a narrow bar. It was poorly lit, and he couldn’t see the end of it, where it led into darkness–the darkrooms, he supposed. Joel was there, however, dressed in leather gear. He grinned around the stem of a pipe when he saw the dog crawling up to him, panting and whining a bit in stress–but he settled down after a pat on the head and a taste of Joel’s cock under the bar. Other people came and went and quite a few made comments–a few just laughed at him, but a couple treated him the way he wanted to be–telling him what a handsome pup he was, and offering to give him a belly rub if he did a trick or two. It made him so happy, knowing that people could see him for what he really was. When Joel clipped a lead to his collar and started walking into the back room, he didn’t have any second thoughts about following along beside him, panting and grinning and swinging his tail to and fro as he crawled.
He lost track of how many men he serviced that night–but he no longer could say no to anyone, if Joel told them it was alright to play with his pup. He spent most of the time with dicks in both his mouth and tailholes, and while it hurt, and he didn’t…want to enjoy it, every time Joel told him he was a good boy for doing what he wanted, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling overwhelmed with happiness. He was a good boy. He was making his master happy. Those thoughts were simpler, and stronger, than the human doubts and fears he was having–at least until Joel took him back to the bar early in the morning, and left him there, telling him he’d be there next week if he wanted to play some more.
It crushed him in ways he could barely express. Hadn’t he done well? Hadn’t he been a good boy? Could he have been better? Didn’t Joel want to keep him, take him home? Why had he done this to him, and shown him these feelings, if he didn’t want to take any responsibility for it? He crawled after him, but by the time he’d changed back and could speak, Joel was gone, and he was alone, and the humiliation was crushing him on the sidewalk.
Bracken's Corner 