Show Time
…A playful thought invades my mind out of nowhere; if Dennis and I ever became a permanent thing, could he fit our own humble home with a similar fire suppression device, one to keep me "on track" while in submissive service to him? It's odd to me that what at first felt "over the top" has turned into a thing of familiar comfort though, physically anchored not only to the friends that I love, but to their home as well; I also realize that I've been conditioned over a great many of my early informative years to this very thing, but still…
…Anyway, Dennis didn't get to use his raincoats that night, but I did ride his happy face like a jockey to several wonderful and messy big O's, and I did eventually bring him off with my hands as well, as I forbade him from using his own for anything. To play with and explore a man's body like this, to also bring him such pleasure with just my hands; what an empowering experience. My chest had even moved within his lip's reach for a kiss several times as I slowly stroked him off - but then I pulled back - only to repeat this torment for him over and over again. Torment for me too though, because I would have just loved to let him have his rough way with me instead. Dennis needed something different that particular night though, and I was trying to faithfully deliver such, within my own limited abilities…
He physically had the ability to do anything he might like to me. I couldn't stop him if I tried, but somehow he liked it when I controlled him like this, as if he were MY pet; Dennis was a very curious man with a lot of depth to explore. Anyway, I sent Dennis home that night a happy man, and he left me a very happy, sated, and relaxed teen as well; so overall it turned into a good night of "servitude," although who was left serving whom was a bit left up in the air.
…In the morning I'm still feeling pretty good from my night with Dennis - I slept deeply and well - and I have a very positive outlook on my unique life, and the girls seem to be in a happy place themselves, so I assume they had a good night too doing much the same as I had. I hadn't heard their actual activities that night like I sometimes could as I went right to sleep, but I knew the signs by now, a taunt sleepshirt-only adorning each of their voluptuous bodies, ones obviously unwrinkled and not slept in. Not to mention the girls' close and snuggly body language that signified a physical, as well as an emotional bonding; but the girls, to their credit, didn't put effort into hiding what they had going on together. Parents and other relevant adults might not necessarily approve - just as they wouldn't approve of my chained contractual enslavement - but they're not here with us, it's just us three, and the new friends we've made up here at college who seem to accept us as we are.
Anyway, we three share a rare spontaneous group hug before I serve their breakfast, love and contentment most certainly in the air - each of us almost certainly with some secrets that aren't secrets though - I for not the first time realizing that my life's outlook is just a bit cheerier when I've been properly taken care of; theirs too… I can sense something profound is coming my way with that hug we shared, but maybe not necessarily a bad profound thing based on their friendly demeanor. I am invited to set a plate for myself and eat with them, not that this is unheard of, but it isn't our normal servant/master hurry-up weekday morning arrangement.
Dana starts to speak about half way through her breakfast, and Tracy and I both respectfully rest our utensils and stop eating so as to listen to what she has to say from her "head of the table" perch: "Tracy and I have come to an understanding, and neither of us thinks it's fair or reasonable that you're responsible for the house work while showing; so she will temporarily be taking over your duties while you're in the actual show circuit. This won't be a vacation for you though, as I have valid and proven concerns about you slipping away again, so the level of control that we and 'others' exert over you in your pet persona may be just a bit more severe. You obviously have little choice in this, but we felt it was only fair of us to inform you of our decisions; let you know that we feel that this is necessary for your safety, that we're not displeased with you in the slightest. We, by the way, also have no intentions of anything but a first place finish, and neither should you!"
"Any questions about any of this?" Dana asks.
"When is this to start, Dana ma'am?" I ask respectfully, a million different things going through my mind. I was so focused on the show and all the unique feelings that percolated in my brain related to that, that I sort of discounted my other contractual responsibilities, to the summer house, to my classes, and to the girls specifically…
"You don't have class today, and the show is tomorrow afternoon; so anytime you'd like I'd say." Dana smiles playfully after saying this, perhaps leading my answer…
I slowly sweep my head around and look at the dishes on the table that will need to be washed, and pans on the stove that need the same, and then I turn back towards Tracy who is watching my eyes critically. "Woof, woof" I answer with a smile, Tracy giving me both the stink eye, and a dark smile, as in "I won't forget this you opportunistic little bitch!"
"Dogs don't do housework Tracy," Dana tells our friend, all while smiling and looking at her with barely concealed mirth. They obviously share a secret related to my choice here, a wager both won and lost perhaps, the details surely to follow.
"They don't sit at the table either; do they!" Tracy barks with feigned anger while staring me down, rudely taking my plate from in front of me and roughly placing it on the floor at her feet with a clatter. I'm apparently to finish my meal from the floor at her feet like a real dog, but this is a small price to pay, all things considered. I dismount my chair and assume a four legged position familiar to me from back when we first came here; dog on the floor eating from human plates. Back then it had been leftovers scraped from the girls plates, and Tracy hasn't forgotten this little detail either. The girls eat a bit more as I listen to their conversations, pretending I'm irrelevant and not there, Dana eventually telling Tracy with a giggle not to be a sore loser.
I look up from my down low position, reminded of how alike the two girls are in some things, like their bare and full legs. I'm seeing both pairs to mid thigh with their nightshirts hiked up under the table, and not that I'm perving on my friends or anything, but their nice legs, tan, soft, and shapely, and without need of stockings or pantyhose, shaved smooth as they are. I'm therefore reminded of how different things look from down here, not that I needed the lesson in humility or anything. I'm startled from my quasi-pervy thoughts when I hear the unmistakable sound of the ketchup bottle being tapped on its glass bottom, presumably by Tracy, as she actually likes such on her eggs, YUCK! Why she would need even more, as she's presumably nearly done with her meal by then, is a mystery though.
"You're a spiteful little bitch; you know that right?" Dana tells our friend with a giggle.
"You had no complaints last night; did you… Dana ma'am?" Tracy playfully snarks back.
"Oh, I so like the sound of that, this could become a permanent new house rule here you know. We could always get a second chain and collar for the extra chain car," Dana reminds Tracy with lusty overtones. It's Dana's family summerhouse, and of the two Dana is the more dominant personality; so home field advantage coupled with the natural personalities of each of my friends. Tracy isn't necessarily submissive though, so she'll have to bend a bit here, which could cause some turmoil, and also be fun to watch for this pooch as well.
"You'd like that too, Dana ma'am, two slaves instead of one to serve your every whim."
"Two 'naked' slaves," Dana corrects. In my mind I form a picture of a nude and collared Tracy doing my job, her body and my own quite different though. I'm thin and firm with a runner's body, and hers is one of curves and feminine softness that fills out a trendy dress magnificently, the kind of Marilyn Monroe body that current fashions are specifically designed around. In my mind if we were both nude and collared on the same run, I'd be eclipsed in her displayed bodily perfection, and not because she's physically larger than I am…
"The 'uniform' would look good on you too Babe. Really though, a house this size only needs one maid, and since you're always petitioning for easier treatment of Jackie yourself, perhaps we, meaning of course I, could give her Sundays off going forward; with you filling in obviously."
Tracy gets up to do my former job of clearing the table and settling the kitchen, before they both have to shower, dress, and get going to class. Their two plates are added to my own on the floor, Tracy telling me sternly that good dogs lick all the plates clean; if they know what's good for them. She won't have to scrape them into the garbage this way, but that leaves this pooch with a mess of ketchup intentionally smeared all around one of the plates, and some residue egg yolk and toast on Dana's to consume. I don't hate ketchup, but it's not exactly a food group for me either, however Tracy knows this too. I make a big show of noisily chasing the plates all over the kitchen while tongue lapping them to near spotless perfection, following Tracy's instructions to the letter, but also running the clock out on her and making her rush around in an attempt to get dressed and out on time.
Finished with my pet chore of licking the plates clean, I lay my naked dog-self down on a throw rug in the morning sun and feign sleep, one eye half-open and watching now both humans race around like half-dressed sexy lunatics, all to get out on time. Soon they're out the door with a slam, their left-behind pooch easily forgotten in their wake. I of course do what any good left-alone house dog would do; as soon as their car is safely down the driveway I hop up on the forbidden furniture and take a nice long nap.
I eventually wake and have a very leisurely non-pooch-like indoor hot shower, then I practice some common dog tricks before the mirror looking for both symmetry and overall form; begging, sitting up, shaking, rolling over, that kind of thing, all while maintaining eye contact while looking up at my imaginary master. I even practiced my barking and panting, even though the latter will likely be unused, as it won't be all that warm this weekend. Thankfully nobody was there with me to see what may appear to be my temporary insanity. Overall it was a rather wonderful and lazy dog-day of zero responsibilities - but also a bit lonely without endless chores to occupy me - and when the girls eventually got home from class later that afternoon I was eager and happy for their return, staying in character while barking and nuzzling up on them from my four legged position as they walked through the door.
I got a very strange look from both, and then a "good girl" pat on the head from both as well… and then a rather evil and self-serving thought popped into my mind; why not pretend that I was once again stuck in "dog mode" and therefore lost in the experience? I don't remember all the details of the last time I had slipped into that obviously, but perhaps this was an extended opportunity to try out my acting skills for a smaller audience, before the larger outdoor one. Bark and whine only, and look at both girls with a blank "I don't understand" stare if they say more than a few words in a row to me, I remind myself. And don't smile or laugh, as that will spoil the whole charade and earn me some serious quality time with their strap…
Tracy has the major share of the work here, but Dana sees this too, and to her credit they kind of team up to get a dinner on the table for the two humans in the room, my own pet meal of table scraps to spitefully follow their own. What would a real dog do? I ask myself, so I set out to beg from each as they eat, scoring some of their undercooked french fries from their plates for my humiliating efforts, before being commanded to "lie down in the corner!" I reluctantly complied, both slow walking and sulking my way there, but I also turned my naked ass towards them, not only to let them know what I thought of being shooed away from the table while they were still eating, but to hide the smile I had perpetuating this little extended prank.
Only when they were done eating - but still excitedly talking about the details of what they'd wear to tomorrow's show - was I called over to eat their combined and now cold table scraps from one of their plates, placed once again on the floor as my own meal, to obviously be eaten without hands, nor utensils. The nature of the cut up pork chops, peas, and undercooked fries that they had collectively cooked and served themselves made eating such relatively unmessy though. I noticed a serious lack of seasonings on the pork specifically, and once again far too much ketchup, possibly explaining why there was so much left over. This time though a bowl of water was also put down for me, which, if nothing else, helped flush the excess ketchup from my mouth. It was nearly impossible to actually drink significant water like that, but I'm sure the girls like the optics of my trying; down low and tongue lapping at the water with my branded ass high in the air. I was their property, my contract, collar, and tattoo with their very initials permanently adorned my ass; it was impossible to forget this.
Not that I actually wanted to go this far with this charade, but to both stay in character, and in retribution for the way my own dinner had been handled, I walked to the outside door immediately after I licked the plates clean and drank all the water that I could; scratching at it with my "paw" in the universal way a dog tells her human masters that she needs to go out. This was all to be a bit more of a pain in the butt for my two owners, and to continue to skate on my chores.
The long chain still lay on the porch, attached to the porch post with a tiny padlock, but for the most part rarely used ever since I had been locked out for the night on it once. It would apparently get used again though, Dana putting me out herself as Tracy cleaned up from dinner, telling me firmly to sit, and conspicuously locking the long outside chain to my collar first through the open door, before unlocking my inside chain run, preventing any possible escape. Through it all I didn't actually know if either of the girls knew for certain if I was playing a part here, or if they thought I had once again slipped into full pet mode for them.
Would they once again leave me out for the night, after I presumably did my business someplace private? It was cold out at night this time of year, but still above freezing, so pushing to be put out on a chain might not have been the wisest course of action, but I was here now, I thought…
It was maybe only half an hour by the time I was let back in - I had even watched their labors through the windows covertly - but the girls had managed to clean up from dinner in that time, although there were two of them doing so, as compared to me working solo. There was something to be learned here though, as the girls seem to do this job as fast as possible so as to do what they want to do next; where I tended to do these jobs as if there wasn't anything waiting for me that I "wanted" to do afterwards.
The job of keeping the girls, and keeping house, was my life, as was school; where for the girls it's just a brief detour from what they actually want to do. Maybe that's a free attitude to life though, where my own was a bit more owned and unfree; "purchased with a simple contract of servitude for a bargain," one could even say. Do I try to work more efficiently going forward, thereby perhaps earning even more mindless duties for myself, or work as I had, always "busy" and self-occupied, although not one hundred percent efficiently?
The girls sit next to each other and actually open their school books - while ignoring their "down on all fours" pet dog - neither are the slightest bit unintelligent, but ordinarily this just doesn't happen without a reason, most especially on a Friday night. We have most of our classes together, but their business majors require a slightly different mathematical path, even at this first semester stage. This isn't exactly macroeconomics though, more the specific early mathematics and statistics that support such a pursuit. I also feel bad for doing this to Tracy, seeing how it's she who's in my corner sticking up for me, this time at some personal cost too.
In reality, she'll have to do what I do all the time, twenty-four seven, so maybe I shouldn't be feeling too badly here. Anyway, I climb up on the forbidden couch and snuggle up on her, my head on the femininely soft thigh I had been covertly admiring only this morning, and she rubs on my naked back and head just like one would a real dog looking for some affection. Her hands are warm and loving; it's something to remember. The girls also share a look when I do this, which I catch. Being this close I also smell Tracy's unique womanly scent, but I remind myself that such isn't for me…
Soon it's bedtime and I'm put in my extra large dog crate for the night, but the door is locked closed this time with one of the little padlocks, while still locked on my indoor dog-run chain as well; so extra secure. I won't be able to turn around, or really even move around all that much with my chain captured in the door, but I can't exactly point this out while staying in character either. To perpetuate the lie that I'm once again in mindless dog-mode I therefore don't say a word, in fact, I haven't said anything since breakfast, but this also means that I'll have a lot of time inside this big crate for the weekend at least. It's like an extra small prison cell with comfortable bedding, but a comfortable jail is still a jail; you can't come and go as you please, and mentally this works on my psyche as I stare at that lock…
…I struggled to get to sleep - the girls noisily at it again, second night in a row - but sleep finally happens, with eventual dreams of being somebody's pet-slave, although this somebody was new and unknown to me. In it I had been purchased from my owners for a handful of bills, the girls, my best friends, collectively deciding that I just wasn't worth it, worth the disruption to their intimacy, they both selling the entirety of my five year contract of servitude off, cage and all. This unknown man paid cash and took me home locked inside my cage, in the back of his own truck, as if he had just purchased another animal for his own human circus; it was impossibly erotic for one as submissive as I…
A "tap, tap, tap" on a loose window pane then invades my dream, and for a moment I think it's my new master trying to rouse me from my caged slumber. It's light out, and from where my cage is I can't see where the noise is coming from, but this is still my cage, obviously still inside the summerhouse living room. I then do a very reflexive dog-like thing, I start barking, alerting my two sleeping masters, presumably still upstairs in bed together, that something is going on down here on the bottom floor. My worst, worst case fear is that this is the cops, or somebody from the college doing a welfare check or something, and therefore all of us might have some serious explaining to do.
"Aw shit!" I hear Tracy say, cussing not really her thing, mine either, so this is profound.
"Dana, get up" I then hear in the unique tone of a whisper-shout, "we've overslept and your dog is calling."
"Our dog, Sexy, and you're the new maid, so go check it out," I hear in the half-whisper of two lovers who've just awoken in an otherwise dead silent house.
I bark again, just because it felt right to do so, this time more baying like a bloodhound on the trail of some criminal though. I could have chosen not to do this too, but it was easier to let the experience flow through me, embrace this dog persona of mine. Now to be fair, both girls aren't morning people, nor are they really functional without that first cup of coffee, which I obviously haven't made for them like I always do, many times even bringing it into their bedroom for them. Seeing them together in bed, smelling their closed-door "girl on girl scent" was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for me though, and to their credit they don't take advantage and make me do this every day either.
So anyway, I'm kind of stuck facing away from the steps leading upstairs to the human sleeping floor of the summerhouse, and I can't fully turn around in my cage with the chain holding fast captured in the closed and locked door either. I can however see a "hair-everywhere" bleary eyed Tracy navigating the stairs out of the very corner of my left eye. I can't believe what I'm seeing either, not just that her ordinarily long and perfect hair is looking like a bomb went off, but that she's almost certainly half-awake, and very birthday-suit nude. I haven't seen her one hundred percent in her skin in quite some time, her body softly full and voluptuous, perfectly in style with the clothes of the day. Her soft and full breasts sway and gyrate as she takes the steps, mine in comparison firm and compact, and pretty much stationary on my chest under almost all circumstances. I'm transfixed by their free jello-like flowing motion, and her nicely manicured feminine bush hiding her womanly parts; the same ones I have on shaved-bald full-display all the time…
"Good morning, sleepy," I hear Dennis' voice say to her in a certain soft way, all as she lets him in and is still seemingly oblivious to her own exposure. I can't see Dennis' eyes, or Dennis at all, but in my mind and coupled with that tone of his I imagine the look he's giving Tracy's magnificent jiggling body. She's everything I'm not physically, it's like we're opposites, where at a distance, or from behind, Tracy could easily be mistaken for Dana, or vice versa; "birds of a feather" one could even say. Dennis expects to find me chained and in my skin when he visits, at this point it's "no big deal," or so he projects, but Tracy giving him this kind of "show" is unique, even though the two have been intimate once already. My mind wanders, in it I know I'm no physical competition for Tracy one on one, so I don't try, driving me further towards lowly dog mode.
Dennis portrays himself as unintelligent sometimes, but I know this to be untrue, as proof of such he makes no big deal at all out of Tracy's lacking clothes. Should he draw attention to such he would only make her uncomfortable, discourage a repeat, and draw attention to my own expected nudity; so instead Dennis plays it cool and doesn't say a thing, "business as usual, let's do this again sometime."
"Running late… we were up half the night," Tracy tells him airly by way of an excuse; but left unsaid was "up half the night doing what exactly?” Her disheveled appearance and lacking clothes, not to mention her magnificent feminine scent, sort of suggest the obvious though. I assume the girls were supposed to get up early to get me ready for the show now that I'm not doing it for myself here; going from slave to burden with just a few well timed and self-serving barks. Tracy sleepily stumbles back upstairs without even giving him the keys to my cage, so as to get me out to answer the call of nature or get tossed into the shower. Dennis walks over towards my cage following the sleepy Tracy, and once there he looks down at me in my incarceration, both locked onto my indoor run that he had constructed, and locked inside my cage too. His eyes avert after a second to track the very nude Tracy as she navigates the stairs, the squeaky step she just stepped on drawing his attention and snapping his head around. Is this a gallant action on his part to ensure her safety, or the man in him wanting to watch Tracy ascend the stairs in the buff? To be brutally honest, the naked and caged "animal" at his feet is a known thing and not going anywhere.
So here's my choices, be a jealous little caged human trying to compete human-like with a friend that I can't possibly compete with, or be a needy pain in the ass pooch; so I bark and whine to recapture Dennis' attention, for him to let me out, perhaps deceiving him as well as to the depth of this dog experience for me. Dennis doesn't physically follow Tracy up the stairs like he once had to the girl's bedroom - other than with his eyes - but he does call up asking for the keys.
Dennis and I both hear the hushed conversations upstairs, in a nutshell, Tracy is sternly reminded that she's to take my job over while I'm showing, and by that Dana has decided that Tracy's uniform of servitude will match my own, and that Dennis or any other visitors in the house will be addressed properly and respectfully, which is something the sleepy and naked Tracy didn't do with Dennis a moment ago. With a few words from Dana Tracy has gone from something above Dennis, to something less than equal, and knowing her as I do I could see this going badly for all involved.
Tracy instead takes the time to brush out her long hair, but other than that she comes back down "as she was" to deliver Dennis the key to my cage, and an apology for her rude behavior. She might not be fully into this act, but she's playing along; possibly to hurry up and get it over and done with, kind of like dinner clean up last night. This time she's also very aware of her nudity, and I see her fight the urge to cover herself with her hands. I feel for her, I've been there and done that, but for me what feels like a million years ago too. In her case though, she looks like curvaceous womanly perfection, at least to my eye, like what every red blooded man dreams about having… and obviously some women as well.
"I apologize for my cheek this morning sir, what would you like for breakfast and how would you like your coffee?" I "hear" the smile in her tone, but this is only possible because I know her so well. The two are communicating on more than one level here, and honestly it grates on me. Tracy has Dana, and in my mind Dennis is mine, but in a way so is Gregory; now who's being selfish?
"Apology accepted. I really should have called when I left my house, but I got busy cleaning out my truck," Dennis tells her in a voice just a bit louder than necessary for one right in front of him - for both her, and the listening-Dana's benefit - taking some of the blame on himself. I hear his smile too, and words bordering on cutesie, so YUCK! She thanks him in a low whisper, Dennis charming her for what exact purpose though? Is he just being a nice man, or is there an ulterior motive here now that Dana isn't standing possessively alongside the very naked Tracy? I'm ever mindful that Tracy has the kind of body that most men dream about, and her faux submission to Dennis could be something he likes seeing on her; the "accessory" she was otherwise lacking earlier.
"Cream, no sugar, bacon, eggs, and toast please," Dennis requests formally, keeping the menu simple, and likely by his estimation well within Tracy's unknown kitchen skills…
"Would you like me to start getting the show pooch ready for her big day?" Dennis then asks, to which Tracy thanks him for. His words diminish me further, put me in a different category than the stunningly undressed Tracy, and I think the woman in her feels this. Anyway, with his attention still on the very naked Tracy as she walks towards the kitchen he reflexively fumbles to unlock my cage and pull me out by my chain run, giving me much less than his full attention. He's not rough or anything, but the linkage we have to each other has been interrupted by Tracy's perceived availability, and her one foot directly placed in front of the other hip and boob swaying steps, or so my envious thoughts convince me.
"Come on show pooch, it's your big day!" he tells me with child-like excitement, leading me down on all fours towards the downstairs bathroom, the one my chain allows me to fully use. I take a chance and wink up at Dennis once inside the bathroom proper, taking him into my confidence; I don't want him actually watching me use the facilities, such things quite private to me. He bids me to stand on my hind legs and whispers in my ear that he wasn't sure if I was acting or not, telling me that I'm still devilishly good at this dog thing. I whisper back that the girls don't know, and I'd be quite grateful if he didn't rat me out to them.
"Like, how grateful?" he asks with a certain hunger in his eyes, and suddenly everything with my best friend Tracy seems like no big deal. Yes, she has a lot to offer physically, but so do I, realizing that I must learn to see myself for what I am, a submissive and worthy soul. Tracy can play at being submissive, but she's not really… and then that nagging experience from the other night comes flooding in on me, the one where Dennis wanted to have me control and use him… like Tracy could quite naturally do herself.
I smile my response, we've talked enough, and if the girls hear me being humanly verbal with Dennis I'll be in deep trouble for sure. Anyway, he leaves me in there to do my morning routine, and with Tracy busy in the kitchen, and Dana still upstairs, nobody sees that I'm doing such for myself in there. I don't linger for obvious reasons, but once out I eventually see Dana come down the stairs freshly showered with her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing school sweats, not that this is specifically unique, but it is unique for Dennis to be here seeing this more casual early morning version of her. I also see her considerable assets sway in unrestrained fashion under her not so loose top, and I imagine Dennis has taken notice as well. I've had my hot shower, Dana obviously her's, so that means Tracy will be getting the hurry-up cool one that I usually "enjoy."
Dana and Dennis team up to get me into my show costume, my tail-bearing flesh colored thong panties first, and then my legs are bent tight and laced into my faux dog legs, complete with paw pads to cushion my knees. My tattoo of ownership is on full display this way, telling anybody who sees me "show" that both the girls, and their pet, are seriously into this lifestyle. The mask and front paws are next, the paws specifically holding my fingers closed about a rod, not only cushioning my knuckles which I'm to walk on going forward, but also preventing my fingers from being used as fingers to facilitate any escape. The texture of my laced-on front paws also will prevent any self-entertainment, so I'm frustratingly trapped in more than one way.
With me being "dressed" for the show, and Tracy's breakfast being done, we all go into the kitchen where a small bowl of water, and a second of scrambled eggs awaits me, in my case on the floor where good dogs eat. I see Dennis take notice of the seating arrangements, and the fact that his plate is set at the other end of the table, the naked and serving Tracy seated in "my" seat, closest to the stove and the food. I guess this makes sense, she's playing my part here. Still, Tracy had set the table, so I assume this was the message she wished to send, or perhaps the message Dana wanted to send through her efforts.
Poor Dennis for his part has two nearly naked women very physically close to him, and a third more dressed one sitting opposite him that good manners demand he pay attention to. I see the struggle, and I'm sure my friends do too.
We're like an odd little family unit seated like this, I'm the lowest on the proverbial food chain, the pet dog, Dana is the "mother" or wife figure, Dennis the "father" or husband figure, and Tracy the humble maid, there to do everybody's bidding. My mind crunches this over as I eat as carefully as possible, listening to the three humans talk, Dana suggesting that they all ride together in Dennis' truck, as opposed to taking two cars as was apparently originally planned. I know about how "show stock" is supposed to arrive at the show, but I sort of assumed that I'd be given human clothes and be riding back "home" again on the actual seats of one of the two vehicles. Listening in I learn that this was actually Tracy's suggestion, and since the show-dog was already a dog for them, she'd hardly know the difference either way.
Talk about the law of unintended consequences; my screwing with Tracy in pretending to be their dog early to get out of my chores has blown up in my proverbial dog-face, and the only clue that I have that this is realized by anybody is when Dennis catches my eye with a smile of his own. Both girls will not only be turned out to feminine perfection, but they'll be sitting right next to "MY" Dennis and chatting him up the whole way, actually both ways!
I have the same decision to make that I've had to make before, be a miserable pooch, or the best show pooch that I can be. So willing myself to get "fully" into this experience again, I both try and fail to get myself "there" while not really knowing how exactly that transformation happened the first time. I'm to take a page out of Tracy and Dana's book though, "do it well and as quickly as possible, so as to get onto the other things that I might prefer." The girls will be there, as will Dennis, so in my mind I'm confident that it will all turn out well enough. I don't know if it will actually be fun, but for my part I'm going to try.
After breakfast Dana and Dennis once again team up, cleaning out my dog cage and removing the more human looking elements that constitute my very tiny and non-private bedroom; and I'm left with a few dog toys, the mattress, and a dog blanket. It occurs to me at some point that Dana is perhaps staying close to Dennis and helping so that Tracy doesn't have a reason to, perhaps Dana seeing the same brief interest in our friend that I thought I had seen. Anyway, when the pair are done Dana bids Tracy to help get the bulky cage into the back of Dennis' truck, and it's almost comical to watch the very naked Tracy stop dead in her tracks at the plane of the doorway, going actually outside in just her skin seemingly quite taboo to her. Dana sees this for what it is and tells her firmly to get over it, which she does, but studying her face she is super uncomfortable being exposed like this.
We're alone up here, Just Dennis and us, and the driveway is long and private too, so at first this surprises me. She wears bikinis that show just a bit less than this, but culturally being nude and outside laboring - or showing I suppose - is just not something proper young ladies do. Showing off your assets, bare and tan legs, with a well fitting dress and heels, perfectly acceptable; naked and outside where everybody can see everything, not so okay.
Anyway, once the cage is loaded Tracy scurries back inside like a frightened little rabbit, and I'm reminded of something Dennis had said to me about being comfortable in one's own skin, and how that was an advantage for me. I deep down think that most men would agree that Tracy in the buff was more something to look at over me, but this comfort thing is also a real thing, and perhaps something that I can play to my advantage. Men like something nice looking on their arm, a trophee of sorts to show off, even teenagers like this kind of thing, but men of the era also like something to come home to after a hard day's work, maybe with a kiss and a hot dinner, with something also hot for their later desert. Tracy was the voluptuous trophy, a playmate, where I was auditioning and practicing for the role of a one day wife; but who's?
I passively watch and get myself lost in thought, but I'm eventually interrupted by both girls' stunningly dressed perfection, these dresses are both classy and mature - not necessarily "look at me sexy" - and present both teens as something beyond their years special, which in some ways they are. In style, and certainly not inexpensive, I wonder when they had been bought, and where. Dennis stands up respectfully when they both descend the stairs, like royalty just entered the building, telling both with complete sincerity that they look stunning. They smile at the genuine compliment - flattery is obviously a useful tool to use on my friends - but the irony for me is that they're likely not doing this to turn other men's heads. I'm a naked and collared human dog, and in the company of handsome and casually dressed Dennis, and my two friends who are turned out like models, the pecking order couldn't be more clear.
In a way, this wasn't to be about showing me, but showing them!
I'm easily carried by Dennis and loaded into my transport cage - all while Dana walks beside him and holds onto my leash that she put on my collar herself - the cage door is locked closed, and the cage covered; only to then be strapped into the truck bed to stop the "load" from shifting about on the ride. There is an intentional gap in the cover to allow air to enter the cage; that end facing the cab of the truck and the open sliding window at the rear of the cab. I can see the three humans enter the truck while peeking through the gap, feel their weight as well move the truck slightly on its suspension, hear the heavy doors slam closed. Tracy is sitting next to Dennis, and Dana by the passenger door on the wide bench seat, I looking on with envy at the well turned out humans. I hear their words, the friendly banter between them, the green-eyed jealous monster within me left with no proper outlet. The only thing worse than either of the girls flirting with MY Dennis, is my having to watch and listen while it happened.
Their playful words as the truck slowly bounced down the long driveway sound like that of lovers, and then I remind myself that they once were, and in the strict definition of making love, fornicating, that Dennis and I have yet to complete that act. Once again the girls have gotten there first, and in this case tag teaming poor Dennis, using him like a tool for their own purposes. He claims not to have liked being used like that, but is this realistic for any young man with manly energy to spare, while offered such a tantalizing treat, times two?
The sounds of the truck's tires at speed on the main road mercifully drown out the conversations in the cab, the wind moving the cover over my cage erratically, actually drawing air in the front. My mind ponders this, and I'm grateful for the mental distraction, realizing that a vacuum forms between the back of the fifty mile per hour cab and the covered load in the box, namely me. I see the directional air movements with little arrows in my mind's eye, as if nothing can be hidden from this inquisitive and active mind of mine; but I also pull up my blanket to ward off the chill.
That blowing cover, and the tall sides of the pickup's bed rails, is all that prevents this from being a full on public show; on my way to a full on quasi-public human pet show. While stopped at a traffic light in town I'm very aware of a noisy idling big truck next to us, the driver in the high cab no doubt looking down and wondering what's inside the covered box; just like I've done myself with big trucks on the highway. Wouldn't he be surprised? I think to myself. Then through the gap in the cover I see this older man take notice of stunningly turned out Dana in the passenger seat, and the mysterious cargo in the covered box is likely instantly forgotten. I'm reminded of the circus coming to our town once as a child, and the caged animals being paraded down Main street to excite the whole town into coming to the "big show." I'm ironically enough once again going to the "big show," although this time as one of the caged animals…