Chapter Text
The days were bleak.
Your mind was going soft. You didn’t know how long you’d been at this place, wherever it was. Weeks? Months? Time blurred together. You never had any reprieve from the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, no indicators at all of the time of day. Caretakers patrolled the hallways between the cells round the clock, fed and watered the inhabitants at random intervals, bathed and cared for injuries when they happened.
You had your favorites in the beginning. The caretaker with bright, friendly eyes. The caretaker with a long, blonde braid. But eventually, even the brief joy of being stroked or spoken to by these kind people died away. The anticipation of being fed lost its appeal. The adrenaline of throwing yourself against the bars to hurt yourself, just to be stitched back up and left to shiver on the concrete floors wasn’t as tempting. You no longer felt much, and more than that, you no longer wanted to feel.
You wished they would finally come for you. It had been a threat all your life. Your first owner, the one who’d paid top dollar for you, had threatened you with it every time you’d broken a house rule, or talked back to him. You’d been so naive then. And then when you were given to your second owner, changed hands recklessly from one tyrant to another, the dire circumstances of your existence were thrown into sharp relief. Your life at his hands became so much more torturous, that it made you long for the days when your first owner would merely verbally berate you.
Verbal blows hurt so much less than physical ones.
And now, you were here. In this place that bad, unwanted pets went. In this place where you could either hope and beg and plead to be given a final chance among the meager attendees who might want to pluck your sorry self from these miserable conditions, or be taken to the back room.
You didn’t know exactly what went on in the back room. But you knew the outcome of being taken there. Pets went in, and never came out.
It was all very baffling to you; hybrids were so difficult and expensive to make, you’d been told, and even more difficult to train. Human animal hybrids with the characteristics of perfect companions, raised from birth with one singular desire: to grow into your future master’s cherished, useful pet. If it was so hard to make and keep and train you...then why did it seem like humans always treated you so recklessly? Why was death a constant threat? Did they not make you the way you were? Were they not happy with the companion they had commanded you to be?
You couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. It was clear to you now that despite your best efforts to be loved and cared for by your previous two masters, there was something about you that prevented it. You knew there were some masters who loved and protected their pets dutifully. But something about you made Masters turn cold. Something about you made them grow to hate you. Something about you made your last master, despite paying thousands of dollars to purchase you, mistreat you so badly that he couldn’t even give you away at the end, and you had to be abandoned, here. In this place with all the other pets who had something wrong with them.
What was wrong with you?
You kept yourself awake night after night, wondering what it was that made you unlovable. Was it your looks? You’d been selected from your litter especially for your beautiful appearance; well balanced face, gorgeous hair, an appeasing figure, bright, intelligent eyes. Your hybrid features were sought after; cat girls were revealed among hybrid pets for both looks and personality. You’d seen the ads, heard the word of mouth; cat hybrids were perfect companions, just enough personality not to be mindless little drones, to remind you that it was someone in there, choosing to love their masters. Trained to be housekeepers, nannies, cooks, gardeners, bedwarmers. The total package. Better than dog hybrids, who love you unconditionally, but there was no excitement in that. If a dog hybrid loved you, you could never be sure if it was their genetic programming or their choice. If a cat hybrid loved you, it was because they loved you.
Did you not love your masters enough? You’d loved your first master sincerely. He was loving in the beginning. Always stroking you, telling you how pretty you were, complimenting your efforts around the home. He seemed to really care for you, until money grew tight after he’d been laid off. Food came in smaller and smaller portions, snuggles were fewer and farther between. Rules became more harsh, punishments more severe. It became hard to love him, when all he would do was berate you. And when money had become too tight, he’d sold you second hand. One day, you were tersely trying to decipher his mood, and the next, you were being dragged to an unknown man’s car, and roughly shoved inside.
You’d never been in a car for so long.
You’d really tried to love your second master. You’d tried so hard. From the first moment you stepped foot in his house, though, it was difficult. His hypercritical attitude towards your work around the house made you jumpy, and unsure of yourself, which caused more and more mistakes. And when the physical punishments started, you found yourself looking to your master not with love, or hope, or mercy, but with only fear. He knew it too. He wanted you to love him through the abuse, but it was impossible. By the time he abandoned you, you were hardly performing at standard.
You sat huddled at the back of your cell in one of the scant shadows, a brief reprieve you had to retreat to from the fluorescent lights. All you could do now was contemplate how far you were from standard. “Standard” was the base all hybrids had to reach, before graduation when they came of age. It was different for different hybrids; dog hybrids either had to reach companionship standard, or working standard, depending on their breed. A border collie hybrid, for instance, had standards of strength and endurance they had to reach, while a poodle hybrid had standards based on affection, personability, loyalty, and intelligence. Cat hybrids all had to meet the same standard, which consisted of household duties, appearance, and ‘advanced companionship’, a skill that wasn’t taught UNTIL the hybrid was of age. It was the reason cat hybrids were much more expensive than dog hybrids, who were not taught this skill explicitly, and why all cat hybrids were a year older than dogs when they graduated.
You were not up to any of your standards anymore. Housekeeping probably fared the best, there was only so many ways to do dishes or cook, you were sure you hadn’t lost much skill in that regard. But looks...well, you didn’t have a mirror and didn’t know what you looked like, but you knew your body was a little worse for wear. You had visible marks and scars still, and worst of all, your ear was nicked. All hybrids got a nicked ear when they came to this place, to show that they were not fresh from the academy. It was insurance, you’d been told. If you were taken out of this place and acted up in public, it wouldn’t be a disgrace to the academy. Everyone would know you were subpar. And your bed warming skills were- …..well. You didn’t even think you’d need those anymore. You were sure your days to be cherished at the loving hands of an amourous master were over now.
You were sure you’d never have another master again. Hardly anyone ever left this place with a new master, you’d seen maybe two lucky pets since you’d arrived, and that was some time ago. Most left through the back door.
Days and weeks and months bled together. Every day the same as the last. Sometimes you would sleep, and wake with food in your cell, sometimes nothing. You were never hungry for long, but the longer you remained, the more numb you became to feelings of cold and hunger and boredom. As far as you knew, it was now just a countdown to the day they would finally put you to sleep.
Maybe that’s what you deserved. Clearly, there was something wrong with you. Something the academy had missed. Something fundamentally unlovable. Who would ever want a pet like you?
-X-
The cell directly across from you was now empty. You and the lab hybrid in it would sometimes exchange silent glances with each other, though she mostly didn’t look at you much. She seemed to spend her time at the bars, wagging her tail, jumping up and reaching her arms through the bars to grasp at the hands of potential new masters, smiling brightly and asking to be pet. She was cute, she was friendly, and she seemed to care so much about being the perfect dog. And yet now, her cell was empty. And it hadn’t been a master who had come to take her out. It had been the caretaker, to take her on her last walk.
She was gone now, and the prison you occupied seemed smaller, and more silent with her gone.
You didn’t bother getting up and moving towards the bars when potential masters came through. What was the point? They wouldn’t choose you. You didn’t even want them to. Most had the same look in their eye as your second master. You’d rather rot in your cell than be mistreated like he had mistreated you.
And yet, when you heard the familiar jangle of keys as the door at the end of the hallway was unlocked, and the familiar chipper tone of the caretaker, your ears pricked up. The footfalls of the caretaker were short and snappy, and the footfalls of the master they guided through the row of cells were...heavier. Slower. More impactful. It almost made you jump.
“What kind of hybrid are you looking for?” The caretaker asked, still farther down the hall. “Right now we have mostly working types, though our companion types are towards the end of the hallway.”
“I’m specifically looking for a cat hybrid,” the voice of the master said, strangely soft for how loud his footsteps were. “Preferably a darker furred one; my friend wears mostly black, it might be troublesome if I got him a white haired cat.”
Your tail and ears were darker furred.
“How generous, to get your friend a hybrid! What a fantastic surprise that will be!” The caretaker showed the master a few of the other cats in the ward, you could hear their pitches to him; saccharine pleas to get them out of this place. You didn’t know what any of them looked like, but all hybrids were beautiful creatures, you knew, so they must have been pretty, or handsome. You could even hear some of them purr loudly when the master asked them a question or two. How long had it been since you had purred?
“Any so far pique your interest?”
“...They’re lovely, but I think a lot of them might be...not a good fit for my friend’s household.”
“What sort of household? We have some more independent hybrids as well.”
“He works often, so probably a cat who can keep themselves occupied on their own for a while would be best.”
“I have just the cat!” You heard this exchange, but didn’t shift from where you sat in the back, shadowed corner of your cell. Your hunch was right, the caretaker strolled right past your cell without even indicating to the new master that you were in it. You weren’t even going to look at him as he passed by...except that as he walked past your cell bars, he blotted out the fluorescent light cast upon you for a moment, he was so tall.
What an odd looking man.
Tall, spindly, all arms and legs, hunched, and raggedy looking. He looked like he’d been put through a cheese grater he was so ragged looking, and he moved slowly, methodically. His eyes were shadowed they were so sunken, and you wondered if this man was sick. The caretaker sped past your cell, and you expected the master to not even notice there was someone in yours. But he halted, and slowly, turned his heavily lined face to peer into your cage.
“A shy one,” he remarked, watching your bright eyes blink slowly in the shade of the back of your cell. He could hardly see you, save for the slight drumming of your longfurred tail on the concrete ground. He turned his body towards you as the caretaker returned to your line of sight, with a slightly disgruntled look on his face.
“She’s slated for destruction next week, she’s….unfriendly.” The caretaker remarked casually, as if he wasn’t talking about the euthanasia of a living creature simply because you weren’t throwing yourself at the bars to be subjected to a cruel masters gaze anymore. You had guessed as much, you’d been here so long, you knew you weren’t long for the world anymore, and in any other instance, you would have been grateful to hear it.
...but old habits die hard. To be described as unfriendly, in front of a master? You were hardwired to please. You felt embarrassed, and your face glowed with shame at being described that way towards someone you were engineered to impress. And so, you did something you hadn’t done in months.
You spoke.
“I’m not unfriendly,” you said, your voice hoarse from disuse. The caretaker was shocked to hear you utter a single word, but the master just stared, his expression neutral. You cleared your throat slightly, and spoke again, though you didn’t approach them. “I’m not unfriendly. But I’m a poor companion.”
“What makes you say that?” The master asked, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Something about the way he spoke made you feel more comfortable telling him the truth; or maybe it was because you knew it didn’t matter. You would be killed soon anyway. May as well spill the beans now.
“I’ve had two masters, and neither liked me enough to keep me. I couldn’t please them. I don’t know why.” Your ears flicked, and you looked to your bare feet, pulling your knees to your chest.
“You’re not doing a good job selling yourself,” the master said, a light chuckle on his voice, and your tail lashed slightly, but you calmed yourself. He was right. You weren’t. But you didn’t expect to be chosen by him anyway. So why lie?
“You won’t choose me anyway. You said you’re looking for a gift for a friend?” You replied, shrugging. You blinked at him owlishly in the shade. “I would be a poor gift.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t work around his house?” He asked, which was met with a swift shake of your head. “Then are you saying you would make his life purposefully difficult?”
“No. I have never tried to be bad at my duties. I’ve always tried my hardest to be good. But no master has ever loved me. I must have done it all wrong, if they couldn’t love me. I don’t even know what it was I did wrong.” You let out a short sigh, leaning your head back against the wall.
“My friend appreciates those who try their hardest,” the master said, glancing at the placard on your cell that bore your information; name, age, which academy you graduated with, reasons for abandonment. The last one caught his attention. “Your last master stated you were not up to academy appearance standards, is this true?” He glanced at the caretaker, who shrugged.
“She’s striking, like the rest of them. If not a bit unkempt. She’s longfurred, so she’s got that going for her, but she’s got some marks from her previous owners.” Your broom like tail swished against the ground as they spoke, and then a hand came through the bars, beckoning you closer. “Come here, [YN]. Let him get a look at your scars.”
The way you stood belayed your lack of eagerness to be assessed. But you dragged your feet forward, arms crossed as you stepped into the light. There, the caretaker had you spin slowly, and pointed out your marks one by one, at least the ones left visible. You, like every other hybrid in this place, wore the same boxy, sleeveless, plain grey shift dress that reached above the knee. The simplest shape to sew en masse, you supposed. You felt worse than naked though, standing there in these men’s gaze, being once-overd like a cut of meat. You hated it.
“My my,” the master sighed, and you were just about to retreat to the back of your cell again, sure they were about to move on, when he long-fingered hand came through the bars, and slowly stroked your head. His hand was so large, it pressed both of your ears down as he stroked through your hair, and the contact was so sudden, so unexpected, your tail fuzzed out in shock, and you flinched away. The caretaker beside the master just scoffed.
“She’s no good,” he assured the master, urging him to move on from you, but the master seemed undaunted. He just held his hand out, palm up, beckoning you back towards him. Slowly, cautiously….you stepped closer, and then closer still. His hand gingerly took your chin in his grasp, as his large thumb stroked along your jawline, caressing your face hesitantly. You hadn’t been stroked like this in so long, and despite your better judgment...a small, muted purr rumbled from your chest.
“You haven’t been treated kindly in a long time, have you?” He asked softly. You didn’t even know how to answer that. “Would you like to be?”
“...Your friend would treat me kindly?” You asked quietly, voice rumbling with your purrs, which slowly grew louder. The master just smiled at you through the bars, his deeply shadowed eyes twinkling.
-X-
The car ride away from the facility, the ‘shelter’ as the tall master had called it, was pleasant. He helped you into the seat, buckled you in. He drove slowly, carefully, and you enjoyed the leisurely pace. The longer you rode for, the longer you could watch the world pass by out of the window.
The tall master, Mr. Toshinori (he told you to call him Yagi but of course you would not do that) seemed to be pleased with the way you silently watched out the window. He had music playing on low, the car was warm in the chill of autumn, and you sat still. No need to fidget. You’d sat silently as he’d filled out paperwork, and watched quietly as money exchanged hands. Significantly less money than the first two times you had been purchased. And you’d hadn’t said a word as he’d picked out a collar for you, and attached your name tag, and affixed it around your neck.
The weight of the collar was familiar. Comforting. A collared pet was a loved pet, or so you’d always been told. A collared pet was a good pet. And you wanted to be good.
This was your last hallelujah. Your final saving grace. You’d been granted this one last Hail Mary, and as you sat perfectly in this car, making no noise, not moving a muscle save for your eyes, you knew you could not screw this up. This was your last chance.
Your hope flared in your chest dimly for the first time in years. A brand new start. A fresh slate. A master who had almost no idea of your past transgressions. A master who Mr. Toshinori said was a patient, kind man. A master that maybe….just MAYBE, this time you would not displease. For the first time in years, you felt almost like yourself again. Almost like the same, happy, friendly, joyful pet who had graduated from the academy, so eager and willing to be of use to her master. You wanted to be her again, and you’d resigned yourself to believing that you never would be. You’d been at the precipice of destruction, and you were given another chance to be useful. To be loved.
You absolutely could not mess this up.
You sat quietly, though you wanted to ask Mr. Toshinori so many questions. What was your new master’s name? What were his favorite things? Music, colors, foods, smells? What kind of house did he have? Was he married? Any kids? How did he like his tea and coffee? Did he like savory foods, or sweet? You wanted to know everything about him, so that you could do the best job possible serving him. But he was driving, and you were a pet. Pets were best seen, and not heard. No one liked a noisy pet, after all. So you sat, and waited to be spoken to first. But Mr. Toshinori was a quiet man, and was happy to sit in near silence as he drove along. So you didn’t get the chance to ask your questions.
The drive didn’t last forever. Eventually, the car pulled into the parking garage of an apartment building, and Mr. Toshinori rolled the window down to speak to the garage attendant.
“Guests of Shouta Aizawa,” he told the woman, who let the car through to park. Shouta Aizawa, was that the name of your new master? Mr. Aizawa. Aizawa, Sir. Master Shouta. Any of these sounded good to you, and as the car was turned off, you undid your seatbelt, and waited to be let out. Your whole body was buzzing with nervousness. You were about to meet the arbiter of the rest of your life. What would he be like? Would he be happy to see you? ….or disappointed?
Suddenly, you felt very self conscious of the way you looked. Your hair, once voluminous and shiny, was dull and flat from months of sub par nutrition and care. Your skin was sallow and pasty from lack of sunlight. The fur on your tail and ears was dull and brittle. And you were still wearing the boxy stock dress from the facility. Was this how you were going to greet your new master!?
“Heyyy!” A voice boomed through the garage, making you startle and your tail fluff out, but Mr. Toshinori just turned to the voice and waved, smiling. A man was walking towards the two of you from his own car, a dry cleaning bag in hand. He was blonde, his long, pin straight hair braided over his shoulder, and he wore sunglasses despite the low light of the garage. He sported a little blonde mustache, and wore casual clothes, save for the ostentatious leather jacket.
Was this flamboyantly dressed man your new master?
“Hizashi,” Mr. Toshinori greeted him, clapping him on the back as he approached. The blond, Hizashi grinned as he approached you directly, bending slightly to peer into your face. Your whiskers trembled with shock at how brazen he was, but you tried not to flinch back. “Careful, it’s been a long ride, don’t spook her.”
“Can’t believe you actually went and did it!” Hizashi laughed, handing the taller man the dry cleaning bag.
“If you can’t believe it, why did you pick up the costume?” Toshinori asked, chuckling.
“Well if you didn’t get a cat I was just gonna wear it,” he replied, shrugging casually, causing Toshinori to burst out laughing. You were beckoned to follow as the two men led you through the garage, towards an elevator, and you followed dutifully, remaining silent. They chatted on your way up to floor 8, not breaking their conversation about the ins and outs of adopting a pet when the elevator dinged loudly. They strode out of the lift and into the hallway, and you sped up to match their pace.
“So, you got a name? Or does Shouta get to name you?” You startled as you realized Hizashi was talking to you directly now, as Toshinori was turned to unlock a door, #829. You blinked a few times.
“Ah, my name is [YN], Sir,” you replied respectfully, adding a short bow. “….but my Master may call me whatever he wishes,” you added, pink tinging your cheeks. It wasn’t custom for masters to rename pets, as pets were named by their parents before they entered the academy. But if your new master was expecting to rename you, then you would let him. You wanted to make his first impression of you the best it could be. The door to the apartment was opened, and you lingered in the doorway as the two men entered first.
This was it. Time to meet your new master.
…Only, it wasn’t, because he wasn’t home. You looked around, surprised to see the spacious apartment empty. Toahinori had disappeared down the hallway to your left, while Hiashi flopped down on the couch, flicking the tv on. You closed the door quietly behind you, but remained by it, unsure of what you were expected to do. These weren’t your new master, but they seemed familiar with him. They had a key to his home. Maybe they were his roommates?
Should you wait on them as well?
You fretted by the door silently for a few moments, and then your bare feet pattered across the hardwood floors quietly, and you came to stand beside Hizashi, by the couch. You donned a perfect, pleasant smile, and bowed slightly again.
“May I bring you anything, Sir?” you asked, using the polite greeting for guests that you’d learned at the academy. You waited for the response, but Hizashi just stared at you, one eyebrow quirked. You tried not to squirm under his strange gaze, before nervously smoothing out your dress. “…Anything to eat or drink?” You prompted, glancing in the direction you thought the kitchen was in. You’d never been here before, but kitchens had food and water, of course. You could figure it out.
“Aha….no sweetheart, I’m good,” Hizashi laughed, amused by your immediate obedience.
“Of course,” you replied, taking a few steps back, folding your hands behind your back. He watched you for a moment more, before his attention was returned to the TV. You glanced around, wondering where Mr. Toshinori had gone to, before quietly making your way down the hall in search of him.
He was emerging from a room at the end of the hallway, and beyond the door You could hear running water. You smiled as he met your eyes when you approached.
“May I bring you anything, Mr. Toshinori?” You asked.
“What would you bring me?” He said, similarly bewildered but amused. He thought it was cute the way you stammered at that, your tail tip flicking slightly.
“Anything you like,” you said hurriedly, “as long as it’s in Master’s kitchen. Are you hungry? I can cook.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you,” he said, motioning towards the door with the running water. “I’m drawing you a bath, to clean you up. Feel free to soak as long as you like, Shouta won’t be home for a few hours.”
Ah, there you go! A timeframe. And Mr. Toshinori was giving you permission to clean up, which was generous of him. Thanking him, you were all too happy to retreat into the surprisingly spacious bathroom, slip out of the scratchy, boxy dress you wore, and slip into the warm water. The way you scrubbed at your skin made it seem like you were trying to take it off, but you simply wanted to scrub the memories of that PLACE off of you.
You would not go back. You would make sure you were a good, capable companion to Master Aizawa, whoever he was. You would make him love you this time.
This was your last chance.
Rinsing shampoo from your hair, you began twisting it into curls, plastering them to your head wet. You took a hand towel from the rack once your wet hair had all been twisted, and wrapped it around your head, typing it off at the nape of your neck. This was the easiest way to ensure curly hair, you’d been taught, and curly hair was the favorite of many men. Stepping out of the water, letting the water drain, you took a comb from the counter, and began brushing through the fur on your tail, taking out any tangles, before wrapping yourself in a towel. You picked up your grey dress, and headed to the sink. Scrubbing it with hand soap with the heels of your palms, you washed it and rinsed it as well as you could, and hung it up to dry on the shower bar.
There was a light knock at the door, and making sure your towel was wrapped securely around your torso, you opened the door to see Mr. Toshinori. He was pointedly turned away from you, covering his eyes with one hand, and in the other, he held out the dry cleaning bag Mr. Hizashi had brought.
“You can wear this now that you’re out of the bath,” he said, and waited for you to take it. Once you did, he hurriedly retreated down the hallway, as if he didn’t want to see you in your towel. That was considerate of him, you thought, towards Master Aizawa. After all, you were not his, and unless your master wanted others to see you in states of undress, they shouldn’t look, it’d be rude to Mr. Aizawa.
You closed the door again and hung the bag up on the shower bar, unzipping it. Inside was something that both made your heart flutter, and sink.
A maid outfit.
Nothing too ostentatious. Not overrun with frills, not oversexualized. It was cute, and simple, and very similar to the outfit you’d been given at graduation, before your first master had come to pick you up. A black Aline long sleeve, two button collar at the throat, white lace trim. A simple white apron, no frills. Tights, white socks, simple undergarments. It was tasteful.
As you slipped the clothing on, surprised by how well it fit, for the sizing being a guess, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your head was still tied up in a towel to dry your hair into curls, but otherwise…you looked very much like you had on that day.
“No mistakes,” you said quietly to yourself, tying the apron ties behind you. “No screw ups. Be good. Be perfect.” Nodding, you finished dressing, and stepped out, making your way back to the living room.
“Well, don’t you look pretty!” Hizashi spoke first, backing you to come sit beside him, which you obliged. He snickered at the towel wrapped around your head. “What’s this?”
“Waiting for my hair to dry, Sir” you said, to which both men chuckled. The TV was turned off, and Mr. Toshinori got to his feet.
“Fits good?” Hizashi asked, looking the dress over. “Looks good, better than it would have looked on me.”
“It fits well, thank you Sir,” you said respectfully. You barely even bristled as he brazenly reached out to stroke down your tail. He had clearly never been around a hybrid before, or else he wouldn’t have done that. But you tolerated the over-familiar touch. No need to become known as fussy. You would not be fussy. You would be perfect.
“We should head out,” Toshinori said, slipping his jacket on, and you watched as the two blonds began getting ready to depart. So this was it. You knew you had some time left before your new Master would be home, and you were grateful they would be giving you enough time to collect yourself privately before then. They both gave you a polite farewell, as you rushed to open the door for them.
“Thank you, Mr. Toshinori, for bringing me here,” you said before he left. “…I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of that place.”
“I know Shouta will love you,” he said back, stroking along your jawline like he did before, and your purr once again quietly rumbled from your chest. He smiled warmly at you before the door was shut, and you were left in silence in the empty apartment.
There was a clock on the wall making soft ticking sounds as you waited.
Soon enough, your hair was dry, and as you took it down, combing through it with your fingers, you arranged it in the mirror to your liking. While you were doing so, you regarded your reflection critically. You were still…..pretty, you thought, but looked tired. Would Master Aizawa like the way you looked? You hoped so. You wanted him to be pleased with you in every way, but you knew you didn’t look as beautiful as other pets. As you had looked when you were fresh out of the academy. You’d been so beautiful then….and you’d still been mistreated. And now you were not as beautiful.
“It just means I will have to try even harder in other ways,” you told yourself, returning to the living room. “No mistakes. Be perfect. Be Perfect.”
The hours ticked by, and you remained where you sat. It was not your place to snoop. You would remain where you were, silently waiting, until your master got home, and gave you an order. Your hands itched for something to do, your tail lashed back and forth, but you remained where you were. Patient. Pretty. Perfect.
Soon enough, you heard the tumbler in the lock turn. You heard the doorknob turn as you stood, fluffing out your dress. You heard him take his shoes off by the doorway as you smiled brightly, perking your ears up, swishing your tail gracefully behind you. And when he rounded the corner, your eyes sparkled hopefully.
“Welcome home, Master!” You greeted him softly, hands clasped in front of you, posture perfect. The man in front of you stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide, and mouth hanging open.
”What the fuck is this?”