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“Nineteen!”
“Eighteen!”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Hunter!” Eric hollers, tossing his cards on the table. Around him, the others follow suit, throwing their hands down and shouting in anger. The party was in full swing, the penthouse packed with people laughing, chatting, and making out on the luxury furniture.
Vance, Eric’s cousin, stares at Hunter and shakes his head morbidly. “I’m going to kill you.”
“I’m out, guys.” Haley, a chick who still wears her Miu Miu shades indoors, sighs dramatically. She leans into Vance, who wraps an arm around her waist. “This stoner took all my money.”
Next to Eric, Benjie was busy losing his intoxicated shit. “Alright, Hunter!” He says, whooping and clapping wildly. Eric rolls his eyes and shifts away from the sloppy prick, grabbing a bottle of Laphroaig from the mini-fridge next to the couch.
Meanwhile, Hunter was sitting quietly in a drunk stupor, ignoring all the equally drunk people screaming profanities at him. “The house always wins…” He slurs, and god, Eric wants to strangle him so badly. Opting to drink his anger away instead, he takes a long swig of the scotch whiskey and sets it on the card table with a deep exhale. The bottle, heavy as it were, shook the table and managed to jostle a muffled, almost undiscernable whimper from inside.
All eyes land on the table, or more accurately, the box. It’s a stark, utilitarian construct, crudely assembled from thick sheets of steel, each panel haphazardly bolted together and lined with jagged edges. The box is 1.2 meters long and roughly 0.7 meters wide, just barely big enough to fit a curled up person, which happens to be exactly what it holds inside.
Benjie scoffs. He sets down his own bottle, lifts his boot and kicks the box hard. The sharp impact reverberates through the steel, ringing out like a gong and eliciting another bout of panicked cries from the inhabitant.
“Oh my god, those sounds are so effing cute.” Haley turns to Eric, grinning excitedly. “Do you keep it in there every night?”
Eric shakes his head as he reshuffles the cards. “It sleeps on the floor, the box is just punishment for vomiting on the carpet.”
Across him, Hunter leans back in his armchair, his eyes half-lidded. “Can’t you just call the cleaner for that?” He says, a lazy stream of smoke curling from his lips.
“Obviously, yeah.” Eric rolls his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck about the mess; it’s about teaching it a lesson. Isn’t that right, puppy?”
He raps his knuckles on the box, smirking when he hears more muffled sobs.
“Babe.” Haley gasps, turning back to Vance. “We have got to get a pet, like literally, it’s so trendy these days.”
Vance chuckles. “I don’t know… aren’t they kinda costly?”
“Depends where you get ‘em.” Eric says, setting the shuffled cards back on the table. “I managed to snag this one at an underground auction for two grand.”
“Two grand?” Benjie exclaims from his spot on the floor. “Man, the cheapest I’ve seen those pet-trafficking snobs sell them for is like 5 grand, tops. Is it really ugly or something?”
Eric leans forward and grins. “You wanna see for yourself?”
The group clamors their assent, having lost interest in blackjack. Eric stands up to retrieve the keys before unlocking the box and cracking the lid up. Metal squeals against metal as the box opens, revealing the shivering figure inside.
She was still curled in the same cramped position Eric had trussed her up in, with her arms cuffed behind her back and her knees folded to her chest. It was the only way she could fit, after all. Her brown hair is matted with sweat, her matching dog ears flattened against her head and her frayed tail twitching nervously between her legs. A leather muzzle was strapped over her head, the bulge in her mouth suggesting that something was stuffed inside. With her forehead pressing against the side, the pet could barely move, blinking tearfully at the crowd of onlookers as her fluttering eyes adjust to the sudden brightness.
Eric kneels next to the box. “Just checking in, puppy.” He says softly, reaching down to caress her face. She flinches weakly under his touch, swallowing through the muzzle.
Haley squeals with delight, pressing closer to get a better look. “My gods, it is so adorable! I just want to eat it up!”
“Look at the bitch.” Benjie cackles. “It’s shaking like a leaf.” And indeed she was. The entire box is vibrating from her trembling, her tight confinement seemingly trapping the pet in a constant state of claustrophobic distress.
A strange, sadistic thrill settles in Eric’s bones as he watches his friends crowd around the pet like a pack of wolves. He lets his fingers glide down to hold her chin, pulling another flinch from her. She whimpers and slowly meets his gaze, tears streaming down over the muzzle.
“Do you want out, Wren?” He asks.
The pet sobs hysterically, nodding the best she can in his grasp. Pathetic. If they were alone, he’d make her beg a lot harder - bully and smack her around until she was a blubbering, sobbing mess. But tonight isn’t about him: His friends want entertainment. So it’ll have to do.
Eric drops her head and stands. He places his right foot on the box, and promptly tips it over.
Wren spills out onto the floor, gasping in pain as she hits the ground with no way to break her fall. She was hyperventilating like crazy, a nervous curled up ball of hysteria and exhaustion from being locked in that box for hours. Despite the cuffs, she immediately scrambles into a kneeling position, desperately pushing herself up by the shoulders with what little strength she has left. Eric sighs.
“Stop trying to be good, Wren. You’ve had your chance.” And with that, he steps on her head, pressing her face into the floor and earning a few chuckles from the small crowd. The pet sobs brokenly, squeezing her eyes shut. A dude in a Houston Hurricanes jersey pulls out his phone and starts recording her face.
Eric looks around the room. “Anyone wanna take it for a spin?”
Vance raises an eyebrow. “You mean… fuck it? Right now? In front of everyone?”
Eric rolls his eyes. Of course Vance tries to twist a sarcastic comment into a spectacle. Eric mostly said it just to scare the stupid bitch, but he isn’t too surprised when Benjie chimes in, already grinning like a fool. “Hunter wants to!” He declares, pointing at the half-lidded figure slouched in the arm-chair.
Hunter, who had been blinking slowly in an alcohol-and-weed haze, raises his head with a puzzled frown. “I-I do?”
“Yup.” Benjie confirms, his grin widening. “You said so earlier. You were like: oh Benjie, Eric’s dog-girl is so hot, I just want to stick my dick in her mouth! By the way, you’re really handsome! He cries out in a falsetto voice with Hunter’s vaguely Australian accent, fluttering his eyelashes. The room bursts into laughter, and nobody notices Wren flinching at the sound, curling into a terrified ball.
“Wow, Hunter.” A redhead with a Smitty’s Soda Drinking Hat snickers. “I didn’t know you had a thing for dog-girls.”
“You must have really low standards.” Eric teases, whilst absent-mindedly grinding his foot on the whimpering, shivering bitch’s head.
Hunter furrows his brow and sits upright, his confusion mounting. “I don’t… I didn’t say that.” He mumbles, struggling to piece together the situation.
“Aww, don’t be embarrased!” Haley giggles, nudging him. “Don’t worry, Hunter. This is a judgement-free zone.”
“I’m not embarrased.” Hunter frowns a little harder, seemingly sobered from irritation. “Just… don’t put words into my mouth, man. Not cool.”
Benjie wipes tears from his eyes, still laughing. “Relax, dude. We get it, you’re playing hard to get.”
Eric chuckles under his breath. Watching Hunter try to navigate their drunken banter and incessant teasing with half his brain fogged up is fucking hilarious. Better entertainment than that ridiculous blackjack game, by far.
“Alright, alright.” Benjie chugs down the rest of his beer, before getting to his feet. “Here, I’ll get it ready for ya.”
He surges forward towards Wren and, as Eric stepped off her, he begins to pull the pet towards him by the legs, grinning down at her voraciously. This sends the pet into another panicked frenzy. “Mm-mhh! Uhnng…” She whimpers feverishly, curling in on herself.
“Aww, look at it struggling. You gonna let that slide, Eric?” Haley elbows him playfully.
“Like hell I am.” Eric rears his boot back and punts the side of her ribs, cutting off her muffled pleas as she yelps, another splotch of discolored purple added onto the collage of bruises on her body.
The pet sobs pitifully as Benjie jerks her tail up to admire her bare ass. “Fuck, I’m so glad I went to this party instead of my grandfather’s funeral. Hunter, get over here. We all know you want that BJ.”
Reluctantly, Hunter tucks the joint between his lips and ambles his way over. He begins unbuckling the muzzle while Vance stands beside him, watching the pet disdainfully like she’s a modern art piece his friends understand but he doesn’t. The pet convulses and chokes as Hunter pries the muzzle off, revealing a silicone dick-shaped protrusion attached to the gag. The onlookers hoot and cackle at the sight of it.
“Damn, I forgot I gagged it with that.” Eric remarks, taking another swig of whiskey.
“Now how is Hunter supposed to follow that up?” Another guest with bleached hair and black lipstick chimes in, illiciting a few extra snickers.
The pet coughs violently, a string of salivia following the gag. Her entire frame shakes with her sobs, her tears soaking into the carpet, her little sniffles and whimpers drawing a grin from every sadistic guest in the room.
Hunter leans in and grabs the pet’s chin with one hand, forcing her trembling face upwards. She flinches and starts to huff panickedly, but doesn’t fight back. Her lips tremble, jaw lined with angry red indentations from the muzzle. Hunter takes a long drag from the joint and exhales a cloud of smoke into the pet’s teary eyes, making her cough and shake in his grasp.
“It won’t bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Eric calls out, amused.
“It’s kind of pretty.” Hunter murmurs, tilting his head and rubbing his thumb over the pet’s cheek. “Kind of like that tooth fairy from Rise Of The Guardians, y’know?”
Vance groans loudly. “Jesus, shut up, Hunter. It’s a fucking half-breed. It looks fuckable.”
Hunter shrugs, tucking the joint back into his lips. “Fuckable and pretty.” He releases her chin and stands, stretching. The pet collapses immediately, her face hitting the ground with a thud and a whimper. “Anyways, I’m not whipping my dick out in front of you guys. Sorry.”
“Thank god!” Eric laughs.
“Ugh, dude! You are such a killjoy.” Benjie flops onto the couch, arms crossed like a toddler who was denied ice-cream.
Vance gives him a side-eye. “Do you just want to see his dick?”
Benjie scoffs. “I’m just joking, dawg. Plus, I’ve already seen- I mean.” He coughs awkwardly. “S-so can the pet do anything else, Eric? Like… tricks and stuff?”
He grins. “Hell yeah it can. Watch this.” He turns to face the pet and clears his throat. “Wren, roll over.”
The pet scurries to obey, pushing against the ground to roll herself over. It should be difficult given her hands are behind her back and her ankles tied to her thighs, but it was clear that she had a lot of practice. Now her belly is facing the ceiling, the shaky rise and fall of her chest accentuating her naked breasts, bare skin slick with sweat and flushed from humiliation.
“Legs apart, puppy. Flat against the ground.”
With great difficulty, the pet managed to pull her trembling legs apart, exposing her pussy to the crowd. It was met with the classic oohs and aahs, though more sadistically charged. “How is it wet? Does it get off on this?” One of Eric’s old classmates points out.
“Absolutely.” Eric takes another sip of whiskey. “This bitch gets wet at everything. It’s honestly kind of pathetic. I could pretty much just show it a blurry stock photo of a random cock, and then bam- it’s fucking horny.”
“It’s all in the biology, man.” A wiry guy with glasses says. “Their bodies just have this innate desire to be fucked 24/7, hence why they’re always ready. And they have what- four heat cycles a year? These hybrids are practically engineered to be whores. Born to be fucked, and fucked hard.”
Vance snorts. “As if anyone would want to fuck that mangy, dirty thing. Look at those scars.”
Benjie chuckles, swirling the drink in his hand. “Dude, you gotta admit though, it’s got that look. Like an actual dog, desperate to please. It’s kind of cute.”
The same wiry guy perks up at that. “Oh, studies have actually been done on that behaviour. It's something about the way their genes are structured, they’ve got these hyper-sensitive pleasure responses tied to obedience. Their brains literally reward them for following orders—like, flood-of-endorphins levels of reward. Disobedience, on the other hand? Triggers stress so intense it’s basically self-inflicted torture. And with that pack mentality—”
“Okay, so all of them have a praise kink?” Haley interrupts, much to everyone’s relief. “That is literally so cute. Hang on guys, I wanna try.” She holds a palm out over the splayed out pet. “Sit up!”
The pet shifts back onto her belly, wincing as her cuts and bruises rub against the floor. As she finally manages to wriggle into a sitting position on her knees, she keeps her gaze downcast, dog ears drooped timidly. With her hands cuffed behind her back, her chest is forced outwards, exposing her even more.
“Aww, it’s like a newborn deer!” Haley coos, now ruffling Wren’s head. “Good girl!”
The pet whimpers and gently nuzzles into her hand, as if afraid to push it too far away.
“Aww, you like that?” Haley starts scratching the back of the pet’s ears, leaning in and making kissy-lips. “You like being good for us?”
The pet nods shakily, still crying and sniffling, though her tail twitches into a weak wag.
Hunter scratches his head. “Wait, if they like being obedient, then why do they cry so much?”
Haley shrugs, looking up at him. “Maybe some of them just haven’t accepted it yet.” She turns back to Wren, grinning like a child playing with her new toy. “Okay, now bark!”
The pet’s lips begin to tremble. She lowers her head and squeezes her eyes shut.
“W-woof!” She barks, voice cracking with the effort.
“Wait, that was actually good!” Haley exclaims. “It sounds like an actual dog!”
Eric laughs. “Oh, that's because it has a lot of practice. I get it to bark everytime it cums.”
Benjie leans forward. “Speaking of that, how’s the fucking like?”
“Well… it’s alright, I guess. The pet’s inexperienced as fuck, but then again, you can do basically whatever you want with it. Sometimes when I’m tired, I order it to play dead so I can fuck it without having to hear it whine.”
“Really? It can contain its voice?” Benjie flicks a glance down at the pet, surprised. “Most of these half-breeds freaking howl when they’re getting fucked.”
“Ehh. Sometimes, it lets a moan slip.”
Vance rolls his eyes. “Ugh, can we be done with the fucking pet? I wanna play more cards.”
“Don’t let Hunter be the banker anymore!” Benjie yells.
“Alright, alright.” Eric stands, walking towards Wren, who flinches violently. “Help me get it back into the box, then.”
Wren looks up at him, horrified. Eric and Benjie move towards her and lift her by the arms, before dragging her back over to the box. The pet is too exhausted, too physically weak to do anything but be manhandled, even as her hysteria sends her into a fit of panic.
“P-please! Please, w-wait, no, no, no…” Wren whispers to Eric, her voice breaking. “N-not the box, please…”
Eric scowls down at her. “Dogs don’t fucking talk.”
He shoves the dildo-gag back into her mouth, rendering all her attempts at begging into garbled, pitiful noises of choking and crying. The two men wrestle the pet back into the box, forcibly folding her body more and more into that tight squeeze until she’s practically screaming from the pain, before slamming the lid shut.
The party music blasts from the stereo, drowning out her muffled cries. What a long night.