| Status | complete |
| Tags | d/s, happily-ever-after, hurt-comfort, pet |
| Warnings | past-abuse, past-nc, trauma |
"Good Lord, it's really coming down out there."
Angie shakes water gently off her umbrella as she walks into her small shared office. She shrugs out of her rain jacket and hangs it carefully over the back of her chair, then sits down heavily, wondering whether it'd be unseemly to wring her wet hair out.
Leila, huge headphones clamped over her ears, looks up from her own laptop. When she sees it's Angie, her lips curve into a smile and she slips her headphones off to rest around her neck.
"Good news," she says, picking up a steaming mug and taking a sip. "Frontend blinked first, so we've got another eight weeks, and we didn't have to be the ones to ask for the delay."
Angie leans back. "Really?"
"Yup," Leila replies, grinning. "We're off the hook."
"Holy crap. I can't even... oh, man."
"Seriously."
Angie pulls her laptop out of her backpack, sets it on her desk, and logs in to catch up on exactly what happened. Leila pulls her headphones back up and resumes work, softly humming a song to herself. As Angie's starting to get to grips with her inbox, she sees Pierre, the third inhabitant of their office, entering.
Pierre's not soaking wet, so he obviously has already been in the office for a while - probably making the rounds to bother people for petting, if Angie knows him. Even though Angie's taste doesn't really run to men, she has to admit he's adorable, and when he makes his way over to her desk she ruffles his hair affectionately, drawing a pleased noise from him. Like most office pets, he's wearing a one-piece jumpsuit, durable and comfortable (and easy to clean, in case of any accidents), with his tags dangling from the ring of his collar. Angie scratches him under the chin, then gently shoos him towards his own desk.
He rubs his head against her leg, then takes his place in front of his laptop. He's the third member of the backend engineering team, and on top of being a dog-boy he's one of the most effective programmers Angie's ever met. It helps that Leila's his owner, too; nothing keeps a pet on task like the knowledge that their owner could look over at their screen at any point. His pet desk is much lower to the ground than hers is, so that he can sit comfortably on a cushion on the floor, with his water bowl close to hand as well. He settles in to work, pulling on headphones of his own, and the office settles into the quiet hum of people focusing.
Angie catches up on all the drama surrounding the slipped launch date. The built-up tension of the past few months gradually bleeds out of her body, leaving her feeling just... hollow. Once she empties her inbox, she stands up and makes eye contact with Leila. The other woman raises an eyebrow and Angie nods, so Leila silently gets up from her desk and follows Angie down to the crappy little coffee place in the lobby, leaving Pierre focused on his work.
"So that's a whole thing," Angie says, once they've both gotten their drinks and settled down at a table.
"Yeah. I think we're gonna... well, I'm not working late today, I'll say that much."
Angie smiles. "Fun plans?"
Leila returns the smile. "I'm gonna take him on a hike, then we might go to the dog park."
"God," Angie murmurs. "I can't handle those. It's way too cute."
"Oh, I know," Leila says. "Seeing him with the other pets is really special. A couple of weeks ago I told Travis we were heading out for a couple hours and took Pierre down there, and he and this other girl were running around like crazy both trying to chase the same ball. Cutest thing I've ever seen."
"Lucky," Angie says, looking down at the cream swirling in her coffee.
"Yeah," Leila says. There's a quiet moment, then she says: "You ever think of getting a - another pet, I mean?"
There's a familiar stab of pain. Even though it's been nearly two years, it's never quite healed right. "Yeah," Angie says. "Sometimes. I just... I don't know. I don't know if I'm up to it, and I don't know if she'd fit in the office with you and Pierre."
Leila gives Angie a pointed look. "You know we get three months of bonding time after a new adoption, right? And I bet if you still wanted to work from home after that, you could get Travis to agree. I mean, it's not like he'd be able to replace you if you left, so. You kinda have him by the... bits."
Angie giggles at Leila's turn of phrase. Her coworker's a fun combination of worldly, pragmatic, and strangely modest. She's exactly Angie's type, which is pretty unfortunate, since Leila is completely straight. So it goes sometimes. She sips her drink silently while she thinks. Maybe Leila's right, although the idea of finding a new pet is so daunting that it's tiring just to think about. Perhaps she should try finding another person to date instead. Decisions, decisions.
The rest of the workday flies by. Having their launch date pushed out instantly turns what was a gruesome death march towards shipping something mediocre into a luxurious (relatively, anyway) exercise in choosing which bug to work on next, and by the end of the day she, Leila, and Pierre have a solid plan for how they're going to use every extra day they've been given. As she bids her coworkers good evening and shoulders her backpack to leave, Angie's still thinking about her conversation with Leila.
She keeps thinking about it for the entire drive home. She could reactivate her Collr account, she supposes, but last she looked it was almost all unattached pets looking for short-term or casual things. There's nothing wrong with that, but she's looking to adopt. Where does one go to meet pets looking for that, anyway? She originally met Steph when they were at university together, but she's not at university any more, and she's pretty confident that none of her current coworkers are looking to suddenly become pets - although surprises are always possible, she supposes.
She preps herself a simple dinner, then sits down to do a bit of research.
Half an hour later, she has a few ideas. Apparently Collr does have a section for owners and pets looking for longer-term things, although one has to wade through a virtual army of spambots to find anything. There's also a couple of more selective pet-matching sites she can try out, and there's always the old reliable method of joining social groups and looking for women with collars but no tags.
There's also one thing she hadn't thought of, and now that she's read about it, she can't seem to get it out of her head. There are a couple of shelters, run by the city, for pets who've lost or run away from or otherwise been separated permanently from their owners. A lot of them need extra care, apparently, but in her research she's read stories from a few other owners about how fulfilling and rewarding adopting a shelter pet can be. Angie's not quite sure she's up to it, but something about the idea of it tugs at her heart. Eventually, her heart wins a narrow victory over her anxiety, and she resolves that she'll at least go and visit the nearest one and see what it's like. With that, she manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.
Angie can't believe she's actually doing this. She's standing just outside the front door of the shelter like an idiot, almost paralyzed. It all seemed straightforward yesterday, like she was ready and had moved on and could handle... meeting someone new, but now that she's here, all she can think of is that Steph's old collar is resting on the top shelf of her cupboard back in her apartment. She's just about to leave when an older woman sticks her head out of the front door.
"Do you need help with something?"
"Oh, um," Angie says. "I was - I'm thinking about adopting."
"Oh!", the woman says, perking up. "Well, come in and let's chat."
Angie follows her in, feeling numb, and the woman leads her into the lobby. It's simply furnished, and clearly well cared-for despite the furnishings being scratched and worn. A handful of dog toys are scattered around the room, and the woman lets out a soft sigh and bends to scoop them all up to return them to a box in the corner. She gestures for Angie to take one of the seats, then takes another facing it, and introduces herself as Grace. She gives Angie a thoughtful look, then:
"So you're looking to give a pet a long-term home?"
Angie nods. "Um, yeah."
"And I'm guessing, since you're here, that you're wanting a dog specifically? Have you ever had a dog before?"
"Yeah, I have. She. Um. She... died a couple of years back. I'd had her for a few years."
There's a moment of silence, then the woman says, softly, "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I can't even imagine."
Angie doesn't know what to say to that, because she's been through it and she still can't imagine it either, so she just nods.
"Well," Grace says. "I can take you to see our residents. Are you looking for a boy or a girl? Or is either okay?"
"Girl."
"Alright. Come with me, and I'll take you through the girl wing. We can see if you click with any of them. Do bear in mind that we won't actually adopt them out to you unless they accept you, too."
"Of course," Angie murmurs, following Grace through a pair of double doors further into the facility. The older woman leads her down a long hallway; rows of doors on either side open into small, cozy rooms, each housing a single dog-girl. The rooms seem snug to Angie - she'd be claustrophobic if she was in one of them, she thinks, but she supposes that dogs are generally comfortable in smaller spaces than people are. Through the windows in the doors, she can see that most of the girls seem like they're resting, although a couple are sniffing curiously around their spaces, chewing toys, or playing video games. As Grace leads the way slowly down the hallway, she introduces each dog-girl in turn, giving Angie a brief description of their history and personality. She keeps looking back at Angie, apparently waiting for some kind of sign from her, but Angie doesn't have any idea what it'd be.
Most of these dog-girls, she learns, were former pets who were released by their owners but who didn't want to be un-registered and go back to being people. They'll stay in the shelter for up to three months, at which point they'll have to choose between un-registering or being potentially re-homed to another longer-term shelter. They almost all look clean, well-kept, and healthy, but there's an inescapable aura of sadness in the air. Every one of them, Angie realizes, is here because there's something missing in their lives that they just can't live without, and they're almost trapped in stasis until the right person happens to find them. It's a lonely thought, and Angie's heart goes out to the girls, but none of them feel quite right to her.
They reach the end of the hallway, and Grace turns to her. "Any of them catch your eye?"
Angie shakes her head. "Not really."
"Alright, well," Grace says. "A couple more of them are out in the yard, so let's go see if one of them is a fit."
She leads Angie through another door, into a short hallway; at the far end, Angie can see sunlight spilling through the windows in another pair of double doors. There are also a couple more rooms in this little corridor, set apart from the others.
Angie peeks into one, curious; it looks just like the rooms in the other block, but it's empty. "Special rooms?"
Grace nods. "When we have, um... difficult cases, it's sometimes important to keep them separated from the others, or they'll agitate each other."
"Ah," Angie says. "I hope that doesn't happen too often?"
"Oh, no," Grace reassures. "Dog-girls are exceptionally social creatures, and it's nearly always better for them to be with others. We only have - ah, there she is."
She stops in front of the last room, just before the exit to the outside yard, and peeks in through the window in the door. Angie looks in as well. At first, the room looks empty, but after a moment she realizes that there's a huddled shape pressed as far into one corner of the room as possible. All Angie can see is a fan of dirty blonde hair and a couple of flashes of pale skin.
"Who is she?"
"That's Kate," Grace murmurs. "A... it's a long story, but she's had a very hard life."
Something about the dog-girl's posture, curled up into a ball and practically radiating tension, pulls at Angie.
"Can I meet her?"
Grace looks over at her, frowning. "Sure, but - well. Same ground rules as all the other girls. Any sign of discomfort from her - any, you back away and give her space. Don't push her boundaries. Got me?"
"Got you," Angie says, with a nod.
"Alright," Grace says, and opens the door. The girl - Kate - looks up immediately, brown eyes widening, and somehow curls into an even tighter ball.
"Hey, Kate," Grace says, pitching her voice low and slow. "Remember me? I'm Grace. This is Angie."
As she speaks, Grace gets down into a crouch, putting herself closer to the dog-girl's level; Angie follows her lead. She starts to take a step closer to Kate's corner, but Grace holds up a hand, and she stops where she is.
Kate eyes both women suspiciously. Angie can see her trembling slightly, her grip on her own knees so tight that her fingertips are whitening. Grace gets down further until she's sitting cross-legged and folds her hands in her lap, every line of her body conveying that she's not a threat. Angie imitates her as best she can, and simply sits in silence. A couple of tense minutes pass, and gradually the girl's shaking starts to subside. She lifts her head slightly, obviously scenting the air, then gives Angie a curious glance.
Angie reaches out with one hand, palm up, and she's rewarded by Kate gradually, painfully slowly, unfolding onto all fours. She's wearing the same one-piece suit most pets wear in public, but beneath it Angie can tell she's far too skinny, and she's holding one of her wrists awkwardly, like it's injured. Nonetheless, she gets onto all fours, wincing as she puts weight on her right wrist, and creeps a bit closer to Angie. Angie's heart warms as the girl gets slowly nearer, until she stops just out of touching range, clearly caught between fear and desire for touch. By an effort of will, Angie forces herself not to reach for her. Kate moves just a little further towards her, starting to tremble anew, then abruptly seems to lose her nerve and flees back to her corner.
Angie and Grace exchange a look, and Grace gestures back towards the door with her head. The visit's over, Angie supposes. She gets to her feet, and Grace leads her back out and shuts the door. Angie looks back through the window to see Kate in the corner once again, curled up - and looking straight at her, eyes still wide.
"Well that's surprising," Grace says. "She doesn't usually acknowledge anyone coming into her room at all. I've never seen her actually approach someone before."
Angie's heart skips a beat. "Really?"
Grace nods, giving Angie an appraising look. "Still want to see the yard?"
Angie looks back through the window at Kate. "No," she says slowly. "I. Um. No."
Grace's look of appraisal deepens. "Let's chat in my office," she says.
Once she and Angie are both comfortably seated, Grace leans back in her chair, mouth a hard line. "You think you might want to adopt Kate?"
"I - I don't know," Angie says.
"Well," Grace says. "I think you should think really hard about it before you decide anything. Like, really, really hard. Most of the girls we have have been through difficult things to get here, but Kate has... I mean, I can't even describe it. Just so that you have some idea, she was - was found, rescued by police during a raid on an illegal brothel. She was there for nearly seven years, before that. Seven years."
There's a ghastly silent moment. "Oh," Angie says, stomach churning with disgust. Of course she knows there are pets who are forced into sex work, but there's a difference between knowing that intellectually and actually being faced with one of the victims.
"I think I know how you're feeling," Grace goes on. "Your heart's hurting, and because you're a good person who sees a pet in pain, you have an overwhelming urge to make things better for her. You adopt her, take her home, fix her up all better with your love, happily ever after together. Am I right?"
It stings to have Grace summarize her feelings so laconically, but Angie nods. "I guess so."
Grace sighs. "You aren't the first. The thing is, it's really not that easy. It never is. She's been through hell, that girl, actual hell on earth, and she's got injuries and trauma and problems like you wouldn't even believe. She's been broken, broken over and over, and there's a very real possibility that she just can't be fixed. It's..."
Grace halts for a moment, collecting herself. When she goes on, her voice is thick with emotion. "We've had it happen a couple of times before, with other rescue pets. Well-meaning people take a rescue on, and then their problems turn out to be too much, and they... they return them. I'm not - that's not happening to her. Not her. She's been through too much to feel like she's finally found some goddamn scrap of safety and then lose it again. You understand me?"
Angie straightens her back. "I get it."
Grace stares at her, then picks up a notepad and slides it across her desk to Angie. "Put your name and date of birth here. I'm gonna pull your files from the Department of Pet Welfare. That'll take a couple of days, and while that's happening I want you to think, for real, about whether you're willing to commit to giving her a home. It will be hard, I promise you. I'll call you when the files come back and I've had a chance to read them, and if you still want her we'll chat again. Okay?"
Angie exhales. She feels strangely light, resolve hardening inside her. "Okay," she says, quietly.
Kate can't figure out what's going to happen to her this time.
It's been a few days, maybe a week, since the people came and took her away. There was a lot of shouting and angry voices, then they gave her something to make her sleep and she woke up... wherever this is. It isn't her first time being taken away from home, but every time it's happened in the past it was because she was a very, very bad dog and needed a special punishment. She hasn't been punished here yet, and the fear building in her gut as she waits to find out what it'll be when it does come is sickening.
Despite the roiling nausea, at least there's food in her bowl, so she tries to eat some of it. She never knows when she'll get another meal, and good dogs eat what they're given, so she chokes down a few mouthfuls before her stomach starts to cramp. She laps up as much water as she can handle to go with it; the water here tastes funny but it's clean and the bowl seems to refill on its own whenever it's empty. Once she's full, she curls up again on the bed she's been given, cradling her injured wrist against her chest.
Wherever she is, at least it's kind of comfortable. The previous times she'd been taken away from her kennel, she'd woken up in people's bedrooms, or basements, or other places - filthy, too cold or far too hot, stinking of fear and despair. This place is more... clinical. It's so quiet, and she hasn't encountered any other dogs yet. Every so often a person comes into her room, but so far none of them have even touched her. Sometimes some of them sit in her room as though they're waiting for something.
She shifts around, trying to find a way to lie that keeps her weight off all her injuries. She can't, so instead she gets to her hands and knees and goes to look out the window again. She's never been kept somewhere she could see the outside before. She could stare out the window for hours, just looking at the clouds slowly floating by and the trees gently waving their leaves in the wind. She loses herself watching a bird flying in lazy circles high above, wondering what it's looking for.
The sound of the door to her room opening jerks her out of her reverie, and she moves back to the corner with her bed as fast she can. Every time someone comes in, it could be the time they finally take her away for the punishment she's been dreading. She curls up into a protective ball. She knows it won't help at all, and that good dogs take their punishments so curling up like this is really just making things worse, but her body won't listen to her.
When she realizes that it's Grace, the woman who visits her most often, she relaxes just a fraction. Grace seems nice. When people seem nice, it's because they're planning to hurt her later, but Kate is a stupid enough dog that she seems to fall for it over and over. There's another person with Grace, too - another woman, small and slightly-built, with dark brown hair framing a pale face. She seems familiar, although Kate can't place her. Maybe she visited Kate in her kennel once? She usually doesn't remember people that visit, though.
She whimpers, wishing Master were here. He understands everything, and he'd show her exactly what she's supposed to do. He used to visit her often, nearly every day, and he'd make sure she had food and water in her bowls and sometimes even, if she was very very lucky and had been very very good, he would spend a few seconds petting her. Kate is almost never good enough for that, but the handful of times she has been are some of her most treasured memories. Usually, she's a bad dog, and Master corrects her and she tries her hardest to be better for him, but being good is very hard and she makes a lot of mistakes.
Since she got here, she hasn't seen Master even once. That makes sense, since he's probably back at her kennel; the confusing thing is that none of the people that have visited her seem to want anything to do with her either. Soon, she thinks, one of these people - maybe Grace - is going to explain just how bad Kate's been this time, and then the pain will start. That's how it always is, when she leaves her kennel. She feels a tiny flicker of anger, in some deeply buried part of herself which wishes they'd stop making her wait for it.
Instead of hurting her, Grace and the other woman sit down near the entrance to Kate's room. Kate tries to look at both of them without actually looking at their faces, since that more than just about anything else will guarantee a swift and painful correction. Grace looks calm and composed, but the other woman seems so nervous that she's nearly trembling herself. Despite her own fear, something about the woman's posture tugs at a deeply-rooted instinct in Kate, and she gradually, haltingly uncurls herself, trying to watch both the woman and Grace for any sign that they're angry with her.
She doesn't see any, so she gradually approaches the woman, trying to keep her weight off her right wrist. Master twisted it hard a couple of weeks ago, when she'd been a very bad dog, and it still hasn't stopped hurting. It's a good reminder for her, he said. She keeps her eyes on the woman's hands, ready to bolt, but the woman doesn't move at all. As she gets closer, something about the woman's smell clicks, and a faint memory surfaces. The woman didn't visit her in her kennel at all; she visited Kate here, in this room, yesterday or maybe the day before. She told Kate her name... what was it?
She stops just out of touching range of the woman, assessing her. From the corner of her eye she can see that Grace hasn't moved. The woman turns her right hand palm up in her own lap, then slowly extends it towards Kate, low to the ground. Kate feels herself tremble, and a bit more of the memory comes back. This is Angie. Grace introduced her a couple of days ago. She's the woman who... yes, she was sitting there just like this, and for the first time she can remember Kate felt a little pull of something towards her. That's what happened.
She stares at the outstretched hand, her own hands balling into fists on the padded floor. It's a trick. It's always a trick. The only person who ever pets her, really pets her, is Master. Everyone else who pretends they're going to is just trying to get her to come close, to let her guard down; the instant she does, the hand will grab her by the hair, by the jaw, by the collar and the hurting will start. It's always a trick.
Well, she's just a stupid dog. She always falls for tricks.
She takes another halting step forward, lowers her head, and gently presses her jaw into the palm of Angie's hand, already tensing for what's going to come next.
Angie's hand is soft and warm, and gently - so gently it's almost impossible to believe - Angie scratches her underneath the chin. Her nails are short, neatly cut, and just present enough that Kate can feel the pleasant scratching on her skin.
"Good girl, Kate," Angie murmurs, and Kate stills abruptly. She understands the game the woman is playing with her now. This has happened to her before, only once, and it hurt so badly that she still has it written on her soul.
The memory is vivid: she'd been put to sleep and taken from her kennel, and when she woke up, she was in a bedroom, in a nice soft bed, with a blanket, even. There was this woman - Kate can still remember her face perfectly - and she... she gave Kate all these nice things, and petted her, and told her how good she was, and that she was going to be Kate's owner now, not her Master. Kate was even dumber back then than she is now, and she believed the woman enough to start feeling like maybe she wouldn't have to stay in her kennel any more.
She was wrong.
The last day she was in the woman's house, before she had to go back to her kennel, something changed. Kate still doesn't know what. She probably will never know. The woman had - had yelled at her, told Kate just how stupid and ugly and bad she really was, that nobody could love a dog like her, not really. She remembers crying, but through the tears she remembers the look on the woman's face, twisted by hatred and something worse. The woman had dragged Kate from the nice comfy dog bed, tossed her onto the cold stone floor, then she'd... she'd...
"Kate?"
Angie's voice pulls her abruptly out of the memory, and Kate's ashamed to see that her hands on the floor beneath her are shaking. In fact, her whole body seems like it's shaking. She lowers her head even further, and Angie's hand flits around her throat, fingertips brushing Kate's collar, to rest on the back of her head. She scratches softly, which sends a warm, pleasant feeling fizzing down Kate's spine.
Gradually, the gentle touch calms her, even though Kate knows, all the way down to her bones, that this is all a trick. She doesn't care, she realizes. She's a dumb dog, and she'll never be anything other than that, and dumb dogs take what they are given. Since she's being given petting, she will take it. Later on, when Angie's giving her the... other things, she'll take those too. That's all there is to it.
Later doesn't come, though. After a while, Grace says something quietly to Angie, and Angie gives Kate one final soft scratch beneath her collar, right at the back of her neck. She leans a little closer, whispers "good dog," then gets to her feet. Kate's so surprised she forgets to flee back into the corner, even though both women are now looming over her; she just watches them leave, and watches the door of her room shut behind them.
Over the next few days, Angie visits the shelter every morning on her way to the office, and then again on her way home. It's important, Grace explains, to let Kate start getting adjusted to her presence and to begin building a proper bond with her. The dog-girl has been through considerable trauma, and Grace has warned her that it'll be a slow process even if everything goes right. All Angie can do is be a consistent and comforting presence and hope that Kate takes to her.
She comes in through the front doors, patting her leg to make sure there are a couple of treats in her pocket. Every time she's been in so far, Kate's food bowl has been mostly full; according to Grace the girl only eats very lightly, which is unusual for rescues. Still, she seems to love even the generic supermarket dog-girl treats when Angie offers them to her. She's tried eating one herself, just to see what it's like, and it put her in mind of a pellet of sugary cereal filled with a kind of chocolate pudding - not exactly to her taste, but she's glad Kate likes them. Later on, if she actually gets to adopt her, she'll buy some more kinds and see if she can figure out what the girl's favourites are.
Matt, one of the other volunteers who works at the shelter, waves her past. After a short search, Angie finds Grace in the yard, tossing a ball for a small, dark-skinned dog-boy to fetch. He seems overjoyed, trotting around on his hands and knees and obediently returning it every time Grace throws it. Angie watches for a little while, enjoying the happy little bark the boy makes each time Grace takes the ball from his mouth, then comes over to stand by the shelter director.
"He seems like he's having fun," she says.
Grace doesn't look at her; her eyes are locked on the dog-boy as he makes his way back over to the ball resting in the grass.
"He sure does," she replies. "He's a real sweetie. Street rescue, brought in by the cops a couple of days ago."
Angie's eyes widen. "Wow, I wouldn't have known."
"I'm guessing he wasn't out there long. Unfortunately his registration info is out of date, so they couldn't actually find his family, so. You know. He's here until his people come get him."
"Hopefully soon, I guess," Angie says, as the boy trots back to the two women holding the ball in his mouth. Grace reaches down and takes it from him, then ruffles his hair.
"Last one, okay?", she says to him, then hands the slightly slimy ball to Angie. Angie sends the ball bouncing across the yard, and the boy yips happily and sets off after it immediately.
Grace turns her head slightly to look at Angie. "Good arm. Once he comes back with it we'll take him back in, then go visit with Kate. I'm gonna see if we can get the vet in to check her out today, with you there."
"She got checked out when she first arrived, right?"
"A little bit," Grace replies, watching the boy nosing around for the ball. "She was pretty out of it, though, because of the sedatives the cops stuck her with, so we didn't get anything near a complete picture. She got no tests for reactions, no poking and prodding, none of that kind of stuff. She needs a real assessment before we send her home with you - or anyone."
"Ah, gotcha."
"Plus," Grace says, as the boy finds his ball and starts trotting back. "Your files from Pet Welfare came back. All your annual interviews were clean as a whistle, exemplary stuff. You're one of the good ones, I guess."
Angie blushes slightly. "Steph made it easy."
A tiny smile flits across Grace's lips. "I see how it is, blaming the dog."
Angie can't help return the smile. "I mean it. She was perfect. No trouble, no messes, so easy to handle. She even toilet-trained herself."
"Ah," Grace says. "Well, still. It takes two, so clearly you were doing a lot of things right." She reaches down and scratches the dog-boy, now sitting by her feet and holding his ball in his mouth. "C'mon buddy, let's get you back inside."
They drop the boy off in a room that looks very much like Kate's, then swing through the lobby to pick up an older man wearing a white coat who reminds Angie strongly of one of her uncles. He introduces himself as Doctor Weiss, and Angie infers that he must be the vet that's coming to look after Kate.
Grace leads both of them back to the hallway outside Kate's room, then stops.
"She'll probably be quite nervous about meeting a stranger," she says, "let alone being examined. We can't give her a sedative or anything, so Angie, you try your best to keep her calm while Doctor Weiss is doing his thing. If she gets too afraid and runs off, we'll just end the exam there for now. She does need to get checked out eventually, but we can try again another day if we have to. Doctor, you hang back until Angie's got her comfortable. Okay?"
"Yes," replies the doctor, and Angie nods.
"Alright. Doctor, we'll meet you in the exam room. Angie, let's go get her leashed up."
Angie follows Grace into Kate's room. The girl is in her usual corner, but when she notices it's two familiar people, she uncurls immediately, wanders over towards Grace, briefly investigates her, then comes to wait on all fours next to Angie. Angie reaches for her, keeping her movements slow, and begins stroking Kate's hair; the dog-girl stays silent, but Angie can see and feel her relaxing slightly.
Grace moves a bit closer, then starts gently scratching Kate under her chin. "Have you ever been to the vet, Kate?", she says, keeping her voice low and soft. Kate turns her head slightly to look at Grace, eyes widening, then gives a tiny nod; beneath her stroking fingers, Angie can feel the beginnings of a tremor.
"Well," Grace says, "we're going to take you to see a vet in a little bit. He's very nice, I promise, and Angie and I are both going to be there with you. We really need someone to take a look at that wrist, see if we can get it to stop hurting you. Does that sound okay?"
Kate turns her head to look at Angie, eyes pleading. Angie scratches her scalp lightly with just the tips of her fingernails. "Are you scared, hon?"
Kate gives another tiny nod.
"Can you be a brave girl for us? We'll be right there with you the whole time, and if you want to leave, we can leave. How about that? Can you be a brave puppy?"
Kate whimpers, but gives yet another tiny nod. Angie smiles at her. "If you get too scared and you want to leave, you can just get up and we'll go."
Grace clips a leash to the ring of Kate's collar, then hands the end of it to Angie. Angie gets to her feet, then slowly leads the dog-girl, mindful of her injured wrist, down the hallway and into a larger exam room. It smells strongly of cleaning products. Doctor Weiss is already there, with a big plastic cloth spread across the floor. Angie has to gently encourage Kate into the room. The dog-girl immediately wants to head to a corner, but Angie guides her to the centre of the rectangle of cloth instead.
"Sit," she tells Kate, and the girl folds herself into a painful-looking kneeling position, resting much of her weight on her ankles. Angie frowns, and with a few gentle touches nudges Kate until she's sitting with her legs out to one side instead. "Better," Angie murmurs, stroking the dog-girl's hair.
"Alright," Doctor Weiss says, getting down on Kate's level and approaching slowly, hands up and out in an un-threatening pose. Kate draws away from him slightly, right into Angie's arms; Angie puts one hand on one of Kate's shoulders to steady her. The girl abruptly stills, and Angie tugs very gently on the leash to remind Kate that it, and she, are still here with her.
"Now, Kate," the Doctor says. His voice is low, rich and melodious. "That's a good girl. Can I have a look at that wrist? I'll be very gentle, I promise."
Kate pulls her injured right wrist closer to her chest, eyeing the vet suspiciously. Angie wraps an arm loosely around Kate and pulls her closer, against her own chest. Kate tenses for an instant, then relaxes again once she realizes Angie's just hugging her.
"Can you give the doctor your arm, Kate?", Angie murmurs.
Kate hesitates for a second more, then slowly extends her arm. Angie gives her an affectionate squeeze. Kate's practically skin and bones underneath her coveralls, but still, Angie likes the feeling of having her pressed against her this way.
Doctor Weiss takes Kate's arm and, as promised, very gently examines it.
"Mm," he says. "It's either a severe sprain or a mild fracture. We'll need an x-ray to be sure. Fortunately, I have just the thing. Can you lay your wrist on the floor, Kate?"
The dog-girl does so, and the doctor presses a small, boxy machine lightly against the top of her wrist. "Portable x-ray," he remarks, as the machine hums softly for a few seconds. "Alright, all done. I'll have a look at the x-rays after we're finished and see what we need to do. Now, Kate, can I have a look at your eyes and ears?"
Kate doesn't respond, just watches him warily. The dog-girl holds still as he peers at her from every angle, and Angie feels a small glow of pride. Kate's doing better than she would've expected. She's being so good, and Angie finds herself giving her another affectionate squeeze.
"Alright. Open your mouth please, Kate, and I'll have a little look at your teeth."
Kate does so, and the doctor's face falls. "Oh. Well, it's not all that bad, but it doesn't look like she's had much dental care. Or any. I'd get her some of those teeth-cleaning chews, or start brushing her teeth regularly. If not, I'd expect problems down the line, if not already."
Angie nods. "I can pick up some of the chews." It only occurs to her after she's said it, when Grace's eyes flicker to her face momentarily, that she's already treating Kate like her own. She looks down; Kate has her eyes screwed shut, clearly quite afraid but doing her best. Angie's heart warms, and she adjusts her hold on the dog-girl slightly so she can slip a couple of fingers beneath her plain leather collar.
Next, the doctor checks several different places on Kate's torso, applying gentle pressure and watching Kate's face for any signs of discomfort or pain. Whatever he sees apparently satisfies him, because he moves on to checking her other limbs. After that, he sits back slightly and gives Angie a look of mixed sympathy and concern.
"There's just one more bit to check, and it could be... pretty uncomfortable. Kate?"
The shivering dog-girl opens her eyes slightly and looks in his direction, although not directly at him.
He waves a hand, indicating her groin. "Does anything down here hurt at all?"
Kate's breath hitches. She tips her head backward, pressing the crown of her head against Angie's throat. Angie gives her another soft tug on her leash - another reminder that she's still here, still keeping her safe. "You can answer," she says, softly.
Kate gives a small, jerky nod.
The doctor frowns. "If it's okay with her, I'd like to take a look. There could be further injuries that need treatment."
Angie squeezes the dog-girl again. "Can you be brave just a little longer, Kate?"
Kate lets out a tiny, heartbreaking whimper, but she nods yet again.
"Alright," Doctor Weiss says. "If you get too uncomfortable, Kate, just pull away or make a sound and I'll stop."
"I'll make him stop, if I have to," Angie says, and she's a bit surprised to find how fiercely she means it.
Doctor Weiss, with a bit of help from Grace, unzips part of Kate's coveralls and parts her legs, exposing the pale skin of her lower belly, inner thighs, and crotch. Kate's shivering starts to get more intense, and she wraps the fingers of her good hand around Angie's arm, squeezing tightly, but doesn't pull back. The doctor inspects her closely, holding up a small flashlight, his mouth hardening into a grim line.
"If, um, possible, I'd like to do a very brief vaginal exam. It should be painless, but I suspect there's internal injuries or scar tissue and those will also need treatment." He looks at Angie rather than Kate. "Can I...?"
Angie tightens her arms around Kate. "This'll be quick, puppy, and then this'll all be over. Can you do it for me?"
Kate says nothing, but Angie feels her breathing getting quicker and shallower. The dog-girl's starting to panic, she realizes. She looks back at the doctor and shakes her head. "Not right now," she says.
The doctor exhales. "Alright. She should still get checked for internal injuries at some point, but it can wait for her to be a bit more comfortable." As Grace zips Kate's coveralls back together, the doctor digs a treat out of one of his pockets and offers it to Kate, who opens her mouth and eats it out of his hand. "Good girl," he says, with a smile that Angie can tell isn't even remotely genuine. "All done with your checkup."
Once they've gotten Kate back into her room and settled, she and Grace meet with the vet in Grace's office. He looks like he's about to be sick. When he speaks, his voice is detached, clinical even, but there's an undercurrent of rage that he can't completely mask.
"As you might expect from her background," he says, "there are signs of sustained trauma all over her body, and long-term sexual abuse. I do a lot of shelter work, and this is one of the worst cases I think I've ever seen. I'd be willing to bet my veterinary license she has internal injuries, too - hopefully nothing acute, but I'm virtually certain there's a lot of scarring and bruising there as well, if not worse. She's... well, with plenty of nutrition and rest and good care, she'll get a lot better, but some of this stuff just won't heal."
"Speaking of nutrition," Grace says. "She's really not eating much. We've had her for more than a week now, and she's never eaten more than a handful of food at a time."
"Huh," the vet says, thoughtful. "Could be a dental problem, a toothache or something, but she seemed to like the treats just fine. Maybe an intestinal injury, or a food allergy. Any diarrhea or vomiting?"
"Vomiting, yep."
"Mm. Could be a food allergy. Let's try a hypoallergenic food for her, see if that helps." He pauses for a second, then turns to Angie. "There is some good news, though."
"Oh?"
"Yes. She's well enough for home care, so I'm medically clearing her for adoption."
Angie's heart skips a beat. She whirls to look at Grace, who's beaming at her. "Thank you, doctor," Grace says, eyes still fixed on Angie. "Angie, let's talk paperwork."
Kate doesn't seem surprised to see her again, even though it's been less than half an hour since the vet wrapped her injured wrist and Angie and Grace left her in her small room. In fact, she doesn't seem to feel any emotion at all - just looks up at Angie with empty eyes, then wearily hauls herself back up to all fours. She stays motionless in the corner of the room, apparently waiting for something. Angie approaches her slowly, holding the leash where Kate can see it. The dog-girl's gaze flickers to it for a moment, then returns to somewhere in the vicinity of Angie's shoes.
Grace approaches her as well, and drops to a crouch a few feet from Kate. "Kate," she says, softly. "Angie's going to be taking you home." She watches Kate with an expression of intense focus, but whatever reaction she's looking for, she doesn't seem to see, and her initial smile fades. Angie frowns and halts where she is. Does Kate not want to go with her? She'd assumed the dog-girl would be happy to be adopted, but right now she doesn't seem to want anything other than to be left alone. She seems to enjoy Angie petting her, but maybe that's just an exhausted pet looking for any scrap of comfort, rather than the bond they're supposed to feel, and maybe Angie's just been deluding herself.
The thought sends a stab of pain through her, and her grip tightens on the coiled leash. Maybe this is all a horrible mistake, and she should just... go. Find a different dog, one that she'll be able to be a better owner for - one that likes her, ideally. She looks down at the leash in her hands, then back up at the girl; Kate's mostly staring at Angie's feet, but her eyes keep darting, every so often, up to look at the leash.
Angie gets down low as well, putting herself on Kate's level, and comes a bit closer. Kate doesn't shy away from her, and Angie puts a hand lightly on the back of her head and pets her. "Kate?"
The dog-girl tilts her head just slightly, which Angie takes as an acknowledgement.
"If you want to come with me, to live with me, I want... some kind of sign. If you don't, that's okay too. I just - I need to know."
Kate stares down at the floor for a few seconds, as the tension in Angie's gut builds, then she takes a couple of halting steps forward and lowers her head. She gently nuzzles the hand still clenching the coiled leash. Angie smiles, relieved, and clips it to the ring of the girl's collar.
Grace leans closer to pet her as well. "I'll come visit you, okay? And if you decide you'd rather come back here, I'll take you back. No questions asked." She brushes Kate's cheek gently with the back of her hand. "I mean it, Kate. If you aren't happy at Angie's house, you're always welcome back here."
Kate gives a tiny nod, eyes downcast, and says nothing. After a moment, Angie hears a soft sniffle, and sees a couple of teardrops fall to the padded floor.
"Aw," she says. "We can come back and visit Grace, if you want to. I'm sure you'll miss her."
Kate nuzzles Angie's hand again in response.
Grace stands up. "Here," she says, voice sounding a touch rougher than usual. "I'll walk you both out to your car."
"Thanks," Angie says, and turns to go, walking slow and careful so her new dog won't have to strain to keep up.
During the drive home, Angie talks quietly. She tries to point out landmarks and places she remembers - mentions the dog park nearest her house, her favourite restaurant, the library she likes to spend rainy weekend afternoons. Kate sits silently in the passenger seat, hunched as though she's unhappy to be upright. She doesn't even look out the window - just stares blankly ahead, seeming not to see the world around her. Her leash lies neatly coiled in her own lap, unclipped from her collar, and her hands form tight fists resting atop it. After a few minutes of talking, Kate's silence overcomes Angie and her voice gradually trails off.
Eventually, she parks in the lot of her apartment building, reattaches Kate's leash to her collar, and takes her to the elevators. Kate immediately presses herself into a corner of the small space on all fours, eyes screwed tightly shut; Angie crouches next to her, petting the trembling girl and keeping a steady but very light tension on the leash. She's read that it's good for there to be just enough pressure for dogs to feel that the other end of the leash is still being held. It's supposed to reassure them that their person is present.
When they reach her floor, Angie has to coax Kate slowly out of the elevator, then along the hallway to her own apartment. She opens the door, leads Kate inside, shuts it behind them, then leans down to undo the leash and hangs it up on its hook by the front door.
"Well," she says, leaning down to undo her own boots. "This is home. Um. I'll show you around, and get you some food and water. I bet you're hungry."
Kate doesn't react to that, either, so Angie finishes removing her boots in silence, then motions for the girl to follow. She shows Kate where the main bedroom is, and the bathroom (which thankfully already has a pet toilet), and then the kitchen and living space. Finally, she leads Kate to what was the guest bedroom until a couple of days ago. She pulls the door open and gestures for Kate to enter ahead of her.
"This is your room," she explains. "There's a bed here for you, and a few toys. It's... it's your space, so I won't come in here unless you want me to. I promise."
Kate pads into the room, explores it briefly. It's pretty bare so there isn't all that much for her to see. After a few moments, she sits down in the middle of the room, then looks up at Angie, gaze landing somewhere in the vicinity of her collarbones.
"All yours," Angie repeats. "Anything else you want in here - I can try to get for you. Um. You can go anywhere else in the apartment you want, as well, but there's this book I've been reading and it says you really need your own space."
Kate just sits. Angie had been expecting... something. Not necessarily a wagging tail or anything, but some kind of reaction. She's trying to give Kate everything she needs to be happy and comfortable, and the girl's just not reacting to her at all. She seems like she would rather be asleep, more than anything, but there's an edge to her posture that suggests resignation. Angie leans against the door frame, feeling rather tired herself.
"I'm gonna get you some food and water. I'll put your bowls for those down in the kitchen, on the tiles in case there are any spills. After that, I'm going to sit down in the living room and rest for a bit. If you want to rest in there with me, you can, or you're welcome to stay here or anywhere else in the apartment. It's your home too now."
Kate still doesn't react. In a softer voice, Angie says: "If there's anything else you need or want, Kate, try to let me know. I want to take good care of you."
The dog-girl just watches her silently, so Angie turns and heads into her kitchen to fix dinner for both of them.
Kate watches Angie walk away and breathes a sigh of relief. Not yet, she thinks to herself. Maybe... maybe not today at all. She turns away from the still-open door to look around the room. In one corner is a large dog bed with a pile of blankets draped over it; there are also a few toys, all clearly brand new, scattered around the floor. When she looks up, she can see out a pair of huge windows, which are letting the late afternoon sun in to play across the padded floor.
Kate approaches the dog bed cautiously and presses her face into it; it smells new as well. She frowns at it. The material seems very soft, as do the blankets. She drags the blankets off the bed with her teeth, then starts gradually rearranging them atop the bed to form a comfortable nest. As she's doing so, she hears the sound of something beeping from elsewhere in the apartment, then the steady bubbling sound of water boiling. After that comes the familiar sound of pellets falling into a bowl, and she lifts her head immediately, suddenly aware of how hungry she is.
She goes to the doorway and peeks into the kitchen-living area; Angie's at the stove top, stirring something. Kate can see a pair of ceramic bowls on the floor, one of them clearly heaped high with food. She approaches cautiously, watching Angie; the woman turns when she hears Kate moving, but just gives her a smile and turns back to her cooking. Kate makes her way to the bowls, then leans down to take a mouthful of the pellets. They taste very different from the ones she's used to - a bit chalkier, but not bad. She swallows and starts chewing another mouthful.
Angie turns back to her, setting a big wooden spoon down on the counter top. "That's special food," she says. "It's, uh -" she digs a bag out of a cupboard and squints at the back "- free from all major allergens, and also vegan and gluten-free, so hopefully it'll be easier on your stomach than the stuff they had at the shelter."
Kate frowns at her bowl. Food's never been easy on her stomach. Back when she was in her kennel with Master, she got sick all the time too, and even before that, way back before she was a dog at all, it felt like she was sick all the time. It was a rare meal that didn't have her feeling terribly nauseous afterwards, or worse. Still, she's ravenously hungry, and Angie's given her food, so she'll try to eat.
She has a few mouthfuls of food - as much as she can usually tolerate - then drinks half her bowl of water. She glances up at Angie, who gives her another warm smile. "Good girl," Angie says, as she turns to pull her saucepan off the stove. Kate lowers her head again, feeling a tiny spark of an unfamiliar warmth settling in her chest. Angie serves herself a bowl of something that smells delicious, then takes it to the small table in her living room and sits. Kate, unsure what else to do, follows her and sits on the floor next to her.
Angie reads something on her phone while she eats, but she stops frequently to look over at Kate. One hand rests absently on her head, thumb rubbing back and forth, and despite the ever-present fear Kate finds herself relaxing slightly into the other woman's touch. It's... nice. She's always loved being petted, and though she's fully aware it won't last, she's glad that Angie's indulging her right now. She doesn't actually deserve any of this, she knows, and Angie knows it too, but it seems like the hurting will come later instead of now. Kate's pathetically grateful for that, and as Angie keeps petting her, she lets herself slip into a daydream that any of this can actually be real for dogs like her.
Once Angie finishes eating, she slots her bowl into a dishwasher, then turns to look down at Kate, who's followed her into the kitchen. "Well," she says. "I'd say we've both earned some couch time. Want to come watch a movie with me?"
Kate doesn't know how to react to that. She hasn't... actually seen a movie since before she was a dog. She just looks up at Angie, then follows the woman over to her couch. Angie sits at one end of it, then pats the couch next to her.
"You can stay on the floor if you want, or you're allowed on the couch. Whatever's comfortable for you."
Kate considers for a moment, then clambers onto the couch and curls up at the other end, arranging herself so that she can see Angie's TV. Angie gives her another one of those warm smiles, and Kate feels her face heating slightly. Feeling unaccountably embarrassed, she turns her gaze pointedly towards the TV. Angie relaxes a bit, laying a hand on one of Kate's shoulders, and fiddles with the remote until the TV starts playing a movie. Kate doesn't pay much attention to what it is; it doesn't really matter, and in any case, all of her attention is on how comfortable the couch is and how pleasant it feels to have Angie gently touching her. She slowly lets out a deep sigh, rearranges herself slightly into a more comfortable position, and without ever quite realizing it, gradually falls asleep.
Kate wakes with a start, slick with her own sweat and half-blind with residual panic. She tries to hold still as best she can, feigning sleep, and opens her eyes a tiny fraction. She's in an unfamiliar room, lying on something soft and warm. It takes her a few seconds to remember that she's in Angie's living room, on her couch. There's a large blanket folded over her which she's sure wasn't there when she fell asleep. As her heart gradually stops racing, she abruptly realizes that she's... wet.
She sits up sharply and feels the damp material of her coveralls clinging to her thighs. She scrambles off the couch and looks down at the large wet spot on the cushions with rapidly mounting horror. She's not only wet herself in her sleep, but she's ruined Angie's nice couch, as well. The blanket falls from her fingers and she flees into the room Angie told her was hers, feeling like a gigantic fist is clenched around her lungs. She dives underneath the pile of blankets on the dog bed, buries herself in the soft darkness, curls up as tightly as she can, and tries to muffle her own sobs.
Less than one day here, and she's ruined everything. Only very, very bad dogs wet inside the house, and now Angie's going to know just how bad she is, and she's going to hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and then when she's done hurting she's going to... Kate's thoughts swirl together and she's gasping, struggling to breathe through her own sobs, and everything's so -
"Kate?"
She freezes instantly. It's Angie, and it sounds like she's at the door. She doesn't sound... angry or anything, just foggy with sleep. She must not have found out what Kate did yet. Kate pants in the darkness under the blankets, trying to hold herself still.
Angie says her name again. "Kate? Are you alright?"
Kate shivers, tremors she can't quite control creeping down her limbs. She's such a stupid fucking useless dog - it's like she can hear her father's voice again - and she should get up and go take the punishment she obviously deserves, but she... she imagines Angie's face twisting in hate and disgust, and she just can't stand it, so she stays put under her blankets. After a few more seconds, Angie's footsteps move away, and Kate's hands clench into fists.
A minute later, Angie's back at the door of her room.
"Are you upset, girl? Would you like a treat?"
It's torture, knowing what's coming and feeling like she's only staving it off second by second. She can't take it any more. Kate shakes herself free of her blanket-nest, looking up at Angie through tear-fogged eyes, and forces herself to walk over to the doorway. Angie smiles at her, leaning down to offer her a treat, but Kate pushes past her. If Angie notices her coveralls are wet, she doesn't say anything.
Driven on by a kind of mad determination, Kate walks to the couch, then waits on all fours just by the spot she was sleeping. Now Angie will see, and Kate won't have to keep enduring this waiting. She's here, ready to take her punishment like a dog is supposed to.
Angie follows her to the couch and looks down at her, evidently puzzled. Realizing what's happened, Kate takes the blanket she discarded earlier in her mouth and tugs it off the couch in a single savage motion, revealing the obvious wet spot. Angie looks at it, silent and unresponsive for a few moments, while Kate stares at her, waiting to see what will happen.
"Did you wet yourself while you were sleeping?"
Angie sounds preposterously calm. Kate can feel her cheeks flaming, and can't bring herself to nod. She tenses, waiting for the first blow.
Instead, Angie crouches down, and lays a hand on the back of Kate's head.
"It's okay. I'll get the couch cleaned up, and we can put your coveralls through the laundry. It - it happens sometimes."
Kate's so surprised that she forgets she's not supposed to look at people's faces. Angie's staring at her, looking not angry at all, but rather... tender. Kate whimpers, unable to believe what she's seeing.
Angie strokes Kate's hair slowly. "You thought I was going to be angry, didn't you?"
Kate nods, squeezing her eyes shut. She feels ashamed, both for the original accident and because she somehow feels like she's evading a punishment she deserves. It feels like she's tricking Angie, or something; like she should, if the universe was proceeding properly, be being beaten, or dragged into a too-small crate, or - or anything but Angie looking at her like that and petting her. Angie's too good for her, she thinks, and too kind to have a dog like her.
"Well," Angie says, straightening. "It's not your fault, and from what I've read, it's not that unusual for, um, pets coming from bad situations. Here, I'll get the couch cleaned up, then we can wash your coverall and get you into the shower."
Kate shivers. The shower isn't the punishment she deserves, not really, not for this, but it's usually just the first step. The cold metal cuffs, the frigid spray, the rough hands scrubbing her - it's always a precursor to something worse, usually to being fucked like the bitch she is. Maybe that's why Angie's being nice. It's only her here, and she wants to get Kate cuffed before she shows her what she's planning. Well, Kate thinks, Angie doesn't need to bother with that, because she'll take her shower and anything else. She'll take anything, really, to feel like she's good again.
While Kate waits on all fours by the couch, Angie starts the shower running, then sprays something fruity-smelling on the couch and scrubs at it with a cloth. After that, she gestures for Kate to follow her into the bathroom, which she does, forcing herself to put one limb in front of another. She manages to follow Angie in, then sits by the door, trembling in fear.
Angie checks the water temperature with a hand and, apparently finding it satisfactory, turns to Kate.
"Ready for - is everything alright, Kate?"
Kate doesn't know how to answer, so she simply stays still, shaking uncontrollably. Angie crouches next to her, strokes her cheek with the backs of two fingers.
"Do you not want to go in the shower, Kate? I can give you a bath instead, if you want, but you can't just stay dirty. Would you prefer a bath?"
A... bath? Kate hasn't had a bath in as long as she can remember. She glances over at the large porcelain tub, curiosity warring with fear. Angie apparently notices, because she says:
"Alright, bath it is."
She turns off the shower and starts filling the bath. Once the water's running nicely, she turns back to Kate. "Alright hon. Let's get that off you so I can put it through the wash."
This, allowing herself on command to be stripped, is something Kate's very familiar with indeed. She lifts her head, giving Angie easy access to the zipper that runs down the front of her coveralls and which normally sits right beneath her collar. Angie reaches for it, hands slightly unsteady, and slowly pulls it down. Kate looks away, eyes shut, keenly aware of how bad she looks beneath it. She doesn't want to see the revulsion on Angie's face. She hears the tiny in-drawing of breath, feels Angie's hands withdraw with the zipper just below her breasts.
"O-Oh," Angie says, voice catching in her throat. She pulls part of Kate's coverall back, exposing a collarbone Kate knows is mottled with fading bruises. Kate whimpers as Angie's infinitely gentle fingertips ghost across her skin.
Angie draws the tough fabric back a little further, exposing the upper part of Kate's left breast. There's an old bite mark there, she remembers, painful even as a memory. Some scarring, too - narrow raised lines, standing out against her skin, forming a chaotic pattern. She doesn't know how she got those. Angie's hands still, and Kate hears another shaky breath.
"Kate," Angie says. "Can you look at me?"
Kate does her best, which means looking at Angie's collarbone. It's delicate, and Kate's struck by a sense of how much smaller than her Angie is, by how flawless the woman's skin is, by the strap of a bra receding under a tank top. Angie's fingers, still shaking slightly, come to rest on one of Kate's cheeks.
"I promise," Angie says, voice low and firm. "As long as you're with me, nobody will hurt you like this again. Ever."
Kate just shrugs. That'd be nice if it was true, she supposes.
"I mean it," Angie continues. "Not me, not anyone else. Never."
Kate doesn't know what to make of that. How can Angie say that, really? Admittedly, she hasn't actually punished Kate so far, but she will - it's inevitable. When she does, she'll hurt, just like so many others before her have. It's just how things are for dogs like her.
Angie takes a final shaky breath, then unzips the rest of Kate's coverall, all the way down past her waist. Kate chances a look as high as she dares - at Angie's mouth - and is surprised to see a pronounced blush on her cheeks. Angie pulls the top of the coverall backward, helping Kate shrug out of it, then peels the rest of it off down her body, leaving Kate naked and entirely exposed. She's overpoweringly aware that she's scrawny, and not curvy where a bitch is supposed to be, and has all these bruises and scars and marks and in general looks like she's been treated exactly the way she deserved. She also reeks, which has her looking forward, at least a little bit, to the bath.
Angie moves forward slightly, pulling Kate into a loose hug; Kate stiffens in surprise, not sure how to react, and Angie just squeezes her a little tighter. She doesn't say anything, just holds Kate. She smells vaguely like orange, Kate thinks, and then is struck by the absurdity of the thought. Despite herself, despite everything, she feels a small smile on her lips.
Angie unwraps her wrist, then guides her to the bath and helps her climb in. It's warm but not too warm, and as Kate settles back into the tub and lets the water mostly submerge her, Angie squeezes a heavily-scented liquid into the water.
"Bubble bath," she says, even though Kate hadn't asked. "Stir the water around a bit and it'll foam up."
Kate doesn't move, unsure if she's actually supposed to, so Angie plunges a hand into the water and shows her. Kate smiles, a strange joyful feeling gathering in her chest, and starts stirring the water as well, watching foam coalescing on the water's surface. Before long she's buried in the stuff, hidden beneath a floating cloud, and Angie, smiling too, picks up a handful of the bubbles and places them, with great care, atop Kate's head. She grins, and Kate can't help herself - she grins back.
"You're so cute, puppy," Angie says, and the feeling gathering in Kate's chest warms a little more. She wishes she actually was cute. She likes hearing Angie call her that. Angie gently pushes Kate down until she's lying mostly in the water, with just her head leaning against the back of the tub.
"Now," Angie says. "Let's get that hair washed first. Tip your head back for me, and..."
Angie tells her exactly what to do, and all Kate has to do is listen. Gentle, tender hands work their way through her hair, then Angie slowly, methodically soaps and scrubs just about every bit of Kate's body. The soft, steady touches and rhythmic scrubbing feel so profoundly good - listening to Angie's directions feels so wonderful - that Kate feels herself drifting into something calm and peaceful and... empty, but in a good way. Angie soaps under her collar, caressing the bruised skin there, and the gentle tug on the leather sends an unfamiliar tingle up the back of her neck.
Eventually, the touching and the quiet words stop. Kate feels deeply relaxed, like all the tightness has been drawn out of every muscle she has. Angie strokes Kate's cheek softly.
"One area left. Are you okay with me cleaning between your legs, or do you want to do it yourself?"
Kate half-opens her eyes, lazily looking up at Angie. She feels like she's floating. She forgets that she's supposed to be afraid, and simply parts her legs, pressing her knees against the walls of the tub. That blush comes over Angie's face again, but she cleans Kate down there just as tenderly as she did everywhere else. The whole situation feels so dreamlike that Kate's not even surprised that Angie doesn't take the opportunity to jam her fingers inside her. She finds that in this moment, she doesn't actually mind that idea too much. It'd hurt, but if the price of... this... is a bit of hurting, then Kate's willing.
Angie wrings the washcloth she's been using out and hangs it up to dry. "Oh, oops," she says. "I forgot to put your coverall through the wash. You stay there, I'll go start it."
She disappears from the bathroom, leaving Kate alone in the bath. Kate's emotions are muted, as though they're happening to someone else, and she can't name most of them. She's still afraid, of course, but much less than she can ever remember being since she first became a dog. In place of that fear, there are a knot of unfamiliar emotions sitting tangled in her ribs, towards... towards Angie.
She's still trying to pull that knot apart when Angie returns, carrying a folded bundle of white cloth. "I don't have a spare coverall for you," she explains, "so you get my bathrobe for now. I'll help you out, get you dried off, then let's get that wrist re-wrapped. After that, I think both of us can use some breakfast."
The mention of breakfast sparks a sudden realization. She ate last night, but she wasn't sick all night! Perhaps she can eat more of the special food Angie got for her? She feels a sudden surge of gratitude, and immediately afterwards, a matching surge of guilt, because she doesn't deserve any of this. Angie deserves a good dog, not her. Just as she's starting to dwell on that thought, Angie interrupts her with a gentle touch.
"C'mon girl, up you get. The water will get cold soon. I don't want you getting chilly."
A few moments later, Kate's wrapped up snugly in a thick cloth robe that smells like Angie, wrist freshly bandaged. Angie dumps some fresh pellets into her bowl so that it's heaped full again, and Kate, feeling a bit more confident, eats much more of it than she usually would. That seems to delight Angie, who pets her and praises her yet again. For some reason, that makes Kate start sobbing, just full-on sobbing on Angie's kitchen floor, but then Angie sits down next to her and gathers her into her arms and lets her cry and cry and cry.
Angie keeps Kate company as best she can while the dog-girl cries, caught between warring impulses to hold her close and keep her distance. She knows she shouldn't crowd Kate, especially not when she's upset, but the desire to press Kate close to her and keep her there until she feels better is almost overpowering. It's surprising how intense the feeling is. She gives in, pulls Kate tight against her, and tucks the dog-girl's face into her chest. That seems to help, because Kate's tears fade and soon the girl is sniffling, curled up as tight as she can in Angie's arms.
Angie pointedly ignores how good it feels to have Kate halfway into her lap, and even more pointedly keeps her eyes from lingering on the edge of Kate's plain leather collar where it's peeking out from underneath the bathrobe. She doesn't want to have feelings that Kate can't reciprocate, and the idea of becoming just the latest in a long line of people who've coerced or downright forced Kate into intimacy disgusts her. Instead, she plans the day out in her head, absently stroking the dog-girl's back.
They stay like that until the washer-dryer finishes and plays its tinny little jingle. Angie gently encourages Kate out of her lap, then fetches the coverall, clean and still warm from the dryer. When Angie offers it to her, Kate takes it, then shrugs out of the robe unprompted, leaving herself naked in Angie's kitchen. Angie blushes, looking away abruptly, and doesn't look back until she hears the zippers of Kate's coverall.
Kate's eyes are downcast; she's twisting her hands together in front of her, looking like she's uncomfortable and embarrassed to be standing upright. She also has a kind of stricken look on her face that makes Angie's heart ache. Angie takes one of Kate's hands and gives it a squeeze that she hopes is helpful.
"So," she says. "We need to do some shopping today, more than anything else. I want to get you another coverall or two, and some more food. Other than that... well, I'm sure there's plenty of other stuff we'll think of. Apart from that, I think some time outside would be good for both of us. How does that sound?"
Kate gives a small nod, so Angie dresses, helps Kate slip on her shoes - some cheap ones that don't fit her well, which the shelter must've given her - and sticks the girl's leash into her bag, in case she needs it. She finds Kate waiting by the door, hands clasped behind her back, so obviously nervous that Angie can't resist pulling her into a hug.
"It'll be fine, puppy," she murmurs. "I'll be with you."
She devoutly hopes that her being with Kate is actually reassuring, and not just frightening. She really can't tell how Kate feels about belonging to her. At least the girl has stopped trembling whenever Angie approaches her - that has to be a good sign, right? She desperately, desperately wants Kate to feel safe in her home and around her. God knows the poor dog deserves it.
She skips the elevator and leads Kate down the stairwell, since the confined space seemed to bother her last time. On the ground floor, she takes Kate's hand and guides her out into the morning sunlight. When she looks back, the dog-girl's eyes are wide, staring up at one of the trees that lines Angie's quiet suburban street, and there's a smile playing across her lips. The golden light catches her hair, wrapping her in a soft glow, and Angie's breath hitches. She's beautiful, Angie thinks - beautiful even now, malnourished and hurt all over and wearing a cheap shelter coverall and with Angie having forgotten to brush her hair out after washing it. For a moment, she stops dead, just watching Kate exist, watching that smile on her lips, but then guilt curls bitter in her belly, she snaps out of it, and gently pulls Kate towards the parking lot.
Their first stop is a pet clothing store. Working Breed mostly sells athletic wear, but they have a very good reputation for being stylish, rugged, and above all comfortable. They have prices to match that reputation, of course, but Angie's been living fairly cheaply on a software engineer's income for a while now and has enough money to spend just about as much as she wants on her pet. A saleswoman intercepts them as they enter, and Angie allows the woman to lead them both back towards the fitting rooms. Angie takes a seat and Kate sits on the floor by her chair as the saleswoman suggests several different styles. Angie picks out a couple, then ushers Kate into a changing room by herself to try them on. She waits outside, nervous, until a couple of minutes later Kate emerges wearing one of them.
It's... stunning. The coverall is a matte grey, slate in colour, with a small amount of tasteful detailing in black and white. It fits Kate like it was made for her, showing off every curve and line of her body, hugging her hips and shoulders. Angie gets up out of her chair and walks closer to the girl, who gets down to her hands and knees. Angie crouches by her and runs a fingertip across the fabric. The outside is smooth and densely woven, and feels like it's probably waterproof. When she slips a finger beneath the sleeve at one of Kate's wrists, the inside is lined with something soft. It's perfect for her, exactly what she wanted, but -
"What do you think, Kate?"
Kate whimpers, not looking at her. Angie frowns.
"You don't like it?"
Kate shakes her head.
"You do like it?"
Kate nods.
Angie smiles. "Alright, then. That settles it." She turns to the saleswoman. "We'll take two of these, and can you help us with shoes as well?"
Angie has to be insane.
It's the only explanation that makes any sense, at this point. She just spent an unbelievable, unconscionable amount of money on clothes for Kate. There's no possible way that anything Kate can do for her will ever make up for it. As Angie loads her bags and boxes into the car - as Kate feels the sinfully soft new bodysuit Angie bought for her on her skin - she shivers, fear rising in her gut. She doesn't understand what Angie's doing or why, and she desperately wishes she could ask her.
Instead of driving them home, Angie takes Kate by the hand, gives her a smile, and tugs her towards another store. This one sells snacks, treats, candy, and toys, and Kate obediently follows Angie as she loads a small basket with items. They can't possibly all be for her - Angie must have friends with dogs. Once they've checked out, Angie buckles her back into the passenger seat of the car, then for a moment just... stands there, one hand gently caressing Kate's cheek, apparently lost in thought. Kate sighs happily; Angie keeps touching her so softly, but with such obvious affection, that it makes a weird kind of liquid warmth pool in her stomach. She hopes her new owner keeps doing it.
The drive home is quiet, but it's a rare pleasant quiet. Normally, Kate associates silence with fear, and with anticipation of something horrible happening to her; silence means that at best she's being ignored, and at worst that someone's angry with her but is waiting to actually punish her for whatever she did. Angie's lightly drumming on the steering wheel though, a smile playing across her lips, and she herself looks so relaxed and at ease that Kate's normal anxiety fades and she's able to just sit. It must be something about Angie, she thinks, that makes her feel this way.
Once they're back at Angie's apartment, Angie puts everything away while Kate takes the chance to eat more of her food. The new food, despite the strange texture, seems like it agrees a lot more with her stomach and she's very happy to be able to eat her fill. She finishes her entire bowl, which earns her yet more petting and words of praise from Angie, as well as another full bowl of food. She can't remember the last time she was so well fed. Back in her kennel, the food usually made her sick, and when she got sick they'd punish her by taking the rest of her food away, so she was nearly always starving. Angie seems like she actually wants Kate to eat a lot, though, and her emaciated body is only too happy to do so.
Once that's done, Angie calls Kate over to the couch. She sits, then motions for Kate to sit on the floor in front of her. Kate kneels down, and Angie gently corrects her posture. The new position she nudges Kate into is actually far more comfortable, and Kate tries to etch it into her memory for later. She looks up at Angie, gaze resting on open throat of her owner's shirt. Angie ruffles Kate's hair, then rubs the top of her head affectionately.
"It's time for a little bit of training, puppy. Are you ready to learn a couple of new things?"
Kate stills immediately. She's never liked being trained in the past, but if Angie wants her to, she will, so she gives a small nod.
"Good. If you do a good job, you'll get one of these. How does that sound?"
She opens a hand in her own lap, revealing an assortment of small treats - all different kinds, from those they bought earlier. They're a mix of intriguing colours and shapes, and Kate finds herself starting to salivate a little just looking at them. She nodes again, a little more eagerly.
"Alright." Angie leaves her open hand resting in her lap with all the treats just lying there, so Kate can see them. With her other hand, she hooks a pair of fingers under Kate's collar. Normally, Kate hates being grabbed by her collar; it reminds her of too many times she's been held down by it, or had it pulled tight against her throat until she has to struggle to breathe. When Angie takes it like this though, gently, tentatively, as though she's afraid to actually take hold of it but very much wants to, it feels - different. It feels loving and tender, like something that Kate could maybe actually want. That thought arrives in her head with the suddenness and overwhelming power of a lightning bolt, and she lets out a small gasp of surprise to realize she feels that way.
Angie smiles. "That feels good?"
Kate nods, tilting her head down slightly. It does feel good. She didn't even know it could feel good, and now she already feels greedy for more. The thought makes her dizzy, and she leans forward slightly so she can rest against Angie's legs.
"Good," Angie murmurs. "Alright, Kate. First thing to learn. If you can do this, you'll get a treat, alright?"
Kate nods, but her body is already tensing by instinct. What Angie carefully didn't say is what'll happen if she can't do this, and Kate has learned the hard way that there are oh-so-many ways to punish a disobedient dog. At least she's not wearing a shock collar, so that's a small mercy, but still - Angie's holding her collar, and while her grip is loose right now it could easily become unbreakably firm, and Kate can almost see it in her mind's eye. Angie's fingers would curl around her collar, holding her in place; her face would harden into an expression of anger or contempt or disappointment; and then her arm would draw back and she'd slap Kate sharply across the face. Honestly, Kate would consider herself lucky to just be slapped, especially by a woman as small as Angie. Hopefully it won't hurt too much. Even if it does, Kate will do her best to take it.
Angie frowns, evidently noticing Kate's rising anxiety. She tugs lightly on her collar, reminding her that she's holding it. "Hey," she says, voice gentle. "I just want you to do your best, Kate. I won't be angry if it's too hard, okay? We'll just go on to something else."
Kate gives a jerky nod.
"Alright. Kate, look at me."
Kate raises her eyes to the hollow of Angie's neck.
"My eyes, Kate. Look up here."
Her - oh. Kate manages to lift her gaze as far as Angie's lips, soft and slightly rounded and surprisingly inviting, but can go no further. The instant she looks at her eyes, she knows, she'll be punished. She just knows, in the animal back of her brain. It's as simple as effect following cause.
Angie just waits patiently. "My eyes, puppy. You can do it."
Kate's gaze flickers upward for just a fraction of a second, taking in the curved line of Angie's nose. Bile is rising in her throat, and she feels like she might be sick, caught between deeply-set conditioning and Angie's softly-spoken orders. Angie caresses her skin beneath the collar, and Kate grabs onto that feeling like a life preserver.
Angie's voice is all sympathy: "Someone told you you weren't allowed to look, didn't they?"
Kate whimpers. They did, she wants to say - they did, over and over and over so that she'd never, ever forget it. She can't make any other sound, so she just gives a choppy little nod.
"I see. Well, puppy, that rule doesn't apply any more. You can look wherever you want - and what I want, right now, is for you to look at me. Come on, girl. I believe in you."
That last statement is so ludicrous that Kate feels a sick compulsion to laugh. What is there to believe in, really? She's just a dog, a dog so stupid and broken and pathetic that she can't even obey the simplest command in the world when her owner's giving it to her. How on earth could Angie believe in her?
Angie gives another gentle tug on Kate's collar, abruptly breaking the spiral of thoughts. Kate shakes herself, takes a breath, squares her shoulders, and -
Angie's eyes are beautiful.
They're a deep brown, rich and warm, shining with emotion. Angie's watching Kate intensely, and as Kate breaks the deeply-set rule - even as she starts to cringe away, bracing for the blow - Angie breaks into a broad grin.
"Good work, Kate," she says, offering up one of the treats. "Good girl."
Ahhh. Something about those words, about the praise from Angie, seems to coil around her very brainstem and soothe her rattled nerves. The posture, too, on her knees in front of Angie, with the woman's hand on her collar, feels... right, like home and safety, and gives her strength she didn't know she had. When Angie tells her to do it again, Kate barely hesitates. The third time, the fourth time, the fifth time, she doesn't - each time she looks at Angie, and each time there's a treat, and the slap never comes.
"Good," Angie almost purrs, caressing Kate's hair. "So good. Remember, girl, you can look at me any time you want. I like it when you do. Do you understand?"
Kate nods. She doesn't actually understand it, doesn't know why Angie would want her stupid dog to look at her, but that doesn't matter. She knows what Angie wants, and what Angie wants, Kate will give her, if she can.
"Alright," Angie says. When Kate risks another look at her face, Angie's cheeks are slightly flushed, like she's just been exercising. Angie smiles when Kate makes eye contact with her, and feeds her an extra treat, apparently just because. "Next thing to learn. Can you say 'yes' for me, Kate?"
Can she... say a word? She's not supposed to, not supposed to make any noise at all, but if Angie's asking her to - maybe it's alright now? She whimpers, fear starting to rise again, but Angie's hand is still on her collar, and that means things aren't so scary somehow, so Kate opens her mouth and, in a voice rough from disuse, says:
"y-yes."
Angie's smile feels like it lights the room. "First try," she murmurs, feeding Kate another pair of the small treats. "Great job. Can you say 'no' now?"
"n... n..."
"You can, Kate."
"nnno!"
"Good! Very good. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I want you to be able to tell me things if you need to. You can always use your voice with me, do you understand? Always."
Kate nods.
"Ah," Angie says. "Use the word instead."
Kate swallows. "Yes."
"Good girl! When you're talking to me, you can call me 'Angie' or 'Ma'am', okay? Can you say 'Angie'?"
"Angie. Ma'am."
Angie smiles and feeds her another pair of treats. "Extra credit," she murmurs. "Okay, just a few more words we're going to practice saying. Here's the first one..."
She leads Kate through a list of words - a list of feelings, really, which have been her constant companions for many years now. Hungry. Thirsty. Lonely. Scared. Tired. Hurt. Sick. Anxious. Sad. As she shapes her mouth around each unfamiliar word, it's like she's speaking the feeling out into the world, drawing a tiny sliver of it out of herself.
"Good," Angie says, once she's led Kate through the entire list of feeling words three times over and her hand's empty of treats. "You did so well today, Kate. When you have one of those feelings, I want you to use the word for it. It'll make me very happy if you do. Do you think you can do that?"
Kate's not sure if she can, but she resolves to try. "Y-yes, ma'am," she says. She knows she's allowed to use Angie's name, but it doesn't feel quite right. It feels rude, or like she doesn't deserve to, somehow. Ma'am fits, though, and she likes the way it feels in her mouth.
Angie leans forward and presses a feather-light kiss to Kate's forehead, still holding her collar all the while. "Such a good dog. I think we've both earned some outside time, after that. Do you want to go outside?"
Kate feels something unfamiliar rising in her - excitement. She nods eagerly.
"What's the word, Kate?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Angie grins again. "Good. Go wait by the door. I'll help put your shoes on and we'll go for a walk together."
She doesn't think it's a good idea to have Kate around too many other dogs yet, so Angie takes her on a long walk around the neighbourhood, showing her all her favourite places. Kate tires pretty easily, probably because she's been underfed (for years, by the look of things) and had no exercise, but Angie doesn't mind taking frequent rest stops with her. She brings a pocket full of treats along as well, and every time they take a break to sit, she has Kate practice her words. The dog-girl takes to the training eagerly, and Angie feels her heart swelling with pride and affection as she sees Kate's confidence starting to grow.
After a more extended rest stop at her favourite cafe, which Angie is pleased to learn serves a whole line of caffeine-free pet drinks, Angie brings Kate home. The girl seems thoroughly worn out; when they get home, she drops to all fours immediately, then makes her way into her room and curls up in her dog bed. Angie follows her as far as the door frame and watches her nesting down in the bed and the pile of blankets, wrestling with a pang of longing. She understands intellectually why it's important for Kate to have her own space, and why she shouldn't go in, but she... wants Kate to be closer to her overnight. She sighs, pushes the feeling away, and turns to prepare herself some dinner.
As she eats, she does some further research, and after scouring Reddit she manages to find a local support group for pets and owners of pets who are survivors of abuse. She checks them out and they look friendly enough, so she joins their mailing list and pencils their next in-person meetup into her calendar. That done, she starts reading another chapter of "Road to Recovery: Caring For Pets After Trauma", which absorbs her so thoroughly that she forgets to finish her pasta before it gets cold. She scrapes the rest of it into the compost bin and drops it into the sink. She's just sat down with the book again when she hears Kate stirring.
"Hey, puppy. Doing okay?"
Kate comes into the kitchen on all fours, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. She wanders over by Angie and rubs her cheek against one of Angie's calves. The affectionate gesture takes Angie by surprise, but luckily she has the presence of mind to reach down and pet the dog-girl in response. She didn't realize Kate was so comfortable with her already - although maybe it's just that she's only half-awake. Kate makes her way to her bowl and starts eating slowly, which reminds Angie to give her one of the teeth-cleaning chews as well.
When she goes to grab one, she sees the small pack of pet diapers that she bought earlier today - unadorned, slim ones intended to be worn invisibly under clothes for pets that struggle with their house-training. She pulls the pack of diapers out as well, then leans down to offer Kate one of the dental chews.
"I got you some pet diapers earlier today, hon, just in case you want them. It seemed like it really upset you when you woke up wet this morning. If it'll make you feel better, you can... um, you can have one to sleep in."
Kate blushes a very deep red and looks down at the floor. Angie can feel her embarrassment viscerally, and reaches for her to pet her.
"It's okay," she says, tone as reassuring as she can make it. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I just don't want you to have to worry, if it's worrying you."
Kate still says nothing, but moves slightly to press herself closer to Angie. Angie puts an arm around her and squeezes her. A small part of her is deeply pleased that Kate seems to find contact with her reassuring. After a few silent seconds, Kate gives a tiny nod.
"Alright," Angie murmurs. "Um. Do you... are you okay putting it on yourself? Or do you want help?"
Kate simply presses herself more firmly against Angie, starting to tremble slightly. Angie's heart aches for her, and she leans closer to press a kiss to the dog-girl's temple.
"I won't judge you either way, Kate. I mean it."
Kate gives another tiny nod, then pulls gently away from Angie. She rolls over onto her back, then grips her own collar with both hands, looking up at her owner.
"Good," Angie says. She could wish Kate was using her words here, but the dog-girl seems distressed enough as it is, and what she wants is clear enough. Angie reaches beneath Kate's arms for the zipper at the front of her new coverall and draws it slowly down past Kate's waist, then nudges Kate's arms down so she can slip the garment partly off her. Kate parts her legs, pulling her heels in and raising her knees, and Angie pulls one of the diapers from the pack. She's surprised by how intimate this feels; her hands are shaking a little bit, and she can feel that her own cheeks are flushed. Kate's trusting her so much in this moment, and the feeling of her dog-girl putting this kind of faith in her is almost overwhelming. The position Kate's in is so vulnerable, and Angie swiftly and forcefully dismisses a feeling that rises unbidden when she happens to glance between Kate's spread thighs. Not now, she tells herself, and maybe not ever.
She slips the diaper beneath Kate, then pulls it firmly around her waist and tapes it closed. She's never done this before, but she's seen a video of how to do it, and ultimately there's really only so many ways to stick the various parts to each other. It looks right, at least, and seems to fit Kate properly. She pulls Kate's new coverall back up and zips it shut; if you know exactly where to look, you can just barely make out the shape of the new padding clinging to Kate's hips, but Angie doubts anyone who wasn't specifically looking would notice.
"Good girl," Angie murmurs, and Kate looks up at her, still obviously embarrassed. Angie motions for her to get back up, and once Kate's back on all fours, Angie offers her another treat. She's glad Choose (a pun on "Chews", she assumes, since they mostly sell pet snacks and treats) had such a big selection of low-allergen foods.
Kate walks in a slow circle, apparently assessing how the pet diaper feels. Angie watches her, but she doesn't seem too bothered by it, and after a couple of minutes the dog-girl makes her way back into her own room. Angie hears the sound of her rearranging her blankets yet again, and smiles down at her laptop, already looking forward to the support group meetup tomorrow.
When Kate next awakens, it's still dark outside. She opens an eye, still curled up in her bed, and peers out the windows of the room Angie's given her; in the distance she can see the orange-white glow of city lights. She readjusts herself slightly and reaches down yet again to touch the diaper where it curves between her thighs. It's dry, and though it's an unfamiliar feeling having something down there it isn't uncomfortable. She's worried that if she does embarrass herself again it won't hold all the wetness in and she'll make a mess anyway, but it seems like it's pretty tightly sealed anyway, so maybe it'll be okay?
Just as she finishes rearranging the blankets, she hears the small sound that initially woke her again: a soft, fearful whimper. She perks up, then gets to all fours and makes her way into the living room. The darkness is broken by a little night light plugged into one of the light sockets, casting a pale red glow across the floor. Angie has these in every room of her apartment, including the bathroom. She told Kate she can unplug the one in her room if she wants to, but so far Kate's found that she kind of likes it. Being able to see when she wakes up during the night helps her orient herself, and the soft light makes the space feel warmer and cozier.
When she hears the whimper again, she noses open the door to Angie's room. In the dim glow, she can see that Angie's tangled in her sheets, sweat glistening on her skin, hands tightly fisted in the linens. Her lips are moving, murmuring soundlessly. Kate moves to the edge of her bed and puts her front paws on it, looking at her owner and trying to figure out what to do. She doesn't want to startle Angie by making a noise, but she does want to wake her from her nightmare. The thought that Angie might be upset with her for disturbing her sleep doesn't occur to her until she's already hopped onto the bed.
Angie whimpers again, then her eyes flutter open. "Wh - whuh? Kate?"
Kate gets close enough to rub one of her cheeks against Angie, who reaches for her and pulls her into a full-body cuddle. Kate tenses, surprised, but then her body seems to remember that it's Angie and she relaxes into the woman's embrace.
"Everything okay, girl?" Angie's voice is a bit unsteady and rough with sleep, but Kate can hear the concern there, too.
Kate presses herself a little closer. "You," she tries, then pauses. Angie starts stroking her hair; Kate things she might be able to feel her owner's racing heartbeat through all the layers of skin and coverall. "Bad dream," Kate adds, hoping Angie will understand. She's never been much good with words, and the more dog-like she's feeling the harder it is.
"You had a bad dream?"
Kate shakes her head. "You," she repeats, for emphasis.
Comprehension dawns. "I was having a bad dream, and you woke me up?"
Kate nods, glad to have gotten her point across. Angie squeezes her more tightly, pressing Kate's scrawny, ruined body into her own. Kate lets out a happy sigh.
"Thank you, Kate," Angie says, voice thick with emotion. She sounds like she's about to start crying. Kate turns herself around in Angie's embrace so she can curl herself up and press her forehead against Angie's collarbone.
"My, um," Angie says. "My... my old dog Steph used to wake me up if I had nightmares, too. It just - it reminds me of her, I guess."
A piece of the puzzle that is Angie falls into place for Kate. Angie used to have a dog before - a good dog, by the sound of it - who she lost and who she misses. Now she has Kate, who isn't a good dog, but she's grieving and Kate is a... substitute. Well, Kate thinks, there are worse things than that. It hurts to understand, because it means she probably won't get to stay with Angie once Angie finds a better dog, but maybe it means she'll be safe for now.
She pulls both her arms into her chest and grabs her own collar, making herself as small as she can. Her heart hurts. She shouldn't have, she really should know better, but she's been letting herself get attached to Angie and letting herself have stupid stupid daydreams about what belonging to Angie might be like and it is, of course, all not for her at all.
Angie gives her another affectionate squeeze. "You don't have to stay in bed with me if you don't want to," she murmurs, "but you can if you like."
Kate frowns. She does want to stay in bed with Angie, but if she wets Angie's bed in her sleep, she will get punished, regardless of how lenient Angie's been with her otherwise. She decides on a compromise which will protect Angie's bed (and Angie) while still letting her stay near Angie - in case her owner has another nightmare, she tells herself. She goes back into her own room, grabs her dog bed in her teeth, and drags it all the way over to Angie's bedside, complete with its small mountain of blankets.
Angie looks down at her, watches Kate arranging her bedding with a fond expression on her face. Once Kate's all done and settled, Angie says "goodnight, puppy," then rolls over in her own bed to sleep again.
Kate sleeps the rest of the night peacefully. When she next awakes, the sun is just starting to light the room. Angie's still asleep. The way the sunlight falls across her face, the way she looks so calm and comfortable, they way her dark hair fans out across the pillows is... stunning. She's beautiful. It's an odd feeling, to admire her owner like that. She never thought her Master was beautiful, never thought that about any of the people that - that came to see her, to borrow her from him, or to use her or hurt her. None of them have ever been beautiful to her.
It's only then that she remembers about the diaper. She reaches between her thighs to check beneath her coverall once again, but the outside's still bone-dry, and there are no wet spots in her bedding or suit at all. The inside certainly still feels dry as well, although she can't actually slip her hands underneath the taped edges to check directly. It's still comfortable, too, which surprises her; when her coverall gets wet it sticks to her and it feels horrible. Maybe she didn't wet herself last night after all?
Angie stirs, blinking awake in the sunlight. She spots Kate, still lying in her blanket nest by the side of the bed, and her lips curve into a soft smile.
"Morning, puppy," she says, sitting up in her bed. Angie apparently sleeps in just a tank top and panties, with, as Kate quickly realizes, no bra. She tries her best not to stare, but her gaze lingers on the soft swell of Angie's chest beneath a single layer of white fabric, and she feels her face heating.
Angie stretches, apparently oblivious to Kate's attention. "Thank you for waking me last night," she says, and yawns. "If you ever notice me having a bad dream like that, please wake me. It happens to me pretty - pretty often, unfortunately."
Kate nods, forcing herself to look anywhere other than Angie's breasts.
"You know," Angie says, as she swings her legs off the bed. "I feel safer with you sleeping in the room. Would you mind leaving your bed in here?"
Kate lifts her head and tilts it slightly, quizzical. Angie feels safer with her sleeping in her room?
Angie hops off the bed, then leans down to pet her. Kate sighs happily; her owner's fingers carding through her hair feel lovely, and when Angie moves on she feels the absurd urge to whine for more attention. The idea that she'd want more attention from a person seems ridiculous, since attention always means use or pain, but... with Angie it's different. She doesn't know how or why exactly, but it is.
"It's, um," Angie says. She stops at the door to her room and seems uncertain for a moment, then says "I like... I get scared at night sometimes. That's why I have all the lights, too. Having you there, especially because you seem like a pretty light sleeper and you're a lot bigger than me, it's... it's good."
Kate blinks in surprise. She knows she's tall for a dog-girl, and she has been since she was a teenager. Master hated it, and he often told her that he was helping her slim down to a proper size for a bitch. No amount of starvation ever made her any shorter, though, just skinnier and weaker. She's never really imagined that someone might actually like her being big. It does make sense, though, when she thinks about it; since Angie's so small, having a bigger guard dog makes her feel better.
Kate's never been a guard dog before. She's been a lot of other kinds of dog, but nobody's ever actually looked to her to protect anything or anyone. Is that - something she can be? For Angie? Does Angie want that? Now that Kate thinks about Angie from this angle, she can understand it; Angie seems like she's anxious a lot of the time. Kate can tell she's trying not to let it show, but survival for her has required expertise in reading the emotions of people, and the signs are there if you know where to look. Maybe Angie spends a lot of her time feeling scared, too. If Kate can help her... not feel that, she definitely wants to.
Angie interrupts her train of thought. "How was your, um. Your diaper?"
Kate looks up at her and smiles.
"Oh, good," Angie says. "Well, let's go get you out of it, and we can get a bath going for you and a shower for me. After that, we're gonna go out for breakfast. I want to introduce you to my friend Leila and her dog Pierre."
The drive to Leila and Pierre's apartment is blessedly smooth. Leila finds Kate adorable and tells her so at length, and after some initial trepidation Kate seems to be fairly comfortable with Pierre, who is extremely pleased to have another dog over. The two dogs play a video game together while Angie and Leila prepare a simple meal. Leila hands Angie a bowl for Kate, which she fills with a healthy portion of scrambled eggs and a couple of strips of bacon, cut up into bite-sized chunks. She fills the remainder of the space out with home fries, then lightly sauces it. It looks... well, not exactly appetizing all jumbled together, but that's how most pets eat, so it'll probably be just fine for Kate. It certainly smells good.
She and Leila set the bowls down for the dogs, then sit down at the table with their own plates. Pierre rushes over, leaving Kate behind in the living room, and immediately shoves his face into his bowl. As Kate comes into the room, Leila clears her throat, giving Pierre a disappointed look. Kate stops immediately, but Pierre keeps eating.
"Pierre," Leila says, in a warning tone. Kate's eyes widen, and Angie can see her starting to shrink back into the doorway. She gets up, wanting to comfort her dog without interrupting Leila correcting her own, and goes to pet Kate.
Pierre stills abruptly and looks up at her. Leila gives him a stern look, then gestures with her head towards Kate and Angie. Pierre seems to abruptly understand something, and sits back, hanging his head in shame.
"Right," Leila says. "We don't eat until everyone's here. Remember why?"
Pierre nods slowly, looking abashed.
"Good," Leila says, flatly. "To help you remember for next time, I'm going to punish you."
Angie feels Kate tense under her fingers. She crouches down and squeezes the dog-girl reassuringly. Leila's not going to punish Pierre severely, not for something this small, and maybe it'll be good for Kate to see what a normal punishment looks like.
"Get up by your bowl like you're ready to eat," Leila says, and Pierre quickly does so, staring down at his partly-eaten food.
"Now, you're going to stay like that until the rest of us are all done eating. You can eat once everyone else is done, and while you're waiting I want you to think about how it feels to be left out."
Pierre whimpers, but gives a tiny nod.
"Good," Leila says, and turns back to her own plate. "Angie and Kate, let's eat."
Kate eyes Pierre watchfully, as though expecting some sort of reaction, but the dog-boy stays still just as he was ordered to, staring down at his food. Angie gently nudges her own dog, and Kate starts eating, far more daintily than Pierre had been. Angie reaches down to pet her while she starts on her own meal.
Catching up with Leila is a delight. She gets a rundown on how the work drama's been unfolding, which mostly makes her glad that she's been missing it, and also slightly anxious that she may not actually have a job to come back to. If it comes to that, she does have a lot of savings, so things should be just fine, but she's also never been a person who does particularly well with uncertainty.
After that, she and Leila discuss how she's been getting along with Kate so far. It always feels a little strange discussing a pet while they're present, since they can understand everything being said, but most pets quite like being talked about as though they're not there. Pierre explained it to her once; apparently it makes them feel more pet-like to be left out of conversations about themselves.
As Angie talks through the various forms and inspections and the small mountain of paperwork involved in the actual adoption process, she finds herself growing increasingly anxious about one of the upcoming steps - namely, the first home visit. One of the conditions of adopting Kate from this particular shelter, especially since Kate is a ward of Pet Welfare given her background, is that she needs regular home visits from either a DPW staff member or one of the shelter employees. The first home visit is in a couple of days, and Angie is keenly, unpleasantly aware that if they don't like what they see, they can take Kate away from her immediately. She's only had the dog-girl for a couple of days, but she already feels very much hers, and the idea of losing her makes Angie feel sick. She can't think of any reason they should actually want to take her away, and Kate certainly seems like she's doing alright, but the worry has been gradually eating at her nonetheless.
After the three of them have finished eating, Leila tells Pierre that now he may eat, which he does with considerably less gusto than before. Angie can tell he's still feeling guilty. Leila can too, and she starts petting him as he eats, reassuring him that he's still a very good dog even if he does make mistakes from time to time. That perks him up, and once he finishes his meal he comes to kneel by Leila, leaning against her legs. She scratches him under his collar, smiling.
"Good boy. I bet you're going to remember to wait next time, aren't you?"
He nods, eagerly.
Angie volunteers to clean up, and enlists Kate to help her, even though it does require her dog-girl to stand up. She rinses plates and stacks the dishwasher while Kate hand-washes the frying pan and a couple of other awkward items. Angie picks the pan up and inspects it; it's spotless.
"Good work, Kate," she says, and Kate blushes, a small smile creeping onto her face. Angie lays a hand on her shoulder and rubs her affectionately, then turns to drying things with a hand towel. In a few minutes the kitchen is as neat and tidy as before. She says their goodbyes, leaving Leila and Pierre to enjoy the rest of their day together, and leads Kate back out into the sunshine.
The tightness in her chest finally starts to ease when the door of Angie's car shuts. Angie gets in on the driver's side, then reaches over to buckle her in, pausing to touch her cheek softly. Kate is profoundly grateful to be out of the apartment, so she forces a smile for Angie and turns to stare out the window.
It'd all been fine at first. She'd been afraid to meet Leila, and even more afraid to meet her dog, but Pierre had turned out to be quite friendly. She'd still been on edge the entire time, waiting for something bad to happen; she feels guilty for that, since neither Pierre nor Leila were anything but nice to her. Her body hasn't gotten the message yet, it seems. When Angie had originally mentioned that they'd be meeting another dog, and a male one at that, Kate had assumed... well, something other than sitting on a bean bag together playing a video game. As often seems to happen with Angie, her expectations turned out to be totally wrong.
And then there'd been Leila punishing her dog. As soon as she'd sensed Leila's mood shift, Kate's blood had frozen in her veins and she'd felt the overpowering urge to run. If Angie hadn't been in the room she certainly would have. She'd expected Leila to hit the dog-boy, or worse, or at the very least to take away his food. When she'd actually just made him wait to eat, but still let him eat everything, she'd been shocked - and that was small in comparison to what had happened afterwards. She's never, in her whole life, seen an owner talk to a pet the way Leila did to Pierre after she'd punished him. She's never even imagined it. She feels strangely ill, like the bottom's fallen out of her stomach. Is there just something wrong with both Angie and Leila? Or is there something wrong with her?
She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't notice Angie's not driving the route home until her owner parks the car. They're in the parking lot of a large park, it looks like. Angie hops out, then comes around and opens Kate's door. She clips the leash to the ring of Kate's collar, then motions for her to follow.
"I wanted to show you Dease Park," Angie explains. "It's not too far from home and it's one of my favourites in the whole city. I used to run through here sometimes, back when - well, yeah. Anyway, there's some great wooded trails and lots of good places to sit. Let's go for a little walk and get both of us some exercise."
Kate stays on two legs, and sticks close to Angie even though the leash is at least ten feet long. It's surprising how comforting it is to be tethered to her owner this way. There's a gentle pressure, almost imperceptible, on her collar from the weight of leash which she finds reassuring, like a tangible reminder that the other woman is still nearby. Angie, for her part, keeps the other end of the leash looped around one of her wrists, not putting any tension on it.
They walk together in companionable quiet. Kate still gets tired too easily, but whenever she slows Angie seems to know immediately and slows her pace as well to match. Every so often, Angie will lead Kate over to a bench, or a rock, or a particularly nice patch of grass to sit down for a few minutes. The sun gradually warms her, and she finds herself starting to relax into just spending time with her owner.
It's... really nice. Startingly nice, in fact. Angie almost doesn't scare her at all, and just being around Angie feels like it makes everything else less scary too. There's a particular tension that she's carried with her for so long that it's grown all the way into her soul, and around Angie she feels it - not easing, exactly, but starting to feel like it's less omnipresent.
She glances over at Angie, who's watching a flock of ducks peacefully dabbling around the edges of a small pond, and feels her heart warm. Angie's left hand is holding the leash loosely, just enough that she won't drop it, and she looks happy and at ease. Kate glances down at her hand again, at the delicate fingers wrapped around the blue woven nylon, and swallows as a vision suddenly appears unbidden of Angie's grip tightening on the leash, dragging Kate closer to her, closer, and then of Angie looking up at her, lips slightly parting, eyes warm and playful, drawing Kate in yet closer by her leash...
Kate shakes herself. That's... no. That is not a thing she should think about her owner. She winces, shame washing over her. Angie's already being far nicer than she deserves just by letting her stay in her apartment and feeding her, and Kate doesn't want to bother her by wanting anything else.
Eventually, even Angie seems to get tired of walking, so she leads Kate back to her car and drives them home. Kate relaxes into the passenger seat, watching the world roll by out the window, and lets out a long, shaky breath.
"Good walk?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kate replies quietly, since Angie's focusing on the road and won't see her if she just nods.
"We'll go for walks every day," Angie says. "It'll be good for both of us - and I really enjoy it, too."
Kate smiles. "Yes, ma'am."
Angie awakens early on the morning of the first home visit with a weight already sitting in her stomach. She gets herself out of bed, trying to be as quiet as she can, but to no avail - the movement wakes Kate immediately, who blinks herself awake as well. Angie goes over to her and scratches the back of her head gently, earning herself a pleased noise from the dog-girl. She's so cute, Angie thinks to herself, a warm feeling gathering in her chest.
She leads the still-yawning girl into the bathroom, where she sheds her own sleep clothes and helps Kate out of her jumpsuit and overnight diaper, pointedly not letting her eyes wander. It's only been a few days, but a lot of Kate's injuries are starting to fade with regular sleep and meals. That brings the more permanent ones, the scars and burns, into sharper relief and Angie prefers not to look at them any more than she has to. The idea of someone hurting Kate fills her with a sick, venomous anger, and she doesn't want to feel that way, because if she does Kate will probably be able to tell and will probably assume it's directed at her. Angie draws in a breath, tamps the feeling down, and rubs Kate's cheek affectionately.
"Bath time, puppy," she says, and Kate obediently turns and starts running the hot water. While the tub is filling, Angie hops into the shower and scrubs herself clean. She emerges as Kate's getting into the now-full bath, wraps a towel around herself, then goes to get dressed, leaving Kate to clean herself. At first she was hesitant to leave the dog alone in the bath, but Kate seems perfectly content to just sit in the warm water and slowly wash herself. This has become part of their strange shared morning routine over the past few days: Kate soaks in the bath while Angie gets dressed and prepares breakfast for both of them.
Angie pours some pellets into Kate's bowl, then starts making some oatmeal for herself. She tends to just let Kate eat whenever she feels like it, and focuses on ensuring the girl always has plenty of food and water; a sense of food security is very important for rescued pets, apparently. Angie makes herself some coffee, too, and skims through her email while she plans out the day ahead.
The most important thing, of course, is the home visit early this afternoon. She's mentally set aside all of the time leading up to then for cleaning, tidying, and generally fretting about being judged. She's never exactly been the neatest person, but in this case she desperately wants to make a good impression.
Angie has eaten and started on tidying the living area when Kate emerges from the bathroom, clothed and with a towel wrapped loosely around her hair. Angie's very pleased with the fit of the new coveralls she got, and Kate seems to adore them, but she could wish they were a little bit less... form-fitting. The garment seems to fit Kate like a glove, and the slender lines of Kate's body, the subtle suggestions of curves and softness in certain places, are immensely appealing. Angie isn't naive enough to imagine that owners are never attracted to their pets, but it's different with a shelter pet like Kate. It's one thing if you're already partners and one of you decides to become a pet, or even if you meet a pet on an app or at a club or something, but this is something else entirely. She couldn't live with herself if she somehow coerced Kate into a relationship the dog-girl doesn't want, especially after everything else she's been through, so she'll just have to deal with her building attraction on her own.
Kate drinks a bunch of her water and starts eating, which Angie uses as an excuse to crouch down by her, petting her and murmuring soft words of praise. Any excuse to tell Kate how good she is will do; it always makes Kate blush, which makes her somehow even cuter than normal. Angie slips a couple of fingers beneath the girl's collar and rubs the skin there, right at the nape of her neck. Kate stills, eyes closing, and Angie leans close to press her forehead against Kate's upper back.
"Home visit today," she says, as Kate goes back to eating. "Someone from the shelter's going to come by to see how you're settling in, so we're doing some cleaning until then. After that, we'll go get you some more food."
Kate stops eating and lifts her head long enough to give a little nod.
"I think you also need another vet appointment," Angie continues. "I'm worried about you getting sick so much."
Kate stops again, raises her head, and turns to look at Angie, who shrugs.
"It seems like just about everything other than this specific food makes you sick. That's not normal, so I want to get you checked out. It won't be too scary."
"Yes, ma'am," Kate says, then goes back to eating again.
Angie gets up, strokes Kate's back one more time, then goes back to her tidying.
The inspection turns out to be very different from what Angie had expected. She'd sort of assumed it would be a social worker, or someone else from Pet Welfare, a sort of stiffly formal and immaculately groomed official with a clipboard and a permanently judgmental look. Instead, when her doorbell rings at just after 1pm, it's Grace, dressed exactly as she was the last time Angie saw her in a rough wool sweater, well-worn jeans, and hiking boots. Angie's surprise must be obvious, because Grace gives her an amused look.
"Expecting someone else?"
"Oh, uh, sorry." Angie says. "No, I wasn't really expecting - um. Sorry," she says, feeling her cheeks heat in embarrassment. She shuts her eyes for a second and takes a breath. "Do-over. Hello, Grace. No, I wasn't expecting you."
Grace laughs softly. "Is this a bad time?"
"Oh, no, it's fine," Angie clarifies. "I just - sorry, I didn't think it'd be you."
"Ha, yeah," Grace says. "Well, I wanted to say hi to Kate anyway, so I volunteered to do your home visit. How's she doing?"
"So far so good," Angie replies, ushering Grace into her apartment. Kate's in the living area, resting at one end of the couch. She looks up when they enter, then her eyes brighten as she recognizes Grace. She all but tumbles off the couch in her excitement, then rushes over to Grace on all fours.
"Wow," Grace says, reaching down to pet her. "Missed me, huh?"
Kate nods, pressing herself against Grace's legs.
"Okay, sweetheart," Angie says. "Let's at least let Grace get her boots off first. Give her some space."
Kate reluctantly backs away, and Grace sits to unlace her boots. "I've never seen her that affectionate before," she says.
"Yeah," Angie replies. "I've been socializing her a bit, but mostly I think it's just that she likes you. She's still pretty cagey around most people and other pets."
"Ah, well," Grace says. She tucks her boots neatly next to Angie's, then stands up. "You got her a new coverall already?"
Angie nods. "The one she had before didn't fit her too well, and I wanted her to have something warmer for when we're outside too."
"Good call," Grace says, leaning down to look more closely at the material. "Wow," she says, impressed. "I wish we could afford this kind of stuff at the shelter."
Angie blushes. "I want her to be comfortable," she says, feeling like she needs to justify spending the money now.
Grace smiles at her. "Can I see her space?"
"Sure."
Angie leads her to the room set aside for Kate, although without her actual bed in it, it's fairly empty - just a couple of blankets on the floor and some scattered toys. Standing in the doorway, Grace scans the room, then gives Angie a questioning look.
"Her bed's in my room," Angie explains. "She, um. She dragged it in there, the second night she was here."
"Has she been sleeping okay?"
Angie pauses. "Mostly. She has night terrors sometimes, and she's had some issues with... wetting in her sleep. Not a big deal, I have some diapers for her."
Grace exhales. "Pretty normal for shelter dogs, unfortunately. It might get better with time, might not."
"Well," Angie says, "I hope it does. She doesn't have any trouble with that while she's awake, so I think it's tied to the night terrors. They're... pretty heartbreaking to see."
"Yeah, they are," Grace replies, quietly. "On night shift at the shelter you get to see a lot of that. It's always awful. Show me her bed?"
Angie leads Grace over to her own bedroom, which is neater than it's been in months. Kate's bed is right by the side of her own, with her usual mount of blankets piled on top of it.
"Oh good," Grace murmurs. "Seems like she's got a good little nest going."
"Yeah," Angie says. "I've been reading through Road to Recovery and it says nests are pretty common for pets with trauma, especially if they aren't comfortable in confined spaces."
"Right. I'm glad it's close to your bed, too. That means she trusts you."
Angie likes the way that phrase feels. She mouths it silently to herself: she trusts you.
"Where's her food and water?"
Angie shows Grace to the kitchen; there's a scattering of pellets still in the bottom of Kate's food bowl. She digs out the bag of hypoallergenic food and puts a couple more scoops into the bowl.
Grace motions for the food bag, and Angie hands it to her. She scans the ingredient list on the back.
"How's she been doing on this stuff?"
"Okay. It stays down, at least. I don't think she loves the taste or texture, but it doesn't make her sick. Pretty much everything else I've tried feeding her has."
"Yeah," Grace says, thoughtful. "Next time you have her at the vet I'd ask them about it. It's probably an allergy or something."
"I will," Angie promises. "Uh. Can I get you a cup of tea or something, while you're here?"
Grace smiles. "Sorry," she says. "Can't take anything from you, even something small. Professional ethics and all."
"Oh, right," Angie says. "Sorry. I didn't think -"
"No worries," Grace says, cutting her off. "I need to talk with Kate alone now, see how she's doing. Is there somewhere private I can take her?"
"You can use my bedroom," Angie says.
"Cheers. Kate, can you come with me for a second?"
The girl springs up from the couch and follows Grace into the bedroom. The door shuts, and Angie sits down at the kitchen table, trying not to fidget. She thinks Kate's happy here. She seems happy here. She just hopes that the girl actually is, because if she's not, and she tells Grace she wants to leave, then the shelter can just take her dog-girl back on the spot. Angie's only had her for a few days, but it already feels like Kate's a big part of her life, and she desperately doesn't want to lose her.
Mercifully, Grace and Kate emerge after only a couple of minutes. Grace reads Angie's anxiety off her face, and says: "well, she certainly likes you."
Angie lets out a long, wavering breath. Okay.
Grace walks back to the entryway, then sits to put her boots back on. As she's lacing them, she says: "It seems like you're doing a great job taking care of her so far. Just keep doing what you're doing, keep getting her outside to socialize. She's a bright girl, so she'll probably start to get bored or restless as she recovers unless she has a lot of exercise and stimulation."
"No worries on that front," Angie says, with a smile. "We're gonna do some hiking together."
"Oh good," Grace says. "Well, um. If you're ever feeling like it, we always have volunteers walking the pets from the shelter. You could bring Kate along with one of them if you want."
"Sounds fun," Angie says. "Do you guys need more volunteers? Speaking of that, I mean."
Grace snorts. "Always, but let's come back to that after you've had her for a couple of months. I think she's gonna be a real ball of energy. You might have your hands full."
"I hope so," Angie replies.
Grace says her goodbyes, ruffles Kate's hair one last time, and then she's gone.
There are only a few things Kate wants to do less than go to the vet. Unfortunately, one of those things is disappointing Angie, so here she is in the car, clenching her fists in her lap and trying to keep herself from panicking. Angie's reassured her repeatedly that the vet they're going to is really nice, and Kate is starting to trust Angie, but her body's still scared anyway.
The vet's office is a plain one-story building with big windows looking in on a waiting area, where a couple of other pets are sitting with their owners. Angie leashes her, then leads her inside and gets them checked in at the front desk. She takes a seat to wait, and Kate sits cross-legged on the floor next to her, eyeing the other pets curiously. There's a much older dog, sitting with a grey-haired woman, a faint tremor visible in his limbs. On the other side of the waiting room, a cat-girl a few years younger than Kate is warily watching the two dogs while her owner, a man Kate's age, slowly pets her. Neither of them seem afraid to be here, and that helps a little bit.
After a little while the vet, a plump and rosy-faced woman with curly brown hair, comes out to find Angie. She introduces herself as Doctor Becky and leads both of them into an exam room. There, she chats with Angie a bit about Kate's health and welfare, then unzips the top of Kate's coverall to listen to her heart and her lungs.
"Food issues, hmm?", she says, digging a small plastic-wrapped thing out of a drawer. She unwraps it, revealing something that looks sort of like a candy bar, but less appetizing, and holds it up to show it to Kate. "This has most of the common food allergens in it. If you eat it, in... oh, thirty minutes or so, you'll probably feel pretty sick, but then I can take a bit of your blood and test it for antibodies. Which antibodies you have will probably give us a pretty good idea of what you're allergic to."
Kate looks over at Angie, who nods at her. Kate takes the bar and bites off a chunk from it. It tastes and feels like she imagines eating a bath towel might, but with some more encouragement from both Angie and Doctor Becky, she manages to choke the rest of it down. The doctor sends them both back to the waiting room to wait for a bit. It's strange knowing that the nausea is going to come but not exactly when; it has her hyper-sensitive to every little sensation in her body. It's a relief when it actually does come, even though she almost vomits in her mouth. Doctor Becky ushers her quickly back into the exam room and gives her a small plastic container in case she needs it.
"Okay, I'm just going to get a small sample of your blood. Have you ever had your blood taken before?"
Kate's not sure one way or the other. She's been taken to vets before, but nobody's ever bothered explaining what was happening to her. She shakes her head.
"Ah, that's alright. So, basically I have this tiny little needle. I'm going to stick it into one of your veins and fill up this tube here with some blood. It won't hurt, but you might feel a little pinch when the needle goes in. Just don't look. Maybe Ms., um..."
"Cook," Angie supplies.
"Right, sorry. Maybe Ms. Cook can give you something else to focus on?"
"Sure," Angie says. "Kate, look at me. Just focus on me for a bit, okay?"
It's easy to obey. She locks her eyes on Angie, taking in every little detail of her owner's face. Sometimes Angie makes her practice looking at her - she'll just say "Kate, look here," and if Kate looks her in the eye, she gets a treat. What's amazing is that if Kate doesn't do it, nothing bad happens.
She barely notices the entire procedure. Before she knows it, Doctor Becky says "all done!" in a cheerful tone and sticks a tiny band-aid with cartoon puppies on it over the crook of Kate's left arm, then rolls her coverall's sleeve back down.
"Great job, especially for your first time," the vet says. "We'll get the lab results in... two or three days, I guess. They'll check which antibodies your immune system made, kind of, and that'll give us a very good idea of what you're allergic to. I'll give you a call when the results come in."
She sticks a little label to the crimson tube, then slots it into a rack of others like it. "So, is there anything else bothering you?"
Angie frowns. "There is one other thing that maybe we can get you to look at today. She, um. So she's a shelter dog, and before she was in the shelter she was at a... a brothel. The, um, the vet at the shelter said she probably has some internal injuries from - from that. She wasn't comfortable enough for him to check her out there, but maybe if Kate's feeling less nervous about it now you can, um, have a look?"
"Oh," the vet says, lips pressing into a flat line. "Uh, well, Kate - I know it's not the most comfortable thing, but would you mind if I had a quick peek down there?"
Kate flushes. She doesn't want Doctor Becky to hurt her down there. She doesn't know what to do, so she glances over at Angie, who's giving her an encouraging look. It seems like Angie wants her to, so she bites her lip and gives a little nod. Doctor Becky has her hop up onto an exam table and has Angie unzip her coverall. It reminds Kate strongly of how it feels when Angie puts her night-time diapers on, which only deepens her embarrassment. Angie pulls Kate's coverall completely off, leaving her naked, and as usual her owner avoids looking at her.
Kate wants very badly to curl up into a ball, but Doctor Becky gently touches one of Kate's knees, indicating for her to spread her legs, so she does. She tries to focus all her attention on Angie again and does her best not to flinch when the doctor's cold, slippery gloved fingers probe around inside her. It stings a little, but not as badly as she's used to. Angie holds one of her hands tightly, murmuring quiet reassurance to her, and Kate clings to her owner's words. Thankfully it's not too long, then Doctor Becky tells her it's all done, and Kate's able to get dressed again.
The doctor doesn't seem to want to look at Kate any more, and the levity has gone from her voice. To Angie, she says:
"She's definitely been treated pretty badly. She's really tender internally, and I can feel some scarring as well. There's a cream I can prescribe that'll help with healing and will reduce the scarring a bit, but I'm afraid much of that damage is likely to be pretty permanent. You'll want to get her in to see an ob/gyn at some point for a better assessment. She'll also probably have been - I mean, given her history, it's likely she'll have been... uh, sterilized, so I doubt she'll be able to have puppies. Anyway, for a full assessment I can refer you to..."
The vet keeps talking, and Angie keeps nodding and asking her questions and saying the right things, jaw tense and mouth set in a hard line, but Kate loses track of the conversation. She can't have puppies any more? She doesn't remember anyone telling her that, although she's been used more times than she can count and never been pregnant, so maybe it is true. That... hurts, surprisingly. It feels like something's been stolen from her. She's never actually wanted puppies, but knowing that she can't, that the choice has been taken away from her, makes her stomach churn.
Eventually, they're all done at the vet, and Angie takes her home. Kate manages to make it back to the car before she lets herself start crying.
Angie gradually becomes aware that someone else is in her bed. She's warm, and there's an arm around her midsection and a soft body curled against her back. She squirms slightly, presses herself backwards into the welcome embrace, and then her brain catches up to the situation and she realizes it's Kate holding her. Her dog-girl is wrapped loosely around her, still sleeping soundly. Angie flushes red as she realizes how her body's been reacting to Kate's proximity, and she gently shakes herself loose and turns to face the girl.
The movement wakes Kate, whose eyes snap open suddenly. She lies still, looking at Angie curiously. She doesn't look nervous the way Angie would've expected; in fact, she looks quite calm.
"You're in my bed," Angie points out.
"Bad dream," Kate says, by way of explanation. "You. Again."
Angie sighs, annoyed with herself. "Oh. Well... thank you. You don't need to, um, get out of bed for me."
Kate simply stretches lazily, then curls back into a pose of such comfort that Angie can't do anything other than lie down next to her. The moment she does, Kate moves closer to her, draping an arm over Angie's waist and wrapping herself around her owner. It's still surprising how comfortable the dog-girl's gotten with physical touch - at least from her - in the couple of weeks they've been together. She hadn't expected it, and the book had warned her that most pets with traumatic pasts take quite a while to warm up to their owners, but she's very pleased that Kate seems to like being close to her. It's a good sign that she and the dog are bonding well, but also selfishly she enjoys touching Kate and is glad the feeling is mutual.
"You have bad dreams a lot," Kate says, slowly. Angie blinks, surprised to hear a complete sentence.
"Yeah," she replies. "I..." she's about to say "had a pretty rough childhood", her usual way of wrapping up the story of her upbringing, but she stops herself. What she went through doesn't compare to what's happened to Kate at all. Instead, she says: "I've had them since I was a kid. They're not as common as they used to be when I was younger, but sometimes I still... yeah."
Kate says nothing, but her grip on Angie tightens slightly. Angie pulls her knees up, curling herself smaller, and goes on in a quiet voice. She feels pathetic even describing it, especially because of how much worse Kate's obviously had it, but something about the calm quiet is making her feel like she can speak, so she is.
"When I was little my mom died, and my dad got remarried. My new stepmom had a couple of kids of her own, older than me, so they became my stepbrothers. He got really wrapped up in things with her, so they kind of left us three kids on our own. My stepbrothers... really didn't like my dad, and they took it out on me. That was pretty bad, and then when I was like 15 I came out as trans and things got a lot worse. It was - things were rough at home with my stepbrothers and my stepmom, my dad was away a lot, and things got really bad in school too, so... yeah. I don't know."
Kate presses her forehead against the back of Angie's neck. Her arm is a firm, reassuring presence around Angie's waist. Angie releases a shuddering breath, letting some of her anxiety go with it.
"Thanks for listening," she says, and Kate squeezes her again. Angie wishes she could tell what the girl was thinking more often. Most pets aren't usually very talkative though, and Kate seems especially quiet unless Angie's expressly prompting her to talk, it's a rare day she hears more than a quiet "yes, ma'am" or similar from her.
Angie lets herself enjoy being close to Kate for a few more minutes, replaying the conversation in her head. It's the first time she ever explicitly outed herself to the dog-girl, she realizes, although she's been sort of assuming that Kate could just tell. Kate hasn't reacted so maybe she just already knew? Or perhaps she didn't and she just hasn't reacted yet. Or, possibly, she just missed Angie mentioning it altogether and still doesn't know.
The uncertainty starts to bother her, so she turns to face Kate again. The girl's eyes are half-closed, breath slow and steady.
"Kate?", Angie says, tentatively. "You... you heard me say I'm trans, right?"
Kate's eyes flutter open, and she nods.
"You're okay with that?"
"Doesn't affect me," Kate murmurs, which Angie supposes is fair enough. The easy acceptance warms her heart, and she curls herself closer to Kate.
"Was fifteen when I came out too," Kate says, slowly. "As... dog."
Angie holds her breath, waiting for Kate to say more, but she doesn't. When Angie draws back slightly to look at her face, Kate has a far-away look, eyes glistening with tears. Angie pulls her into a tight hug, and Kate whimpers softly, then whispers: "I'm sorry."
"What for?"
Kate sniffles. "'m bad dog," she says, voice cracking. "Dumb. Ugly."
There's old hurt in her voice. Angie kisses the girl's forehead softly.
"You're not any of those things, Kate. You don't seem dumb, and you're certainly not ugly. As for being bad, isn't that up to me? I'd tell you if you were."
Kate looks up at Angie's face, searching, and seems not to find what she's looking for. "Don't believe you," she finally says, so quiet she's barely audible.
Angie kisses her forehead again. "I'm going to keep saying it until you believe it." She gives Kate another gentle squeeze, then her stomach abruptly reminds her that she's had neither breakfast nor coffee yet.
She slowly disentangles herself from Kate, who seems torn between clinging to her and complying with what Angie obviously wants.
"C'mon, puppy. Bath and breakfast time."
It's a gorgeous, sunny morning, so Angie takes Kate out on a long morning walk. Her dog-girl is definitely gaining stamina and hardly has to stop at all while walking now. It's amazing, Angie thinks, what even a few days of consistent meals and regular exercise can do. They end up passing by the library, and on a whim, Angie decides to show Kate around inside.
The librarian at the front desk gives them a warm smile. She's an older woman, in her early fifties if Angie's any judge, with a slender silver collar just visible above the neckline of her coveralls and a small pair of upright rabbit ears perched atop her head.
"Welcome," she says, voice practically bubbling with energy. "Can I help you find something?"
"Oh, no thanks," Angie replies. "I'm just showing her around."
"Ooh," the librarian says, eyeing Kate curiously. "A new member of your family?"
Angie smiles. "I hope so."
"Do you want to get her a library card?"
Angie blinks. "I suppose we could. I don't even have one for myself, though."
"Oh! Well, we can just sign you up together. Here, there's just a... oh bother..."
The bunny-woman pulls a drawer open and flips rapidly through a pile of papers. There are sticky notes of all different colours applied with no apparent rhyme or reason. She gets increasingly flustered as she searches through the papers, before she finally pulls out a single sheet of paper and holds it up triumphantly.
"Here! Just fill this in and I'll get you both set up."
Angie does so and hands it back to her.
"Great," the woman enthuses. "Your cards will be ready to pick up in a few days. Welcome to the library! Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Angie smiles at her. "We're okay. We're just going to have a look around."
"Okay! Welcome to the library!" The bunny-woman then seems to realize she's repeating herself, blushes deeply, and abruptly turns her attention back to her computer, where she starts typing noisily. Angie leads Kate away into the shelves of books, but when she glances back at the librarian's desk, the woman is watching them go. The instant she notices Angie looking back at her, she blushes again and immediately and firmly turns her attention back to her monitor.
One of the things Kate finds strangest about living with Angie is how rarely she's by herself. After she ran away from her family, many years ago, she spent some weeks as a street dog; she was part of a very loose pack of fellow strays, but it wasn't true company so much as frightened and hungry creatures huddling together for warmth. After Master took her in, she spent almost all her time alone in her kennel, and even now the memory of the endless hours or days of solitude are strong. The loneliness used to grow so powerful that she'd start craving someone to come to her kennel to use or hurt her, just so she would have a person around. The combination of fear and relief that would wash over her every time she heard steps outside her kennel makes her sick to think about.
In the three weeks since Angie adopted her, she's been left alone few enough times to count on one paw. Angie's always around, and not just around, but always nearby and usually paying attention to Kate, at least passively. Even when Angie's reading, or working on her laptop, it seems like a hand always finds Kate's hair to absently pet her, or rest on her collar. She's come to love the feeling of Angie casually touching her, of the easy affection she gets from her owner, and most especially of the way her own tension and fear ebb away whenever Angie's close by.
Still, she can't always stay near her owner. Today, Angie's deliberately gone out on an errand by herself, leaving Kate at home; she explained before she left that it was to help Kate learn to feel comfortable on her own in the apartment. Kate understands the reasoning intellectually, which doesn't really help her like it, but Angie didn't offer her a choice about it.
At least she knows exactly when to expect Angie back. She's trying not to look at her new watch too often, since looking at it seems to make time pass more slowly, but the last time she looked she had thirty-four minutes until Angie said she'd be back. Until then, she's curled up on the couch with her book.
She feels bad for hiding it from Angie, but she's too embarrassed. Last time they went to the library together Kate went to the front desk by herself, checked it out, and hid it in one of the pockets of her coverall without saying anything. Since then, it's been in one of the cupboards of her room. It's strange to think about the space as being hers, but true to her word, Angie hasn't been in there once since she adopted Kate. It's nice having somewhere she could go if she ever wanted to get away from Angie, although so far she hasn't felt that way, so her room is mostly empty and unused.
She turns her book over to look at the cover again. There's a cartoony illustration of a cat-girl on all fours, looking up at her owner, with a ring of hearts forming a halo around her head and a puzzled expression on her face. The title, in big, rounded bubbly letters, reads "Owner and... Me?". She originally picked it off the shelf because of the cartoon, admittedly, but what it's actually about is what to do if you have feelings towards your owner - romantic feelings, specifically. Kate's never felt that way about her owner before, or about anyone as far as she can remember, but she is becoming quite sure she feels that way about Angie.
That scares her. She loved Master, but it was the way a dog's supposed to love their owner, not... this. Her feelings about Angie are complicated and bright and powerful and she doesn't know how to handle them at all. When she spends time with Angie, when the other woman pets her or holds her collar or cuddles her, there's a lot more than just the relaxed, satisfied feeling of being good. She wants to touch Angie as well, and to kiss her, and to - to do other things with her, things she doesn't want to admit to herself.
The book's helping. Apparently it's not unusual for pets to have these kinds of feelings and to want to act on them. The author suggests she try talking with Angie about it, but that idea makes Kate feel like she might die of embarrassment, so she's kept reading in the hopes that there'll be some secret other option. Unfortunately it doesn't seem like there's going to be. That leaves Kate facing the prospect of telling Angie, who is kind and beautiful and already being unjustifiably generous to her, that Kate is somehow screwed up enough that she wants Angie to treat her the same way that she's already been treated by more people than she can remember. The idea of letting Angie know that makes Kate feel like throwing up.
She finishes another chapter of her book - this one about how relationships between people work, and how people show that they love each other. It gives her a lot to think about, certainly. She checks her watch again, and Angie's supposed to be home in a few minutes, so she puts her book back in her room and takes her place by the front door. Angie's never told her to wait here, but Kate likes being able to greet her when she gets home, and especially since Angie showed her how to sit more comfortably, she likes how it feels.
She perks up when she hears Angie's soft footsteps outside, then the door sweeps open, Angie looks down at her, and a warm smile spreads across her face. Kate's feels very lucky that Angie's okay with Kate looking at her face - not just okay with it, but actively encourages her to. Angie leans down slightly to touch the skin beneath Kate's collar at the nape of her neck, sending a warm, shivery feeling down her back.
"Hi, puppy," Angie says, as she shuts the door behind herself. "How was it?"
Kate shrugs. It wasn't bad, but she definitely prefers being around Angie to being by herself. Angie ruffles Kate's hair, then walks into the kitchen and sets down her shopping bag. Kate follows her on all fours, past her food bowl, and watches as Angie unpacks groceries and puts them away.
That's another thing that she's still getting used to. Angie always keeps her food and water bowls full, which means Kate can eat whenever she wants to, and instead of being angry with her when Kate eats a lot, Angie seems pleased. The special food her owner buys for her doesn't make her sick, so she's able to keep a lot of it down, and she's definitely been steadily gaining weight. She doesn't like that, but Angie seems to, so Kate does her best to be okay with it.
As Angie's putting away a small carton of milk, her phone rings and she digs it out of her pocket.
"Hello? ... Oh, hello. One second, I'm putting you on speakerphone so Kate can hear as well."
She does so, and Kate hears Doctor Becky's voice from the phone.
"Hi, Kate," the vet says, cheerfully. "So the blood work is finally back in - sorry for the delay on that, the lab's really backed up this time of year. Anyway, the blood work came in, and Kate's positive for celiac disease. Are you familiar with that?"
Kate isn't, but apparently Angie is, because she says: "It's gluten intolerance, right?"
"Sort of, yeah," replies the vet. "It's like an allergy, where the immune system reacts to gluten in food. Even small amounts of gluten will likely make her really sick, but the good news is, if you keep her on a gluten-free diet she should be just fine. Personally given how underweight she is I recommend something high in protein and fat, and then getting her plenty of exercise to help rebuild muscle mass. Anyway, I thought you'd want to hear the diagnosis. Any questions about that?"
Angie looks down at Kate, who shakes her head. Angie shuts the fridge and picks her phone up to speak into it. "Is there a specific kind of food I should put her on?"
"I'll email you a list of a few options," the vet says. "The past few years some really good gluten-free foods have come onto the market so you should be able to find one she likes."
There's a pause, and then the vet goes on, more quietly. "We also discussed getting her to an ob/gyn for a more detailed checkup, and I, um, think you should probably do that. I can refer you to one who specializes in working with pets who've had... difficult pasts, if that'd help."
Angie crouches down to pet Kate, still holding her phone. "That's probably a good idea," she says.
"Alright. I'll put his contact info in the email as well. Other than that, please bring Kate back in in a couple of months and we'll check how she's doing. Any other questions, or anything else that you're worried about?"
Angie scratches Kate's hair softly. After a thoughtful pause, she says: "She's been having some issues with wetting in her sleep." Kate blushes furiously at Angie letting anyone else know about that, but when the vet replies, her voice is full of sympathy.
"That's not unusual," she says. "There's a good chance it'll pass on its own in a few months, once she gets more comfortable in your space. That kind of thing is a stress reaction for pets, usually, and it can take a little while for it to stop. You have to remember, she's had many years of built-up stress and fear, and that takes a toll on the body and the brain. Even now that she's in a safe home, it will take a while to undo that. I assume you've got some kind of padding for her overnight?"
"Mhm," Angie says.
"Well," the vet continues. "The main thing I'd say is give her time, and try to help with any negative feelings she has about it - and Kate, if you're listening, it's not a weird or shameful thing, and it doesn't mean you don't feel safe now. Your body just needs time to get used to it."
Kate nods and rubs her cheek against Angie. "She hears you," Angie says into the phone.
She and the vet exchange a couple more pleasantries, then Angie hangs up and slides her phone back into a pocket.
"So," she says, putting the last of the groceries away. "Plenty of food for you, plenty of protein, and some exercise. I'll get you something gluten-free and high-protein. As for exercise, one of the other people at the support group mentioned their cat-girl is in a pet yoga class. How would you feel about trying that?"
Kate's never done yoga before, and she doesn't know how she feels about it. What she does know is how Angie feels about it, though, so she nods at her owner. She'll try it for Angie.
It's cold enough for her breath to fog in the evening air. Angie pulls her winter coat tighter around herself and buries her gloved hands in her pockets. Luckily the walk from the coffee shop back to the yoga studio is only a couple of minutes, and then she's back inside the sleek and warmly lit lobby. A few of the other owners are already there as well, similarly early to pick up their pets. Angie takes a seat in a corner, lays Kate's cold-weather gear across her lap, and settles in to wait. It'll probably be another ten minutes or so, so she slips her own headphones on to discourage anyone else from talking to her, and tries to control her nerves.
This is Kate's third yoga class. The first two went well, but that was with Angie sitting in the classroom, always within eyeshot. This is her dog-girl's first time doing the class by herself, and Angie is fervently hoping things went okay. She seemed to get along well enough with her classmates and with the instructor, but she hasn't actually been alone much since Angie adopted her. That's something she's working on adjusting - it's important, her book says, for healthy pets to build at least some independence and comfort on their own, so that they don't get separation anxiety.
A few more minutes pass and then a dozen or so pets spill excitedly out into the waiting area, excitedly seeking out their owners. Kate's at the back of the pack, but the moment she spots Angie her face lights up and she practically runs across the lobby to fall to her knees in front of her.
Angie feels a rush of warmth as her dog-girl looks up at her. God, she thinks to herself - it's incredible how cute Kate is. She ruffles the girl's hair and leans closer to her, so that she'll easily be heard despite the din of all the pets reuniting with their owners.
"Did you have a good time, puppy?"
Kate nods eagerly. Angie looks her up and down a bit more thoroughly and realizes that Kate's jumpsuit is sweat-slick and sticking to her all over. She's gotten a proper workout, then - that's good. As Kate's been gaining weight, she's also been gaining energy, and in the past couple of weeks it's been difficult to get her to sleep through the night unless she gets enough exercise during the day. Angie's been taking her on longer hikes and even on some runs, but strength and flexibility work seem to do her good as well.
She also, not to put too fine of a point on it, smells like she got a workout.
Angie gets up, gestures Kate to her feet, and offers her her winter gear, which the dog-girl accepts and puts on. She leads Kate home, holding her by the hand the whole way, then sends her to run herself an evening bath while Angie busies herself preparing dinner. Once the rice is cooking, she ducks into the bathroom to check on Kate, who's sitting in the bathtub as it gradually fills with hot water, jumpsuit discarded on the floor.
Angie crouches at the head of the tub, and Kate turns slightly to look at her.
"The rice needs forty-five minutes, so take your time," Angie says. "And don't forget to wash your hair, too."
Kate nods. Angie ruffles her hair again, then lets one hand slip down the back of her head to light on the dog-girl's collar. It looks so perfect on her, she thinks to herself as she hooks a pair of fingers around the narrow strip of leather.
Kate stills abruptly, sets her bottle of shampoo back down, and folds her hands in her lap, squirming slightly. Angie thinks she might see a hint of a blush, although it's difficult to be sure.
"You like how that feels?"
Kate nods immediately.
Angie feels a rush of pleasure - feels her face heating and her body reacting. It's... it's too much, hearing that from her dog-girl. She lets go of Kate's collar, stands up abruptly, and flees back into the kitchen without looking back.
Once she's safe, she leans against the kitchen counter, gathering herself. There's no use denying her attraction to Kate. In hindsight, she can see that she was attracted to the girl from the moment she met her in the shelter, but that was purely physical, and this is turning into something else entirely. Watching Kate bloom the way she has been over the past few weeks, under Angie's care and guidance, is intoxicating. She's gotten to see Kate smile, to hear her laugh, even drawn a couple of joyful barks out of her, and knowing that she helped do that, that she helped Kate feel that way, is...
She shivers and shakes the feeling away. She's almost painfully aroused, and against her will she finds herself thinking forward to putting Kate into her overnight padding this evening. The way her dog-girl presents herself, open and exposed and so sweetly vulnerable, looking up at her so trustingly, fills Angie with a desire so strong it often makes it difficult for her to sleep afterwards. She's ashamed of that, but she's trying to be honest with herself about her feelings anyway.
She realized, a couple of weeks ago, that part of that shame comes from feeling like she's somehow betraying Steph. It's not rational - Steph passed away almost two years ago, and Angie knows she wouldn't have wanted Angie to just be alone forever - but she still feels it. She's been talking through it with one of her new friends from the support group, and that's been helping.
Another part of it comes from feeling that she's taking advantage of Kate, though, and that's still present in full force. She knows the dog-girl has been through hell, and she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she somehow hurt Kate, or coerced her into something she doesn't want.
The problem that she has is she isn't certain, any more, that Kate doesn't want it. That frightens her more than anything else.
It's a rare sunny midwinter morning, chilly but clear. Those are opportunities not to be missed, so Angie takes Kate out for a run together. She sets a relaxed pace, something her girl can easily sustain with her, and leads her on one of her favourite loops, thirteen kilometres circling around a trio of parks. At the end of the route, when Angie holds up a hand to indicate that it's time to stop, Kate's panting for breath and soaked with sweat, but smiling broadly. She seems to love running alongside Angie, and it always seems to especially please her when she can go an entire run without needing to slow down or stop.
"Great work, puppy," Angie says, glancing at her own smartwatch to see how high her heart rate is. She could've run a little faster, gotten a bit of a better workout, if she was out on her own, but she'd much rather spend the time with Kate. On top of that, she'll take every chance she gets to let Kate make her proud. She loves watching her dog-girl succeed at things, and the way Kate's face lights up when Angie tells her she's proud of her fills her heart with warmth.
Kate blushes, smiling shyly, and Angie leads her on the brisk walk back to her apartment building. Now that they're not running, the light breeze is cutting through her workout clothes, and the sweat drying rapidly on her skin is making her shiver. The hot shower, once she gets into it, is divine.
After breakfast, she and Kate tidy the apartment together. Angie puts on some folk music as they work and sings along quietly; Kate doesn't join in, but Angie can see her starting to move to the music all the same. She finds herself wondering if Kate has a favourite band. If not, hopefully Angie can help her find one.
Once the apartment's tidy, they thankfully get half an hour or so to relax together before Grace is coming over for the hopefully-final home visit. Angie props herself up on the couch with her e-reader, and Kate curls up on the floor next to her, apparently lost in thought. Angie pets her absently while she works her way through her novel, enjoying the quiet domestic harmony of sharing closeness with her dog-girl. She's been managing her own feelings pretty well, she thinks, although they're not fading away the way she'd hoped they would. If anything, they're getting stronger. Angie sometimes thinks about telling Kate to go back to sleeping in her own dog bed, because having Kate cuddled up to her every night certainly isn't helping, but... she sleeps so much better with Kate wrapped around her.
Grace shows up right on time, looking like she's freshly back from a hike. Angie offers her tea again, wanting to be hospitable, despite the fact that she knows Grace will refuse. Kate greets her warmly, then follows her and Angie around the apartment as Grace inspects the space once again, which Grace does with the slightly amused air of someone who's already well aware that she's not going to find anything interesting, but knows she has to look anyway. After she's done, she crouches down to scratch Kate affectionately, looking over the dog-girl carefully.
"Wow, she's bulking up a bit," she says.
"Yeah," Angie replies. "I've been giving her a lot of exercise. We've been running together, but she's in a pet yoga class too, and she's just started doing a jiu jitsu class, also a pet one. She seems to really like it, and she sleeps better if she gets enough exercise."
Grace smiles. "Yeah, I'll bet. She's getting enough to eat, to keep up with all that?"
Kate tilts her head to rub her temple gently against Grace's knee, as if to say: yes, I'm getting fed, don't worry about me. Angie's heart flutters.
"All she can eat," Angie confirms. "Especially since she got the celiac diagnosis, it's easier to find food that agrees with her. I have her on this high-protein food the vet recommended and it's been great. She has so much energy these days, I can hardly keep up."
Grace laughs. "She's turning out to be a real handful, huh?"
"Just what I wanted, honestly."
Grace gives Angie a searching look, then says: "Seems like it. Can I talk with her in private again?"
"Sure, of course," Angie says. "Take the bedroom."
Grace leads Kate in and shuts the door. Angie sits down on the couch with her book, more to keep herself from trying to overhear than anything else. She's sure Kate's happy, but she's still deathly curious what Grace is asking her about. She manages to keep herself still, although it'd be a lie to say she actually reads any of her novel.
Soon, the door opens and Grace leads Kate back out of the bedroom, broad grin on her face. Kate scampers over to Angie and sits by her feet again. Grace smiles fondly at her, then sets her backpack down and digs out a folder full of papers.
"So obviously," Grace says, "I'm happy to sign off on her staying with you. It seems like you're taking great care of her. I have a couple of forms for you here, but at this point - she's yours. If you need any help or anything, you can always call us, but according to Pet Welfare's rules, you're now officially her owner."
Kate barks happily, doing little circles by the side of the couch on all fours, so manifestly excited that her hips are wiggling. It's so cute that Angie and Grace both just have to watch her, until eventually Grace clears her throat and offers Angie the stack of paperwork again. Angie takes them, forces herself to focus on reading them carefully instead of watching Kate, who's digging one of her toys out from under the couch and throwing it up into the air.
Angie dashes her signature across the last form, hands it back to Grace, then stands up to offer a handshake. Instead, Grace pulls her into a warm hug. "Take good care of her," she says, patting Angie on the back. "She deserves it."
Angie's smiling so widely that it hurts. "I will," she says. "Thanks for trusting me."
Grace shoulders her backpack again, reaches down to pet Kate. As she's leaving the apartment, she stops in the doorway.
"Hey, Angie," she says.
"Yeah?"
"Now that I'm not Kate's home inspector any more - how about that cup of tea sometime?"
"Oh, yes," Angie replies. "I'd love that. Um, are you free right now?"
Grace shoots a look over at Kate, who's trying to pull one of her toys apart with her teeth. "Looks like she might need another run or something, and I have to get back to the shelter for my volunteer shift anyway. How's your tomorrow morning?"
"Sounds great," Angie says, leaning down to grab one end of the toy. Kate play-growls at her, trying to pull the toy away with her jaws, and Angie grips it as firmly as she can. Kate's a lot stronger than her by now, so even though the dog-girl's playing, Angie has to hang on with all her might just to avoid immediately losing the tug-o-war.
With a last fond look at them, Grace steps out and shuts the door, leaving Angie alone with her dog-girl.
The moment the door shuts, Kate lets go of the toy, then launches herself at Angie.
Kate's a foot taller than her and probably fifty pounds heavier, and she knocks Angie flat on her back on the carpeted floor. Before Angie can react at all, Kate's on top of her, eyes shining, and then Kate's kissing her. Sheer surprise keeps her from reacting for a few seconds, as Kate kisses Angie over and over, and then Angie manages to get her arms up and gently pushes Kate back off her.
"Hey," she says, when she sees the look of confusion and disappointment and hurt come over the girl's face. "I know you're excited, but you don't have to - to do that. I don't, um. I don't need that from you. I adopted you because I liked you, not because I want... yeah." It feels awful, telling Kate this kind of half-truth, but it's what her dog-girl needs to hear. Kate's not going to be made to feel like she has to be sexual with Angie, not ever.
Kate frowns at her, then gradually sits back up, staring at Angie as though trying to figure something out. She blushes, then gets up and disappears into her own room.
Angie hauls herself upright, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, and works on getting her breathing back under control. Kate kissing her, pressing herself against her that way, was... wow. Angie squirms uncomfortably, suddenly aware that her own jeans are feeling tight. At least Kate's in her own room now, so -
Kate comes back out of her room on all fours, carrying a book in her mouth. She comes over to Angie and drops the book in her lap. Angie picks it up.
It's entitled "Owner and... Me?". There's a cartoon on the front of a love-struck cat-girl. Beneath the title, there's a subtitle, explaining that it's a guide book for pets navigating romantic feelings towards, and romantic relationships with, their owners.
Oh.
Angie turns the book over in her hands, staring dumbly at the back of it. It's a library book. She hasn't seen it before, so Kate must have checked it out on her own, which means... Kate picked it out for herself. It must've been a while ago, too, which means Kate's been thinking about this for a while.
Oh.
Angie taps the cover of the book. "Kate," she says, trying to keep her voice level and not fully succeeding. "Is this... is this how you feel about me? Really?"
Kate's blushing, but her mouth is set in an expression of grim determination. She nods.
Angie sets the book down on her coffee table, moves forward to envelop Kate in a hug. Now that she's holding her, she can feel that her dog-girl is trembling slightly. Angie squeezes her.
"I...", she starts. "I think I want that with you, Kate. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I just thought, you know - I mean, you've been through so much, and I couldn't have lived with myself if I became one of those people who... yeah."
Kate lets out a soft, choked noise. Angie pulls away from her slightly; the girl's eyes are wet with tears.
Angie leans close again, kisses Kate's forehead. "We're gonna figure this out, puppy," she says, as much to reassure herself as her dog-girl. "Here." She gets back up onto the couch, then gestures Kate to her knees in the usual spot. Kate obeys, looking up at her with a mixed expression of nervousness and awe. Angie digs Kate's leash out of one of her pockets and clips it to her collar, tethering her girl to her, then reaches for her jaw and strokes her skin. Kate's so soft.
Once she has Kate back in her place, Angie feels a little more like she knows what's going on. She makes herself take a couple of minutes to think, lets the silence wrap them up, and then she leans closer to Kate and kisses her forehead again.
"Here's what we're going to do, puppy. If we both want more of a - a relationship, we'll do that, but I need to know that you're happy, and I need to know that you know you don't have to do this. So, here are the rules. First off, you can always, always, always say no to me, or just growl if you don't feel like you can talk. Alright? I don't want to do anything you don't want, Kate. Not ever. I don't want anything like... that to ever happen to you. Nod if you understand."
Kate nods.
"And second," Angie goes on. "If you do decide that you don't want anything, um, romantic, or sexual, or whatever... this will still be your home. You're my dog, now, and you're my dog whether or not you also want to be anything else. Nod if you understand."
Even as she says it, the idea stings to think about. Dealing with her romantic feelings towards Kate was difficult and painful enough; having a relationship with her and then losing it would be much worse. Despite that, she means what she says: if Kate decides she doesn't want it, then Angie will still keep her, and will still take as good of care of her as she possibly can. It might suck, but adopting a pet is a big commitment for a reason.
Kate nods again.
Angie smiles, wraps the leash around her hand a couple of times, and tugs gently on it. "Alright, girl," she says, petting the couch beside her. "Come on up here. Let's do that first kiss again."
Kate wishes she could hold Angie forever.
She pretty much always wakes up before Angie does these days, which means that she gets to spend the precious early morning hours curled around her owner, cuddling her and gently touching her. Angie's small, a lot smaller than Kate is now, so she can wrap herself around Angie completely and just envelop her. She knows it helps Angie sleep, and she knows that a big part of the reason it helps is because she makes Angie feels safe. She likes that she can do that, that she can repay Angie's kindness in at least one small way.
She buries her face in Angie's hair and inhales her smell, then presses a soft kiss to the back of the woman's neck. It took her a while to get comfortable with doing this. It feels indulgent, selfish even, and more than that she's never really been given the freedom to just touch someone the way she wanted to touch them before. Not, she thinks to herself, that she's ever really been this close to someone she wanted to touch before. Even so, she wouldn't have dared except that Angie told her directly that she could, that Angie wanted her to.
Kate hopes Angie wants other things from her, too.
It's been nearly three weeks since she expressed her feelings for her owner, and Angie's said she wants to take things slowly with her. Kate can understand that. As she's spent more time living with Angie, and especially as she's been getting to know other people and pets, she's been gradually realizing that what happened to her wasn't normal at all. What happened with her family wasn't normal, what happened when she was homeless wasn't normal, and what happened to her in the kennel, with her Master, was the kind of thing that to most pets would be an almost unimaginable nightmare.
It's sobering to think about, and now that she understands that better, she doesn't blame Angie for wanting to be careful. At the same time, she feels strangely eager for more than kissing with the woman she belongs to. She's been doing some reading - more overtly than before, now that her feelings towards Angie are out in the open - and the descriptions she's read from other pets of what sex is like for them are... well, she wants what they describe.
Her watch vibrates gently, interrupting her increasingly heated thoughts about her owner, and Kate untangles herself from the smaller woman, being careful not to wake her. She has her alarm set for fifteen minutes before Angie's, so that she can get up and make coffee for her. It's a little thing, but it feels right. Kate wants to spend her time doing nice things for Angie.
Angie joins her in the kitchen a little while later; Kate pours her a mug of coffee and sets it on the table in front of her, then kneels by her chair. Angie gives her a warm smile and - ah! - hooks a couple of fingers around her collar, sending a trail of sparks down Kate's spine. She's been grabbed by her collar many times, by many people, but it's never felt the way it does when Angie does it. When people she likes and trusts, like Grace or Monica from jiu jitsu, touch it it sometimes feels... safe, and comforting, but it never feels electrifying the way Angie's touch does.
Her owner's just special like that.
Angie's reading her e-mail; Kate kneels by her side, mind mostly empty, while Angie absently scratches her head with her left hand.
"Oh, good," Angie murmurs, between sips of coffee. "Your passport's finally in. We can go pick it up later today."
Kate nuzzles Angie's leg. Angie's been gradually working through untangling the paperwork to get Kate's identity back. When she ran away from home, she was still just a teenager, so she's never actually had a proper ID of any kind, and to make matters worse, she doesn't have any way to find or contact her family now. She's not even sure what state they live in any more. Angie, with a lot of help from Grace, has been figuring out how to fix that. In the process, she managed to find Kate's family. She offered to put Kate in touch with them, but Kate... isn't sure she wants that. She's torn between wanting to reconnect with them and wanting to just put everything that happened to her in the past behind her and try to move forward.
Once Angie's finished her coffee, and Kate's eaten a little bit of her food, she follows her owner into the bathroom. By now it's become a familiar ritual - she lays down, rolls onto her back, and spreads her legs. Angie unzips her coveralls, pulls them down to the top of her thighs, and takes her night-time padding off. The way Angie does it is always slow and deliberate, which is confusing. Kate thinks of it as an obligation for her owner, something she'd want to get done as quickly as possible, just one of the things she has to do to take care of her poor battered dog-girl. To Angie it seems to be something else entirely. She does it almost reverently, taking her time like she's savouring taking care of Kate.
Once Kate's naked, and her padding is disposed of, Angie strips off her pyjamas. Kate lets herself look, lets her eyes linger on the shape of Angie's hips, the supple strength of her calves. She's allowed to look. Angie caught her looking, a few days ago, and it made her smile. That's good, because Kate doesn't think she'd be able to refrain.
Angie starts the shower, waits for the water to warm up, then steps in. She leaves the door open. Kate's allowed in the shower with her, if she wants. She still prefers taking baths, but Angie always runs the shower nice and hot, and there's no cuffs, and the important thing, really, is that it's another chance to be close to Angie. Her first time in the shower was scary, even though she knew it would be warm and Angie would be there, but she did it, and now it's not so frightening any more.
Feeling brave today, Kate follows her owner into the shower, and Angie smiles warmly at her. Kate stands beneath the steaming water and lets Angie clean her, carefully scrubbing every inch of her skin with soap and water. Angie cleans her the same way she does everything else for Kate - with absolute focus, like there's nothing on earth except caring for her girl. Kate's face heats in a way that has nothing to do with the water.
Once she's all clean, Angie presses Kate backwards into the cool tiles of the shower wall, then tilts her head up to kiss her. Kate kisses her back, soft and slow, the way she's learned Angie likes. It amazes her that Angie can move her around like this despite being so much smaller than her. All she has to do is get a little bit closer to her, and it's like Kate's body knows what to do on its own, backing away and yielding space to her. Angie kisses her again, then again, and by the time she backs away and turns to wash herself, Kate's nearly panting with desire. A quick glance downwards confirms that Angie's feeling much the same.
Kate understands why Angie wants to take things slow, and it's obviously her owner's decision rather than hers, but she does hope that Angie feels like she's ready soon.
The rest of it is basically a perfect day. They do some housework together, tidying the apartment, and then Angie takes her out to the post office to pick up her new passport. When Kate looks inside, it's right there in black and white: KATE MCKINNON, with a photo she had to pose for a few weeks ago. Underneath that, in the same stark font, is: PROPERTY OF ANGELA LITHGOW, then a long alphanumeric code. There's a bunch of other info in her passport too, obviously, but her eyes keep coming back to that one line. Property of Angie.
She barely registers that they're arriving at Lawrence Park. It's a little ways out of the city, and it sprawls over nearly a thousand acres of woodland. Angie lets her out of the car and leaves her unleashed - Lawrence is an entirely off-leash park, although it's fenced to keep pets from getting lost or wandering off. Kate follows her over to a scattering of picnic tables, and she's surprised to see Genevieve, a squirrel-girl she knows from her yoga class, sitting at one of them with her owner, Mark.
She follows at Angie's heels as her owner goes to sit with Genny and Mark. Genny's a bouncy girl, a few years older than Kate, and so flexible that it sometimes seems like she can't actually have any bones in her body.
"Mark and I were thinking you two might want to play together," Angie explains, as she gets herself settled. "Apparently Genny really likes being chased, so I hope you're in a running mood, puppy."
Kate is.
She chases Genny all over the park, until her lungs are burning and sweat's stinging her eyes. The squirrel-girl is fast, a bit faster than she is, but that's okay - it just makes the chase more fun. Kate manages to catch her a few times, at least, and each time she gets to grab Genny, wrestle her to the ground, and sit on her hips, watching her squirm. Genny laughs, playing at being terrified of her, and Kate's inner dog exults in having caught the prey. After a little rest, just long enough for both of them to catch their breath, Kate will get up, give her a minute's head start, and the chase can resume.
After they're both exhausted, they find their owners still sitting at the picnic table, chatting quietly. Genny's limping slightly, and Kate's calves are decidedly sore, and she can't remember the last time she had so much fun. Maybe she'll ask Angie about joining a play group - or maybe just about playing with Genny again.
Angie looks proud of her, too, which just makes everything that much better.
Kate obviously hates the airport. For that matter, Angie's not the biggest fan of airports either, and being crammed into a noisy space with hundreds or thousands of other people has never been her favourite situation. There aren't really any other practical ways to get to Australia, though, and taking Kate on a proper vacation is going to be worth all the hassle and discomfort.
Her dog-girl's been practically glued to her side since they got out of the car, and was visibly frightened when they were briefly separated at security. Thankfully Kate just had to go through a body-scanning machine to check for anything hidden under her coverall. If they'd wanted to actually pat her down, Angie would've insisted on having it done by one of the pets rather than the people. Even so, having a stranger's hands all over her when she's already so anxious would probably have been terrifying for the poor girl, and Angie's glad she was spared that experience.
Once they're actually seated on the plane, Kate starts to calm down a little. Angie holds her hand through the takeoff roll, but as soon as they start climbing out, the dog-girl's fear seems to vanish and she presses her face against the window, watching the world fall away below. Angie could've given Kate a sedative before the flight - she knows a lot of owners do that, because many pets really don't like flying - but now she's very glad she didn't. A flight attendant, collar prominently on display, comes around offering drinks and snacks, and Angie and her dog manage to settle in together for the long flight.
Twenty-two hours and one miserable layover later, she and Kate step out of Cairns International Airport into bright sunlight and a palpable wave of heat and humidity. Angie immediately strips off all but her base layer; luckily Kate's already in the light, breathable summer coverall Angie bought her a few days ago, so she should be alright even in the summer heat.
Fifteen minutes after that, they're in a rented car, heading out of the city. It's not far to the resort, and half an hour after leaving the airport, Angie's stepping into their bungalow with Kate right behind her.
It's perfect.
There's one main room, windows wide open to catch a sea breeze, French doors leading out onto a shaded veranda. Beyond that, the brilliant white sand of a beach unfolds before them, with a glittering blue ocean. Angie flips a switch, turning on the ceiling fans, then drops her bags on the floor and collapses onto the freshly-made bed.
"C'mere," she mumbles to Kate, who joins her on the bed. Angie curls up slightly, resting her head on Kate's chest. Her dog-girl puts an arm around her and squeezes slightly.
"I want to sleep for a year," Angie murmurs. Now that they're finally here, the adrenaline that's been propping her up during the trip feels like it's draining out of her body, and the fact that she didn't get a moment of sleep on either of the flights is abruptly catching up to her. Kate gives her another gentle squeeze. Angie yawns, and decides that actually, a nap right here and now might be pretty good.
Over the next few days, Angie learns some important things. First, and foremost, it's actually impossible to apply sunblock often enough. She was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, where even during high summer the sun just isn't that fierce. Down here, on the northern end of Australia, it has an almost physical force and she has to be diligent to keep herself or Kate from getting burned.
That task is made more difficult because it turns out that Kate loves the ocean. She seems to want to spend every second playing in the surf, or swimming, or just sitting by the water's edge and watching the waves come in and out. She wears a one-piece pet swimsuit rather than her coverall, so she has a lot more skin showing, and Angie can see the ending of some of the vicious scars that pattern her dog-girl's back. As the sun adds colour to her skin, the marks stand out more. Kate doesn't seem self-conscious about them, which is a relief, and the sight of them no longer sickens Angie the way it used to. She hates what they represent, hates what was done to her dog, hates that Kate suffered like she did, and if she thinks too hard about it all she feels a kind of corrosive rage that makes her hands curl into trembling fists, but - really, they're just marks on Kate's skin, and they don't make her any less beautiful.
Angie's propped up under an umbrella on a beach towel, reading a book through sunglasses, casually watching Kate down by the water's edge. Her dog-girl is building a sandcastle, and if she's bothered by the fact that the waves occasionally rise high enough to demolish part of her structure, she doesn't show it. There's another dog, a boy about Kate's age, helping her; as far as Angie can tell the two of them haven't exchanged a single word, but they seem to be enjoying themselves regardless. One of the resort staff comes by to check whether Angie needs anything, so she orders herself a fruity drink, then lets out a deep, profoundly relaxed sigh. Bringing Kate here was a good idea.
Later that evening, Angie orders room service for herself, with a special gluten-free pet meal for Kate, and they eat together on the veranda of their bungalow, watching the sun set over the Pacific. The reds and oranges of the fading sun kiss Kate's skin with a deep glow, and Angie isn't sure she's ever seen anything so beautiful.
"C'mon, puppy," Angie says, once they've finished dinner and dessert and the heat of the day is just starting to bleed into a cool, comfortable evening. "Let's get to bed."
Angie guides her over the bed they've been sharing and gestures her to her knees on the centre of the mattress. Kate knows what's coming next, so she straightens her posture and presses her wrists together behind her back, waiting for the cuffs. It's frightening; she knows Angie, knows that her owner will be gentle with her, but it's still difficult to shake off her body's memories of how this goes. At least she can trust Angie not to hurt her on purpose, and some part of her is eager for another chance to get to please.
Angie digs something out of her bag. When she turns back to Kate, she's not holding cuffs, but rather what look like a pair of gloves. She sees Kate's pose, her eyes widen, and she frowns. Perhaps Kate didn't do it correctly? It's been quite a while, weeks or maybe even months, since she last had to. She tries to straighten her back still further, arching slightly to make her breasts more prominent.
Angie's look turns sympathetic. "I'm not going to cuff you, puppy," she says, quiet and tinged with a little sadness. "Give me your paws."
Kate offers up her hands, and Angie pulls one of the gloves over each of them. They're made of some soft stretchy material, pleasant on her skin, and they pull her fingers into loose fists. There's a velcro fastener around each wrist, which Angie pulls snugly closed. Kate turns her hands over; there are little cartoon paws printed on the gloves. Oh.
"Mhm," Angie says, seeing that Kate understands. "Like I said, paws."
Kate turns her wrists, marvelling at the gloves. They're definitely restraints, but they're very comfortable nonetheless, and she really likes how it feels to look down at her hands and instead see paws. It feels right. She looks up at Angie, who's smiling fondly at her, and leans closer to kiss her owner.
"I thought you might like them," Angie says, blushing faintly. She clears her throat. "I, um. I want to... be more intimate with you, tonight. I know a lot of pets like being restrained, but I don't want to tie you up or anything, so I figured these might be nice instead."
Kate nods, trying to uncurl her fists inside the gloves. The fabric stretches a little, but not enough for her to actually use her hands for anything. She likes how that feels, and it makes her heart ache when she realizes that Angie bought special restraints just for her to make her feel comfortable. She'd do anything for Angie.
Angie guides Kate onto her back. Kate relaxes into the mattress, exhales. She's not surprised that Angie wants to use her this way, instead of taking her like she's usually been taken in the past, face-down with her head buried in a pillow. Angie seems like the kind of owner who'll want to see Kate's face the entire time, want to see her enjoying it. She probably won't even have to pretend, or at least not very much. It'll be okay.
Angie's fingers find the zipper at the neck of Kate's coverall, and then Kate feels the cool night air on her bare skin. Her owner peels the garment off her, lays it down on the bed, and looks down at her, eyes glowing. Kate fights the impulse to hide her body; parts of her are still messes of scars and old injuries, always will be, and when she feels Angie looking at them it just makes her keenly aware of how much more beautiful her owner is than her. Angie's lips part slightly, and Kate feels the tips of her fingers brushing the outside of her thigh, across a trail of small burn scars. Kate doesn't really remember how she got those.
"You're beautiful," Angie murmurs, and when Kate looks up at her face, she can tell it's the truth. She squirms slightly, faintly embarrassed to be the focus of Angie's attention. She's not used to being looked at like this, taken in inch by inch by her owner's gaze, and she yearns for the more familiar territory of being fucked.
Angie pulls her own sundress off, sets it aside, then unhooks her bra. Her breasts are small, lightly rounded; the darker rings of her nipples make Kate's mouth dry. She's seen Angie topless before, of course, but it's always been part of showering, or getting dressed. It's never felt so laden with intimacy before. As Kate watches, Angie slips her panties down her legs, sets them down with her dress and bra, and turns to face Kate, completely nude. Her owner's arousal is already obvious, and Kate swallows and parts her legs slightly. She's ready.
Angie gets to her knees next to Kate, and then Kate feels her owner's hands, soft and warm, by her collarbone.
"Feeling okay, puppy?"
Kate nods. She's ready.
Instead of positioning herself between Kate's legs, Angie starts exploring her body gently with her hands. It feels like she's trying to map out every part of Kate's body, every little peak and valley, every scar and burn and long-faded bruise. Kate watches her face while Angie stares down at her with absolute concentration. Her owner's hands on her feel like... like she's being claimed again, but in a way she's never felt before. It's as though she's a work of art, or something, that Angie wants to know every minute detail of. She's never been touched this way.
Kate does her best to stay still for Angie, but it's difficult. The gentle, fleeting touches are setting her skin alight, and before long she can feel her pulse pounding in her throat. She doesn't know how Angie's doing this to her. Her owner manages to draw a soft, needy whimper from her, a sound Kate's never heard herself make without consciously trying before. When Angie's hands find their way between Kate's parted thighs, Kate gasps, sparks skittering through her body. It can't... is this how it's supposed to feel?
She reaches for Angie, desperate for more closeness with her, but Angie uses one hand to gently push Kate back onto the mattress. "Stay, puppy." Kate nods; she won't disobey, but the way Angie's just touching her is so strange and confusing that Kate isn't sure what she's supposed to do. Angie leans down and kisses her, warm and passionate, and one of those gentle hands comes to rest on Kate's throat, just above her collar. Angie presses slightly, as though reinforcing her earlier command, and Kate nods in understanding. She's not actually supposed to do anything - just to lie here and let Angie do what she pleases with her. If touching Kate all over, gradually setting every nerve in her body on fire, is what Angie wants, then that's what Angie will do.
Angie's maddening slow touching gradually gets quicker, a little less gentle; her fingertips, and then the smooth edges of her nails, circle their way around her hipbones and then find their way between her thighs once again. Kate's panting, sweat clinging to her skin, and staying still for Angie has become a nearly impossible act of will. When Kate looks at her owner's face, Angie looks back at her, cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming possessively, and that look sends another curling wave of heat through her belly and down between her spread legs.
One of Angie's hands finally, finally finds its way to Kate's entrance. She's slick, wet like she's never been in her entire life, and even just the lightest pressure there from her owner has her muscles clenching. Being taken by Angie wouldn't be her duty, any more; it'd be a sweet, blessed relief. Angie curls a fist around Kate's collar, holding it tight, and leans close to her, lips an inch from the skin of Kate's throat.
"Stay," she growls, sending another bolt of heat down Kate's spine. She'll stay if it kills her. She nods urgently.
When Angie's fingers slip inside her, the pleasure, the sense of belonging, is so profound that she can't keep her thighs from pressing together. Angie's breath is hot on her neck, and then her owner's mouth is on her sweat-slick skin, and she's - oh, God, she's being bitten in a way she's never been bitten before. Angie's teeth sink into the side of Kate's throat, just above her collar, and she abruptly goes limp. The part of Kate which is a dog understands how utterly it belongs to Angie, how thoroughly Angie controls everything it does and is, and feels in an ancient way beyond words that Angie could rip her throat out, right now, with a single tearing gesture. She belongs to Angie. If she's a very, very lucky dog, she always will.
And then Angie's hand between her legs moves, just slightly, and Kate has a fraction of a second to realize that Angie's been carefully nursing a mounting, building, desperate tension in her body, and then Kate cries out, screaming her joy into the summer night.
She expects Angie to be finished with her after that, but her owner has other plans. Angie gently nurses that tension while Kate gasps for breath, and incredibly, insanely, Kate feels her body starting to respond again. Angie shifts her weight, moves between Kate's spread legs, and then Kate watches her owner's face in awe as Angie gently takes her for the first time.
"God," Angie murmurs, eyes fluttering closed. Kate can feel Angie gradually filling her, can feel the sense of sweet, intoxicating pressure. She's been fucked a lot of times - for years, it was her only real use to anyone - but she's never felt anything like this before. When Angie's hipbones brush against her thighs, Kate squirms just slightly, savouring the feeling of being slightly stretched this way. Having Angie inside her feels incredible beyond words.
"Not - not gonna last long," Angie pants. One of her hands is pressed into the mattress, two fingers curled around Kate's collar, pinning her down, and the other is between Kate's legs still, drawing quick circles that send pleasure fizzing outward through her body.
Then Angie leans close again, teeth brushing against the side of Kate's throat, and she murmurs, in a low resonating voice: "gonna breed you good, puppy."
It's... it's everything. It's everything. It's perfect. The touch, the fullness, the voice, the words. Angie. Her owner. Everything.
Kate wraps her long lean legs around Angie's hips, forgets the command to stay, and flings her arms around Angie's shoulders. She squeezes her owner, clinging to her with every muscle, while Angie cries out, points of her teeth buried in Kate's flesh.
Gradually, eventually, Kate returns to earth. Angie's still between her legs - still buried deep inside her, in fact - and is smiling down at her with such shining joy that Kate's compelled to kiss her once more. Angie kisses her back, then slowly pulls away, separating their bodies. She curls up on the bed, and Kate wraps herself around the smaller woman, pressing another light kiss to the back of her neck.
"Hey, Kate?"
Kate nuzzles the nape of her owner's neck.
"I love you."
The words hang between them, in the warm night air, in the resonance of their intimacy. Kate doesn't like talking at the best of times, and especially doesn't want to right now, but she can't stand the idea that Angie might not know that Kate feels exactly the same way.
"I love you too," she says back.
A few months later.
A long and bleak winter has gradually given way to a verdant spring, and the world around her is in bloom. Angie takes her time walking home from work, savouring the first shoots of green rising through tiny crevices in the sidewalk, the tiny gardens of mushrooms and fungi gathering by moist stones. The air is heavy with the scent of freshly-fallen rain and growing things, and she finds herself looking forward to the next time she can take Kate out into the woods for a hike.
When she steps into her apartment, her dog-girl's right there by the door, on her knees, just where she always is. Angie leans down to kiss her, and Kate squeaks happily, then follows Angie into the kitchen on all fours. Something delicious-smelling is simmering away on the stove, and there's a textbook and a sheaf of handwritten notes spread across the kitchen table. Angie takes one of the chairs, and Kate unlaces her boots for her, pulls them off, and goes to carry them to the rack in the entryway.
She still hasn't quite gotten used to it. Angie felt uncomfortable having Kate serve her, like she was exploiting the poor girl somehow. She would never have asked Kate to do any of these things - would've been happy to have Kate just relax and enjoy her life, frankly - but Kate never actually did ask her, she just started serving. It obviously makes her happy, and so Angie's working on being okay with it as well. Since they got back from their vacation in Australia, Kate's been learning to cook, mostly from her friend Genevieve, and the dog-girl has also been teaching herself to mend clothes and style hair and dozens of other little skills that Angie herself has never really had.
It's impressive, and Angie's heart is so full of pride in her that it almost hurts. Kate gives the impression of wanting to make up for her lost years, and attacks everything she does with an energy, enthusiasm, and sheer relentless drive that Angie finds astounding. Taking Kate on runs has become more of a matter of trying to keep up with her, and the past few months of yoga and jiu jitsu have given Kate a kind of lithe strength and agility which is immensely attractive. She hadn't realized how much fun it would be to have a big, athletic dog-girl.
Kate returns and kneels in front of Angie, looking up at her adoringly. Angie pets her, then hooks a couple of fingers around her collar and tugs gently, just for the pleasure of watching Kate's face as she does it. She glances over at the tabletop to see what Kate's been studying, still holding her collar. It's more of her GED prep material, of course.
"Going to be ready for the test, puppy?"
Kate gives her a hesitant nod. She's been studying for a couple of months, trying to fill in the education she should've gotten in her last two years of high school. Angie knows she'll do just fine; Kate's quiet, and still shy sometimes, but she's a quick study and hungry to learn. After that, Kate wants to qualify as a therapy dog for other pets or children struggling with trauma, which she seems like a great fit for. Grace agrees, and Grace would know.
The kitchen timer beeps quietly, and Angie lets go of her girl's collar so Kate can get up and serve dinner. It feels a little bad that Kate doesn't actually eat the results of her own cooking, but when Angie's offered her some, Kate seems to always prefer eating her own pellets out of her bowl. Kate sets a steaming bowl of stew down on the table, along with a spoon and a pair of slices of bread, then gets to all fours and drags her bowl close to Angie so she can eat next to her.
"Good girl," Angie murmurs, as Kate starts eating. She can't believe how fortunate she is. When she first thought about adopting, she'd assumed she'd just be giving a dog in need a home - that maybe, best case, she'd find a companion and someone to take on hikes. She never imagined that things would turn out like this. Back when she had Steph, they had the kind of love most people aren't even lucky enough to get once; the fact that she somehow found that kind of love again, with Kate, feels like a ridiculous blessing that she in no way deserves.
There's a lurking conversation she needs to have with Kate, as well. She'd finally managed to get an appointment with the specialist ob/gyn earlier this week, and had taken Kate in to see him. He'd checked the dog-girl out thoroughly and pronounced that her internal injuries were all healing fairly well, which was a major relief. Angie had been very hesitant about their sex life, not wanting to hurt Kate further, despite her girl's extremely obvious enthusiasm. Kate enjoys when Angie's rough with her a lot more than Angie would've expected her to, given her history; it's just another instance of one of the most important lessons of owning Kate, which is never to underestimate her resilience.
The doctor had also taken an ultrasound. Angie's watched ultrasounds before, but she's never seen a doctor gasp while looking at one. It turns out that when Kate was sterilized, whoever did it didn't just remove her uterus; instead, she was given an IUD (very poorly, apparently). The doctor explained that sometimes young pets in brothels are sterilized this way so that they can be sold off for breeding later on, which is another one of those ideas that Angie would prefer never to have learned about. More importantly, though, the doctor said that they can either remove or replace the IUD any time. He recommended replacement for now, ideally with a new one that's properly positioned, but... well, Angie needs to talk to Kate about it. The fact that it's an IUD means that Kate actually could have puppies, maybe, which is something they'll have to figure out together.
Angie sets her spoon back down; Kate, who still hasn't broken the habit of wolfing her food down, is done eating and kneeling comfortably, looking up at her. She pets her dog-girl again, and the vision of how Kate would look, on her knees like this, tummy rounded, flush with the glow of coming motherhood, is... powerful. Angie leans down to kiss her on the forehead. Maybe she'll have the IUD replaced for now, and then she can have it removed in a couple of years, once Kate's gotten more settled into her work, if that's what she chooses. She'll see.
They do, she thinks to herself, have that spare room. It had been Kate's room for the first few months she was here, and technically it still is, but she doesn't think Kate really needs or wants it any more. Angie's bed is her bed now, and Angie's room is her room, and Angie's home is her home.
She sighs, pleased, and leans down to kiss her perfect girl again.
Fin