Page 23 of My Wild Pet

Then—without warning—Kaelin snatches the bowl away.

My protest dies in my throat when he sets it on the floor and forces my wrists behind my back.

The bowl is right there. I hesitate. Am I going to eat like an animal? Hunger crushes my pride, and I lower my face to the dish, each mouthful a searing reminder of my humiliation.

When I finish, my throat feels like sandpaper. I gesture for water, so Kaelin hauls me over to a gigantic hamster-style water dispenser in the corner. My frustration spikes as he holds the metal spout up to my lips, clearly expecting me to lap at it. Again, thirst wins out over dignity. With my arms pinned behind me, I swallow the trickle of water. Each gulp carves a deeper sense of shame.

Just when I think I’ve reached my limit, Kaelin reaches for the muzzle.

I shake my head, whispering a frantic, “No, no, no,” but he’s by far bigger and stronger. The strap clamps around my face, painfully tight. All I manage is a muffled grunt, echoing in my own ears—a sharp reminder of how powerless I truly am.

As Kaelin adjusts the straps, my thoughts drift bitterly to what Rebecca told me. She said I bit off Big’s dick. Clean off. The aliens had to pry it from my mouth.So, it’s no wonder these aliens are worried.

I glance at Kaelin, heart hammering as I wonder what his next move is. Another cell with more humans? Or is this going to be my life—muzzled, bossed around, and forced to eat off thefloor like some kind of animal? The image of Rebecca mouthing the word ‘pet’ comes to my mind again.Oh poor, Rebecca.But only time will tell which one of us made the best decision. Door number one or door number two.

Kaelin tugs on my leash and leads me into what can only be described as a high-tech spa. The walls are smooth and metallic, lit by soft, shifting lights that fade from cool blues to warm whites. The air is warm and a little humid, carrying a scent that’s half floral and half medical—like some alien version of lavender. Two young, grey-skinned male attendants drift by, their silver uniforms blending in so perfectly they almost look like part of the walls.

I swallow hard, suddenly aware of all the slime and muck still clinging to me. You’d think I’d be relieved at the thought of finally getting clean, but I’m too on edge to enjoy the luxury.

Then I spot her, another human woman, older but looking surprisingly fit. She’s being washed by the attendants under a large shower. Our eyes lock, sharing a silent understanding of what we’ve both been through. I nod in greeting, the muzzle keeping me from speaking.

The other human woman just continues to stare at me and then purposely turns away while the two attendants touch her all over her body as theywashher. It’s the most bizarre thing.

In some ways, it’s quite pornographic as there’s no question of the men purposely caressing her most sensitive areas with their fingers under the water, but at the same time,Why?

Then, as if it’s part of the cleaning process, the young attendants bring her to a clitoral orgasm in front of Kaelin and me. One rubs her clit in small rhythmic circles while the other pulls on her nipples and kneads her breasts. I look up at Kaelin, he seems unmoved. My gaze shifts back to the attendants. They too have the demeanor of people just doing their jobs.What kind of place is this?

I watch as the older woman thrashes with erotic enjoyment under the water. The only sounds are her moaning and the water running. Her orgasm goes on for at least a minute while the attendants work her body. When she’s got no more left to give, they rinse her and dry her. While she just stands there, like a good pet.

After the woman is dried, she’s dressed in a small leotard number that exposes her underarms, breasts, and her vulva to her anus. They also do her hair in a strange way with a silver bow. Then they attach her leash to her collar and hand it over to Kaelin. She immediately sits at his feet and doesn’t even look at me.

Not even a friendly dog-to-dog sniff or a bark of recognition.Disappointing,I think.I am going to be so lonely if this is my only human companion.

I try to get the woman’s attention, but Kaelin yanks on my collar and says something unintelligible. Clearly, he doesn’t want me interacting with the older woman. Then he hands me over to the attendants and the last I see of Kaelin is him leading the old woman out of the room.

The attendants take me in their arms, as if I’m a scared puppy, and remove my leash and muzzle. It’s clear from their manner and actions they don’t look at me like I’m a person despite our common appearances. The only difference is I don’t have grey skin.

One of the attendants gently takes my arm, his touch firm but not rough, while the other adjusts the stream of water pouring down from a hovering, oval-shaped showerhead. The water is warm, almost too warm, and smells faintly of the same lavender-metallic blend in the air.

Their movements are quick and efficient. One pours a thick, glowing soap into his hands and begins lathering it over my skin, the soap warming instantly as it touches me. The other focuseson my hair, untangling the strands and working another type of liquid through it that tingles. I try to hold onto some shred of dignity, trying to cross my arms over my chest, but the male attendants gently guide my arms away.

There’s no malice in their actions, but there’s no kindness either—just routine. I glance at their faces, trying to gauge if they feel anything about what they’re doing, but they’re unreadable, their focus unwavering.

When they finish washing me, they blast me with a stream of warm air, like standing in a desert breeze. I’m relieved that they didn’t make me orgasm like the other woman. I don’t think I could have taken that kind of humiliation today.

When I’m dry, the attendants dress me in alien garments clearly designed to highlight every inch of a female human body. And despite being clothed, I’ve never felt more exposed. My breasts, my most private areas, even my underarms—everything is on display.

Next, the attendants guide me onto a chair that molds itself around my body, holding me in place. I feel completely helpless but I think,Maybe they’re going to wax me. So I don’t freak out when they grab smooth, silver instruments as they talk casually in their own language. But when I catch a glimpse of amusement on their faces, I begin to worry.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.

They ignore me and continue talking like I’m not even here.

Then one of them starts running the silver tool between my legs. It’s warm, absurdly smooth, and I flinch on instinct. The attendant pauses, glances at me, and then goes right back to work. Meanwhile, the other attendant uses a similar device on my underarms. I assume they’re removing the hair in those places

After a few minutes, I notice a reflective surface across the room—and scream. In the reflection, I watch as my pubic hairgrows thicker and longer, as if fed by some invisible energy, taking on an unnaturally groomed shape. Then its color shifts from subtle pink to a vibrant, almost neon gradient. It’s so deliberate, so artificial, like an alien version of a salon dye job. The hair under my arms is made to grow long and unnatural too. So when I put my arms down you will still be able to see tufts of pink hair.

As if that weren’t enough, when the attendants finish, they add a big pink bow on my head and a smaller one in my newly “styled” region between my legs. I’ve so much hair there now you can’t even see a hint of a mound or labia. And with the stupid bows, I look like a poodle fresh from a dog salon.

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