Leash and Liege

By Lucas Klaukien

Shelley howled in pain as her bone structure warped, bones twisting, popping and cracking. The fur, the paws, the snout collapsed and grew, the eyes, the legs, the chest changed, revealing a beautiful, healthy and quite naked, young woman.

“Master,” she said, “we can be together now. I‘ve always slept on your bed, now I can sleep in it.”

Landon quietly said, “no,” and “Shelley.”

“Shelley…”

She was a beautiful dog, a German Shepherd with an off-colored eye, faithful as the morning sunrise. She was nursing a nasty bite of some kind. He hadn’t seen what bit her. He heard her yelps out in the woods and ran to find her with his rifle by his side. This far north, in such an isolated setting, there was no telling what she might have ran into. He found her limping and growling. He went to check the wound and she snapped at him. It was the only time she’d ever done that and he couldn’t restrain himself from belting her a good one across the chops.

She cocked her head sideways watching him sob gently. She went to comfort him.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he screamed, ashamed of her nakedness and how it stirred him.

“Master,” she said, confused, “my love. Will you beat me?”

“no.”

“Have I angered you?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’ll put the chain around my neck and we’ll go for a walk.”

“NO!”

The puffy, red, puss-infected bite mark was the only blotch on an otherwise perfect sheath of skin. It throbbed and ran yellow with puss every time she scratched it. She crouched down and tried scratching it with her foot, falling over on her side. She broke her fall with her arms, and as though touched by the genius of God, realized she could use her hands to scratch.

Landon tried desperately not to look. Oh God, just don’t look.

“I’m no sicko,” he said to himself, shaking his head, “I’m not sick. Shelley…” he began to cry, “Shelley, you’re beautiful … beautiful.”

He steeled himself and wiped the tears from his eyes, “I’m not sick, you’re the one that’s sick!”

He wept again and said quickly, nodding, “Yes, I’m sick. I am sick.”

He hadn’t been with a woman … he hadn’t seen very many women in the three years they’d been up there.

Shelley noticed the distinct bulge forming in his pants and crawled over on all fours to console her master, to hold him in her newly human arms.

Oh, how she’d waited for this moment! He was everything to her. Companion, provider, master.

He pounded his fist on the floor beside him as she brought her arms around his neck. Her perfect breasts dangled over, then pressed down gently against his chest. Their eyes met, his tear reddened eyes, her off-colored ones, for a second they fell in love.

He leaned in to kiss her and she licked his face. He threw her off and she thudded across the room. Picking herself up, she smiled.

“Lock me in a cage, put a chain around my neck. Let’s play rough, I want you to give me a beating.”

Landon grunted in frustration as he got up off the ground. She crawled back over to him and wrapped her arms around his leg, cradling the side of her face against his thigh and rubbing her vagina against the top of his foot. He stopped resisting for a moment, put his hands on his forehead and sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

When he looked back down, she was bent over in front of him on all fours.

“Master,” she said, “I know how lonely you’ve been. I haven’t smelled any women on you. Master …”

He started to hyperventilate, huh-huh-huh-huh-huh.

“… come in to me.”

He ran into his room and locked the door. huh-huh-huh-huh-huh.

He could hear her crawling along the floor, testing the door handle. She called to him. He grabbed the rifle off the wall above his bed.

huh-huh-huh-huh-huh.

What to do? He thought about jumping out the bedroom window. He thought about hiding in the closet. huh-huh-huh-huh-huh. He set the gun down and sat at the edge of his bed, frantic. He unzipped his pants and began to masturbate, wiping the tears from his eyes with his free hand. It didn’t take long to finish. huh-huh-huh-huh-huh.

He picked the rifle up and slowly made for the door, unlocked it, and slowly backed up to the edge of the bed where he had been. She came into the room, walking uneasily toward him. He raised the gun and squeezed the trigger, hitting her square above the right eye, she fell in a heap on the spot.

His ears rang.

“Master,” she said, picking herself up, “that was too rough.”

“Oh fuck, I should have used a silver bullet.”