Sheila double-checked her hand written directions as her car bounced along the gravel road. According to her GPS, she wasn’t even on a road, but the man on the phone had been very specific about how to get to his house. The length of the drive alone, not to mention the pothole ridden back roads that would probably destroy her shocks, were a huge deterrent for the job, but the pay was ridiculously good; she figured she had to drive out at least once and see.

Through the trees she could finally make out a building, and she pulled off onto a somehow even worse dirt road and up in front of a house. She was honestly surprised; it was a lot nicer looking than she expected given its location. She could totally have pictured pulling up to a shack, but it was a well-built wooden house kept in good condition. There was no address marked anywhere or a mailbox, but it had to be the place. She looked around the yard, her engine still running. The patch of yard around the house before the tree line was well kept, and the telltale signs of a dog owner were quickly apparent to her keen eye; a water bowl on the front porch, a rubber ball in the grass, a scoop for poop leaning against the side of the house.

Sheila turned off her car and got out, her apprehension quickly fading to the excitement growing in her. She loved dogs so much. Her apartment didn’t allow pets, not that she had room for one, and she couldn’t afford anything better. The 23 year old spent as much time as she could volunteering at the animal shelter, but that took an emotional toll after awhile. The opportunity to just look after and play with a healthy, well cared for dog was a dream in and of itself, and the fact that it paid was icing on the cake. The fact that it paid well was double chocolate icing.

Sheila went up to the door and knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a tall man in his late thirties.

“Hello, you must be Sheila.” He smiled warmly.

“Hi Mr. Thompson.”

“Please, call me Evan. Come inside.” He held the door open for her. “Did you have any trouble finding my place?”

“No, not at all,” she said as she walked inside. “I’ve never been out this far.”

“I enjoy my privacy when I’m at home,” he said.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t feel bad. I don’t think Ginger enjoys it as much as me. But that’s where you come in.”

“Ginger. Is that her name?” Sheila asked, looking around. His house was tidy, but there was more evidence of a dog; a crate in the corner of the living room, food and water bowls on the kitchen floor, a basket full of toys by the couch.

“Yes. It wasn’t the one she came with, but she adjusted quite well once I rescued her.”

“Oh, she’s a rescue! How nice! How long have you had her?”

“A little over a year.”

“What breed is she?” Sheila was just throwing out questions to avoid the real question she wanted to ask, which was can I just see your dog?

“Oh, she’s just a mutt. I find the breeding the least attractive quality in a dog.”

While Sheila too felt that dog breeding today had a whole host of problems, something about the way he said it was weird, but she quickly pushed past it.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Uh, water will be fine, thank you.”

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he said before excusing himself to the kitchen.

Sheila sat on the couch, looking around. She looked over the side of the couch, into the basket of toys, and began looking through them. She reached in and sorted through the tennis balls and stuffed animals, resisting the urge to squeeze them to see if they squeaked. Her fingers brushed against something that felt different from the stuffing and felt and hard rubber, something squishier. She wrapped her fingers around it, and pulled out a long cylindrical silicon toy. Her eyebrows furrowed as she examined it; it looked like dildo, but it was clearly a dog penis. She quickly let it go, rubbing her hand on her jeans as she heard him coming back. Maybe he didn’t realize what it was. Or maybe it was some joke toy, let his dog chew on a dog penis.

“Here you go,” he said as he came back in, handing her a glass of ice water.

She thanked him and took a sip.

He sat in a chair across from her. “So, as I said in my email, I’ve been working more lately, and I think Ginger’s been depressed while I’m gone during the day.”

Sheila took another drink, unconsciously letting the condensation on the glass wet her hand and wiping it again on her jeans. “I don’t want to cost myself a job, but have you considered getting another dog?” There were plenty of reasons why he wouldn’t; his dog could be aggressive to other dogs, or he could want something less permanent than a second dog to take care of, but she had to ask.

“Oh, there’s been some misunderstanding. I am getting another dog.”

Sheila sat forward in her seat. She was feeling very odd all of the sudden. “I’m sorry, I must have missed that. I thought you were looking for someone to keep your dog company.”

“I am. Another dog.”

Something was definitely wrong. A wave of dizziness washed over Sheila. “But I’m here as a pet sitter.”

“No, sweetie. Not anymore.”

Sheila stared at the glass in her hand, realization dawning on her that he had drugged her. The water fell from her hand, splashing across the carpet. She looked up to see him approaching her. Sheila stood up, but her legs felt like jelly and got tangled up, and she fell onto the floor.

“Dogs don’t walk on their hind legs,” he said.

“I’m not a dog.” She tried to crawl away, towards the door, but he grabbed her by her shirt collar, easily holding her back.

“Dogs don’t speak, either.” He grabbed a large blue rubber ball from the toy basket and forced it into her mouth. The hard rubber sphere wedged itself firmly behind her teeth, and try as she might with her tongue, she couldn’t push it back out.

“That’s better.” He patted her on the head. “Now let’s get you out of these silly clothes. You look ridiculous.”

It was all happening so fast. Whatever he had laced her drink with left her weak and uncoordinated, and her pathetic attempts to push him away and get up only seemed to aid him in wrangling her out of her clothes. He had pulled her shirt over her head, tugging her hair loose from her ponytail while he did so.

“Now what to name you?” he asked as he unclasped her bra, her breasts dangling free beneath her while she struggled.

“Eeeeeha!” she screamed around the ball stuffed in her mouth, trying to say her own name, as if that would remind him that she was a person.

“Do you want a new name girl? Yes you do! Yes you do!” he cooed.

Sheila shook her head, her mane of hair flying loose behind her. She tried to squeeze her legs together when she felt him tugging her jeans down, but that too was futile. Her jeans, shoes and socks all came off, leaving her in just her panties.

“What do you think of Fifi?” he asked her as he pulled her panties down, taking her last shred of modesty.

Sheila shook her head, tears and drool dripping from her face in equal measure.

“No, you’re not a Fifi.” He spread her thighs, his strong hands reaching between her legs. She could feel him rubbing the birthmark on her ass with his thumb. “Spot?” he chuckled. “No, that’s too on the nose.”

Sheila tried to recall who knew she was there. She hadn’t told her parents; they’d have disapproved of her trying to get a job as a pet sitter. How right they’d been. She’d told her best friend, but she hadn’t told her where it was. There’d be no way of finding her here if she never made it out.

Evan scooped her up and flipped her over on her back. The sudden and unexpected change in orientation threw her, and she lay splayed open on her back, trying to get her bearings again.

“What about Bailey?” he asked her, rubbing her belly.

Sheila reached out, grabbing for anything she might be able to use. Her hand felt about under the couch, and she grabbed the edge of something and pulled.

“Oh, you’re ready for that, are you?”

She watched as he took what she had grabbed from her. It was a container, and he opened it and held up an item from inside for her to see. It was a set of brown leather straps and pieces. He positioned it on his hand, demonstrating for her what it looked like. It looked to her like a leather dog mask.

“We’ll get you fitted for a better one later, but this will do for now.” He started forcing the mask over her head. Sheila fought and struggled, but it was no use. Stripped and drugged on the floor beneath the bigger, stronger man, the girl was helpless to prevent him from strapping it tightly over her face. She reached for it, feeling along the straps and trying to remove them, but he grabbed her hands, forcing them into leather mitts that turned her hands into useless paws. As soon as he had secured her hands, he pulled out big leather sleeves. He bent each of her legs at the knee and forced them into the sleeves, strapping them tight at her ankles and thighs. The knees were padded, a small consolation that went unappreciated by the terrified girl.

“Almost done, Bailey. Oh yes, I think I quite like Bailey for you. It’s a good name for a dog.”

Sheila shook her head, whining her displeasure into the ball still firmly wedged in her mouth. She didn’t want a new name.

He rolled her over, pulling her up onto her hands and knees. She stood shakily on all fours, the drugs still making her woozy. He sat back, and she took a shaky lunge forward, attempting to run.

“Not so fast,” he said, grabbing her waist and pulling her back. He dangled a leather collar in front of her face. “Someone’s going to have to stay on the leash until she’s trained.”

Sheila could do nothing to prevent the collar from being secured around her neck. Unlike the rest of her forced ensemble, it was pink, with big fake rhinestones glittering in it.

“I’ll have a tag made up for you with your name on. It’ll hang right here.” The man who had captured her reached under her throat and wiggled the D-ring where he would eventually affix her name tag, while he clipped a leash to her collar.

Sheila tried to stand her ground when he started pulling her along by the leash, but very quickly she found herself being choked, and her handicapped legs and bound hands started shuffling along the floor to keep up.

“Come along,” Evan said, leading her into another room. Sheila scrambled to keep up, helpless to do anything else. She froze as he turned the lights on, seeing what she put together must be his other dog, Ginger.

For a brief moment as her eyes adjusted to the light, she thought it was an actual dog. The short red fur, the form curled up on a dog bed in a crate in the corner, it was all very canine, but then the head lifted from the pillow. All too human green eyes blinked at her from beneath the mask she wore. Unlike the stiff leather mask Sheila was forced to wear, the other girl wore a mask that perfectly conformed to her head, and at first glance resembled a reddish retriever’s face and muzzle. Her red hair came out the back, her hair pinned back and styled to look like floppy ears hanging beside her head.

“Wake up Ginger. I got you something,” Evan said.

The woman stood, her legs similarly hampered but her body covered in a skintight suit of the reddish fur.

“Urfff?” The sound came from the woman, a convincing attempt at a bark from the woman, clearly gagged in some fashion under her faux muzzle.

“This is Bailey,” he said, pulling Sheila into the room.

All she could see that was human was the eyes, but in those eyes she saw shock, then profound apology, and a deep, deep pity.

“I know you’ve been sad lately because I haven’t been around as much, but now I’ve got you Bailey to keep you company while I’m at work.”

Sheila’s mind raced, unable to move. The woman she only knew as Ginger stared back at her through the bars.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” He patted his leg, and the woman jolted forward through the open door of the crate. Sheila could only imagine the conditioning the poor woman had been put through to respond to his command like that. As she moved forward, Sheila could see that there were three holes cut in the bottom suit, one for each of her breasts, and one for her genitals. Otherwise it was skintight and hugged every inch of her, all the way down to the paws that encompassed her hands and knees.

“Say hello,” he told the woman in the dog suit.

“Wurff,” she barked, staring at Sheila with her sad, doleful eyes.

Evan rubbed her head. “There’s my good dog. You two are going to get along great.”

Ginger turned to him and sat back on her haunches, giving Sheila a glimpse of her tail, a long, stiff furry tail that matched her suit. Sheila’s eyes widened when she saw that the tail wasn’t attached to the suit, but instead the base seemed to go up the woman’s ass.

“Bailey here is going to keep you company. You’re gonna cheer up. Otherwise, she doesn’t really serve a purpose, now does she.”

A chill ran down Sheila’s spine. The implicit threat hung heavy in the air. Her life may very well depend on making this other woman happy, Ginger, whose real name she may never know.

Ginger looked at Sheila, clearly recognizing the responsibility that her master had just saddled her with.

“I’ll take you for a walk, and then you two can have some time to get to know each other. She’s just a puppy Ginger, you’re going to have to show her the ropes.”

“Arf!” Ginger barked and then trotted over to the wall and knocked a leash off of a hanger and brought it to her owner.

“Good girl.” He gave her another affectionate pat on the head before he clipped the leash to her collar.

Ginger gave Sheila another apologetic look before she turned and started for the door. She looked back over her shoulder and uttered a bark at the new puppy girl. Sheila realized she was meant to follow and stumbled shakily after. She tried not to stare at the tail swishing back and forth in front of her with each step the other woman made. She’d stuck a finger up there one time while masturbating in the shower, out of curiosity. It had been an, interesting, sensation, but not something she had ever felt any desire to repeat. To keep such a long tail aloft, she could only imagine whatever was buried inside the other woman had to be quite large, and she was reflexively clenching her own exposed rosebud just thinking about it.

Ginger lead the way outside, periodically looking back and checking on her new companion. Whatever Evan had laced her drink with was still in her system, and Sheila was still a little loopy. That, combined with adjusting to her new way of forced locomotion on hands and knees, she stumbled frequently. Evan, fortunately, seemed rather patient, as did Ginger, who turned around and came back when Sheila lost her footing and flopped onto her belly. Ginger looked at her with her sad eyes and nuzzled her encouragingly.

“Good girl Ginger. Show Bailey how it’s done.”

Sheila got back up on all fours and followed Ginger out the back door, carefully navigating the three steps down into the yard. She followed along, gradually getting more acclimated to walking on all fours, to the point where she reached the slack on her shorter leash and was jerked back.

“Not so fast, pup.”

Ginger and Sheila both looked back. Sheila noted the much longer leash Ginger was afforded, while it seemed she was stuck keeping a maximum of six feet from the man who had done this to them.

Ginger had also stopped, and when Sheila realized that she was waiting for her, she started trotting again, glancing back periodically to make sure she wasn’t straying too far from Evan.

“Go ahead and do your business.”

Ginger froze, her green eyes darting between Sheila and Evan.

“What’s the matter?”

Sheila choked on built up saliva as it dawned on her what he was talking about. The crimson flush of Ginger’s shame reached all the way down to her bare breasts, and Sheila was sure she matched, heat radiating from her stretched cheeks down her chest. She quickly turned her head away, offering Ginger at least that small modicum of privacy, but Evan grabbed her by her hair, forcing her to face forward.

“No, you watch. You have to learn how it’s done.”

Sheila could have closed her eyes. Evan might have held them open if she tried, but she didn’t even make the effort, instead watching as Ginger fidgeted.

“Go ahead. Dogs have nothing to be shy about.”

Ginger stared straight ahead off into the distance as she spread her back legs and squatted. It was only a few seconds, but to Sheila it felt like it dragged on forever, before she finally shut her eyes and with a hiss, she peed right there on the grass.

“Good girl,” Evan praised her as she did a little shake, the best she could do in her current state to dry herself. Evan let go of Sheila’s hair, and the girl realized that she’d been holding her breath the entire time. “Do you have to potty, Bailey?” he asked her.

Sheila shook her head rapidly. She did, though not urgently; her body was too distracted by everything else that had just happened to her.

“Go ahead and try for me pup. If you piddle in your crate you’re going to be in trouble.”

Her crate? He was planning on putting her in a crate? Her breathing came faster, the ball wedged in her mouth feeling like it was going to choke her.

“Come on Bailey. Do your business for Master.”

Master. That’s what he was to them. Sheila looked at Ginger. The other woman gave her an encouraging nod, meeting her eyes. And then her gaze drifted, ever so slightly, up over Sheila, so at least she wasn’t staring directly at her while she imitated Ginger’s squatting position.

In college, she’d been drunk once and her roommate had locked herself in the bathroom. Desperate to pee, she’d squatted over their cat’s litter box. Her roommate had of course come out to find her midstream, and she’d been deeply mortified, but they were young and drunk and stupid, and had a good laugh about it. She focused on that memory. She couldn’t get to the toilet and was doing the next best thing. And she was free. She relaxed, pretending she wasn’t bound on all fours, that she hadn’t been collared and leashed like a dog, like she wasn’t muzzled like an animal, that she wasn’t being taken on a walk to relieve herself outside and being housebroken like puppy.

Like Ginger, she closed her eyes and let go. Her bladder relaxed, and she urinated.

“Good girl, Bailey.”

And just like that, with her new Master’s praise, the illusion was shattered. She was on all fours, being treated like a dog, being praised for peeing in front of the man who had captured her and her fellow captive, who’s real name she didn’t even know.

Sheila started crying. Strangled sobs made it around the ball in her mouth as the tears and snot started to flow. She was aware of her Master speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. She could feel the tug of the leash on her collar, but she remained squatting in place, unable to move. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. And then she felt something soft against her shoulder. The broken girl blinked away tears and looked up to see Ginger right in front of her, one of her paws held gently on her shoulder. Ginger nuzzled the side of her face while she sobbed.

Another sharp tug on her leash brought her attention back, and Ginger turned and headed back towards the house.

“Let’s go, Bailey.”

Tears still rolling down her face, Sheila followed Ginger back towards her new home.