Inspector Sue Sharp – Sue’s First Case
Story by – Brentwood
Original Concept by – Nimbletail - www.deviantart.com/nimbletail
Sue Sharp never wanted to work for the Human Pet Protection Service—the HPPS—she never wanted anything to do with the horrible Compulsory Pettification Program—aka ComPet®—period, but despite her feelings, she’d been with the organization for over a year. Even though she’d still been forced to leave university and put her life on hold, all things considered, it really was a preferable situation considering the alternative. The choice between being a human pet—a service animal—to some disgusting pervert and protecting human pets from disgusting perverts was obvious. The day she’d turned twenty, Sue received her pet draft notice from the Compulsory Pettification Program. Delivered by official courier, the notice put a real damper on her birthday. Fortunately, unlike most young women in her position, her family had the money and connections to make a deal with the government and the program.
Rather than spending the two long, degrading years as a lowly human pet, Sue would spend the next five working for the HPPS. Ever since it had been implemented, Sue had hated the idea of the draft in which ten percent of women at age twenty were forced into pet service by the government. In her senior year of high school she even participated in several protests against the act until protestors started disappearing and her parents had insisted she stop. Now, much to her chagrin, she was a part of that very system. It was a fact that she hated, but she learned to live with it because working with the system kept her on two legs instead of four. What’s more, as she told herself often, she could help the less fortunate to at least have more-tolerable lives during their service period. That bit of rationalizing allowed her to sleep at night.
Sue was trained and classified as an HPPS Inspector. Her job was as straightforward as it was methodical and boring. Every day she would receive a long list of names and addresses of legally registered service animals and their owners. She would visit each one and perform a “welfare check” on the pet to ensure that she was receiving “adequate care” as defined by the ComPet® program. The definition of “adequate” was rather vague and quite minimal, which often made it difficult for her checks to have any positive impact on the pet’s conditions at all. Still, even after seeing the plight of many less-fortunate human pets that she could not truly help, Sue soldiered on, always on the look out to nail one of the owners for any offense that she could.
Sitting in her official car, Sue took a big sip of coffee from an old, plastic travel mug, followed by a long drag from her chewed vape pen. It was Monday. Not that the days of the week mattered so much anymore. She may have escaped pet status, but she was still considered a draftee and property of the state, so the HPPS people could “use and abuse” her as they liked. She worked seven days a week, sometimes twelve or eighteen hours a day. Since inspectors in her position could be worked so much, they didn’t feel the need to hire many, so between the sheer number of pets to inspect, time spent driving, inspecting, and the paperwork, Sue was always busy, always under the threat of “Well, if you can’t do the job, you can always go to the nearest pet processing center!”
She really needed something stronger than cold coffee after the most recent inspection, but she only had a few moments to reflect before she had to get her next appointment. The pet’s name had been Lollypop #20751. The stupid names these creeps gave their pets made Sue sick. It wasn’t enough that they led them around on leashes and fucked them in every way imaginable at will; they had to give them dumb names too! It was always a shame to see a young woman cut down in the prime of her life and permanently reduced to the status of a dumb drooling puppy girl, but when her owner was particularly awful it was ten times worse.
That poor puppy girl, Lollypop, with her brown hair matted and her skinny body covered in dirt. She was chained to a post in a small outdoor kennel, with nothing but a half-filled water dish and a few tufts of grass for company. She was ten pounds underweight, with her ribs showing, but because she wasn’t beyond HPPS “standards” her situation was “acceptable.” She was tethered at all times, but because she had the minimum five feet of length on her chain her situation was “acceptable.” She was dirty, and smelled terrible, but because she had no sores, or infections inside or out, her situation was “acceptable.”
It was all Sue could do not to punch her bastard owner in the nose.
Sue’s phone rang, cutting her two minute break short. It was her boss, Mr. Cross. “Great, he’s probably going to dump a dozen more cases on me….”
“Sue Sharp here!” She answered with as much energy as she could.
“Sue!” He said in his usual gruff voice. Cross wasn’t one for small talk—especially with her. “Mark yourself as unavailable for inspections. I’ve got a different assignment for you.”
Sue frowned. There was never a “How are you, Sue?” or a “Good job, Sue!” It was as if all he knew how to do was issue commands. She was intrigued by the word “different”, however. The last year had seemed like one long day. Anything new would be good!
“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically as she tapped her phone screen a few times. Sue smiled a little as she watched the list of addresses and case numbers disappear. Her case load would be dumped on the other inspectors, but she didn’t care. In fact, she was almost gleeful to see a blank screen for the first time since she’d started the job. Then a new address popped up on the list.
“We got a new draft deferment today. She’ll be taking over your inspections for awhile. We’re moving you to Investigations. This is a trial run. If you don’t perform you’ll go back to Inspections, understand?”
“Yes, sir!” Sue was intrigued. The investigation branch of HPPS worked with the local police and dealt with any crimes that were ComPet® related, such as unsanctioned back alley pet makers, illegal pet fighting rings, etc. It was the kind of work that she wanted to be doing, that is, if she had to work for the HPPS.
“The address you’ve been given belong to one Mr. Richter. Yes, the Mr. Mark Richter.”
Sue, like most people had heard of Mark Richter. In addition to being filthy rich, he was a huge proponent of the ComPet® program. His support probably had something to do with the fact that prior to the program he ran an unsuccessful pet food company. When the program began he somehow managed to secure a government contract to manufacture service animal food in lieu of regular pet food, which turned him into a huge success.
“Last night Richter’s beloved puppy girl, Boji, was abducted right out of her kennel. Her tracking chip was disabled, so we have no way of knowing where she is. The details are all enclosed in the file I’m sending you, as well as your probationary status with the police if you need to prove your credentials. Given how high-profile Richter is we want to keep this quiet, so be discreet. Got it?” He hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
Sue frowned as her hopes to make life better for service animals were again dashed. It was the exact opposite of what she really wanted to do. Though she reasoned that whoever would be bad enough to kidnap a puppy girl would probably be worse than a legal owner, but it still didn’t sit right with Sue—having to return a woman to degrading service, to slavery. Sue tried to push the thoughts out of her head and started the car.
Across the street Sue saw a man walking his puppy girl. They stopped at a designated “relief spots” for puppies to “do their business.” The poor puppy girl was trembling with cold and embarrassment as she squatted in front of her owner and the several people who had stopped to watch. “God, I hate this city…” Sue thought as she started the drive.
She may have hated the city, but as she wove in and out of traffic, she couldn’t ignore that ever since the draft was introduced, some things, most things, had gotten better. Violent crime—crime in general had been cut in half and was falling. It seemed like when men could get what they wanted, as disgusting as what they wanted was, everything else just fell into place. Besides that, ComPet® had made successful businesses like Richter’s and provided jobs, not only for trainers, groomers, and inspectors like her, but also good paying labor jobs to create the various kinds of pet gear, restraints, toys, and other related products. Unemployment was at an all time low, not just in her city, but around the country. And all it cost was the mental well-being of a mere 10% of the female population!
***Mr. Richter lived in a palatial Victorian-style mansion on a hill surrounded by a high, iron rod fence. As she was waved through the gate by security, Sue noted the sharp spikes on top of the fence and wondered why the kidnapper or kidnappers would choose such a secure looking home to target.
As she went up the drive she couldn’t help but smile to herself and think, “Wow, so this is the house that dog food built!”
After parking in the circle drive and being shown in by the doorman, Sue was shown to a spacious, yet cozy sitting room and told to wait. After updating her boss, Sue put her phone away and took in the surroundings. Besides the expensive and tasteful furniture, Sue couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of pictures on the walls.
She counted fifteen photos and a large expensive looking oil panting hanging above the mantle. More than the number, it was the subject that was the most striking. Every picture was of Mr. Richter’s puppy girl, Boji. Sue recognized her from the file she’d received. Boji was a pretty girl with long black hair worn in two looped braids that hung from either side of her head, not unlike a pair of floppy dog ears. She was Asian—probably Korean, but Sue couldn’t be sure. In every picture, Boji looked just as happy as could be playing fetch, lying on her back presumably waiting for a tummy rub, chewing on toys, or kneeling at Mr. Richter’s side. With the white fluffy paw mittens over her hands and feet, and the matching tail and ears she wore, she really looked the part. Upon closer inspection, Sue couldn’t help but notice that Boji’s collar was diamond studded and wondered if they were real.
“Inspector Sharp?” Came a deep, well-measured voice, with a hint of surprise.
Sue turned to Mr. Richter standing in the doorway, just as he’d appeared at the press conference where’d he’d announced that his company would be “supporting the ComPet® program” by providing “essential nutrients to the hardworking service pets of this wonderful new program.” He was in his mid-50s, heavy-set, bald, with a full, but well-trimmed salt and pepper beard. What really struck her though was how tall he was in person.
“Oh,” he said as he stroked his beard. “They didn’t tell me they were sending a girl-inspector—and such a little cutie too!”
Caught off guard, Sue blushed crimson. It seemed like it had been forever since she had been given a compliment on her looks. Her work schedule since her draft deferment had made having friends or a social life—much less boyfriends and a social life—impossible. Not that she’d ever had time for a boyfriend before… She certainly didn’t feel beautiful or even cute these days. On most mornings it was the best she could do to get a shower and clean clothes. Still, she had to admit that she wasn’t particularly unattractive. She was quite short, even in her heels, and quite “petite” even in her padded, push-up bra. Still, she managed to look sharp in her work uniform—a black knee-length skirt, black blazer, and white blouse. Not only was it mandatory to dress professionally, it helped the pet owners take her seriously, or that was the idea. Her raven colored hair did manage to keep a nice shine to it, even though she never had enough time to do more than put it into a messy bun these days.
She self-consciously took off her round, wire-framed glasses and cleaned them in an effort to regain her composure. After getting over the initial shock of it, hearing the compliment come from an old pet owner and feeling his eyes raking her made her want to tell him to ‘fuck off’ but instead she merely said in the most neutral tone she could manage, “Yes, I’m Sue Sharp, your HPPS investigator.”
Mr. Richter nodded in acknowledgement and then picked up one of the pictures of Boji from an end table, and ran his fingers gently over it. Sue stared at him intently. She’d done many inspections, but she’d never seen a pet owner seem so…emotional about his pet. His expression was almost caring. It was hard to believe that only a few moments before he was practically undressing her with his eyes or perhaps measuring her for her own set of paws.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know—anything I can do to help get my precious Boji back to me! Please…have a seat!” He beckoned to one of the overstuffed chairs.
Sue took a seat opposite of him and pulled out her tablet to take notes. She didn’t want to screw this up. There was a list of pre-prepared question to guide her and she’d had introductory training on conducting investigations when she’d started with the HPPS. Her eyes scanned over the first one.
“Do you have any suspects—anyone that you think would want to do you or…Boji any harm?”
Richter shook his head, “No, I have quite an amicable relationship with my business associates, friends, and neighbors—basically everyone I encounter on a daily basis. Oh, we have disagreements, but nothing that we haven’t been able to resolve.”
Sue made a note. From what she knew about Richter, what he said was true, so she moved on to the next question.
“What about Boji’s friends or family?”
“What about them?”
“There have been incidents in the past when a pet’s family, friends, sometimes an old boyfriend or fiancé will attempt to free—I mean, remove the pet before her service contract is up. Have you had any contact with anyone like that?”
Richter shook his head.
“It’s possible you might not have known. How much time did Boji have remaining in her service contract?”
“Boji was…is under extended service.”
Sue paused, “Oh?” She’d heard of service being extended for a variety of reasons. She’d even inspected one puppy girl called “Pipsqueak” who had her service made permanent after she’d viciously bit someone.
“Yes, you see, when her service contract was up, she couldn’t imagine leaving me. I guess she’d developed a real taste for this life and for, uh, me,” he chuckled at his own little joke. “So she opted to extend her service each year. She was just finishing her fifth year with me last month…”
“Five years?” Sue thought with disgust as she glanced at the painting and at the smiling, drooling, vacant-eyed subject. She’d heard of some messed-up girls volunteering for service, and some even weirder ones who’d decided to voluntarily extend their service, but this was the first one she’d encountered. She wondered what kind of woman would voluntarily choose to live as a man’s pet. For a brief moment she was more disgusted at Boji than at Mr. Richter.
Sue cleared her throat as she finished making her notes about potential suspects. “I’d like to investigate Boji’s kennel now.”
Mr. Richter led Sue through the rich hallways of his mansion. Everything was dark reds and dark woods. It was quite old-fashioned and elegant. That is until they reached an out of place white door with the words “Boji’s Kennel” painted in pink cursive letters across the middle.
“Do you keep this door locked, Mr. Richter?” Sue asked as she put on a pair of latex gloves.
“Yes,” he replied, “And before you ask, I have the only key.”
Sue nodded, “And the door was unlocked when you got here?”
He widened his eyes, “I hadn’t thought about it, but yes, when I came to say good morning to my Boji the door was unlocked already…in all my excitement I didn’t even think about it.” He smacked his head lightly.
Sue opened the door and hesitated to step over the threshold. The room was a wide-awake pet nightmare with lace-trimmed pink curtains drawn over the window on the wall opposite to the door, a thick, white carpet covered in a variety of doggy toys, and wallpaper covered in cartoonish puppies performing a variety of tricks and poses. In the far corner was a large pink and white puppy bed on the floor with the name “Boji” written in the same fancy lettering as the sign on the door. Against the wall to the left were toy bins filled to the brim with bones, balls, stuffed animals and squeaky toys of everything from rubber pork chops to well-known cartoon characters. Hanging above the bin, in sharp contrast to the overly saccharine room, was a black leather strap with the words, “Boji’s Little Reminder” written across it. Sue shuddered at the whole scene. The idea that if it wasn’t for her family connections she could have ended up in a similar place, or worse, made her ill and wonder again what kind of woman would voluntarily live as a pet. Where was this woman’s dignity?
Mr. Richter laughed, “You don’t approve, ‘inspector’?” He asked, clearly reading her through her slipping mask.
Sue choked down more insults, “My opinion on your pet’s accommodations doesn’t matter…I’m here to find her.”
Mr. Richter chuckled again, “Oh, but I’m interested in what you have to say.” He bent over and picked up a mouse toy and squeezed it playfully before tossing it across the room. “After all, I’m sure that this room and the furnishings are probably more expensive and of a higher quality than your entire home.”
Sue thought about the tiny studio apartment that she lived in off the pitifully small stipend she received from the HPPS, as Mr. Richter noted that the little bed in the corner was made by an exclusive designer and that she’d probably never slept in anything so soft.
“Probably not…” She replied. She tried to sound disinterested, but for a moment she was genuinely curious how soft the bed was.
“Yet, if you were a pampered pet like my Boji, you could sleep on something like this every night and wake up to a life without worries or responsibilities. I don’t see why more women don’t volunteer for service!”
“They don’t—” Sue snapped. She thought about the inspection of Lollypop #20751 she made earlier that day. “They don’t all live like this, Mr. Richter…” Sue managed to keep her voice calm.
“So, you admit then that you’re envious of Boji’s life style?” He quipped, his gaze making her feel naked again.
Sue blushed again, “That’s not what I said—I need to start the examination, sir.”
Mr. Richter smiled, “Of course. I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
After a few minutes of blessed peace, she quickly determined that besides the room being unlocked legitimately, there were no other signs of a struggle.
“Mr. Richter?” Sue asked as she peeked under the doggy bed, incidentally noticing how soft it really was, “Was Boji happy as your puppy girl?”
“Of course she was,” he chortled. “As I said she renewed her contract every year. You know, when her service ended and she pleaded with me to let her stay, I could have required her to sign a life-long contract, but I didn’t. I give her the opportunity every year to leave if she wants to.”
Sue nodded. “Then why,” she wondered as she thought about the contracts and all the seemingly happy pictures in the study, “Did she leave without a fight?” She glanced at the strap.
“Mr. Richter, have you had any disagreements—any problems with Boji lately?”
Mr. Richter glanced at the strap too. “Oh, that. Come now ‘inspector,’ you know as well as I do that pets need discipline from time to time—most women in general probably do.”
Sue gritted her teeth. It seems like the casual sexism got worse and worse with each passing month.
“I don’t mind telling you that the first month I had Boji I had to use that on her every day, sometimes multiple times a day to remind her to behave.” He cleared his throat. “But I haven’t had to use it on her in a long time. Boji’s been a puppy now for so long and she loves it here so much I think she’s forgotten how to misbehave!”
Sue bristled at the idea of becoming so docile.
After a little more examination Sue stepped out of the room with Mr. Richter, “I think I’ve seen what I need to here.” She snapped off her gloves. “Is that key always with you?”
He patted the old-fashioned skeleton key with a heart-shaped handle hanging from his belt and nodded.
“No one could have gotten to it say when you were sleeping or taking a shower?”
“Well, I do have a substantial staff here…I suppose it’s possible.”
“Do you mind if I question your staff?”
“By all means!” He said. “You have the run of my whole home. You’ll be unleashed!” He chuckled.