The Human Pet

Chapter 7

Warning(s): mentions of mistreatment of humans towards the end

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I'm shaken awake. For a moment I forget where I am. The bed is soft, I'm clothed, maybe I'm back home? Maybe all that stuff with the giant people was just a dream? But I live alone and the ceiling is too far.

Alistair is wearing different clothes. He's been awake longer than me. He smiles at me, and rumbles something in his language, along with my name. Good morning...? Instead of waiting for me to wake up fully, he just lifts me into his arms.

This time, Alistair leaves the room to go get something after he sets me on the toilet. By the time I'm done and trying to reach the sink, he's back with another set of clothes for me.

My teeth are brushed. My hands are washed for me. And although I try to do it myself, Alistair changes me out of my clothes.

The morning is quiet compared to what I'm used to. It feels nice even as I'm carried. Unfortunately, it becomes not as nice as we near the kitchen.

I scowl at the sight of the high chair and those dreaded pellets. Still, I don't fuss as I'm strapped in. The sooner we start, the sooner I can get get out of this thing....hopefully.

A pellet is held in front of me on a spoon. I cringe and glance at Alistair, who holds an expectant look on his face. I look at his food longingly.

He chuckles and says something. When all I give him is a clueless look, he says it again slowly with a few gestures.

So if I eat the pellets, I can have his food again? With a wince I hold my breath and open my mouth. It's too big to swallow like a pill, so I have to chew.

The taste is...not as bad as if could've been. It tasted more like that one family member's dish that everyone ate out of pity. Odd and weird. It would be easier if I had water to wash it down with.

After a few bites I whine. Alistair says those words again. I think it's a praise. He puts the bowl down and grabs his own plate. Each bite is at least ten times better than the pellets.

Alistair pulls the food away before I want him to. It seemed that, until I learn his language, I would have to communicate like a child.

I whine to get his attention. Although it feels weird to do so, it gets the job done. I point to his plate, only to be met with a shake of his head. Before I can try again, Alistair stands up.

I'm let down from the high chair. I try again to get another bite. All I get is a pat on the head and a stern "No, Layla".

With a huff I turn around. It wouldn't be worth it to try again. And besides, I still wanted to explore this place.

Most of the things here looks like normal stuff. Pots and pans, oven mitts, normal kitchen stuff. The fridge looks like a really advanced smart fridge, except when Alistair touched it earlier the door dissolved. I....don't know why there's a floating screen on the counter. Out of caution, I decide to stay away from it.

I'm opening and closing cabinets. Alistair scolds me when I try to touch stuff. But just like last time, as soon as he's done with his meal he picks me up. This time, I'm set on the counter. Alistair washes a utensil, then holds it out to me and says a word. I just stare at it.

With a smile he grabs my hand and puts the utensil in it. He repeats the word, pointing to it.

A light bulb dings in my head.

"Spa....Spoon?"

I get a praise in return. With a flushed face I try to repeat the words.

"ood irl?"

I get a chuckle in return. The spoon is taken away and I get a pat on the head. Alistair repeats the words with emphasis.

~~~~

"Good...girl?"

I can't help but coo. "Yes. Good girl." I didn't expect her to catch on this quickly.

I'm glad. I can teach her easily, now. And hopefully training won't take as long.

But I could worry about that another time. For the remainder of the time we had, I taught Layla all the words I thought she would absolutely need. Food, water, bathroom, all that. Overtime she would readily be able to speak. For now I was happy to help.

I feed her once more before her appointment. The confused look I get when I grab my keys is just too adorable. I'll also have to ask for measurements, as Layla needed to be fitted for underwear.

I fit Layla into her car seat, then hand her one of her stuffed animals. It was just too cute to see her hugging it.

At the sight of the pet store Layla seems to tense up a bit. It takes a bit of coaxing, but she grasps my hand tightly as we walk in. Or, at least, she tries to. Her tiny hands can't grab more than a few of my fingers.

We're a bit early at the sign in, so I decide to browse a bit. Layla needed a harness and a leash. The leash was easy to pick out. The harness would have to wait until I could get her fitted. Hopefully they could squeeze that in today. I should've remembered to do that yesterday....

As I'm mulling over my slip, I feel a tugging on my arm. It's Layla. She seems to be pointing to the next aisle over. It honestly isn't a surprise that she leads me straight to the clothes.

She says something in that human chatter. It sounds like...what she said when she asked to keep her name. And then she couples it with some actual words.

"-...Alistair. Good girl?"

And she points insistently at the clothes.

I crouch down, a smile on my face. The clothes she wants are easy to grab. Her eyes light up and she reaches for them in my hand. Her face flickers into confusion when I grab ahold of her wrist and guide her hand to the fabric.

"Layla. Say 'shirt'."

It takes a few tries. When I tug on my own shirt and repeat the word, my pet's eyes light up in recognition. I get a hesitant 'sh-shirt' in return.

"Good girl, Layla." Judging by her blush, I think she finally understands what the praise means. "Say 'pants'."

I teach her a few more words (please and thank you and the like) before heading to the back where the grooming and vet clinic is. Noting the way Layla's gaze lingers on the doors to the human kennels, I leave the clothes at their front desk. Layla seems to be scared of all the new faces. It's easier to lift her into my arms rather than walk with her arms glued to my leg. I'm led into a back room by one of the assistants.

She asks a couple of standard questions, even asks to pet Layla's soft mane. If my pet didn't look so anxious I would agree. For now I politely decline.

The room looks bland. The few items to liven up the place are hidden behind filing cabinets. There's an anatomy chart of a snow leopard, another earthen animal popular for its thick coat and stout body. Fortunately, only those with the proper spacing were allowed to keep them.

It's the same with humans. They had cracked down on abusers, monsters who would keep these lovely creatures locked away and only let them out for a blow job or to work. No food, filthy cages with no room to stand, those broken humans had trouble adjusting.

The few that do are taken into loving homes. After all, humans were pets, not slaves.

Until the vet arrives I murmur soothing words into Layla's ear. One look around the room and she had buried her face in my shoulder. Although I run my hand down her mane, she shakes up a storm. I supposed this strange area would scare her since she's so used to the wild...

The door opens, and Layla freezes in my arms.

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